#sorry for having more ocs than i have the brain space for | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fligniuz · 2 months ago

Text

pleasure doing business with you

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ you’re a broke college student in a pinch. but not to worry; you’ve found someone willing to help.

word count: 14k (sorry?😭) • part of a spoonful of sugar (read here!) • nsfw • read on ao3

tag list : @mangionebabymama , @mangobabygirl , @jenisaswift13 , @mangionesdaisy , @iinfinitelimits , @daydreamingwithluigi , @mrs-cactus69 , @mashkatzi , @straw8berry , @bean-is-reading (comment to be added)

warnings : f! reader; EXPLICIT; sugar daddy AU; some OCs; unironic use of the word “brunch”; ⚠️DADDY KINK⚠️; luigi calls U “princess”; praise; oral (m! + f! receiving); some spanking

notes : hi ok i’m so excited to post this pls let me know if U like this and want me to post more of Him because i have more sugar daddy ideas💚💚

In your defense, you’re broke as hell.

That’s a blunt way of putting it. To be more direct: you are a twenty-something college student barely scraping by on financial aid and tips from your opening shift at Hilton’s Cityscape, on top of the typical, abysmal, average salary of a bartender. You live in a somewhat cheap apartment at 1 Powell Street with your cat, Butters; you sleep on a stiff mattress and survive off the local Panda Express and suffer through the chilly nights—hell will freeze over before your landlord fixes the AC. You go to class and your shifts and barely get your bills paid each month, not unlike most of the nation, and you try. You try to smile and enjoy and appreciate what you have, even if it’s next to nothing.

The good news? You’re hot.

Not because of the shitty AC. You’re hot in the colloquial sense. You were blessed with all the features other women your age pray for, a natural beauty—something quite normal to see in San Francisco, but you have something rare to offer, too: a personality. You’ve got the looks and the brains. You are what people who are too polite would call “conventionally attractive”. You’ve got it going on. You are it.

So, what do hot women who are strapped for cash in San Francisco do?

They go to Red Velvet on Bryant Street, of course.

What the fuck is Red Velvet? is exactly what you ask Sheri when she thinks out loud to you at 3:36 one afternoon.

Sheri looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.

“Red Velvet,” she starts, “is the hottest bar for sugar daddies in SF. It’s always overflowing with guys who have too much money than they know what to do with—big tech CEOs and bankers and those types.”

“Right,” you nod, listening attentively. “So you think I should pick up a sugar daddy.”

“Well…” Sheri swipes the rag she’s holding over another glass swiftly. “I think you should pick up a sugar daddy safely.”

“Have you had one before?” you ask.

Sheri is your favorite co-worker. She’s older than you, closer to her fifties, and she is nothing if not an adventurous woman. You’ve heard many a stories of bad sex and strange men, collected over her years of hopping around the West Coast—a wonderful distraction from the equally strange men that often find themselves visiting your place of employment.

“A sugar daddy?” She laughs, grabs another glass from the dirty dish rack. “Honey, I was far too busy for that in my heydays. But a few of my girlfriends dabble in that space.”

You lean forward with your chin in your hand. “Do they like it?”

“I know a friend who’s got an arrangement with some politician from Washington,” Sheri says. “She hasn’t paid for anything in two years. I always see her wearing the gaudiest shit—fur coats and Balenciaga and shiny jewelry. She’s happy. Real happy.”

You smile to yourself.

“Sometimes,” she adds, “he lets her take some of us out to dinner with her. And, not to sound prissy, but the whole ‘fine dining’ thing? Just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What?” You furrow your brows. “What don’t you like about it?”

“The portions are just too damn small!” she exclaims, face holding genuine resentment as she speaks—you’ve always appreciated her expressiveness. “The staff is always nice, but there’s just not enough food, if you ask me.”

That makes sense. Sheri loves her food. You do too, honestly.

“You think a sugar daddy would take me to McDonald’s?” you joke, giggling at her snort.

She shrugs it off—but you could find out.

That’s exactly what you decide to do one Saturday night, waltzing up to Red Velvet in the best dress you own: a flattering jade green with ribbing around the torso and a tight fit on the hips. To be completely transparent, you are nervous; you’re quite used to male attention, used to handling it with grace and respect for yourself, but this spot is an entirely new environment with entirely new patrons. You don’t know what to expect. You have an idea of what a sugar daddy is, what he looks like and how he acts and dresses and speaks, but it’s quite different to encounter one in the wild. People only ever do this kind of thing online, you think.

You scan the scene. There are mostly men of varying, typically older age, but there are some women, too, mainly concentrated at the bar to your left. Eye candy. Probably not regulars. You conclude that this must be your best bet, and so you grab a seat at the far end, looking over the menu and deciding on something simple: a gin and tonic.

And for a while, you enjoy it in a comfortable silence, sipping and appreciating the scenery, the ostentatious decor and dim lighting and cursive signage. It’s definitely the kind of bar that rich guys would frequent, more specifically sugar daddies, if the guests in attendance weren’t proof enough.

But your expectations are firmly challenged when you are approached by your first man of the night.

Well, not quite approached. Rather, he comes up to order, and you are at the bar—so naturally, your eyes meet and your paths cross. You survey your catch and quickly find that he is different; most of the men at Red Velvet are fifties-to-sixties, not particularly attractive (definitely not without its silver foxes, though!), typically already accompanied by a woman. This man, though…He catches your eye. He’s young, perhaps even close to your age, and he’s fit, and he’s fine. He is fine as a motherfucker, indeed. At first you peg him as a Montgomery Street type, maybe a stock trade guy—but despite his current location, ordering a drink at this high-end sugar daddy outfit, this man looks unconstrained; put together but certainly not flashy. His suit is as simple as his choice of beverage—a banana daiquiri—and the first words he utters to you are modest but direct:

“You’re wearing green.”

That you are.

You turn to him, face kind but slightly puzzled. “Yup. Green.”

He explains: “Forgive my candor. Green is my favorite color—I never see women as pretty as you wearing it, though.”

Oh, so he’s slick.

“I’m flattered,” you say with a smile. “Thank you.”

Looking him in the eye, you can get a much better picture of this man, even in the low light of the bar. His hair is curly, wild, begging for hands to touch and pet and pull, and his eyebrows are just as sharp as his jawline and the bridge of his nose. He’s clean-shaven, for the most part, but a neat five o’clock shadow is growing in on his jaw and under his chin; you imagine, briefly, how that stubble might feel against your lips, your neck, your—

“May I ask what brings you here?” he inquires. “It’s not often this place is blessed with such beauty.”

Man, he’s persistent, isn’t he? You tuck your hair behind your ear and rest your chin on top of your clasped hands.

“Are you here often?” you ask. It’s best to scope out any danger before you get down to business—as a young woman, you learned that the hard way. This guy could be a creeper, for all you know, picking up girls at niche bars and taking them home to chop up or god knows what.

He grins, traces the rim of his glass. “How’d you think I could point out a newbie so easily?”

You smile back.

“Do you live in the area?” he asks.

You definitely don’t. Bryant Street is twenty minutes out from the lofts at Powell. You’re starting to wonder if maybe newcomers aren’t welcome at Red Velvet; perhaps this man didn’t come to flirt. Perhaps he’s sniffing you out, keeping the turf safe from intrusion.

“Close enough,” you lie. “I work in the area.”

It isn’t that crazy of a fib—Cityscape is only an eight minute drive from here.

“Well, where do you work?”

Fuck. Fuck. Might as well stick to reality as much as you can, right?

“I bartend at Ernest,” you say, sipping your drink. Ernest is more of a fine dining establishment than a bar, but it’s on Bryant—albeit further down the street—so it works. Sheri has mentioned grabbing drinks there before. It surprises you that you even remembered Ernest exists.

He nods, seemingly trusting. “Is it a nice place? I’ve never been, but some of my buddies have.”

You shrug. “It pays. You get pretty tired of all the sexual harassment after a while, though.”

He laughs—a soft but warm chuckle, his dimpled smile practically reaching his ears.

You’ve always liked being able to make men laugh. It helps quite a lot when they’re this handsome.

“What about you?” you ask. “Do you work around here?”

“In the city,” he answers simply. “I do data for TrueCar. Not very special.”

Ah. You’ve heard of it in passing, probably online, but you don’t know much beneath the surface. Admittedly, it does sound pretty boring. You imagine cars have to be involved, which is a bit surprising—car salesman is a certain type, and this guy is not it. Data must mean he’s either a statistics or computer science major, which aren’t the most promising career paths as far as money goes—but he is in California, which might mean he got lucky.

“And how is that working out for you?” you ask, stirring your gin and tonic.

“It pays,” he says, mirroring you. “No sexual harassment, fortunately for me. I’m very sorry about yours.”

You wave a hand and laugh. “I’m quite used to it at this point.”

Right then your eyes meet. And for what feels like forever the two of you just stare at each other, smiles bright on your faces, chemistry rippling between the bar stools that keep you apart. The tension isn’t thick—it’s palpable. You’d need more than a knife to cut through it.

“Can I be honest?” you pipe up. As if you didn’t lie to this man about your job just a few minutes ago.

He nods. “I like honesty.”

You sip your cocktail. Swallow. Breathe. Then:

“I’ve been in a tight spot with money, recently,” you explain. “A friend told me about this place, that I could maybe find someone to help me out here, so I came looking for…”

How do you put this?

“I came looking for an arrangement.”

His smile spreads across his teeth slowly, but its flame casts bright light throughout the bar—as if you are a speck of an ant on the ground, scorched by the mirror he holds.

“I knew you were here for a reason,” he remarks.

Yeah. You’re quite obvious, aren’t you?

“I feel like maybe I should apologize,” you mutter, shoulders sulking. Suddenly you feel quite shy.

“You shouldn’t,” he assures you. “Can I ask for your name?”

So you tell him, meekly. And then:

“Well,” he starts, echoing you; you make a mental note of how good your name sounds in his mouth. “I’m Luigi. I think I could help you with that money problem you have, and—if you don’t mind my saying—I’d be quite eager to.”

This Luigi guy is nothing if not blunt.

“So…” He reaches back and snatches his phone from a pocket, leaning toward you. “I’m gonna ask for your number. If you want to make one of these arrangements you speak of, you can call me anytime you like. How’s that sound?”

He’s handing you his phone now, screen already open to an empty contact page. You accept it hesitantly.

“You want me to call you?”

Luigi nods. “I want you to have time to think it over. If you change your mind, I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured.”

That makes your heart flutter a little. He’s sweet for a stranger.

You hand your completed contact to him with a smile, and he sends you a text so his number is easily accessible.

“I think you’ll be hearing from me,” you say, emboldened.

He grins as he stands from his seat. “I’ll be looking forward to it.” Then he adds: “No pressure.”

Just like that, he’s paying his tab, and the next moment he’s gone.

There are several thoughts swirling through your mind right now. But one thing you are sure of is that Sheri was right: Red Velvet is the spot.

“You’re telling me you found a daddy your first time there?”

Sheri looks flummoxed.

You tighten your apron and smirk. “I mean, I don’t know for sure if he’s looking for that.”

“He implied it,” she counters.

“Nothing is set in stone,” you say, popping the chewing gum in your mouth. A flood of tangerine works your tastebuds. “I’m supposed to call him to figure out our arrangement.”

“What’s he like?” Sheri asks. She turns toward the cash register.

Where to start? You hardly even know him and yet you could probably run your mouth for a solid hour about just his appearance, his honeyed voice, his sharp features.

“He’s cute,” you say simply. “Young. Kinda tall. Curly hair. I think he’s Italian, or something.”

“Italian?” She looks over her shoulder at you, quirks an eyebrow.

“His name is Luigi,” you enunciate. “You gonna tell me that’s not Italian?”

Someone at the bar orders a Galileo Highball. You pull a bottle of Hendrick’s from the shelf.

As you pour, she asks, “he got a brother?”

“Very funny,” you say, not laughing. “I don’t know. They say Italians like big families. I’d bet his is no different.”

You slide the finished cocktail toward your patron with a small smile, and Sheri comes up behind you, holding her own drink—probably Macallan, if she’s the same Sheri you know.

“What did I tell you about drinking on the job?” You shoot her a glance; half disapproving, half amused.

“It’s a slow night, mom.” She gives you a light shove on the shoulder, bangles clinking. “Tell me more about your beau.”

“I think he’s a nerd,” you offer. “He mentioned being a data scientist, or something. He works at TrueCar.”

“What is that?” Sheri narrows her thin eyebrows at you.

“They sell cars,” you shrug. “It doesn’t matter to me if he has money.”

She takes a swig from her glass. “Well, does he?”

“You said Red Velvet is where all the rich guys are, and that’s where he was at, so I don’t know, Sheri, you tell me.”

“That’s what I heard!” She raises her arms defensively. “Did he tell you how much he makes?”

Your eyes stiffen. “I think that would’ve been rude to ask.”

“It’s not rude if he’s gonna be your sugar daddy.”

She has a point.

You should probably find out.

One Tuesday afternoon before work you decide that a call is indeed in order—something to settle your nerves, fraught with anticipation since the night you met Luigi. His number is accordingly labeled with his name in your phone and it is not hard to find among your texts. Your hesitation only lasts a few seconds before you press the call button.

A familiar modest tone is quick to answer.

“Hello?”

Fuck. Fuck. You hadn’t quite thought out the rest of this.

“Luigi, hi! This is—”

“From Red Velvet,” he interjects. You’ve been recognized by voice alone. “Hi, there.”

He sounds busy. Men always sound busy.

“Is this a bad time?” you ask.

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I’m on lunch. Happy to hear from you.”

How does this kind of thing normally come together? You’ve never taken the 101 on sugar dating, and there’s certainly not a handbook—not one that you’ve heard of, anyway. Maybe you should’ve done a little more research.

You clear your throat. “So. I’ve been considering, um…The arrangement thing.”

His voice rumbles on the other end. “Mhm?”

“I think…I wanna try it. With you.”

It sounds like he chuckles. Then: “Is that so?”

Man, he’s not helping your nerves at all.

Swallowing thickly, you ask, “…is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Luigi says, voice warm. “I offered, silly.”

Why is it that the overwhelming urge to explain yourself always comes on the strongest with silence?

“I’m kinda nervous,” you preface. “I’ve never done anything like this before, and you’re really nice, so if I sound awkward or like I’m being an idiot, I promise it’s not on purpose—”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupts. You can practically hear the smile on his face. “It’s okay. I understand. I’m gonna walk you through it, okay?”

You nod like he can see you. “Okay.”

The noise in the background starts to quiet down as Luigi speaks:

“We’ll meet up to discuss everything first, lay out the rules and your pay and all that,” he starts. “Somewhere public. Nothing has to happen yet. Just for us to make a plan and get to know each other a little more.”

It’s comforting, how he goes out of his way to ensure that you feel safe. Meeting in an open, people-filled space seems like something you should be suggesting, rather than him. It’s sweet. Makes you feel a little woozy—in more places than one.

“You like brunch?” he asks. “I’ll get you some brunch if you want. I know a spot.”

Brunch. The word alone makes your face scrunch up. He’s cute. “Okay. That sounds nice.”

“Are you sure? We can go somewhere else. Whatever you want.”

“Brunch sounds good,” you concur. “I’m not picky.”

“Okay. Good deal.” You hear what sounds like a door closing. “Are you free this weekend?”

I can be, you don’t say. “You bet.”

“Saturday?” he pitches.

“Sure.”

“How’s eleven?”

A bit early—you like sleeping in! But you’ll do it for this gorgeous man.

At your agreement, he bookends the conversation:

“Alright. We’re gonna meet at the Wooden Spoon, on Market Street. At eleven. On Saturday. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” you affirm.

Wooden Spoon. Market Street. Eleven. Saturday. It repeats in your head like a mantra. What will you wear? What time should you wake up? Should you eat a little bit before, so you don’t have to go wild in front of him? Not important. Not right now.

Your mind wanders further, because you allow it: do you deserve this? Are you worthy of a wealthy man’s spoils, of finer things, of something you believed you’d never once know the luxury of having? Not a day in your life did you imagine you’d wind up with this, on the phone with someone in a tax bracket you’re miles and miles behind, someone so humble and yet so blessed by whoever counsels the elite class up in heaven (or hell, more likely). These opportunities are one in a million, and you’ve found yourself lucky enough to draw the eyes of a willing devotee—you should be proud. You should be arrogant, bragging, full of yourself, flaunting the kind of ego you’ve managed to avoid for the twenty-ish years you’ve been on this planet. You just feel guilty.

Wooden Spoon. Market Street. Eleven. Saturday.

Luigi shows up not a minute after eleven o’ clock.

You’re already there. You made the effort to show up early—thirty minutes early, exact—wearing your favorite blouse, the one with little dragonflies printed all over, nails painted and lips glossed. You smell like a bakery and you look even more delicious. Yes. You feel ready.

At least, you do until he walks in.

Because he looks great. Even for a little brunch date, he’s glowing—practically a walking fucking Caravaggio painting. His baby blue button-down compliments his olive skin perfectly, collarbone peeking out from under almost sheer linen, and when you look closely enough…A thin, silver chain snakes around his neck, hidden underneath his shirt.

Fuck. You want it in between your teeth.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You’re almost speechless as he takes a seat across from you. Man, you really should have prepared yourself more for this.

“Hi,” you greet, meekly.

“You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

“Not at all,” you lie. He doesn’t need to know how much time you spent sitting in this very chair, worrying about this very moment. All at your own accord.

“Good,” Luigi says, nodding. Good that you weren’t waiting long. Good that you’re here, with him. He adds: “I’m glad to see you again.”

You attempt a smile. “I promise I am, too, I’m just—”

“Nervous?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Very.”

He taps his fingers over the menu laying on the table invitingly. “Let’s get some food in you. That’ll calm your nerves.”

So you look it over, ponder your options: avocado toast, smoothie bowls, fried chicken, patty melt…It all sounds really good when you haven’t eaten since your drunk lunch yesterday (which, to no one’s surprise, was similarly marred by your anxiety). You know one thing: some fresh squeezed orange juice sounds fucking bomb right now. Eventually you decide some scrambled eggs and buttermilk pancakes sound nice, too.

Luigi gets the avocado toast. Not what you were expecting.

“I felt like you’d be a bacon guy,” you say as the waitress waltzes off.

He shrugs, grins a little. “I don’t eat meat.”

Okay. So, you weren’t expecting that, either, but your next question is: How the fuck do you get that broad with no meat? You decide that’s an inappropriate question for brunch—table it for later. Later. You like the sound of a later.

“So, you work at Ernest, right?” he asks, sipping his tea.

Oh. Fuck. You forgot about that.

Fuck.

“I should probably tell you this now,” you start, voice shakier than you anticipate. “I, um—I lied. To you. About my job.”

His face doesn’t change much—Luigi just furrows an eyebrow at you. “Did you?”

“I know, I know, I’m really sorry!” By this point you can’t even remember why you lied to him—not after he’s taken this much caution in ensuring your comfort. “When I met you I had never been in the area before, and I was trying to play it safe, so I lied about where I work and I’m so so sorry—”

“Sweetheart,” Luigi interjects, placing his big, warm hands over yours. “I get it. Take a breath for me. Okay?”

He’s smiling a little, but only in amusement at how quickly you work yourself up. Over nothing. Per usual.

You breathe. “You’re not mad?”

“Not at all,” he says, shaking his head. “I understand why you’d want to keep that to yourself at first. You barely know me.”

Oh. Oh, wow. This is the very first time you’ve met a man who isn’t personally offended by your apprehension, and you’re starting to wonder if this one in particular is just a living fever dream, something you conjured up half asleep and yearning, something angelic. Something too good for you.

“I want to know you,” you utter.

“Okay. Fresh start.” He (gently, so, so gently) slaps his hands onto the table for emphasis. “Pretend Red Velvet didn’t even happen. Where do you work?”

“Cityscape,” you say, “at the Hilton in Union Square. Honest this time.”

“I believe you,” he nods, smiling. “Is that a bar?”

You nod with him. “I work opening shifts with my friend Sheri. She’s the one who told me about Red Velvet.”

“So, what you said about the sexual harassment must’ve been true.”

You almost choke on your mouthful of OJ. “Yeah. That part was true.”

While the two of you wait for your orders Luigi asks you some basic questions: how old you are, where you’re from, if you’re in school, what major, etc etc. You spend some time talking about college; you learn that Luigi is a much more impressive man than you would’ve guessed at first glance, a man with not one, but two degrees, each in computer engineering—turns out your intuition is pretty good! There’s also a background in some ultra nerd frat. That you wouldn’t have guessed. He’s halfway through a story about the night of his hazing when the hostess brings your plates out, sets them down on the table, aromatic and steaming.

You were already feeling less on edge—but the scrambled eggs certainly help.

“So…” Luigi starts after a bite of toast. “Do you want to get down to the nitty gritty?”

You blink. “You mean money stuff?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Money stuff.”

Another bite. A sip of tea. Then:

“I like to start with paying per meet,” he says. “I figured I’d base your pay off of how much you’re needing, though. Do you have an idea of what that might be?”

“Hmm,” you hum, forking some eggs into your mouth. “Let’s see. Rent is $3,300, on top of utilities. My aid covers most of my bills for school, so that’s not a problem right now. I just need to keep a roof over my head.”

“How much are you making a month?” he asks.

“Uhh…” You rack your brain. How much do you make? “About $2,000ish?”

“And how often would you be able to meet me?”

You grin. “I can be all yours on the weekends.”

Luigi looks like he’s crunching some numbers in his head. You decide to crunch on a pancake while he works that out.

“What if we did $1,000 to meet each weekend?”

Jesus. Christ.

“$1,000?” you repeat.

“Yeah. $1,000.”

You consider it. If you’re meeting with him every weekend, for $1,000 each time…That’s $4,000 in an average month. On top of your regular salary. Much more than you typically make. More than your rent costs. More than living costs at your current rate, maybe, probably. It’s a good deal. It’s a damn good deal.

“That’s—” you stutter. “That’s a lot.”

He smiles, softly. “For you it is.”

Meaning…It’s not for him?

“Do you like the sound of that?” he asks.

Well, yeah. It’s money. Money always sounds good. But you can’t shake the feeling:

“Are you sure that’s…like…okay? With you?”

“I think it’s fair,” he says, nodding. “If you’re only making $2,000 a month, $1,000 each weekend should be enough to keep you on your feet.”

Not really what you were asking.

“But…” he continues.

But?

“We can wean off of that, eventually.”

Wean off. Like you’re a kitten on wet food.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He takes a bite of his toast, then speaks:

“After a while, if you still like how this is going, we can start you on an allowance.” Luigi pops a berry into his mouth, leans back in his chair. “I’m thinking $4,000 a month, give or take. We can adjust that if you need.”

Oh? Oh. Oh, okay.

$4,000 a month. To fuck and go on dates with the sexiest thing on two legs you’ve ever looked at. To sacrifice (a word that is doing some serious heavy lifting) your weekends for dick and some good food. To be able to take care of yourself, for once—and not just that, but to have all the fancy things you dreamed of having as a girl: clothes, jewelry, books, shoes, cosmetics, stuff, just stuff to have. The kind of consumption only a lucky few are entitled to enjoy. And there are future implications, too: eventually, once you graduate, you’ll have some loans to pay off, perhaps another degree to pursue. A new car to drive. Your very own home to live in.

$4,000 a month. $1,000 per meet.

“I’m in,” you nod.

Luigi raises his eyebrows, smiles slightly. “You’re in?”

“Yeah. I like what you’re laying out.”

His smile is wider now, dimples defined in the creases of his face. “Okay. That’s all I want to hear.”

You shovel some eggs into your mouth and watch, completely unsubtle, as he adjusts his shirt on his shoulders, the veins lining his arms flexing.

Can’t you get to the sugar part now? You don’t even need a bed. You could find some space in your car, certainly.

“So,” he pipes up, “I think next we should lay down some ground rules.”

“Rules?” you iterate.

“Nothing crazy,” he assures you.

“Like…Boundaries.”

“Exactly!” With that Luigi finishes the last of his avocado toast. “I only have four.”

“Hit me,” you tell him.

He claps his hands together over his plate for effect.

“Okay. First off: be open with me. If you want something, ask for it. If you need something, tell me. Unfortunately, I can’t read your mind, so I appreciate bluntness.”

Bluntness. You can do that. Tending bar throughout your college years has taught you strength in that regard. Nodding, you down the rest of your OJ.

“I also need you to never be afraid of saying ‘no’ to me,” he says next. “Again, not a mind reader. Please let me know if you’re uncomfortable or unsatisfied or anything like that. This isn’t just for me—I would never want you to feel obligated to do something you don’t want to do anymore.”

“Sure,” you agree. “That’s easy for me.”

“Good.” He smiles warmly.

Third: “This can end any time you want. No questions asked. That goes for me, too, but I mean it mostly for you.”

What if you don’t want it to end?

“Okay,” you nod. “Any time?”

“Any time.”

You just hope he doesn’t change his mind about this whole thing.

“That being said, though…” he continues.

Oh?

Luigi extends his pointer finger outward as he continues. “I only ask that you be exclusive to me.”

Ah. This must be his fourth rule.

“Exclusive?”

He nods. “No dates, no one-night stands, no boyfriends or girlfriends. I want to be the sole provider in your life.”

So he’s a possessive type, too. You suppose it makes sense. Men don’t like to share their toys.

“Well,” you perk up, “am I going to be disappointed?”

The smug motherfucker smirks. “I don’t like to overstate my abilities, but I think you’ll be plenty satisfied.”

Plenty satisfied. You realize now that you don’t really need to fuck him to feel that way.

He adds: “I’m an earnest lover.”

Getting laid earnestly, every weekend, for $1,000. All to earn a whopping $4,000 a month, if he likes you enough.

You’ve done worse for less—and none of it involved a sexy Italian.

“I’ll need some proof,” you say, “but I think I’m down for that.”

“I’d be happy to prove it to you this weekend.”

Well, that was fast.

You quirk a brow. “Yeah?”

And then he leans in close to you, speaking barely above a whisper: “If you can be good, that is.”

Oh. Oh.

He’s doing this. He’s doing this at noon on a Saturday, in public. At brunch.

You graze your foot over his from under the table, gliding up, inching into his pant leg. Teasing. “If I’m good, what’s in store for me?”

Luigi smirks as the waitress makes her way toward your seat with the check—for him to pay, of course. “I’ll text you the details. Sound good to you?”

You smile back. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

He decides to walk you to your car, standing close, but not too close for comfort. There is an easy space between the two of you as you make your way to the parking lot on Sanchez Street, right behind the Wooden Spoon.

“I didn’t get to ask,” he perks up. “Do you have any rules?”

You certainly didn’t prepare any.

“Umm…” you trail off, giggling. “I didn’t make a list or anything.”

“You don’t need a list,” he says, smiling back at you. “Are there any boundaries you want to set?”

There are some obvious, more sugar related things you want cemented: condoms every date, no reverse cowgirl, probably no nudes, for the time being. But right now you’re just happy to be seen beside such a handsome man. All of the “nitty gritty”, in his words, can wait until later.

“I can’t think of anything,” you answer. “Just that I want respect and…Well, compensation.”

Luigi winks. “You’ll get that. Promise.”

You reach your car and pause, turn on your heels to face him.

His hands are in his pockets, curls rustling in the early spring wind. “So…”

“So?”

“This weekend, right?” he asks. “I’ll hit you up, probably Friday.”

“Okay,” you agree. “This weekend.”

Then, he asks: “Do you have any rules against kissing?”

You grin and blush like a little girl. “Nope. Definitely not.”

So he steps close, lingering just slightly as his hands meet your hips—and then he kisses you, sweetly and smoothly. You pull him ever closer to you by the chain on his neck and sigh against his mouth. He tastes like Earl Grey.

When he pulls away he flashes you a warm smile.

“I think I’m gonna have to build a time machine,” he says, “so I can skip ahead to this weekend.”

You laugh. “Good luck with that.”

Luigi doesn’t get that time machine built, but the weekend comes faster than you expect.

The first text you receive on Friday is quite surprising:

Luigi : Can I get ur address so my driver knows where to pick you up?

Driver? He’s sending a fucking chauffeur for you?

The next two texts he sends you once he has what he needs are straightforward:

Luigi : OK She’ll be there like 8:30 so be ready for her

Also we’ll be in a hotel after so maybe bring anything else you’ll need for tn

At that you put together a quick overnight bag: a change of comfy clothes and an outfit for the day after, toothbrush and toothpaste, comb, a pack of wet wipes, some hair ties. Some courage you definitely don’t have—not right now, at least.

You’re nervous.

But you’re not going to think about that, because you’ve got a date to get ready for. You’ve got a dress to put on—the very dress you met him in—makeup to do and dinner to eat…And, of course, dick to take. Luigi didn’t really give you pointers on how to look, so you pick your accessories carefully, settling for a plain silver necklace and some studs to match. Your shoes are simple: black heels, with a glossy finish that you’ve managed to not scuff up somehow.

You glance at the clock on your nightstand. 8:19. When he said 8:30, did he mean on the dot? Doesn’t matter—every second counts. You feed Butters and fill his water bowl; take a shot of Grey Goose for encouragement; unpack your overnight bag to brush your teeth twice, then pack it again. If you were a smoker you’d need a cig right about now.

And then, at 8:27, your phone buzzes:

Luigi : She’s there

Grey Mitsubishi

No backing out now.

Sure enough, a grey Mitsubishi Lancer sits parked on Cyril Magnin Street just outside your window. With your bag slung over your shoulder you make your way down to the lobby, heart pounding behind your ribcage.

The driver of this Lancer, as you soon find out, is…

“Cheyenne,” she says, extending a hand to you. Her fingers are decorated with rings of all shapes and colors, including a few with gemstones cemented in their center. She is cold to the touch, but her smile is inviting, dark, black-lined eyes staring into every layer of your aura.

As she turns the key in the ignition, you clear your throat.

“How do you know Luigi?” you ask.

At that moment, “Dance, Dance” by Fall Out Boy blasts from her speakers at 75% volume. You immediately wince at the loud assault to your eardrums.

“Shit, shit! Sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Her fingers are fumbling with the dial instantly. “Bad habit, I know, I’m so sorry—”

You laugh, heart still pounding. “I’m fine. Just startled me. I like your taste.”

Cheyenne begins to pull off onto the street with an uncertain smile.

“So, how do you know Luigi?” you try again.

“Oh, college,” she says. “We used to shoot the shit in Calculus II.”

“Was he any good?” you ask. “At calculus?”

“Luigi is good at just about everything,” Cheyenne says. “Well, except talking to girls. I’m still not sure how he bagged you.”

You snort. “He seemed like he knew what he was doing.”

“Trust me, he didn’t.” You pass by the Panda Express that saves you from cooking dinner most nights as Cheyenne makes her way towards…Wherever you’re going. “He called me and crashed out over the phone the night he met you. He cried because, and I quote, ‘she’s so fine it makes me sick to my stomach.’ I think he was drunk.”

The image of that is quite precious, indeed. You giggle. “That’s sweet.”

“Sweet as pie,” she agrees. “He’s got integrity. Very driven. I’m not just saying it. I’ve seen that dude help blackout drunk girls to their dorms because some guys were creeping on them.”

He certainly doesn’t fit your usual stereotype of “privileged white frat rat from the suburbs”, doesn’t give off a fuckboy vibe that you’ve been able to pick up on. No cocky posturing. No fake interest. Luigi is different. Laid back. Responsible. Tender hearted.

“And,” Cheyenne adds, “he was my wingman for a good while.”

“Wingman?”

“He helped me sneak into parties so I could get with sorority girls,” she clarifies. “I wouldn’t have met my girlfriend if it weren’t for him.”

How gallant. Luigi Mangione: Friend to Lesbians. “Ah. I see.”

Now you can see why Cheyenne seems to be so comfortable with Luigi; their bond is clearly interwoven with the safety he’s provided her throughout their friendship, likely a stark contrast to her Ivy League atmosphere. He’s probably the only male friend she’s ever had that’s never pitched the “I like someone and you know her very well” conversation—you’re still waiting to meet that unicorn.

“What do you do?” Cheyenne asks.

You assume she means job-wise. “I bartend at Cityscape, but I’m in school full-time.”

“Oh, nice!” she says, nodding. “Where at?”

As she turns onto Fifth Street, you tell her—your university, your major, how your classes are going, all the rage around campus. Cheyenne listens intently, drumming her painted nails against the steering wheel in time with the radio. By the time you’re finished complaining about the difficulties of your required second language credit, the two of you are making your way down Harrison.

“What about you?” you ask. “You look like you do something really badass. Like archery, or witchcraft.”

“I wish!” she laughs. “I’m a marine biologist. Right now I’m at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.”

“Oh, nice! You live down there?”

Cheyenne scratches her neck. “Sort of. I’m a bit of a couch hopper. Rent is brutal in Cali, so I jump between my friends’ places.”

You shrug in understanding. “Totally get it. I almost ended up on a boat with some of my dorm mates before I found my place.”

She snorts at that. Cute. You like Luigi’s friend.

The rest of the ride goes smoothly; Cheyenne’s Lancer speeds down the 280 as you overlook San Francisco, its heaving waters and cloudy skies. Occasionally she asks if you’d like to pick a song, but you decide you’re quite alright with her aux control, so you decline and leave it up to her. When she makes a sharp turn onto 25th Street, you start to understand where this might be going—perhaps Luigi knows a nice place right by the Bay.

Your destination is either what looks to be an apartment complex or a storied building squished next to it. Cheyenne directs you to the spot on the left, the taller of the two.

“He should be waiting for you up at the very top,” she explains before you get out of the car. “There’s an elevator to your right once you walk in. If you press 13 it should take you to the roof.”

The roof? Okay. This is weird.

You thank Cheyenne and carefully make your way inside, surveying the lobby. You realize now that this is somewhat of an office space, with several businesses leasing a spot in the building; you find a directory hanging on the wall by the elevator Cheyenne mentioned. On the thirteenth floor is something called “Ive’s”, and it is indeed at the very top. You step inside the elevator and observe the clock built in above the rows of buttons; its face reads 8:01. Nobody set this one back for Daylight Savings.

The building must be old, what with how the elevator rattles as it ascends to the thirteenth floor, and you thoroughly do not expect what’s waiting in front of you: the doors open to a beautiful rooftop terrace, with moody lights strung over tables and a perfect overlook of the Bay as a backdrop. And waiting by the bar is Luigi, hands clasped in front of his pelvis, standing tall and clearly alert. His eyes widen when he spots you emerging from the elevator.

“You made it!” he exclaims. “I was worried Cheyenne might confuse you.”

“Nah, I got here fine,” you say, smiling. “It’s good to see you.”

He leans in for a hug that you gladly return, whispering into your ear, “that it is.”

Luigi’s embrace is the warmest you’ve ever felt. It’s like walking into a heated pool; your body recalibrates in response to his touch, thoroughly lit alive by the mere presence of this man and his gentle ways. He holds you still for quite a while, maybe a minute, and when he pulls back his smile is bright and dimpled, only sweetened by his blush. You take the chance to look over his suit; he dons a paisley-print purple tie and a jacket with blue suede lining the inside. Prim with just a hint of fun. You would not have expected paisley.

“Shall we?” he says, offering a hand.

With your fingers interlaced, he leads you to a table at the far edge of the rooftop, and you start to realize now that, as a matter of fact, none of these tables are occupied—nor are they set, aside from the one he’s currently guiding you toward. There isn’t a single soul at Ive’s besides you and Luigi.

“What is this place?” you ask.

He grins. “It’s called Ive’s, if that’s what you’re asking, but if you want to know what’s up…”

At that Luigi moves to pull out your chair for you. “I’m tight with the owner,” he continues as you take your seat. “I got him to clear out the place just for tonight, so we could have somewhere all to ourselves.”

He’s nothing if not a pro at blowing you away. Your guilt at even accepting his generosity flows at full force, stunning you where you sit as Luigi settles down opposite you.

“You did all of this for me?” you ask.

He shrugs flippantly, still smiling. “Ive owed me a favor.”

From…somewhere, your host for the night emerges, holding two menus and cheesing at the both of you from under a thick handlebar mustache. The first order of business:

“What are you folks drinking tonight?”

The cocktail menu excites you—lots of vodka and gin, and there’s an entire section dedicated to rosé—but after some deliberation with the waiter, you decide on a Rooftop Mojito as a fitting welcome to your date. Luigi is not a complicated drinker, because he orders the same exact thing he ordered at Red Velvet: banana daiquiri with a slice of lime. The host prances off and leaves the two of you alone.

“Sooo,” you perk up, “you said you do data stuff for TrueCar, right?”

He winces. “If we’re going to talk about me, let’s not make it about my job. I promise it’s really boring. Last thing I want to do is make this date a snoozefest.”

You scoff. “I don’t think you could manage that.”

“What, boring you? I’ll bet I could.”

With a shake of your head, you say, “not when you look like you were blessed by Venus at birth.”

Luigi chuckles at that, nose flushing rosy pink. “Well, that’s flattering. I think you’re a more apt example of that description, though.”

“Just accept the compliment,” you chide playfully. “What if I have other questions that aren’t about your job?”

“Hit me.”

Well, shit. Maybe you should’ve made a list.

“How old are you?” you settle on eventually. Not a bad inquiry, you think. He’s quite young for a sugar daddy.

“Twenty six,” he answers. “Twenty seven in May.”

A Taurus. You consider it: loyal. Stubborn. Diligent. Possessive. Truly a toss-up—any of these qualities could spell both good and bad news for you. One thing you know for sure is that Luigi’s greatest strength is one quite common for Taurus men—he is entirely irresistible.

“And you’re from San Francisco, right?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Maryland. Baltimore.”

He really looks more Italian than anything.

“County,” he adds. “Not the city.”

There’s a Baltimore county?

“I see,” you nod. “I’m assuming Baltimore-the-county has a much different environment than Baltimore-the-city.”

“Very different,” he confirms. “What about you? Are you from San Francisco?”

“Nope,” you answer. “I moved here for college.”

That sparks a quick conversation about your home state and whether or not Luigi’s visited. As you wrap up a memorable story about the corner store you frequented in your childhood, your waiter returns to the table with your drinks, quickly retrieving his notepad and pen from his pocket.

If cocktails were hard, the food is even harder to choose from. The entire list of appetizers sounds pretty good to you, and you could go for at least three of the sandwiches—but alas, you narrow down your options to the tomato soup with a grilled cheese and a Caesar salad on the side. Meat-Free Luigi goes with the veggie poke bowl and some French onion dip with house-made chips, even though he looks like he could absolutely kill some chicken wings. Whatever.

Sipping from your mojito, you ask, “so, no TrueCar talk—what do you do outside of that?”

“A lot of reading,” he says. You could’ve guessed that. “And I like to stay active.”

Yeah, no shit. With shoulders like that?

Luigi likes Bertrand Russell and going on hikes and he can solve a Rubik’s cube in under a minute, which isn’t hard to imagine, what with those long, dexterous fingers. He wants to see every continent on the planet at least once. You ask him if he likes traveling solo or with friends and he tells you he makes do with both. His face lights up like never before as he describes a drunk night of catching crabs in Cabo San Lucas. You ask him to tell you his favorite destination he’s ever been to, and he says, “right here, with you.”

He’s perfect. There is truly no better word for it.

As the two of you wait for the food to come you jump from topic to topic: favorite movies, the best music for a long drive, politics, least favorite movies. The backdrop of the San Francisco Bay mellows the mood, with the waves chopping and seagulls wailing in the far distance, the moonlight shining bright against the water. You both down your drinks within twenty minutes and you eventually move on to the basket of bread rolls at the center of the table, paying no mind to the passage of time; it’s simply you and him by the Bay, with a romantic scene and some good liquor to keep you busy as the cooks work their magic.

“What made you want to spend your money on this?” you ask over a nibble of bread.

He tilts his head quizzically. “Dinner with you?”

Swallowing, you clarify, “the sugar thing.”

Apparently Luigi needs a moment to ponder that one. He rests his chin on his fists and looks up to the darkened sky as if to signify to you that he’s thinking.

“Sometimes I get in my head about not doing something more productive with my money,” he says. “There isn’t enough for people who need more. The best I can do is pitch in when the opportunity presents itself.”

“So…” You chew another piece of buttery bread roll. “It’s like charity.”

He grimaces. “That just makes it sound twisted.”

“I’m fucking with you,” you say, smiling.

You feel his foot nudge yours under the table.

“It’s rude to fuck with your date,” he quips, smiling bashfully.

“Is it?” you retort. “What are our plans for tonight, then?”

With that he leans forward, extends one of those long arms across the table and grabs your chin, gentle but firm. Looks into your eyes.

“Don’t make me hard at dinner,” he murmurs lowly. “That’s rude.”

Wow. Wow. This man is truly the peak of duplexity.

As Luigi settles back into his chair, leaving you blushing and achy between your thighs, the host and his magnificent mustache return with your food.

And oh, man. Luigi told you that Ive’s is a family owned restaurant, one that truly values its customers—and the mouth-watering smell only serves to prove that. Rickety elevator and somewhat hidden location be damned; Ive’s is a fucking Ritz-Carlton compared to what any fine dining establishment could ever provide. The portions are hearty and, with how long they took to prepare, your chefs of the night have clearly gone out of their way to make the best possible dish for you and your date. You feel like Gordon Ramsey with your mental commentary: the grilled cheese is stunning, with sharp cheddar and fuckin’ muenster—the most underrated cheese, in your book—stacked between crispy, pillowy artisan bread, toasted to perfection. And dunked in the tomato soup? A glorious pair. You even taste hints of cream and basil among the natural sweetness. It’s rich, flavorful, and, most importantly, delicious.

Halfway through your Caesar salad, Luigi poses a question for you:

“What about you?”

You pause, mull over it through a bite of lettuce and croutons. “What about me?”

“What brought you here? With me?” he elaborates.

Desperation? Envy? Loneliness? It could be all three, if you’re being completely honest with yourself. The truest answer, though, is quite simple:

“I didn’t have much growing up,” you start. “I’ve always been hand-in-hand with the poverty line, pretty much since the day I was born, and it’s only through scholarships and awards I worked my ass off for that I’m able to go to school in the city.”

You remember: nights spent breaking yourself apart for a steady GPA and perfect attendance, typing away and rubbing at the tension held under your pulsing temples. College in America is a bit like gambling—place your bet, and if you play your cards just right, it’s easy to get lucky. The problem is that some people are dealt a shit hand, and nobody is giving away their cards for free.

“I never got gifted with generational wealth or blessings from my bougie ancestors,” you continue, tossing your salad back-and-forth with your fork. “I never got the chance to do things I dreamed of doing as a girl. My parents struggled for as long as I can remember—and I guess, after a while, you get pretty tired of it. You start to want safer ground to land your feet on.”

Luigi nods, listening closely.

“I guess it just felt like the best option, the most doable,” you say. “I realized once I made it to college that I couldn’t take care of myself on my own. And I felt like, after all I’d done to even afford my tuition, I could really use not just the extra help, but…Everything else that comes with it. Stability. Comfort. You know?”

He smiles softly. “Everyone deserves nice things.”

A seagull whines in the distant Bay. The air smells like sea salt and sweet, sweet magnetism.

You twist the handle of your fork uncertainly. “Do you think I deserve it?”

“You deserve someone who wants to put in the work,” he answers, cupping his warm hands over yours.

“Have I found him?” you ask.

Leaning forward, he plants a kiss on the back of your hand. “I’d say so.”

Grinning, you suggest, “I think we should get the bill.”

Luigi raises a brow playfully. “No dessert?”

You shake your head. “I don’t need it. Not tonight.”

Cheyenne and her Lancer await outside of Ive’s, still carrying your bag in the backseat. When you and Luigi approach, you can hear My Chemical Romance blasting even through her rolled-up windows. She startles when she first sees the both of you, then settles and smiles shyly, tinkering with the volume dial for what must be the gazillionth time tonight.

“Hey, kids,” she greets as you file into her car. “How was dinner?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t make me feel like the troubled son of a middle-aged mother going through a divorce,” Luigi jokes with a sigh, buckling his seatbelt. He turns to you and winks.

Cheyenne whips around, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “Divorced? Middle-aged? Fuuuuuck you. We’re the same age, dick.”

“Physically,” Luigi says.

“If you didn’t have a lady with you I’d make you walk,” she barks, pulling back the gearshift. “You didn’t switch hotels on me, right?”

“Nope,” he answers, popping the p.

The hotel in question is just a few miles past Mission Bay, exactly a twelve minute drive from Ive’s. The Palace is an elegant, almost industrial building smashed between parking garages that, from the looks of the entrance, seems to be hiding a ravishing interior. Luigi opens your door for you and helps you out of the car, hand gently grasping yours.

He offers a two finger salute with his free hand, standing tall. “Thanks, Chey. I really appreciate it.”

Cheyenne mirrors him. “Don’t mention it. Nice meeting you,” she says, gesturing toward where you stand next to Luigi.

You nod, smiling brightly and waving goodbye. “Thanks again!”

Luigi waits and watches to make sure that Cheyenne pulls off safely before he’s guiding you to the massive front doors of The Palace, past the lobby, through the high-ceiling hallways toward the elevator. It’s like something from a Wes Anderson film. When the fanciest you’ve seen is your local Hampton Inn, something like this is truly breathtaking. Your heels click against the marble of the floor as you walk with Luigi, stunned by each new chandelier you count on the ceiling. The two of you pass patrons sat in the common area, sipping from glasses of champagne or mugs of coffee and chatting amongst themselves—you imagine about fucking over the poor and hungry. What else do the horrifically rich discuss?

But god, they have taste.

“This place is gorgeous,” you murmur to him as the two of you wait for the elevator to reach the ground floor. “Have you stayed here before?”

“Just once,” he says, still holding your hand. “You like it?”

“I do.”

He smirks. Squeezes your fingers lightly. “You haven’t even seen our room yet.”

And, much to your awe, he was right—it’s not just a room, it’s a suite. Luigi stands by and watches with subtle pride as you tour your surroundings: king bed, beautiful view of outside The Palace, separate lounge area with a variety of seating options, and a bathroom fit for a Victoria’s Secret model. There are even two white bathrobes hanging on the wall opposite the gigantic mirror. They gave you robes! You want to fall to your knees and cry with joy. You emerge from the bathroom and, to Luigi’s surprise, immediately tackle him in a hug, nearly tripping over your own feet.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you chime, swaying him back-and-forth. “I’m so happy I could die.”

“Don’t die,” he chuckles, smoothing his hand over your lower back. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

You squeal with joy when he presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek and slowly lets you go.

“Oh,” he continues, reaching up to swipe something from the top of the dresser you’re stood next to. “And this is for you.”

Luigi hands you a plain white envelope, scrawled with your name. Cute. You can only imagine what must be inside. Carefully, you tear open the seal and pull out…

A Hallmark card. In curly font, the front reads, “If EVERYBODY had a NIECE as terrific as YOU, it wouldn’t be any BIG DEAL.” When you open it, the inside loudly remarks, “BUT THEY DON’T, SO IT IS! Hope your birthday is as terrific as YOU!”

The money is inside. Obviously.

You try not to shriek with laughter.

“I felt like it would be rude to just give you an envelope with money, but I didn’t really know what to do with the card…?” he interjects, as if he’s trying to defend himself.

“The card is a nice touch,” you agree, failing to bite back your smile. “Are we roleplaying or something?”

He cringes in anguish. “Jesus. I’m an uncle already. I don’t need to roleplay.”

As you giggle, your thumb brushes over the cash.

“You can count it, if you want,” he adds.

It feels a little callous, but you do, since he seems unbothered. There’s a $100 bill, then another, then another—ten in total. $1,000. In cash. All yours. And it’s real.

This is real. Really happening. Real money, real man, real room. Suite. Goddamn.

“Okay,” you breathe, nodding. The bills are spread out in your hands, a sight you’d only ever dreamed of before. “Okay.”

Carefully, you stuff the cash back into the card neatly, tucking it back inside of the envelope to put in your bag, which you leave next to Luigi’s by the dresser.

“All good?” he asks.

You smirk coyly. “All good.”

“Do you mind if I kiss you now?”

You have to swallow your giggle—Luigi is almost polite to a fault, so much so that it feels silly to maintain it when he’s about to fuck you (and when he’s paying you for it, no less). So you decide to answer his question directly, physically, threading your fingers in his curls and bringing your lips to his, slow and smooth. He grunts in surprise but is quick to return the kiss; his hands caress your upper back, thumb toying at the zipper of your dress and then sliding lower, gripping your hips. The way his mouth moves against yours is leisurely but intentioned, deliberate, confident. He is certainly not new to this.

“Luigi,” you breathe against his lips, and you try to steal another kiss, but he pulls away.

He tuts, a little tsk tsk. “Is that what you call me?”

Oh. Oh. Right. He never laid his cards out on the table that clearly, but you suppose it makes sense for this to be part of your arrangement.

“Sorry, Daddy,” you murmur, face burning.

You’re certainly not mad about it. You could get used to this.

“That’s better,” Luigi whispers. “That’s much better.”

He kisses you again, harder this time. Now his hands are on your ass, alternating between groping you with greed and gliding back up to your hips; when his tongue grazes yours you let your mouth fall open for him, head lolling, and he brings up one hand to tangle his fingers in your hair and keep your lips connected to his. Having your hands in his curls after countless nights of fantasizing feels almost surreal—this whole situation just feels like the porno of your dreams playing out in front of you, right down to the exquisite location, the gorgeous man, and the events leading up to now. Having sex with other guys your age has never felt like this before.

When your calves hit the small sofa in front of the bed you decide to sit down, pulling Luigi closer to you by his paisley tie so as to not lose his kisses. He leans over you, big hands sliding up your thighs, past the hem of your dress, feeling the warmth of the flesh on your hips beneath his palms—you realize then that there are quite a few pillows in your way, and so you push them off. Luigi huffs a laugh.

His mouth moves down, over your throat, mesmerizing you effortlessly. And his hands move up, slowly but surely, tracing the outline of your body in your dress, admiring the way the green satin hugs your curves; this particular shade makes your skin tone shine, he thinks.

“I do really love this dress,” he says into your cleavage, pressing absentminded kisses here and there. “Looks so pretty on you.”

Further he goes. Cupping your breasts, feeling around. Gliding north, to your back. A palm drifts up. Fingers dance over your zipper.

“Can I take it off?” he asks, soft against your ear.

You nod. His face sinks in disapproval.

Seizing your chin between his thumb and fingers, he chides, “answer me when I ask you a question.”

“Yes, yes,” you insist. “Yes, Daddy, I’m sorry.”

Luigi grins. “That’s okay, sweet girl,” he whispers, kissing your jaw. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

His lithe fingers begin to work your zipper down, down, down, the sound of it echoing in your ears, until you can feel silver resting against your coccyx. Then he helps you slip each strap off of your shoulders, peeling the dress down your torso and your hips, and you laugh lightly when he guides you backward to tug it down your legs. With your heels still on the movement is a bit clunky, but Luigi pays the hiccups no mind. Cheyenne was quite serious about him being driven.

You’re wearing a plain pink set—not very extravagant, but still the most elegant you own. There are frilly edges and a little bow on the front of the panties, girlish and angelic details. You hope he won’t be disappointed in your lack of fancy lingerie. Perhaps some of the cash he’s paid you could go towards something nicer, more intricate—an investment for him, a treat for you.

His hands scan over your body, admiring, beholding.

“What a pretty sight,” he purrs, face flaunting a Cheshire Cat-esque smile. “Did you wear this just for me?”

You shrug, grinning, flushing madly. “It’s the best I’ve got.”

“It’s perfect,” Luigi says. “Absolutely perfect. You look radiant.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you mutter.

And then he steps back, gets onto his feet, hands moving upward.

“Why don’t you take that off for me?” he asks. Then there’s that killer smile. “Not that I don’t love it on you. Just makes my job a bit easier.”

You grin.

As he starts to undo his tie you reach behind yourself to open the clasp of your bra, heart pounding as your chest is slowly revealed to him. Luigi is learning that you follow orders well. You move with leisure so as to even the playing field; by the time he’s wearing only his slacks, belt, and black crew socks, you’re working your panties down your thighs, arching your curves every which way to put on a show for him. You sigh at the sound of metal clinking, fabric shuffling.

When your hands reach for the strap of your left heel, he stops you:

“Leave those on,” Luigi commands.

You smirk, enlightened. “You got a thing for girls in high heels?”

“I’ve got a thing for you, pretty lady.”

As he pulls his trousers down to reveal tight black briefs and an impressive imprint he steps closer. You look up toward him expectantly, batting your eyelashes.

“You know what to do, don’t you?” he coos, stroking your hair.

Normally you’re not the biggest fan of this—but you feel graced by god himself to have been given this specific opportunity. So you peel down the edges of his boxers until his cock is springing free, balls heavy and tip leaking, and Luigi blesses you with a delicious groan when you wrap a hand around his shaft and begin to pump him in your tight fist. You almost need both your hands just to stroke him off. It’s ridiculous. He sucks in a breath above you, sharp and rushed, eyes fluttering shut and lips pressed together.

And then you stick out your tongue and lick a slow stripe all the way up the length of his cock, ending with a pronunciated gesture against his frenulum. Luigi balls your hair into a fist; the defined muscles of his stomach are pulled taut, and you glide a hand up through the thick thatch of hair on his pelvis, up further, over his faint happy trail, and when you feel his belly flexing under your palm you moan against him. Your mouth comes to wrap around the first few inches of him, lips sucked in and cheeks hollowed. Two big, warm hands cup your face.

“My god, you’re beautiful,” Luigi breathes. His thumb traces the outline of your cheekbone, tucking stray hair behind your ear. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look with your mouth full?”

You moan around his cock, pull off of him momentarily to answer: “Only you.”

“Could be a pornstar with that fuckin’ body,” he groans—his hands apply the slightest pressure to your head as you take him again. “Fuck, you’d have ‘em lined up for miles, just waiting for a chance.”

His dick begins to press into your throat and you accept him happily. As you set the pace, bobbing your head up and down, Luigi angles his hips forward, and you subdue your gag reflex by digging your fingernails into his thighs.

He compresses his lips again, draws in a deep breath when you take him to the hilt. “But you’re smarter than that, aren’t you?”

The feminist in you wants to lecture him about the complexities of women in sex work, but you figure that’d be a bit of a turn off. And besides, when you tongue at his balls with his cock still lodged down your throat he makes a heavenly sound, something straight out of your wet dreams, something deep and rocky but still so vulnerable. You love it. You need more of that yesterday.

Luigi swears under his breath as you pull off of him, switching to licking around the fat head of his cock and stroking the length untouched by your tongue. The pre beading at his slit tastes sweet, sort of pungent, but not at all unpleasant—you assume you’ve got his diet to thank for that. He groans and shivers and goosebumps rise on his tan skin, prickling underneath your palms. You wrap your lips around the tip of his length, forming a tight suction—as you suck him your hand continues a steady back-and-forth over his dick, your spit creating an effortless glide.

And then you start twisting, as gently as possible, and every bone in his body melts inside of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts, head thrown back. You can see sweat glistening on the column of his throat. “That’s a good girl. That’s a good fucking girl.”

You try to replicate the same feeling on his cockhead with your hand as you move to his balls, sucking each into your mouth, swirling your tongue, all while your beaming eyes stare up at him.

“Such a princess,” he murmurs. “Who taught you how to suck dick like this?”

You flash him a toothy grin. “You jealous?”

He moans loud when you guide your flat, wet tongue over his tip again, paying extra attention to the underside of his cock, the thin vein stretching down the length of it. Your fist continues its ministrations on his shaft all the while; stroking, twisting, squeezing, much to the delight of Luigi. As you lick your mouth moves lower, taking inch by inch, tongue still swirling to the best of your abilities—and even when it fails to circle his girth you sweep it side-to-side against his dick, your jaw slowly accepting the intrusion.

With his cock in your throat again you repeat the swaying of your head, bobbing slowly at first and picking up the pace as his sounds intensify. You hope to god that the walls of The Palace aren’t remarkably thin—the wet noises of your mouth moving are ringing loud in your ears, only bested by Luigi’s groans and whines above you. His hips start to meet your movements, thrusting up just slightly, and when you accidentally gag on his dick he moans loud. He fists your hair and growls, your nose buried in his bush, coconut and sandalwood filling your senses.

“Oh, Christ, yes,” he mumbles. “All of it, baby, take all of it…”

You drag your lips up his length and bring your hand back to work, tugging and twisting like before as your mouth works his cockhead. Only for a moment, though, because Luigi quickly guides you further down, until his heavy dick is fully seated on your tongue, probing your throat again. Your hand finds his balls instead, squeezing softly—you can feel them drawing up in your palm.

He sighs deeply, exhilarated. “Gonna make Daddy come in this pretty little mouth, sweetheart.”

You’ve never tasted a vegetarian’s sperm before. There’s a first time for everything, truly.

With a few more pumps of your head and some added action with your tongue Luigi is gasping and coming in your mouth, hips bucking with fervor. You don’t plan on swallowing, initially, but he tastes quite nice compared to other guys you’ve had—so before you pull off of him you gulp him down without much thought, making a show of opening your mouth to display its relative emptiness.

Luigi leans down slightly to kiss you. Unexpected, considering the circumstances—re: his jizz in your mouth about five seconds ago—but you’re not complaining. And you realize then that Luigi was hiding something under his suit: he’s wearing the chain, the very same one you’ve been daydreaming about seeing against his perfect olive skin again. Somehow you hadn’t noticed it earlier. You can’t help but tug on it as his mouth moves with yours.

“How’d you know I love this?” you ask against his lips, smiling.

He pecks the corner of your mouth. Shrugs. “You were grabbing at it the first time I kissed you. You’re not very subtle.”

You run your finger along the rough edges of the necklace as you lick inside his mouth; but eventually it becomes difficult to resist his gorgeous curls, so your hands trail, scratching at his scalp and tugging the hairs at the nape of his neck.

Then he kneels. You offer a curious whine.

“It would be rude of me to not return the favor, princess,” Luigi says, spreading your thighs apart and guiding your legs over his broad shoulders.

Wow.

Long fingers brush against your cunt. He’s spreading something else, too, exploring and relishing in how reactive you are to his touch.

“Oh, my,” he murmurs. “You’re so wet. Were you having fun, baby?”

The whine that leaves you is apalling. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He plants a kiss to the back of your knee, glides further, down your thigh. “You’re such a gift. I’m a lucky, lucky man.”

Two of his fingers part your lips so that all of you is exposed to him. He begins with one flat lick from hole to clit, grinding the tip of his tongue against your fluttering cunt and sweeping it side-to-side. You cry out. It’s been a long time since you found a guy this enthusiastic about eating pussy, and you’re starting to feel immensely glad that Luigi isn’t showcasing himself online—any girl could have this, and because of one chance night, you are the one that gets to indulge in his greedy mouth. Before the insecurity can come flooding back to you he sucks your clit between his lips, slowly pulling away with a resounding pop.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re really spoiling me, sweetheart.”

You’re spoiling him? Yeah. Because that makes sense.

Nothing needs to make sense, though; not when he licks up the length of your pussy again, steadying your body by wrapping his other hand around your thigh, and good god, the span of his fingers nearly covers the entire width. You could probably come just from looking at that. First his tongue circles the hood of your clit, just barely avoiding where you want him the most, and then he moves to teasing you with the pointed tip of it, flicking back and forth. It’s heaven. You’ve never had a man pay this kind of attention to your satisfaction, and you love that Luigi seems to be quite avid about your enjoyment of his efforts—every so often he’ll groan with hunger into your cunt, squeezing your supple thighs.

“Oh—” you whine, hips stuttering. “Oh, fuck, Luigi…”

And then he stops. You make a sound that can only be described as a shrill grunt, raising your head to peek at him between your legs. Luigi’s brows are set straight, eyes unamused.

Oh. Right.

“Daddy,” you plead. “I’m sorry. Please don’t stop.”

His wicked smile returns, then, and he gives your thigh a careful smack. “Atta girl.”

That perfect tongue returns, sliding up through your slick and lingering at your hole, pressing in just slightly. Your cunt is open entirely to him and he can reach every crevice of you, swirling and parting your folds, curling up to collect your arousal as it seeps from you. You’re starting to think that Luigi may not even have to pay you in cash from now on—he can simply compensate with this eager mouth of his. For a moment he takes your clit between his lips and sucks hard again, creating a pulsing sensation with the suction of his mouth that has your thighs trembling and forces sounds from you that would frankly terrify you in any other context.

When he pulls away, he murmurs, “you have the most perfect pussy, baby. Could taste you all day.”

Then he’s diving back in, hardly giving you any room to breathe—it’s just a never ending barrage of all the magic that his mouth can do, his dirty talk and the skillful work of his tongue. This time around he tenses that talented appendage and slots it inside of you, withdraws, and licks up the length of your slit, then repeats the gesture a second time, and then a third—and by the fourth time the tips of his fingers are teasing your entrance, silently asking for permission to explore.

“Please,” you whine, bucking your hips.

So Luigi licks up and collects your clit in his mouth, sucking as he eases his middle finger into your cunt. He hardly gives you time to adjust before he’s curling it, working that spongy spot inside of you with precision, and you cry out, squirming under his intensive ministrations. All the while his lips squeeze your firm clit, almost massaging it, his tongue making a special appearance every so often to stroke the sides of you.

“Fuck,” you sob. “More, please, more.”

He slides a second finger inside of you. Then a third. What really makes it special is the fact that the stretch of his fingers can’t possibly compare to his dick.

By now the build-up of your orgasm has begun to peak, coiling like hot wires in your stomach; you’re squirming ceaselessly on the couch, jittering all over, your fingers buried in Luigi’s thick curls as his fingers work inside of you. His other hand snakes around your thighs and presses against your abdomen, pinning you down so as to minimize your movements. Your thighs shoot up and frame his head, locking him in.

“I’m coming,” you warn, “I’m gonna come.”

Momentarily his mouth leaves your pussy to groan, “you’re doing so good, princess. Show Daddy how you come for him.”

And when his lips return to your clit, a deep hum vibrating in his throat and through your body, you’re coming hard on his face, gripping his hair roughly and rocking your hips against his mouth. Luigi returns your satisfaction tenfold; he moans and smiles against your cunt as he guides you through your climax, whispering fluff to you that you don’t quite comprehend through the rush.

“Such a good girl, sweetheart,” he’s saying when you come to, the ceiling almost spinning before your eyes.

You lean up on your elbows and offer a dazed grin. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, meeting your lips in a deep kiss. “It’s a treasure to get my mouth on you, sweet girl. I’ve been dreaming of it.”

His tongue tastes like your cunt. You moan into his mouth as you suck on it, fisting his tight curls in your hand.

“Would you mind terribly if I fucked you now?” Luigi asks when he pulls away, still smiling sweetly.

You kiss him again. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

At that he stands to retrieve a condom from his wallet, dick swinging shamelessly as he moves. Christ. You’re no better than a man.

He catches you staring, notices your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. “Like what you see?”

Flushing, you giggle. “I’m sorry. It’s kinda hard not to.”

Tearing open the packet, he orders with a smile: “Turn around and bend over on the bed.”

You’re obeying before the words are even out of his mouth. You sink your knees into the soft cushion of the sofa as you lean down onto the bed in front of you, back arched. Your soft ass and your sticky pussy are in perfect view for him, and he whistles lowly as you feel him approaching from behind.

“Look at that,” he remarks, spreading you with the same hands that can solve a Rubik’s cube in under a minute. “Fucking dripping wet. And all for me.”

He drags a fingertip through your slick, which is soon replaced by the head of his cock, swiping back-and-forth against your clit. You shudder at the smooth motion of it, at the way his hands knead your asscheeks.

“So gorgeous,” Luigi says as he presses inside of you.

The stretch knocks all the wind out of your lungs, and the sound you make is intense, pained, absolutely obscene. By the time he’s sheathed every inch in your cunt you’re gripping the bedsheets and squealing, praying to no one in particular that the rooms opposite each side of yours are unoccupied.

“There we go,” he murmurs, stroking your lower back. “Let it all out, sweetheart. How does that feel?”

“It—” You cut yourself off with a groan. “It’s so big.”

“Shh,” he whispers—his hand is now combing through your hair. “I know, baby, I know. Look at you, taking it so well.”

You don’t even know how to breathe again when he pulls his hips back and slowly presses inside of you once more. And then once more. And when Luigi starts to find his rhythm all you can do is blink away your tears and fall face-forward into the bed, your pathetic sounds muffled by the sheets, and he seems to return your enthusiasm—he groans, head thrown back and eyes lidded.

“Fuck, that’s perfect,” he praises. “You can handle it, can’t you, princess?”

Weakly, you nod and offer a whimper. His hand comes down hard on your ass.

“What did I tell you about answering me?” Luigi spits, voice gruff.

“Yes, Daddy, yes,” you whine, leaning back up on your elbows. “I can take it, I can.”

He squeezes your rear. “Arch your back for me.”

So you do, easily, and he’s quick to pick up the pace, slamming into you with no regard for anything that isn’t his cock pistoning inside of your warm, slick pussy. The man is relentless, tugging at your hair and panting beautifully; he’s pounding so deep that you swear you can feel the pressure of it in your chest, and you’re so wet that you’re almost worried you’ll leave behind a mess so horrific the janitors of The Palace will need therapeutic compensation for their shift tonight.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, “oh, fuck…”

It’s all too much and yet you can’t not want more. You’re working your hips back-and-forth in time with his thrusts, the soft globes of your round ass meeting his pelvis with a noise that is unbearably obvious. The stretch of his cock is unforgiving. Merciless.

With a fistful of your hair, Luigi grunts, “that’s it, baby, there you go. Fuck me back.”

But you’re breaking out a sweat, lip tucked between your teeth. “I can’t—oh, fuck, please…”

“Shh,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on you. “Just rub that little clit and let me do all the work, okay?”

Your fingers swiftly find the slicked bundle of nerves between your thighs and stroke in circles, moving furiously. He’s got both hands planted firmly on your hips, thighs and arms tensing as he hunches over you, fucking into you like a madman, his dick brushing into every sweet spot deep inside of you. If you focus hard enough you can feel his silver chain swinging over your back.

Luigi makes a noise that sounds strangled and involuntary.

“Baby,” he says, “fuck, you’re tight. ‘M not gonna last much longer.”

You nod desperately, hand moving to meet his where it’s clasped over your hip. The fingers of your free hand speed up, slathering your arousal over your clit as Luigi slap-slap-slaps his hips into yours.

He wasn’t lying. It only takes a few more minutes of his vicious pounding for the both of you to come undone; you’re up first, jittering and falling flat into the bed as your toes curl and your cunt grips him like you never want to let go, and that’s all Luigi needs to meet you halfway, thrusts stuttering and slowing to a stop as you milk him. His chest is heaving and his Adam’s apple bobs as he catches his breath, his hand gently caressing your back.

“God,” he mutters as he pulls out of you. “You’re fuckin’ unbelievable.”

You’re sat up in bed, the sheets splayed over your naked body as the shower runs in the distance. By now it’s past midnight, the city only lit up by street lights and the brights of passing cars. As you watch the world pass by through the windows of your suite, you fork through a plate of chocolate mousse cake, specially made by The Palace’s chefs. The bite that fills your mouth is heavenly; it’s rich and fluffy, the icing creamy and the texture smooth. Something sweet to make up for your lack of dessert this evening.

The water turns off. Halfway through your slice of cake fresh from room service, Luigi emerges from the shower, curls wet and skin sheen with warm droplets as he tucks in the towel wrapped snugly around his waist. He smiles at you when you spot him.

“What do you think?” he asks.

You blink. “About my cake?”

He chuckles. “About tonight.”

Now you understand: he wants feedback. Wants to live up to his promises.

“I’m an earnest lover.”

Setting your cake and fork on the nightstand, you approach him—and he sighs happily when you wrap your arms around him and pull him in for a hug, your bare breasts pressed flush to his pecs.

Into his ear, you whisper: “I think you’re the very best Daddy I could ever ask for.”

Luigi smiles devilishly.

^ dividers by cafekitsune

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione fanfiction #flig’s work #🍷daddy luigi

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alphabetboyluvr · 2 years ago

Text

landslides - 001 | goldrush - jjk

part title credit: goldrush - taylor swift

everybody wonders what it would be like to love you... i can't dare to dream about you anymore... it never will be...

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn't ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he's yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being 'you' to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do.

warnings: fluff more than angst, but it's not clean cut - there's also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you've been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

wordcount: 6.8K

note from holly: so... i dogsat (? idk if thats a word) for my friend last chuseok and this was the result hahahaha. my friends dog (boba <3) is so tiny and small!! but i've always been a big dog girlie so bam was fun to write. i really love this one and have recently found all of my old notes from around that time detailing the rest of the couples lives, so pt. 2 is in progress.

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

Bam notices the storm roll in before you do. His ears twitch, head lifting from its rested perch on his paws.

“What’s up, baby? Hey?” You coo, his sudden shift obviously prompted by something. His snout begins to twitch, too, and his bottom lip shakes as a small growl vibrates from his throat. His eyes are on the window, stalking the clouds as they roll past. “Hey.”

You sit up a little straighter to lean forward and scratch behind his ear. He leans into it, but doesn’t take his eyes away from the sky.

“You see the rain, huh?” You hum, looking between the pup and the window ahead. You can’t place it yet - it’s too far in the distance - but you find yourself coming to sit beside him. He doesn’t lean up against you like he usually does. Just continues to lightly growl.

There’s no threat behind his noises, no malice - he’s just shouting back at the thunder you can’t hear. When you see a bolt of lightning flash in the distance just beyond the city skyline, you know that it won’t be long until Jungkook’s apartment block is drenched in the weather.

It’s just gone midnight when he calls. His face is a little puffy, smile a little lopsided.

“Hey Bammie,” he coos into the camera. You’ve got it angled down to where the pup is resting his head on your knee, peacefully unwinding after his long walk. Bam doesn’t stir at Jungkook’s voice, so he tries again. “Bammie?”

The way he elongates his puppy’s name is sweet - a tone of voice reserved only for his most trusted companion. He sure as hell has never spoken to you like that.

“Sorry, bud,” you say as you lift the camera up to your face. He’s pouting. “I don’t think the vibrations sound the same through the phone.”

“I miss him,” he says not even caring to acknowledge your thought process. “Is he okay? Was he good on his walk?”

“He’s all good,” you smile. “Best boy in the world. None of the other dogs you mentioned were down at the park, so it was just us two.”

He nods into the camera and purses his lips. “They might all be away. Visiting family.” He rolls over in his bed and lets out a yawn. “How’s the apartment? Got everything you need?”

You nod back. “All good. Might have eaten my way through your cheese stash already. I’m gonna shower then head to bed in a minute.”

“Make sure you leave the bathroom door open a little,” he says. “He’ll whine if not.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate you doing this. He hasn’t been too much work, has he?”

“He’s good as gold,” you say as you switch to the back camera. The view is serene, and Jungkook’s lips instantly settle into a smile. Bam is up on the sofa with you, snuggled against your lap. The skyline twinkles through his window, the reflection of his mood lamp obscuring some of it - but he’s quietly pleased that you’re using it. It’s how he normally winds down, too. Main lights off, galaxy on his ceiling. Must make Bam feel a little more at ease. You go to scratch behind his ear, and he huffs a little, all content and cosy. “Thanks for asking. He’s never too much work. You trained him well.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums. “Could have trained you a little better, though.”

He laughs when you switch the camera back to your face, mouth open, brows knitted together. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he grins now but tries to hide it; to restore the stoicism to his face. It doesn’t work. “What did I tell you about the sofas?”

You purse your lips together as if you’re not smiling. He’s got you there, admittedly.

“Look, he’s just so cute!” Despite the fact you’ve turned the camera back onto Bam, Jungkook can tell you’re pouting. “How could I say no?!”

“Easily!” Jungkook laughs. “That’s how he became so well trained! I leave for one night and-”

“Shuuuush,” you laugh, and when the camera switches back to you, Jungkook can’t help but let his smile persist. You look tired, and so does he, but there’s something about the call that has made you forget all about the fact you were planning on going to bed soon. “My swamp now. My rules.”

“My swamp,” he protests, but the look on his face is so saccharine that you can’t take him seriously. He thinks the same could be said for you. “Anyways, it’s late. Go get your shower. If you need more towels, there are some in the cupboard by the boiler. Don’t forget to turn the vent on - it’s the switch next to the light.”

“Alright, will do,” you nod and then yawn. Bam pricks his head up. “Hey baby,” you speak to him. “Did I wake you?”

“Show me him.”

You switch the camera around to where you’re scratching at Bam’s ear. He leans his head into the scratch, thoroughly enjoying it, your long nails far scratchier than Jungkook’s. It’s not the same - Jungkook is far stronger, so is a little rougher which suits Bam just fine. Still, he likes your scratches better than no scratches at all.

Jungkook whines. “I miss him.”

“He misses you, too. Want me to call in the morning?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re up early tomorrow, heading over to Haedong Yonggungsa in the morning. Probably be up before you. Send me pictures though.”

“Will do. Night, buddy.”

“Night gremlin,” he smiles, and then begins to coo. “Night Bammie. Daddy misses you.”

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him in the way that you do when he says that; lips turned upwards at the very corners, dimples pressing into your cheeks, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” he says, but you’re already laughing.

“Daddy.”

“I am his dad!”

“Daddy.”

“Oh my god, fuck off,” he laughs. “Have nightmares, gremlin.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Fuck off!”

You hang up before he can protest your taunts any more, though he does text you one final ‘fuck off,’ and a reminder that you can bolt his front door if it will make you feel safer.

His apartment is in a high-rise, and his neighbourhood is far nicer than yours. You do the bolt up regardless, and think that it’s sweet that he considered your comfort enough to remind you about it.

Bam sits by the sliding door of the bathroom, the tips of his paws just teetering over the line of the door frame. He rests his head on his legs, snout angled towards the hallway. It still makes you feel a little weird. You don’t really want a dog watching you shower, even if he is a dog and has no real understanding of what’s happening - so you turn your back to him and just reassure yourself that Jungkook showers with the door open wide.

It’s a funny thing, to think about your co-worker’s showering habits. Not one that you’ve ever thought to indulge in before - but Jungkook would go ballistic if he heard you refer to him as your ‘co-worker.’ You’re friends. Pretty good ones, at that.

You’re level players at your company; earn the same wage, hold the same rank. There’s not really any competition between the pair of you - you work in different departments - but are often paired together when the two sections merge for joint projects. You make for a good team.

Over the years, you and Jungkook have also learned that you’re a highly capable team when it comes to playing beer pong against your colleagues on Friday nights, and at the mixed-doubles tennis tournament that your company insists on you participating in every year. It’s either that or be on the Christmas Party Planning committee, and you know which you’d rather do.

Thinking about tinsel in August? No, thank you.

There is however one crucial flaw to your partnerships: how you live your lives. How you manage your money.

See, Jungkook is frugal. He makes big investments - his apartment, his cars, games consoles, Bam. Doesn’t spunk his cash away on the small shit. His apartment is in the heart of the city, only a few floors from the very top. He gets a birds-eye view of the world around him. You don’t even want to imagine how much his deposit cost.

Probably more than you have in your savings. You do spunk your cash away - on the small shit, no less. Clothes, cafes, that sort of stuff. Nothing that holds permanence. It frustrates Jungkook to no end. He thinks you could have a better life if you just used your money wisely - but you’re happy in your slightly cramped apartment, happy when the serotonin of a shopping spree boosts your mood, happy when you’re laughing with your friends over coffee and cake.

You wouldn’t be happy if you felt restricted. You think that Jungkook is.

He disagrees. He has enough in the bank to buy whatever he wants. He has financial freedom.

But there’s a difference. You’re both free in your own ways.

It’s for that reason you’d never work as a couple. Would infuriate one another far too much. Everyone who is close to you both knows this; how badly suited you would be. They’ll joke about all of the women in the office trying to get their mitts on Jungkook - even the married ones - but not you.

It’s funny because they’re right. Everybody wants him.

He collects stars from their eyes and accumulates them in his own. The girls blush and giggle about how he looks at them with galaxies, but they don’t realise what a thief he is. Don’t realise he’s stolen their shine, and incorporated it into his own. A spotlight follows him, and you enjoy watching the show unfold with an amused grin whenever a new secretary catches his gaze for the first time.

It’s not intentional. You don’t think Jungkook realises he does it. In fact, he hadn’t realised that it was such a pattern of behaviour until the midnight squalor of a dive bar had you talking about office conquests, and how the photocopier room had seen his bare ass more than it had seen toner changes.

“Shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon,” you’d grinned.

“Firstly, that’s a horrible phrase - and secondly, it takes two to tango. They’re just as much to blame as I am.”

But they’re not. He’s the only repeat offender.

“And anyways,” he had deflected, sinking down the final dregs of his beer. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint. Everyone’s fucked a colleague at least once.”

You’d just raised an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Like I said - shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon.”

Now, if he’d have said housemate, you would have folded. Downed your drink. Ordered a repeat round.

Something about a shared space - domestication - really gets you. It’s joint laundry loads, shared dinners, movie nights; grocery shopping, D.I.Y. furniture, arguments about who gets the bigger room. More often than not, it never matters, ‘cause you just end up staying in theirs.

You live alone now. After the third time, you knew better than to let yourself fall into the trap once more.

He learns about your affliction a few months later, and goes on tease you relentlessly.

In fact, he mentions it when he propositions you a few weeks before Chuseok. You had both spent the last couple of holiday periods overworked, slogging through the festivities. For the first time since either of you can remember, your workload has eased up.

You’ve already told him you’re planning on doing sweet, sweet fuck all. You’ve told your family you will be working, because you just want to finally breathe for a while; stay in with a tub of ice cream and your favourite films. Speak to no one. Do nothing.

“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” he had said as he approached your desk before the end of the day. It was a Friday, but you weren’t heading for after-work drinks with the usual suspects like you typically did. You had a date, instead. A third one with the same guy - Mingyu - which felt like a miracle. Even Jungkook was a little shocked that the poor guy wasn’t sick of you.

“Go on,” you had mused as you checked over your to-do list for the following week.

“You gotta promise me something first.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t fall in love with me.”

You’d swatted him away the ruler on your desk, and told him to get his head out of his ass. “Been able to resist your charms this long, Jeon. Give me some credit.”

“It’s only ‘cause you know I’d reject you, you little gremlin.”

“I thought you wanted a favour? Funny way of going about it.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right,” he had conceded with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”

“What do you want?”

“How would you feel about potentially staying at mine over Chuseok to look after Bam? My parents want us to head down to Busan for the weekend and see relatives seeing as I’m finally free and know it’s a big ask but I-”

“Oh my God, yes?!” You had smiled so wide Jungkook thought you might fracture your jaw.

You love Bam.

In fact, he might just be your favourite thing about Jungkook.

Occasionally you walk him with Jungkook on the weekends, when you’re both hungover and need to get out of a slump. You’ve grown up with pets, but moving to the city in your early twenties to pursue your career meant apartment living.

You’re a rural girl deep down, and would never want to keep a pet in a high rise.

Jungkook manages it, but he goes home at lunchtime to walk Bam during the winter. In the summer, when it’s too hot, he goes home at lunch regardless, to lounge around with Bam under the air con.

Sometimes, you go with him. Bam is always pleased to see you.

Jungkook lied and said he asked around because he didn’t want to inconvenience you.

Truth is, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with his baby. He’d never spent a night away from Bam. Hated the idea. Despised it, in fact. He would have just taken Bam with him to Busan, but didn’t think it would be fair to force him on the journey from Seoul.

Over in Busan, when Jungkook hangs up, the conversation isn’t over. It continues in his head.

“Hey, wait…”

“Mhhm?”

“You just… look nice tonight, that’s all.”

He thinks you’d blush. Would tell him to lay off the soju. Accuse him of getting too drunk for a family get-together. He’d let you. Would take the beating of your false accusations, because it would be far easier than admitting he’s not had a single drop.

He thinks of the hug he’ll give Bam when he gets home; how wild his tail will waggle, how he’ll jump all over the place, and how you’ll be giggling. In his mind, you’ll be smiling just as wide as he is.

You’d stay for dinner. Jungkook would order from your favourite place to say thank you. Bam would snuggle up to Jungkook - on the sofa - and you’d be on the other side, stroking his back. He’d be happy. Bam, not Jungkook. But also Jungkook. Hopefully you, too.

When the time would approach for you to go home, you’d offer to help. Rinse out the containers. Hair up in a claw clip, t-shirt off your shoulder like it so often is.

Jungkook doesn’t notice, but his hands begin to trail down his body as he thinks of you. His phone is still on his chest, rising and falling with every beat of his heart. The tips of his fingers stroke against his skin.

He thinks of you laughing with him about something inconsequential. You’d flick water in his direction when he’d make some joke at your expense. It’d all be in good humour.

But then he’d flick some back at you, and water war would break out. Bam would run excitedly between the pair of you, Jungkook chasing you around the kitchen island with wet hands - and you’d do the exact same back. You’d flick water over the counter, tap still running and he’d call you a gremlin.

There’s a smile on his lips as he thinks of his. His hands roam further south. He’s ticking at his abdomen. It’s nice. Feels calm. He likes to engage his senses when he thinks of scenarios like these. Makes it feel more real.

But then he’s thinking of your shirt and the fact it’s white.

And then he’s imagining catching up with you, holding you captive as he angles the tap towards your face. You’ll be shrieking and scrambling to get away, Bam by your feet, Jungkook laughing.

He’d relent, but only enough for you to twist to face him.

Jungkook’s fingers are by his thighs. Stroking. Caressing. He��s avoiding his cock. Knows it’s firm. His index finger spreads to his balls. Teases.

And then he thinks of your body pressed against his torso, your ass to the counter.

You’d both be soaked.

He’d look at your lips. Look in your eyes. Feel your chest against his. He’d swallow hard.

It’s at this point he forgets about Bam in the scenario. It’s just you and him.

His palm rests over the length of his cock. Presses down. His hips roll.

He’d tell you that you’ve made a mess. You’d tell him to clean it up. His heart would be racing. So would yours.

And it’s funny, because his heart actually is. It’s beating so fucking hard in his childhood bedroom, that he thinks his parents must be able to hear it through the walls.

He’s in a far-too-firm single bed, but in his head, he’s with you in his kitchen.

He begins to grip his cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft. He pulls up. Pushes back down. Says your name. Whines.

He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Just thinks about you.

Thinks about the way it would feel to sink his lips into yours; the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Thinks about that quick tongue of yours, and if it would be just as quick to find its way into his mouth. Thinks about your manicured nails that Bam loves so much, and how they’d scratch against his scalp instead. Thinks about the way his hips would rock against you, kind of like they are now; pulsing beneath his duvet.

His mind jumps. Skips the foreplay. Doesn’t mean to - but the thoughts are intrusive. Insidious. Insatiable. He can’t help it.

He pushes up into his hand. Pauses. Waits out the feeling. Retracts. Repeats.

In his head, it’s you that he’s pushing into.

The sensation is entirely different, granted, but - fuck - he hasn’t gotten himself off all week and hasn’t had sex in far longer, so it all feels the same to him.

He hasn’t worked out the mental logistics.

His imagination is jumping from the kitchen to his bedroom and then back to the kitchen again. Can’t decide where all of this is happening - and then suddenly, he finds himself railing you in the utility room.

You’re perched above the washer, held in place by him. He can smell the laundry detergent. He’s got spotlights in the room, but they’re turned off. Only lights from the hallway and the city skyline illuminate you.

It’s obscure. The shadows in his head conceal you a little. He’s gripping your waist beneath your shirt. The baby gate which keeps Bam out of the laundry room is closed.

You’re not talking, just fucking, fucking, fucking and -

“Fuck,” he whines, hand is jerking at his cock, heart rate stuttering.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

Shouldn’t let his mind jump again to a point where you’re fucking naked, and your sodden shirt is on a pile of yet-to-be-done laundry.

But then it jumps again, and one of his towels is on the floor. He’s laying down, back against it. The same position that he’s in now in his childhood bedroom - but he’s thinking about you. The silhouette of your body. The warm curves of your body. The way you bounce on his cock and then-

Oh god, it’s torture the way his cock throbs. Pre-cum leaks from his tip as his speed builds. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing more nothing less. But it’s you. And then he’s thinking about pulling you down for a kiss, and the scent of your perfume and the way you’d moan into his mouth and then his legs are shaking, torso tensing.

He’s taking it too far. Too fucking far. You. Fuck. He can’t. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps going. Fucks his hand like it’s your pussy.

He’s pulling himself closer, closer, closer, and then he thinks about your voice, and the way you called him Daddy, and he can’t help himself. The pressure that releases in his stomach is catastrophic. Jungkook mewls your name. Calls you baby. Unloads all over himself. White hot cum paints his belly. Seeps into his belly button. Makes a mess of his hand as he coaxes the last few ropes out. It’s been a while since his last nut, but the amount he produces is not fucking normal.

It rolls down the side of his toned torso, Jungkook swallowing harshly as he tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t think he can. Doesn’t know what to do with himself. Just kind of lays there. Curses. Knots his brows together. Is frustrated with himself.

You’ve been friends for years. He’s never done anything like this before. He chalks it up to nothing more than him just being a little too horny for his own good. Cleans himself off. Puts his phone on charge. Berates himself for being a piece of shit. Spends a good ten or so minutes staring at the ceiling with an empty head before he falls asleep.

And it’s funny, because when you wake up in the morning, panties damp, the dream you had about Jungkook railing you in his own damn bed, you find yourself looking across the space where he usually sleeps. You reach ouch. Stroke the emptiness. Curse. Spend the rest of the day unbearably horny. It frustrates you. Makes you snappy with Jungkook when he calls.

He asks if you’ve seen Mingyu. You tell him no. He says maybe you should - but makes sure to add, “He’s still not allowed in my apartment.”

“I’m not gonna bring anyone into your space, Jungkook.”

It’s something he knows, and something he trusts you not to do, but he’s still reinforcing boundaries. Making sure that there are still some left. He thinks that if he pushes you closer to someone else, it will sort his brain out. Alleviate him of the guilt that he’s feeling.

But you don’t see Mingyu.

When Jungkook calls again that evening to find you walking Bam alone, he’s pleased. Doesn’t want some guy you’re fucking anywhere near his most prized possession. Bam, that is. Not you. But now that he thinks of it, he finds he doesn’t want Mingyu anywhere near you, either.

“Good day?” You ask, voice a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t really smile. “I miss Bammie.”

You pout. “He misses you too. He’s gonna be so excited when you get home.”

The camera switches to the back camera so he can watch Bam bound along the path. He’s on his lead, snout sniffing in all the flowerbeds. It’s dark out, but there are enough lights on the trail for him to be able to see clearly.

“How is he? Eating okay? Going to the bathroom okay?”

“Eating like a champ, and producing shits to confirm that,” you say flatly. It’s definitely your least favourite part of animal ownership - but the reward is so much greater than having to pick up shit off a sidewalk.

“That’s my boy,” Jungkook grins, before turning his focus to you. “You all good? Seemed a little stressed earlier.”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change when the front camera flips back to you, but he finds his heart racing again. When you turn your head to check the car that’s driving past, he notices your hair is up with a claw clip. Just like it was in his… thoughts about you the night before. He likes how attentive you are - how you checked the source of the noise. You’re protective. Follow your instincts. Thinks you’re the best person he could have asked to look after Bam.

“I’m all good,” you say, and you really are.

“I know it’s not exactly the relaxing Chuseok you were planning-”

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you smile. “It’s been nice. I like Bammie far more than I like you.”

“Understandable.”

You both smile, and Jungkook begins to babble about his day, telling you stories about his parents, and his weird cousin who never knows when to not say inappropriate things, and the aunt who keeps trying to set him up with all of her friends’ daughters.

“Don’t shit where you eat,” you remind him. “Sounds too close to home. Your auntie would never be out of your business.”

“I know, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “And hey - it’s been, like, a year since I last did that! Cut me some slack, gremlin. Anyways, Mingyu works in our building. You’re basically shitting where you eat.”

“I’m actually… I think I’m gonna cool things off with him.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like not a big deal. I’m just not really feeling it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not,” Jungkook admits, but is sombre as he does so. He remembers how happy you’d seemed after the first few dates. “But I am sorry that you haven’t found the right guy yet, gremlin.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love of my life at the dog park tonight.”

“You are not allowed to use my baby as a flirting tactic.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Too late - I’m already here and there is an absolute DILF. Byeeeee.”

“Wait, no-”

You hang up before he can finish, with a grin on your face to rival a Cheshire cat.

The park is empty. Not a single DILF in sight. You ignore his call when he rings back. Will let him sweat it for a bit.

Jungkook lies awake that night.

Doesn’t do much.

His family are still chatting in the sitting room, but he can’t draw himself away from the sanctuary of his own private space, where your voice is still echoing around the room. He’s starting to understand why you’d been craving your space so much for the holiday period.

He doesn’t wanna have to return to the room with a false smile, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that could rival the ache of getting the ferry across Busan harbour during monsoon season.

Doesn’t want to form cognitive thoughts that distract him from his mindless reflections of you.

Jungkook’s mind works like a house, and right now he’s in the annexe.

He rarely ever goes in there.

Finds he gets too comfortable and neglects the rest of the house. He’s got a garden to tend to, a kitchen to clean, and beds to make - but why would he leave the annexe when it has everything he needs? He’s comfortable there.

It’s normally reserved for the hyper-fixations he’s trying not to fixate on. He locks them away. Hasn’t really visited since he got hooked on GTA5 when he should have been studying for the University Entrance Exam. It’s still there, and he knows better than to pop it in his games console - but there’s someone else on the couch, now. It’s not just him in his mind-annexe. Someone’s in his space. He daren’t let himself go further into the room.

In fact, he’s desperately trying to jump across to the main house. Get himself out of the thoughts that are gonna consume him. He needs to close that God damn door.

But he watches the figure like a car crash. He’s scared. Unable to look away.

Not for fear of it being a monster hidden in the depths of his mind.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Monsters don’t wear their hair up with butterfly-shaped claw clips, or let the clasp of their necklace trail down their spine like that. Monsters don’t twist their back out of habit just to make it click. Monsters don’t spend their days doodling in a journal like the figure on his couch is doing.

But you do.

An iteration of Bam rests up against Jungkook’s leg in his mind, nose wet, tail lightly wagging, so he puts his hand on his pup’s shoulder for comfort. To support him. To guide him away from the annexe and back into the damn main house.

“C’mon,” he says to Bam, expecting him to leave. Expecting him to follow his commands.

It’s his head, after all - but Bam doesn’t heed his commands. Instead, his claws click against the hardwood floor and towards the figure on Jungkook’s couch. A palm outstretches, and Bam leans into it. Hums in content as a set of dark nails scratch at his ear.

“Hey, baby Bammie,” the figure sings and Jungkook knows that voice. Knows it so well that it’s hardly a surprise it’s embedded into his brain so perfectly.

And he knows.

He knows if he lets the person turn around exactly who it’s gonna be. He knows that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.

Because he and you are friends; nothing more, nothing less. Incompatible at best. A match made in hell; so wrong it could never be right.

Jungkook sits up. Shakes his head. The world in his mind tears away into darkness. He stands and tells himself to get a grip before joining his family. He needs the distraction. Needs to have cognitive thoughts. Can’t let himself get trapped. Can’t let him kid himself into thinking that you’re anything more than his friend.

It’s just cause he’s missing Bam, he reasons. Emotions are getting all mixed up. It’s the affection he feels for his beloved best friend that is getting misplaced onto you - although, if he thinks about it (which he won’t (knows better by this point (knows his mind can’t be trusted to behave))), he’d realise that you are his best friend.

It’s unfair to compare you to Bam because you’re an entirely different species, but there’s no other human he likes better than you.

One more day, and he’ll be home. One more day, and he won’t have to call you when he’s all sleepy and confused over his feelings. One more day, and things will be back to normal. One more measly day.

And then he’ll be reunited with Bam, and he won’t have the stress of family or thinking about the week of work ahead to contend with.

One more day. He can do this.

He will do it. Will barrel home at the speed of lightning; will stop only for red lights and maybe the occasional gas station snack, potato spirals on a pointed wooden skewer and deep-fried chicken slathered in a sauce he can never quite figure out the recipe for.

He’ll think about picking you up some bungeoppang - the ones filled with choux, not red bean paste - because he knows that you adore it so. There have been occasions when you’ve begged him to drive you out of the city to the large gas station out West just so you could have bungeoppang from one specific stall.

The signage is faded, and the prices haven’t changed since 2009, but that’s how you know it’s the good shit. A family recipe batter passed down for generations. The woman who makes it is always the same, and though she never remembers you, you always remember her. Beam so brightly Jungkook thinks he’s going blind whenever you spot her.

It’s only because of that one time you’d showed up with the sole mission to retrieve some of the delicious delicacies, only to be confronted with a handwritten ‘closed today, back tomorrow’ note taped to the menu. You never know when the next family emergency or trip out of town might be for your beloved bungeoppang-making Ajumma.

It’s a little after midday when Jungkook’s car rolls into the gas station. He’ll be home soon.

He tells himself that he’s just doing as he always does. Will get his tornado potato. Wolf it down. Go back for some chicken, maybe some tteok.

He’s stayed out of the annexe today. Doesn’t even think about the doorway because he knows the magnetic pull is far too strong for his cobalt heart.

Had ignored your call this morning - sorry, just saying goodbye to everyone. will see you later. - and had pushed all thoughts of you to the side. He’s even tried to stop thinking about Bam because thoughts of him will inevitably lead to thoughts of you and Jungkook is getting dizzy, quite frankly. It’s like he’s chasing his tail, never knowing when to admit defeat.

At least Bam gets enjoyment out of it when he does it. All Jungkook gets is lingering feelings of remorse.

But as he hits the home straight, a small paper bag full of choux bungeoppang cooling down on his passenger seat, his head starts to clear. He’s fixed the lock on the gate that leads to the annexe. Won’t go down that path.

Jungkook arrives ahead of schedule. Parks his car, and doesn’t tell you he’s arrived. Leaves his bag in the boot of the car, but picks up the pastries from his passenger seat.

Opens the door of his apartment quietly. You don’t hear it. Are too busy dancing around the living room with Bam to some mid-noughties classic.

“Hey,” you laugh a little breathlessly as finally notice him. He’s leaning against the wall. Is wearing his glasses, to make up for the long drive. You think it’s a crying shame he doesn’t wear them at work, too.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“No, not all,” you say. There are deep creases below your eyes, testament to the size of your smile. “Me and baby Bammie-” you reach over and stroke at his sides, a little rough and tumble, but perfectly joyous “- were just burning off a little energy before you got home.”

Jungkook crouches, arms outstretched for Bam. The puppy knocks into Jungkook’s chest, legs all moving slightly out of coordination, excitable whines sounding in his throat. His tail wags so fast you think he’d be able to produce electricity if he really tried.

They match each other’s energy; delirious happiness, content only when in one another’s presence.

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “Daddy’s home. I missed you. Missed me too, hey? C’mere.”

His strong hands stroke Bam’s sides, and you watch how playful they both are with unadulterated awe. It seems absurd how similar the two of them are; man and his best friend.

“He was lost without you,” you confirm.

“It’s that right?” Jungkook pouts as he scratches behind Bam’s ears, cradling his face in his hands. “Did Bammie miss Daddy?”

Bam barks. Yes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, boy. I’m home now, though. Daddy’s home.”

Yes, you think. Yes, he is.

The night dissolves much like Jungkook thought it would. You stay for dinner. Watch crappy entertainment shows, and laugh at how absurd people can be. There’s warmth in his apartment, even though he hasn’t turned the heating on.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Jungkook says softly as midnight approaches. Bam sighs. There’s rain on the windows, but the storm doesn’t bother him tonight. Not in the slightest. “Thank you.”

Your head shakes. Smile perseveres. “Happy to do it. You know how much I love Bam.”

Silence wraps around your words like a velvet bow, pulled taut. There’s no double knot, but there needn’t be. It isn’t unravelling any time soon.

“So,” you change topic. “How long do you reckon it will take the new secretary to fall in love with you? I’m thinking maybe four days.”

Jungkook wants to make a joke; tease you about how your mind jumped from how much you love his dog, to the idea of loving him. Not you loving him, granted, but it only took a few electrical signals between neurons for you to get there. Must associate him with love pretty closely.

“Four days? Far too quick.” Jungkook pauses. “You’ve been staying here for four days. Reckon that’s an appropriate amount of time to fall in love with someone?”

He’s being facetious. It’s all in jest and yet you feel your heart beat a little faster. Only for a moment. There’s a mild concern in your features, fearful that he can somehow sense the thoughts you’ve been having; the fantasies, the daydreams, the moments of weakness.

You look at him with eyes he doesn’t recognise. Your lashes are low. Sultry, even. Suggestive. Teasing.

And then, they roll.

“Jeon, you have those poor girls on their knees within a single ‘hello’. Don’t act like you don’t know it, you big old flirt.”

“If Bam wasn’t so peaceful, I’d kick you,” he mumbles, stroking at the dark fur behind his pup’s ear. Bam sighs, content to have him back. There’s a smile on Jungkook’s lips. Both are perfectly content. Both are happy to be with the people they like the most in the world.

“He’d just defend me,” you taunt. There’s a serenity to your jokes, and light-hearted banter that means nothing more, nothing less than just enjoyment of one another’s company. “I’m his favourite now.”

Jungkook laughs. Scratches a little firmer behind Bam’s ear. “You hear that, boy? Gremlin really thinks you’d choose her over me.”

You pull your torso back. Turn your body to face his. Let disbelief wash over your features, as if Jungkook saying shit like that’s a surprise. The movement alerts Bam, his head lifting, the chain links of his collar rattling. He looks over to you, then back to Jungkook.

“He LOVES me.”

“I thought dogs are supposed to take after their owners, though?” Jungkook teases. “And I can’t fuckin’ stand you.”

Your playful shock dissolves into narrowed eyes and a suppressed grin. Bam’s looking at you again, so you cup his dainty face and scratch the underside of his jaw. “You hear that, baby Bammie? How are you so lovely when your Daddy is such an asshole?”

Jungkook’s steady gaze lifts to you from Bam. You’re still cooing at the puppy, scratching beneath his snout, but Jungkook’s back in that damn annexe again. He isn’t smiling - but his eyes are unbelievably soft.

So, so velvety. Like satin, maybe; ribbons tied around ponytails. Brushed cotton, perhaps; his still-warm bedsheets fresh out of the tumble dryer.

Soft, like he imagines your hair would be; released from its claw clip, falling around his face. Soft, like he imagines your lips would be; pressed against his, in the privacy of his bedroom. Soft, like he imagines your laugh would be; soundtracking the living alarm clock that is Jeon Bam, as he bundles onto Jungkook’s bed at just gone six-thirty the following morning.

But then you look up at him, and his stare is hard. Still sparkling, yes - but diamonds, not stars. Concrete speckled. Pennies tossed in an empty well; the steel bolt of his door which keeps the outside world at bay.

Hard, like he imagines your teeth would be; tugging on his bottom lip in the shadows of his bedroom. Hard, like he imagines your nails would be; leaving a trail of ruby red sin down his back. Hard, like he imagines your laboured breaths would be; lips resting ajar against his, your very essence pouring into him as he pushes into you.

Hard. Soft. Confusing and conflicting, and just so unbelievably him.

“What?” you question, bemused by the way his demeanour changed. “‘Daddy’ really gets you, huh?”

“Does fuck all for me,” he says with a little temperance, but there’s a smirk on his lips. His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek.

A few have tried the moniker on him, but it never fit well. Would fall from their lips and crash to his bedroom floor. He’d just kiss them to shut them up.

But you… You have him reconsidering. Have him a little hot beneath his sweats.

It’s not really the idea of being your Daddy, but the concept of being one full-stop that has him adjusting his legs slightly. He’s a man of big investments, after all. No greater investment than starting a life with another person. He likes the idea of it.

Makes him think of you talking with a toddler - I’m not sure, baby, go ask Daddy -and the pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors of his apartment. Makes him think how gentle you are with Bam, and how wonderful he knows you’d be with a kid. Makes him think all kinds of shit he’s never let himself indulge in before.

When he goes to bed that evening, and his sheets are seeped in the scent of your perfume, he thinks of it all over again.

Thinks of you.

And realises he can’t think about you without his heart racing, any more.

The door of the annexe in his mind is broken, now. Off its hinges.

And apparently, so is he.

Shit.

part two (x)

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #officeworker!jungkook #fuckboy!jungkook #f2l #hi bam!!!!#ian #jungkook fluff

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tiredsmashbros · 3 months ago

Text

early birthday gift for the annoying ass stupid ass ring light person qwah pUH

warning ; slightly suggestive 💥

@hexsie @knightedmares @neo91502 @its-a-me-mango

so i had a plan to animate this ish for this stupid silly as a joke due to we share the interest of this green penguin youtuber, isaacwhy, in the summer. to then find out in my storyboarding class my new assignment was just animating/storyboarding a short sound clip... so what better opportunity to do it than now and it time for this silly ass 18th birthday :3c

i realized i forgot a few things, made some mini mistakes at the end but thats okay we ball

okay now for a bday message get out if ur not the ring light bitch /hj

from the moment i first met you... i wanted you to DIE TO GET OUT OF MY LIFE TO OBLITERATE INTO PIECES TO LOSE EVERY ROUND OF PRESSURE TO GO TO BED WITH WARM PILLOWS AND STUMB YOUR PINKY YOU GET A DEAD SCREEN TO POP UP AS YOU FALL INTO THE GROUND DECAYING AWAY AND - cOUGH ough sorry about that ahem the demons came out anywho- DIE- ahem...

nova i know i've given you my heartfelt personal message during my birthday time, so i wanted to give one too- even if most of it you may already know or i already said iuhkjfewds

the past... half a yEAR??? good gracious too long /JOKE has been a very silly and stressing ride gOD /lh. you've definitely changed my life and even influenced me as a person for the better. your silly high-pitch tone, the playful bullying, and even the obsession of your hex3 has just been enjoyable to experience and even participate the past few months. even just recently you getting me into your markipler in space fixation was definitely something i wasn't expecting and im still thINKING ABOUT IT HELLO???? IM TRYING TO BRAINSTORM A DAY TO WATCH IT AND AT THIS POINT WE MIGHT AS WELL DO IT ON THE PARTY OR MONDAY NEXT WEEK AT NIGHT YUIHKJFEDWSUGJH.

even with the characters in my brain i've told you about earlier of this year, hexsy is still checkin in as con {ander's oc} still does and she's been so nicey the following months even if not often i see her, but just like u irl reminds me of ur STUPID HETERO FIC ISTFG- it was genuinely so good holy shit. me and my plane trips istfg its always either me watching the new smg4 episode or reading a fanfic last time it was brain's, an this time is you and josie's IOHKJBFEDSH i love all the silly words in silly plot lines with silly characters so exciting and creative gUH. anyways... u'll get ur silly paragraphs today too teehee :3

but seriously you do bring a lot of good joy and happiness with the people around you, even if your sillyness can be a teeny bit scawey to endure, its also intoxicating and a disease it's personally affected how i even act but in the most positive way possible its raised my silly bar, but also genuinely made me so much more confident?? you've helped me learn to be myself and to be afraid to be silly, EVEN if the chance of embarrassment comes by, its not a terrifying if i have done it when i was my shy anxiety angsty teen ihugjrhefds. i adore and appreciate your company even in moments you scare me and bully me into not reading or looking at your stuff LEAVE ME ALONE YOU FREAK!!!! IMPATIENT!!!! /J /SILLY /LH i still hope your doing good at your school and preparing for your college adventures. i'll still be here to support and help you throughout so dont u dare think u're going thru this alone i gotchu- unless i die or smth but we boutta find out /j uigHJFDS

totally normal and not suspicious at all give me rizz tips pls knight is gatekeeping me all he ever talks about is spongebob did u form into a yellow sponge or smth is that the trick OHHH YEAHH GET IT BC TRICK IS HIS OC NAME AND im so funny please laugh and give me tips COUGHS- /HJ

lastly... if you think i don't have a lil silly idea thingy to share on ur bday, ur horribly mistaken. i dont know either to show it oN the day of ur birth or the birthday party, but we're gonna find out iughjvfredws just remind me till then since i know you will :))) its somewhat cool i think please think its cool its ugly yes but i'll improvise maybe trust

okay the moment your reading and watching this im in my night class sooooo may see ur messages or wait for another hr YES WAIT YOU FREAK until im done with class so we can yap jajajaj 💥

anyways have sum gift art bc i know u will cry if u dont get smth 💥

and yuri too LMAO

#happy birthday YOU FREAK QWAH PUH!!!!#tsb #tsb official #tsb animatic #smg4 #smg4 ocs #smg4 animatic #hexsy #mango #neo #trick #isaacwhy #the group chat podcast #animatic #18? i remember when i was 18 /ref

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starcrossedxwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Wicked Fantasies Part 11.2 (MBJ x Black OC)

A/N: Long awaited and well over due. This is basically chapter 12 but it really connects to 11.1. Nothing to say except enjoy!

“Michael, stop messing with the fuckin’ cuff links!” Alex called over to him from her spot on the couch. “I thought you weren’t nervous??”

Michael cut his eyes toward his agent before forcing his fingers away from the gold cufflinks near his wrist. That had been his original claim when he arrived at his suite to get ready, proudly boosting that he did not feel nervous at all. And some part of him had believed that was true. But as makeup ended and he got dressed, the nerves started to settle in. Tonight was no longer some distant potential achievement. It was here and now. And his shoulders were starting to feel the weight of that pressure. He tried his best to remain excited and upbeat but there were some ticks he simply couldn’t hide.

“Ha ha. I’m just… you know, already ready for it to be over. Gotta sit through 100 fuckin’ awards before they get to mine. Just gonna be a long night.”

“Whatever you say,” she muttered, her face scrunching up at her phone for a minute.

“Somethin’ wrong?” his antenna going up immediately, anxiety that something had already gone wrong seeping into his confident facade. “Fuck… You think we should’ve gone with the other suit, don’t you??”

“Nigga… they’re both black tuxes, calm down. No one’s ever looked at you to be the pillar of fashion. You look great, that’s all that matters. Just taking care of some last minute details, boring shit you wouldn’t be interested in.”

Michael knew not to press any farther as she immediately changed the subject, standing up and starting to walk over to him. He watched as she studied the time on her phone screen for a moment as his stylist’s assistant slid on the tailored jacket for his suite.

“Can someone check on his mom? Jason went to check out the space and it’s ready for photos. We gotta start in 10 though if we want to make it to the carpet.”

“I’ll go.”

He was thankful his mom agreed to accompany him on such a momentous occasion, she was the only date he could fathom taking as the woman he wanted was unavailable.

Raven.

Some fantasy that she would call or text him good luck drove him to check his phone every 20 minutes or so, praying for anything that signaled that she thought of him as he did her. She tortured his every waking thought, even after agreeing to give her the space she desperately wanted and needed. But his soul did not want space, his soul wanted their better half, the person who made all of this worth something.

He shook his head for a moment and forced her to the back of his brain, where he knew she would only stay for a short while. No more than 10 minutes would go by before someone or something reminded him of her. But when he thought of her too long, the sparse stitches holding those wounds together tore open and blood flowed earnestly from them. And such emotional agony would not stand on the biggest night of his career. So he forced a smile onto his face and thoughts of a love he would likely never have again behind the barriers around his heart and knocked on the door to his mother’s room.

However, he was not prepared to find her still clad in the lounging set Raven and he had bought her for Christmas, completely unprepared to attend the biggest night in Hollywood.

“Ma, what’s wrong? We gotta leave soon. Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Well I didn’t want to worry you while you were getting ready but I’m just not feeling well. I don’t think I can make it all evening. I’m sorry, baby.”

Michael’s face fell ever so slightly at the disappointment, though he tried his hardest to hide it. It was not his mother’s fault that she was not feeling well and even he knew the rest of the day would be tiresome and exhausting for even those in good spirits. So he did not want her trying to suffer through on his account. However, he would not pretend that it did not sting, to know that he would not have anyone there to support him, hold his hand. That he would spend tonight… completely alone.

Her renewed apologies made him fix his face immediately, knowing that she likely already felt badly for canceling on him. He had no interest in making her feel any worse.

“I really am sorry, baby. But I wasn’t the date you wanted to take anyway,” she chuckled, her eyes filled with sympathy.

Those makeshift barriers dissolved into nothing stronger than paper at her words. And as flimsy as they originally were, they were all he had to hold onto to get through tonight.

“Don’t apologize, ma. Really no big deal at all. You should rest. And you know you’re always my favorite date. Besides, your love is the reason I’m here. You’ll always be my #1,” he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. When her eyes, unsurprisingly, filled with tears, Michael chuckled a bit. “Don’t cry on me. Alex will kill me for messin’ up this makeup.”

She took a tissue and whisked away the pools of tears in her eyes before adjusting his bowtie.

“You know how proud I am of you? How lucky I am to be your mom? I thank God for you, your sister, and your brother every day. And all I’ve ever wanted for each of you is to live out your dreams and be happy. No matter what you do or who you’re with. Just that. Tonight you’re seeing God’s manifestation of your dreams and win or lose, I couldn’t be prouder of you. But even I know, only one person could make you truly happy tonight. That facade might fool the world but not me. I saw how happy she made you, Bakari. How she turned my scared little boy into a brave and vulnerable man without even trying. I may have gotten you here but her love and adoration and the love you have for her will keep you here. Will help you reach dreams I couldn’t even comprehend for you. And that’s a woman I’ll happily step into the #2 spot for any day.”

“Thanks ma… but I don’t think she wants that spot anymore… wants me anymore. Hell, I don’t even know where she is in the world.” The resigned smile on his face and the humorless laugh could not hide the depths of his sadness as he recalled the message he received from David letting him know that Raven boarded a flight to only God knows where. He had failed and even tonight could not take his mind off the 101 ways he failed the love of his life. “I screwed up. Gotta accept the consequences. I wanna be the man you raised and the man she thought she fell in love with. Even if I don’t get to be that for her.”

“Give it time, Bakari. You know what I always reminded you three. Everything meant for you will come to you or find its way back to you. God never denies what he ordained as yours, sweetheart. Something to remember for more than one reason tonight.”

There was a certain mischievous glint in her eyes that did not match the typical motherly tone in her voice. “More than one reason” stuck out in his brain.

What the fuck does that even mean?

“What do you me-?” he started to ask when his mother cut him off.

“Oh gosh, you know I didn’t even notice the time? You should go, dear. Don’t wanna get in trouble with that Alex, do we?”

Realizing that it was almost showtime forced his confusion right out of his brain as he forced himself to focus on the moment, his moment.

“Nah we don’t. She’s terrifyin’,” he admitted. “How about you lay down and rest for a while and Allen can take you home when you feel better? Or you can enjoy the suite for the night? Totally up to you.”

“Thank you, baby. I’ll hang out here, let the traffic clear a bit then head to your sister’s. Everyone’s watching there. You look amazing. Can’t wait to see you shine tonight ”

“Thanks, ma. Aight, I should head down to take pictures. Love you.”

He squeezed her hand before she turned around and closed the door of her room behind her.

He walked back to where his team was waiting. The lack of noise and hustle and bustle in the space caught him off guard as he expected to return to the same chaotic space with his team racing around him. However, only Alex stood waiting on him.

“Where’d everybody go?”

“Oh I sent them all downstairs. Figured you wouldn’t mind a couple minutes of peace before the longest night of your life.”

And that was why, of everyone on his team, Alex was one of the few that stood the test of time. She knew him, truly knew him and what he needed.

“Thanks.” He paused as he studied her. “You good?”

Alex had been in the wings of every major career moment in Michael’s life and she typically brought an air of assurance and confidence that put Michael at ease. She was a staple calming force that kept his own anxiety in check. However, tonight? Everything about her seemed off, distracted and anxious in a way that made his empath sensors go haywire. She seemed utterly engrossed in her own phone, which was not unlike Alex but typically she cued Michael in, if nothing else. But tonight, she offered him no insight.

“Yea… just a big night. Want to make sure everything’s perfect,” she muttered. “Come on… Jason says they’re ready for us.”

Michael did not need to be the smartest person in the room to immediately recognize that she was hiding something from him. He knew he would never get it out of her as she was the world’s most secure vault for secrets. And there was a part of him that did not even want to know for fear that it would scare him into skipping the night altogether. What if she already found out that he lost? If anyone in his orbit was part of some dark Hollywood back channel, Alex would be it. Or something happened to Raven and she did not want him to lose his shit right before the event. Because they both knew he would drop all of this in a heartbeat for her. Foolish? Perhaps but that was how he knew he had found true love, his soul mate. Because nothing in this life was as important as her and he would drop all of it to rush to her side if she asked. But she would never ask, because she did not consider herself worthy of sacrifices, which only served as fuel to spend everyday proving to her that she was.

Why did he even try not to think of her? Somehow, every thought was merely the first step down a path that led right to Raven’s doorstep.

He trailed slightly behind Alex as she led him to the elevator. However, before she hit the button, she stopped.

“Oh shoot. I need to stop by my suite. Forgot somethin. It’s just down the hall, it’ll take two minutes. Got a gift for you for your big night. A little good luck charm.”

“Alex, you know you didn’t need to get me shit.” And he truly meant that. He was just grateful to have Alex in his corner, her presence and commitment to his career was a gift in and of itself. “And send me the bill for your suite. Would’ve just gotten it for you.”

“Nah, it’s all good. It was last minute and I only got it for convenience, really.” She used her key to open the door and held it open so Michael could walk inside.

However, as she opened the door, her usual resting bitch face (Alex’s words, not his) turned into a bright grin, one that she clearly tried desperately to minimize but couldn’t. And while Michael had expected flowers or a gift basket or even a bottle of his favorite rum, now he wondered if the gift was something far bigger than that. What he did not expect, when he turned the corner into her suite’s sitting area, was to find Raven awkwardly fidgeting with her gown as Jason made last-minute adjustments.

“Wha…” His words died in his throat as she turned to face him, his stride stumbling backward in shock as he drank her in.

He could have stood there and stared at her for the rest of the night and it would not have been enough time. Several lifetimes filled with millions of minutes and seconds would hardly scratch the surface of how much time he needed to simply consume her presence, to refill the parts of his soul that had depleted without her.

Beautiful was a gross understatement for her. She was stunning, a goddess plucked from the heavens and placed among lesser men. Michael did not think he had ever laid eyes on a more radiant human being. But it was not her stunning beauty that caused tears to spring to his eyes. It was the look of renewed hope in hers, the smallest flame reignited after it had been utterly extinguished the last time he laid eyes on her. And fuck, that could’ve ended him right then and there. To see hope and light in her again, to see the Raven he had fallen so deeply for, she was all consuming.

She had not even said a word yet but the impact of her choice to be there, to show up for him and choose him after everything conveyed a love words would not be sufficient enough to. The silence stretched on as he studied all the things that had made him fall in love. The soft expectant smile painted on her face as she stared at him that only solidified that she was willing and ready to rebuild with him. The anxious way her eyes glanced down at her own dress and her hands fidgeted that told him she was searching for his confirmation that he still wanted her here or that she looked beautiful, that reminded him of her awkwardness and endless humility that made him fall in love with her in the first place. The way her eyes, the most expressive aspect of her, somehow told him everything he needed to know without uttering a word.

“I-I hope this is ok?” she asked quietly as she broke the silence and expectant tension that blanketed Alex’s suite, snapping Michael out of his speechless trance. “Admittedly, I only gave Alex and Jason like 24 hours notice. So our options were kind of limited b-but they said it would compliment yours a-and likely get me on a best dressed list, which d-doesn’t really matter but could be nice? I dunno though… think I’ve had enough publicity for a lifetime,” she laughed anxiously. “But I don’t know what’s appropriate to wear to the Oscars with the 2023 Best Actor and they do. But I know this probably isn’t what you envisioned when you invited me in January. But don’t blame them. It’s definitely my fault. Lost weight so my measurements weren’t quite right and the time thing. Honestly, give them a raise… well I can’t tell you what to do with your money. But you should…” she glanced over Michael’s shoulder at Alex who was staring at her with a look that simply said, ‘speed the reunion up, sis.’ So Raven cut herself off, her last rambling words falling off. “Consider it…”

“You… you came?”

“I heard you needed a date?”

Michael rarely experienced true speechlessness, the right words rarely eluded him. He usually always knew what to say. His brain was on the verge of explosion with all the things he desperately wanted to say, his deepest proclamations of regret and love sat on his tongue but he just did not know where to start, could not find the place to start.

Meanwhile, Raven had an entire soliloquy of how she was ready to forgive and move forward because she loved him planned out in her mind. But every painstakingly chosen word evaporated from her mind as she looked at him, as she stared at the man her soul had come to recognize as her safest place to be. The one place that did not demand she provide her most perfect words or anything from her at all. It simply demanded, insisted, that she just be.

And now, the words that sprung to her mind were not perfect at all. They were raw, they were broken… they were her vulnerabilities, her fear, her pain, and they were her hope. Her wildest fantasies and her dreams. And she was no longer afraid to express them loudly here. Because he was the one place where she could.

“You remember when I woke up in the hospital and the first thing I said to you was apologizing for not being the girl you wanted? For not being good enough? A-and you told me not to compare myself to h-her… or anyone else. B-”

“Because you’re one of a kind,” Michael finished simply.

“That was one of the nicest things a man… anyone had said to me in so long,” she admitted, her head bowing slightly. “And I didn’t believe it. I wanted to be loved by you so badly, Michael. B-But I couldn’t believe a man like you would ever think I was enough because I wasn’t enough for anyone. I wasn’t right for anyone. A-And I had internalized this narrative that I didn’t deserve love o-or to be happy. That I just deserved some second-rate, half life filled with disregard and pain because other people told me so. A-And when we s-started dating, I finally started to believe that all that hope had been worth something? That maybe I deserved something… better? A-And w-when I saw her, my heart immediately felt like… you were finally admitting it. I wasn’t enough for you either.”

Every punch and injury he sustained playing Adonis Creed paled in comparison to that. He did not know if it was possible to feel worse about what he had done.

“Rae… baby, you gotta know that-“

She held up her hand to stop him, Michael immediately falling silent.

“I know… at the time though? It felt like God confirming everything everyone w-who knew me ever said, t-the fuel for that voice in my head that told me I would never b-be enough, w-was right. And all the ways you showed me I was enough, all the ways you showed up for me… didn’t seem real anymore. And that broke me. So I left, gave you the out I thought everyone who knew me wanted. T-this nuisance out of their lives. But you… you didn’t leave.”

Michael could hear the pure perplexity in her voice, as if the competing voices in her head could not square why he kept reaching out, kept showing up even as she pushed him away.

“Because I love you.”

“Because you love me.” Raven repeated it but Michael could hear it, the recognition that his words were the truth.

“I… um. I don’t believe I deserve you,” Raven said simply. “But for the first time, I know that I want more than whatever life in the shadows I thought I had to have. I know that I don’t want to push away love a-and happiness anymore. A-and I don’t want to push you away anymore. B-Because you are love, safety, comfort… happiness. I want to believe I deserve better? I want… to believe I deserve you. Because when I’m with you…”

Raven let out a shaky exhale that felt like her body starting to expel all those tormenting thoughts she internalized as she finally admitted out loud that this love was everything she always wanted.

“When I’m with you, all I feel is joy. A joy so pure that only something hand crafted by God himself could feel so good. You’re every fantasy I dreamed of but never thought I could have. Since the moment I fell off that damn table like a clumsy fucking idiot, you’ve been my safest place, you’ve been home, and you’ve been one of the few people in my life who’ve loved me unapologetically and loudly.”

She finally closed the space between them, putting herself within arm’s length of him.

“And I owe you an apology for… letting my exhaustion and pent up pain blind me to all the ways you’ve loved me loudly since the day we met. Regardless of how tired a-and exhausted I am from falling and crashing into the rocks, you were always worth climbing back up that mountain. You were always worth a second chance. And I should’ve recognized that far earlier.”

A pressure valve Michael did not even know had formed in his body released at her words. It felt like being able to take a deep breath again.

“So I’m here and I’m still hurt a-and exhausted but I’m ready to do something different, ready to run toward the cliff and take the leap and fall again. And I want to do that with you… If I’m not too late?”

Michael did not even command his legs to move as her confirmation hit his ears. Before either of them could utter another word, she was in his arms. A sweet giggle erupted as he pulled her unexpectedly toward him and crashed his lips against hers. And the peace that brought was unparalleled.

Raven could have melted against him, her soul at ease for the first time in too long as he held her tightly.

The rest of their small audience melted away as their hearts and souls sought to reclaim their other half, their kiss spelling out every ache and pain their brief separation caused. His lips felt so familiar, so much like home, that it almost hurt. Every second in his arms felt as if it mended the fissures of Raven’s heart one by one, stitching her back together intentionally and with such care that it made her want to sob.

Her own foolishness baffled her. How could she have denied herself this? This ethereal, otherworldly type of love. She would never find something comparable with another living soul. Because this insanely perfect man in front of her was it for her. She had never had a real family but in his arms, she could see one and it was everything she had ever dreamed for herself. The emotions of finally accepting, even in objective disbelief, his love for her hit her in waves that gently crashed over her one by one. But she was not overwhelmed like before, drowning beneath them as she fought for air.

This was serenity, gentle waves blanketing her in warmth and care. Such care that it was painful to pull away to catch her own breath.

Was breathing really a necessity right now?? She demanded of herself as his touch set off heat and flames of desire as he touched her. Weeks and weeks of deprivation meant she needed this more than she could describe, needed the physical representation of his love. His touch, his kiss, his devotion to her needs.

She did not even look away from him but her next words were for the pair awkwardly lingering in the room, long forgotten.

“We need 10 minutes.”

Alex groaned, breaking the sexual tension in the room with her annoyance, though she acquiesced far faster than Raven expected. Though she suspected his longtime agent could see a losing battle from a mile away.

“Fine but you really only get 10 minutes. Fuckin’ Oscars not a goddamn industry party. Can’t just roll in whenever we feel like it. And I swear to God… if you fuck on my bed or fuck up your outfits and make up, I’ll spend the rest of my life breaking you two up again.”

And with that, she grabbed Jason by his sleeve and marched out of the suite, leaving the two of them alone. Raven did not even wait for the click of the door to launch herself back into his arms, her fingers working faster than her mind could direct to undress him.

If anyone could see them, she imagined their movements were feral, so frenzied with their carnal instincts that it looked purely chaotic. Raven’s dress was in a crumble at her feet, his suit jacket was somewhere Raven could not even see. Her fingers rushed to undo the buttons of his shirt before abandoning the task for his pants.

“Fuck, why are there so many buttons??” She came up for air long enough to moan in frustration as Alex’s warning rang out in her head.

Only ten minutes. How was that enough time? That was not even a fraction of the time she required to do all the things her brain demanded she do to feel all of him and ensure he felt all of her too.

“Fuck I missed you,” he uttered between kisses as he tried to take her incredibly tight but effective spanx off.

She prayed Alex’s threat was a joke because she did not need a mirror to know her makeup would indeed need more than a light retouch. His kisses were unyielding, sloppy and utterly unrestrained. Their need for each other simply fed off the others and she knew neither would be satiated in ten minutes.

We need to stop, she thought. It was the biggest night of his career. She should stop so he could focus on that, right?

But she couldn’t, didn’t want to.

“I need you,” she whimpered, her desire to be filled far louder than the time clock in her head.

And her voice was so needy that Michael, whose self-control was hanging by a thread, almost gave in.

The only thing that gave him the strength to stop them before neither of them would be able to stop was the knowledge that she deserved more than a 10-minute quickie. She deserved to be devoured with every ounce of his being devoted to and focused on her. No interruptions, no distractions. She was a goddess to be worshiped with every stroke in her heat and that was not a process that could be rushed.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he gently cradled her neck, forcing her to slow down and look at him. His resolve was tested at the lust in her eyes, how her entire body was suddenly flushed with heat. “Fuck…” the words were agony to push out but necessary. “I want you so bad. But not like this.”

Raven, still a work in progress, could not stop the immediate intrusive thought that he did not want her, that she had misread everything. Michael could see it, how her eyes flashed with that fear and insecurity. He would never not want her, he would happily remind her of that every day if necessary. But he knew himself too well. Once he found himself trapped inside her, he would not be able to stop himself. And he wanted to take his time.

“It’s not you. It’s never you,” he brushed her hair behind her ear. “I just… I want more for this than a 10-minute quickie in a hotel room that isn’t even ours. You deserve more.”

Her heart swelled at his words, realizing that he was not even thinking about the clock. He was merely thinking about her. That forced her to calm down a bit, her lust still red hot and flowing but the logical part of her brain was taking control again.

The slight pout on her face made him chuckle and pull her in for another kiss. It was deeper and more sensual, a quiet plea to trust that he would always give her what she needed. Even if not in the exact timing her body desired it.

“Every moment with you counts and I’m not lettin’ anymore pass that I don’t treat you like you deserve. Trust me, I’ll give you what you need, baby girl. It’ll be worth the wait.”

Raven knew he was right. Despite the persistent ache in her core, she knew she could wait for what he planned. It would be far better than a rushed reunion on a couch anyway.

“I trust you. Just make sure your team knows to clear your very packed schedule for the next couple days,” she teased as she stole one last kiss before she tried to put some distance between them. Her body still wanted him desperately and while she trusted him, she was not sure she trusted herself.

But Michael merely pulled her back in and held onto her tighter.

“Oh the world ain’t gon’ see me or you for more than a couple days. I’m all yours.” He winked at her before helping her get her dress back on and his own suit back on. Once he opened the door to let Alex back in, both of them looked exactly as the two had left them, not a hair out of place. Save Raven’s lipstick, which was completely gone.

“Damn… three minutes? Knew you couldn’t be worth the hype,” Alex immediately said as she breezed back into the suite, utterly unbothered by the idea that the two might have fucked just moments prior.

“You always got jokes.”

Alex immediately fired off last-minute directions to the makeup team to fix Raven’s before they prepared for photos and to leave. Though Raven had endured the tedious process of getting ready for awards and premieres before, today was the most hectic yet. But she was not panicked because she stuck close to Michael, who was the picture of ease and calm. He was the eye of this hurricane, the small world that was him purely at ease even when he should not be.

“You nervous?” she asked as the photographer directed her to perch on Michael’s knee before going to switch out the lens on his camera.

He offered her the most sincere smile, his eyes glimmering with all the love and adoration he felt toward her.

“Nah. Why would I be? I already got the most important thing I needed today. Tonight’ll just be a cherry on top.”

***

Raven was beginning to wonder if her return had turned Michael’s hands into magnets. He barely let her go since they walked out of Alex’s suite. She could not help but laugh when Michael only allowed the photographer two minutes of individual photos before he pulled Raven back into his arms. It was not as if she minded one bit, she had so missed this, missed his touch. It was addicting.

“You stare at me any harder, I’m gonna combust,” she joked as they sat in the back of his limo, Raven leaning into his side as she had done so many times before. .

“My bad, my bad. I’m just fuckin’ shocked you’re here.” He weaved his fingers among hers, bringing her hand into his lips. “You know I’m gonna spend everyday making all this shit up to you, right?”

“I know and I also know it’s unnecessary. I won’t lie, I’m still hurt and confused by what happened. But I know we can fix it. I don’t need you to feel guilty for the rest of our relationship either.”

“The rest of our lives,” he softly corrected with a playful shove to her shoulder that made her giggle. Fuck he missed that sound, missed her smile.

“The rest of our lives,” she repeated. “I just need you to love me. That’s it.”

“That’s a given, baby girl.”

She leaned over and pecked him softly on the lips before settling back in his arms.

“So… Can I read your speech?” she asked sweetly, knowing there was a terribly crumbled piece of paper stuffed into his jacket pocket.

“Nope.”

Raven immediately pouted, putting on the playful sad puppy eyes that always got to him.

“Those ain’t gon’ work today, baby. But only cause I can’t show you a speech I don’t have.”

Raven’s eyebrows creased in confusion, immediately assuming that his lack of a prepared speech meant he did not think he would win. How could he think such a thing?

“Michael… You know you’re gonna win. And you’ve scripted all the others. Why didn’t you write one for tonight? I can jot you something down real quick?” she immediately started to look around as if her cell-phone-sized clutch was big enough to secretly contain a pen and paper. “Allen!” She leaned toward the front. “Do you have any paper? Spare receipt?”

“Baby, BABY!” Michael called, gripping her hips to guide her back to her seat and calm her panic. “I didn’t say I didn’t write one,” he clarified. “I said I don’t have it. I just realized that… the scripted speeches are not what I want tonight. Need a different direction. So I gave the speech to Alex before we left.”

Though Raven could guess the reason for a sudden need for a new direction in the 11th hour. But she still found herself asking anyway. “Any reason for this different direction?”

“Just think I should speak from the heart if I win, you know? Like I did in that interview. If I get to go on that stage tonight, wanna do it as the man I’ve become. Dunno if I have your way with words, though. Not nervous about losing but I’m nervous about fuckin’ up up there, not sayin’ the right thing, you know? Or everyone hating it?”

Raven’s eyes softened a bit, always appreciating this vulnerable side of him. She knew how difficult and painful it had been to reveal that side to her and to the world. But she knew he was better for it.

“You don’t need my way with words, baby. You just need yours and yours is poetic, it’s kind a-and loving and true. That isn’t a new direction o-or a new man, Michael. It’s just you. Every moment I’ve known you, that’s just you. You just let me see it and I’m so grateful for it. And you’ve let the world see glimpses of it in the last few months a-and if the response is any indication, the world is grateful too. You’re not nervous about saying the wrong thing. Going out there without the armor you’ve built to protect yourself is just scary. But it’s worth it. You taught me that. Don’t think about the right or wrong words. Just what you want to say about this moment. Whatever words you have will be right.”

“Feel like you got more poetic on me since January.”

Raven chuckled and shook her head. “Still only minimally poetic… and I can’t take credit for that one.” But she stopped herself before she said more. Now did not feel like the best moment to drop emotional bombs.

“We’re here, Mr. Jordan. About three cars in front of us,” Allen called out from the front seat.

He glanced at Raven, her eyes suddenly swimming with panic that he could tell she desperately wanted to swallow. He could almost see the realization hit her like a wall. She was about to walk out into the public eye for the first time in months at Hollywood’s most significant night of the year. And Michaell had been so elated to have her back that he had not considered how emotionally overwhelming that had to be.

Raven was determined to hide it as best and long as she could. Tonight was all about Michael and his career. And she had accepted being in the public eye when she decided to go back to him. She knew it would be difficult but he was worth it. They were worth the sacrifice. But her brain assaulted her with every possible name she would be called, the headlines that would materialize tomorrow. And all of that would reflect poorly on him. What if she ruined his life… again?

“Hey, hey, Rae. Baby girl. Look at me,” his hands gently framed her face to force her eyes to him. “Don’t worry about them. It’s just you and me, aight? Tonight’s ours. The first night of the rest of our lives, showing up 100% in our truth. None of this other shit matters. So just focus on me. I won’t let you go, I promise.”

“Just you and me,” she repeated, nodding slightly.

And with that, he opened the limo door, standing tall as crowds shouted his name and the chaotic sounds of the carpet filled their ears.

First night of the rest of our lives. And she was ready.

***

Though she had not been to many award shows with Michael thus far, she learned one key thing. They were just as boring as they looked on tv except when you were the date of a popular nominee, you did not have the luxury of letting that boredom show.

Will my jaw ever recover, she wondered as it ached from smiling through three hours of devastatingly mediocre jokes and long-winded speeches. At least the carpet was exciting and thrilling, as daunting as it was. In fact, the carpet was actually fun for the first time.

The chaotic jungle was its usual frantic chaotic place, not any different than she expected. But perhaps it merely felt different because she and Michael were so different from who they were the last time they were out together. They had stripped themselves bare and had shed their armor. They were standing decidedly in their truth and the immense love they shared. And that felt like a new world.

And she noticed so much more than her self-pitied colored glasses allowed her to see. Every protective touch, every studious glance to ensure she was still smiling and well, the well-timed playful remarks or jokes he whispered in her ear right when her nerves started to encroach, every gentle kiss that still held his endless passion for her. She finally saw it all and felt it. And it was everything.

Michael straightened up next to her, pulling Raven out of her own daydreams. Robert Downey Jr. made his way to the middle of the stage, an envelope labeled Best Actor printed boldly across it.

She tightened her grip on Michael’s hand. She had a good feeling about this.

“A leading man is more than an attractive face, though I’m sure every woman would agree that all five men in this category have that quality in common as well. But what they also have in common is vulnerability, empathy, and the courage to search for the humanity and depth of their characters to embody their wants, their fears, their grief, their sorrow boldly and bravely. These five performances are exemplary and remind us all just what a leading man is. Here are the nominees for Best Actor in a Motion Picture.”

The room dimmed ever so slightly as the reel started to play, the seconds that passed felt more like hours as they watched snippets of each performance. Michael’s was last, Raven’s free hand gently rubbing his arm as she felt his nerves finally kick in. She was impressed he only felt them now, she would have been an utter mess all evening.

“And the winner is…” the Marvel actor did a little fist pump that immediately gave the winner away, deafening applause almost drowning out his name. “Michael B. Jordan, Waves.”

Michael’s head fell into his hand for a moment, genuine shock coursing through him. He had convinced himself that he would not win to minimize the disappointment. But he had not really considered how it would feel to actually win? To actually receive this honor. And it was more than he could have hoped it would be.

Raven pulled him into her arms as they stood, tears swimming in her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered before he kissed her.

He honestly would have been fine to simply revel in this moment in her arms but he knew the clock was ticking on his speech.

He finally let her go and jogged up the stairs, giving RDJ a hug before stepping in front of the mic. The entire theater was still on their feet applauding and cheering as he stared out into the crowd.

“Wow. Thank you so much for this. As a kid from New Jersey, you just don't really ever expect your dreams to take off like this, to end up in a place like this. This is just… more than I could’ve ever dreamed for myself. So thank you. There are a million people for me to thank and not enough time before they play me off. My family and friends, my team and manager, the cast and crew who poured their hearts and souls into this film… Without all of you, I wouldn’t have made it here tonight and I’m grateful for your constant support.”

He glanced down at the trophy in his hand before continuing. “Umm… But there’s one person I do want to thank though and that is the love of my life, Raven Turner. When I look at you, all I can think of is how rewarding it is to be loved by you, to be chosen by you. That makes every day feel like I’ve just won an Oscar. I feel so blessed to be given the opportunity to love you, to stand in your light, and to live everyday working to be the man worthy of your love. Getting to share this moment with you goes beyond anything I could’ve imagined. Thank you for seeing me for all that I am and loving me for it. Thank you for falling with me, baby and I hope I make every day of our lives together worth it.”

She knew that the tears that streamed down her face were not attractive or good for the camera that was surely about to pan to her but she could not have hoped to care.

“I love you,” she mouthed though she doubted he could even see her from up there.

“I love you. Thank you!” He held the statue up in his hand before turning and walking off stage, his standing ovation renewing.

***

Michael wanted to laugh at how Raven stretched her body like an adorable kitten after sleeping like the literal dead for most of the daylight hours. He did not blame her, they did not stumble back into his house until after 4 am. Once the show ended, the pair bounced from after party to after party drinking, smoking, and dancing the night away. He had not had that much fun at industry events and parties in so long. And it had been so much fun that he was *almost* sad it was over, a perfect final night of an insane run in his career.

But then he remembered that closing that chapter meant he could focus his attention on the perfect and hopelessly exhausted woman rousing in his arms. They could heal without the distractions of events and the public eye. They could build their lives together officially. The joy of that instinctively caused him to pull her into his chest, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

“Mornin’ baby,” he whispered, his gruff voice filling her ears as Raven slowly opened her eyes.

Peace and contentment gently glided through her frame like a light summer’s breeze, easing all the aches and pains she had felt before. She had missed this… falling asleep snuggled in his arms, wrapped lovingly and tightly in his scent. She would have been inclined not to move until she caught a glimpse of the time on his iPad.

She let out a soft gasp as she tried to shoot up, shocked at how late she slept. However, his tight grip stopped her from lifting much beyond her head and chest.

“You gotta let me go, baby. We should get up. It’s almost 3 pm… sorry, don’t even know how I slept that fucking late. I know you got shit to do.”

“We had a late night and there ain’t shit to do today. And if there had been, I would’ve told you. Rest.”

She used the back of her hand to rub her eyes as she glanced at him, studying how his eyes returned to a script on his iPad that was highlighted to death. She merely rolled her eyes. Of course he would be working right after the biggest night of his career.

“How long have you been up?”

“Since 11 or so?” he shrugged. “Figured I’d relax and read some scripts my team pulled for Outliers. Been so crazy, they’ve just been piling up. Grabbed a snack bout an hour ago and made you some tea but it’s definitely cold. I can make you more if you want.”

“Why didn’t you wake me??”

He merely shrugged with his unbothered charm, his hand gently rubbing her back, which lulled her into laying her head down on his chest again despite her brain’s alarm bells to get up.

How am I so tired?? She wondered as her eyes threatened to fall shut again. All her body wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms.

“When you didn’t even move when I got up, it seemed like you needed the rest. And still do.”

“I’m good.”

“Those bags under your eyes say otherwise.”

“I know you ain’t talking…” she offered back, glancing pointedly at the equally stark dark circles under his eyes.

“Touche. But no actor gets enough sleep. Early call times, global press tours, events and after parties. It’s the name of the game. You haven’t been taking care of yourself?” His annotation was that of a question but they both knew the answer. “How much sleep you been getting since we-” Michael stopped himself, the words he held back still hanging heavily in the air. There was still so much they still had to discuss, wounds that were still unhealed and unresolved.

While Michael thought Raven was always stunning, he could not ignore the obvious toll the events of late had taken on his girl. He thought it had just been emotional but he had not seen her long enough to notice the physical strain his actions had caused too. And while she had told him not to feel guilty, he did. So he was not going to wake her up or bother her when it was clear she required a reset. And while he would always adore her for rallying for him last night, today was a new day. And she deserved to be catered to and have someone take care of her for a change.

“Couple hours a night… Between the break up and the paparazzi during the first couple weeks… and then all the shit on social media, I was just on edge 24/7, my brain couldn’t shut off long enough to sleep… or sleep well. I had some old sleeping pills I used some nights when I was desperate but… it was hard not to think about everything over and over and over again. And then wallow in it.”

“You stopped eating too? You lost weight.”

Raven chuckled. “You know most men wouldn’t have a problem with their girlfriend losing a couple pounds. Wasn’t like I didn’t need to.”

“You’re fuckin’ sexy at any weight but I gotta problem with anything that means you ain’t taking care of yourself. Especially when it’s my fault.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose and it’s no one’s fault. I just… didn’t really have an appetite a lot. But that’s starting to come back. I’m fine, Michael. Truly. We’re still celebrating you, can’t end that early just to fuss over little ole me.”

Michael knew she wanted him to pretend he believed her for the sake of not discussing this right now. But what was the point in that? He would not pretend he had not been terrified for her. That he was not still terrified at how all of this had worn her down. And he knew it was not just what he did, it had just been the final straw in a life-long list of painful experiences. But one thing Raven had always had when he looked at her was hope, even if the flame was as small as a dying candle. There was always an air about her that let him know she genuinely believed things would get better one day.

But when he saw her at her apartment, the night at that bar? That was gone, completely extinguished. Her eyes, his favorite part of her, held nothing but sorrow. He would not be able to live with himself if he ever saw that look in her eyes again.

“You aren’t fine, Rae. I know that shit. And I’m allowed to worry about you. I mean shit, how you looked after that video was bad enough. Then the bar?? Not gon’ forget that shit happened just cause we’re back together. And I’m not gon’ pretend you’re fine when you aren’t either. You’re not gonna keep sweeping your needs under the rug. We can lay here all day and sleep if that’s what you need.”

“You have better things to do, Mr. Academy Award Winner then watch me sleep. I can take care of myself.”

“What if I like watching you sleep??”

“Then that would be kinda endearing and… kinda creepy?” she mused. “But mostly endearing.” Not that she would ever admit it but she enjoyed watching him sleep too.

“Well I might be creepy then,” he admitted. He did genuinely love watching her sleep, when she was in his arms, there was just a rare peace about her that he loved to see. “The outside world has gotten too much of me lately. Now, the only thing I wanna do is take care of you. Not cause you can’t do that shit yourself but because you shouldn’t have to. Everyone needs to be taken care of and I’m not letting the next 30 years go by without you knowing what that feels like. Now you’re gonna feel it. Every single day. Rest, Raven.”

His words tumbled through her brain as she stared at him for a moment, her eyes brimming with tears. She was exhausted and not just physically. But of carrying the weight of every problem on her shoulders, of being alone in crafting solutions. She was so often consumed by pure survival and it had made her resourceful and smart. There was not a problem that life threw at her that Raven had not figured out a way through. She was stuck in survivor mode 24/7. But the problem with survival is that it was an all-consuming task. There’s no opportunity… no room to rest. And no one to take on the burdens for her so she could.

“I just haven’t h-had anyone… who cared enough to worry… in a long time, no one willing to share the load,” she offered simply, sniffling lightly. “Until you hired David… I didn’t think you cared what happened to me after we… I ended things.”

“I did. I do.” His hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb whisking away the tears that slowly fell. “Fuck, I thought about you every minute of the damn day, Rae. You had me over here losing my damn mind. I care… I love you so much, it fucking killed me. And scared me. And I deserved it, to worry and stress and flip shit because I fucked up… I hurt you.”

“You did. But it wasn’t just you. Life’s been shit before and I could always, you know, keep going? It was just the final blow to the little bit of hope I had? And I just didn’t see the point in getting back up again. That was my best… the bare minimum needed to keep breathing. The heartache… I knew I could get over that eventually. One day in the far fucking future, I could… would force myself to get over you. Or just accept that I could never have you. It was the ache of losing hope that killed me. It was like my soul ached? And there were moments, like the night of your premiere, that I just thought that would never heal?”

“So you got wasted? To forget?”

She chuckled. “Alcohol is a great temporary solution. When you’re that low… shit gets desperate,” she admitted. “Anything to numb the pain for a short while. But it always comes back.”

“How often?”

“Rarely and that was the worst night, I promise. Honestly, wasn’t sure I’d ever want to touch alcohol again after that.”

“And now? How do you feel?”

“The wounds in my heart still need mending but every second back with you has healed parts of my soul. I’m… not ok,” she admitted, Michael immediately empathizing with how difficult it was for her to say those words. “You’re right… it doesn’t just go away. But I will be ok.”

He nodded. “I know you will be. I’m gonna make sure of it. Raven… look, I know this shit is scary, giving up control when you’ve been the one driving for so long, the one responsible for everything for so long. But I’m here, I’m not going anywhere and I’m not gonna let go again. It’s safe to let someone else behind the wheel for a while. Rest for me, baby girl. Please.

As if she was light as a feather, he shifted her so her body laid on top of his chest, his strong arms anchoring her in that spot. She buried her face in the nape of his neck, breathing in the perfect scent that her heart recognized as him.

Even as her body resumed its pliant posture in his arms, Raven realized she did not want rest. No, she wanted to feel him in the very depths of her. She knew they had to talk, knew there were conversations to be had. But fuck, she could not wait. She wanted to revel in this moment, of finally being with someone who genuinely loved her and cared. And she needed to feel it on a cellular level.

Raven forced herself to sit up, quickly straddling his hips and giving him a quick but tantalizing grind against him. That turned his frown into a mischievous grin, though she could still see the concern in his eyes.

“This is the opposite of rest, baby girl.”

“I’ll rest as long as you want after. I need you.”

“We still got a lot to talk about, Rae. I just don’t want you to get caught up in the moment ‘n not really want this yet. ‘N I…” Raven should have been put off the pure animalistic look simmering in his eyes. But instead it just made the desire grow stronger, long tentacles stretching out to every pleasure zone in her body. Demanding he touch, bite, slap, caress… literally do anything to satiate her. “I’m not sure what you need, what we both need.”

Her palms cupped his face, guiding his eyes to hers. “Then don’t be sure. I love that you take care of me, Michael. But taking care of me isn’t having the perfect thing to say or do for me. Sometimes, it’s just being you and figuring it out as we go. I know I need you. And that’s what I want, to feel every part of you… whatever you have to give me. And everything we need to talk about will still be here when you’re done with me.”

And with her permission, the reins holding him back evaporated and he pounced. Raven was on her back before she could blink, Michael capturing her lips, reminding her of the dominance she missed. And desperately craved it.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he whispered in her ear.

“Everything. All of you.”

Michael would happily oblige. He licked his lips as he stared down at her. Where would he even start?

Some part of him wanted to render her utterly immobile as he usually did. But a more significant part of him just wanted to savor her. Wanted to feel everything she had to offer and bask in having her back with him. And while he loved the fast-paced dominant sex they were used to, it did not always allow for that. And he knew in his heart that they both needed more than fast and furious today.

His hands gently ran up the smooth skin of her thighs, gathering the oversized t-shirt on her frame in his hands and sliding it off. Her nipples pebbled slightly at the cold air against her warm skin.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. You know that shit right?” he asked as he pressed soft kisses against her neck.

“Y-yes,” she whispered, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot before moving down to her collarbone.

“You know how much I love you? What I’d do for you?” he continued a slow but intentional path down her body, lingering on her chest as he engulfed each of her nipples between his lips. He took his time there, remembering how much she enjoyed nipple play. His mind called back to the numerous times he put clamps on them. His tongue licked her nipples, Raven whimpering and squirming beneath his hot mouth.

Soon, they would reacquaint themselves with those roles, he thought. If she was up for it.

Her body was ablaze as his lips and tongue found their home on every inch of her skin he could get to. Down he trekked, only slowing when he got to the paradise between her thighs. He knew her inner thighs were a weak spot, something he learned long long ago. He knew it was the teasing that got to her, being so close to where she needed pleasure the most but not exactly there yet.

“Fuck I missed this,” he whispered. “Those little moans you make, how I make you squirm and beg and plead. The taste of you on my tongue.”

“Michael… please,” she whimpered. “I need…” the words were lost on her, her brain was no longer in the decision-making business. Her body, the pleasure sensors that lived beneath the surface of her skin guided every feeling, every filthy thought, every base desire and need. “C-Can’t wait.”

He lifted his head from between her thighs, his breath teasing her core with heat that turned her into putty in his hands. She could not wait, she needed to be connected to him. To feel their bodies become one again in the most intimate and carnal way.

“You trust me, baby?”

“With my life,” she answered truthfully.

While his actions had shaken that trust, when it boiled down to it, she would never trust her body with anyone as she did with Michael. She was his and he had never harmed her or made her regret handing over the reins to her pleasure to him. He had proven himself worthy of it tenfold.

“Then trust that Imma take care of you, princess. Always.”

Princess… fuck was it possible for her heart to literally explode? Or for her to be anymore wet than she already was?

His poor sheets, she mused.

He resituated her legs on his shoulders and grinned up at her as he continued nipping at her inner thighs, Raven’s soft moans only spurring him on. She was already a mess… a delicious, delectable mess to be sure, her juices glistening and begging him to lick, suck… devour her.

“Fuck… all this for me, baby?” he smiled as his kisses and bites grew closer and closer to where she desired, where she needed his touch the most.

“Y-yes…” Her body had missed him more than she realized.

“I missed you.” And with that short statement, devour her, he did.

Bliss.

Ecstasy.

Fucking nirvana.

He made her feel all of it with one masterful flick of his tongue against her bud, her back arching off his mattress and a guttural moan rising from her belly. He proved within minutes that he had not forgotten, forgotten what buttons to push, what spots to focus his attention, how she liked to be pleasured.

He did not let up or come up for air as his mouth savored every inch of her that he could, spelling out his adoration and love for her - not with his words - but with his tongue and his two fingers buried in her heat. There was a sensual pace to it that she was not used to with him. Typically, sex was deliciously punishing and unyielding. It was rooted in his care and gentleness for her but the pace left no time to breathe. Not that she minded.

But today? He took particular care, the march up to her peak was tantalizingly slow but perfect all the same. There was no rush between them, despite Raven’s original desire to fit almost 2 months of lost time into this one moment. But Michael understood that they had time. There was no invisible clock, nothing rushing them. He could savor the little gasps of pleasure when he sucked her clit gently, the way her legs clamped around his head when she was close, how her pussy clenched around his fingers as he increased his speed to exactly where she liked, how her hips rocked to meet every thrust.

Every plea, every moan, every scream for more. He wanted to hear all of it. And he wanted her to savor the feeling of being taken care of, because she would need to learn to get used to it. He could do this every day, more than once a day to be honest.

“So… close,” her moans grew louder and louder as he took her to the edge of the cliff of pleasure.

She allowed herself to fall as she felt the pleasure in her belly snap. Her mouth simply remained agape with a breathless scream on her lips as she fell into the depths of ecstasy. The crash didn’t feel like one at all, but a soft landing as he continued his ministrations against her clit, drawing out her orgasm for as long as he could. And it was pure bliss, warm waves of pleasure continuing to crash over her until he finally extracted himself from between her legs.

“That was…” Being at a loss for words was commonplace when they fucked. But Michael understood as he pressed his lips to hers, allowing her to taste herself briefly.

“Fuck!” she cried out as he immediately started to sheathe himself inside her, a welcomed surprise. She tried to hide it as her face screwed for a split second, her body becoming reacquainted with his girth and size. The stretch he provided today in particular, given their stint apart, was a short-lived sting of pain that managed to take her breath away.

He immediately stilled.

“Talk to me, Rae. You good?”

Her eyes were still shut tight as she waited for a moment for her to get used to him again. So she merely nodded.

“Words, baby.”

“Y-Yea I’m good. J-just been a minute a-and you surprised me.” She let out a content sigh as pain gave way to mind numbing pleasure, giving him the directive to move. “A-and t-that’s not… fair,” she moaned. “W-wanted… to taste… you too.” She wanted to force her lips into a playful pout but the only facial expressions her muscles could conjure up were those of passion and pleasure.

“Next time, princess.” He sucked on the soft skin of her neck as he drove into her.

Raven could only see the darkness of the back of her head as her eyes rolled back with every rock forward of his hips, sending his dick right into her g-spot. His thrusts were relentless, Raven’s nails digging into his back as she held onto him for dear life.

“Fuck… I-I love you,” she panted, unable to form any other real sentences worth anything. That was all that needed to be said in her mind.

“Say it again,” he demanded, gently biting her neck as her declaration of love only spurred him on. He grabbed her legs and pulled her ankles to his shoulders.

“I love… FUCK! Fuckkkkk, j-just like that!” She cried out, abandoning the words originally on her lips for completely incoherent ramblings of a woman who was being split into two but loved every single second of it.

Did he just kill me?? Am I dead?? Because this no longer felt of this world? No human being should be allowed to experience this sort of pleasure. Or be able to give it… was the man above her even human?

“You feel so good, baby. You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy??”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck I love it so much. Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Stopping?? An utterly foreign concept to him at that moment. And he did not. Raven barely could breath as Michael moved her into position after position, fucking her into oblivion.

Tears sprang to her eyes as he fucked her from behind, his teeth biting gently into the skin of her neck.

“Where you want it, princess??” he demanded as he felt himself getting close.

“Cum inside me,” she gasped, not wanting their union to end any sooner than it needed to. This was as close as they could get and for some part of her, it still was not close enough.

More, more, more, her soul seemed to demand. More of him.

“Don’t say that shit to me if you don’t mean it?” he warned, those few words causing a fever to settle over him, his hips snapping forward into her ass with a force that jolted her further into his mattress.

“Please, baby,” she whined desperately, unable to find any other words to assure him that was what she wanted.

Euphoric was the only word that came to mind as he pulled her flush to his chest and emptied his cum inside her.

“Thank you, thank you,” she panted, her pussy clenching around him as he pumped in and out of her slowly.

Michael gently let her body fall into the mattress, Raven’s eyes already starting to flutter closed as he went to grab a warm towel. Another whimper escaped her lips as he cleaned her up.

“That was… whew. I missed you.”

Michael did not bother putting his own clothes back on but instead slid into bed with her, cuddling her body against his.

Of course now, sleep was not something Rave could avoid, her body spent as it always was after their time together.

“ Give me an hour and then my legs will work again. And then I’m taking over,” she muttered as she yawned.

He merely laughed and nodded, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“Wouldn’t bet on it. I only made you cum four times.”

Raven lifted her head to look at him incrediously. “Only four??? I can’t feel my legs, babe.” Her jaw dropped at the slight frown creasing his lips. “Oh my God… you’re actually upset,” she laughed. “You’re insane.”

“I have a reputation to uphold, babe. Six minimum every time.”

“If you wanna kill me, just say so,” she joked.

“Just tryin’ to put you to sleep without a fight,” he offered with a smile. “I give it five minutes before you’re out like a light.”

“Very mischievous but effective.”

Raven did not understand how she could even require more sleep, even after a palty (as Michael would complain) four orgasms. But he had accomplished his goal, her entire body was boneless and pliant in his hands. Everything in her told her she was finally home and safe to let go of everything else for the first time in her life. So she welcomed the coming rest, allowing her eyes to drift closed. However, before she fully gave in, she whispered.

“You should rest too… you’ve been going and going since the top of the year. You’ve earned it too.”

“Deal.”

The life of an actor was defined by sleep deprivation so Michael had learned the important trait of falling asleep literally anywhere and anytime. Because his body was on his press tour schedule, he had felt wide awake after a few hours of rest this morning. But he knew if he closed his eyes for 5 minutes, he would pass out again.

“I love you,” he offered quietly as he shifted them both so he was laying down again.

“Not as much… as I love you,” she mumbled back as her eyes fluttered closed.

Tag list: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @majesticbrown @roguekiki @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154 @munchsa

***

A/N: Whew ok y'all do not know how much I agonized over this chapter LOL but our babies are backkkkkk and we have maybe two chapters left and an epilogue. Thanks so much for sticking by my slow writing ass. Drop a comment and let me know what you thought!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii #fic: wicked fantasies

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jakotsuto · 12 days ago

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my hateful thoughts… must release them.

okay so basically, I keep seeing Bankotsu x OC and while I don’t like any OC x Canon myself, THAT is the one that personally offends me the most (admittedly, even more than Jakotsu x OC).

I hate when people act like they care about a character and they really only care about if they’re hot or not. Unfortunately I am the kind of autistic that cares about characters being in-character.

There is absolutely no way to do Bankotsu x OC without completely obliterating his character in the process, frankly. I mean, that’s true for most Bankotsu ships, but esp with OCs because Bankotsu,

Is so Incredibly Specific about the company he keeps. Some generic attractive white girl (??? I think i’ve seen like multiple redheads ???) isn’t going to cut it.

(He openly says he wouldn’t be so much as friends with demons, either, so the company he keeps is STRICTLY human.)

He hangs out with a giant man who eats demons, the ugliest man alive who is also IMMUNE TO HIS OWN ADVANCED POISONS, a man with prosthetic limbs and a wide weapons skillset with weapons that weren’t common at the time, an ex-monk who is a “genius” and “devious”, a kind-hearted doctor who was so morally good that killing in self defense broke his brain and gave him DID, specifically a personality that kill’s people—

and Jakotsu, who is openly gay in that era, doesn’t dress like a warrior despite being one (still dresses practically enough tho), has ninja-like skills and AMAZING accuracy with a weapon that IRL would be impossible to use.

The company Bankotsu keeps is the definition of out of the ordinary. Not only are they freaks, but they’re the BEST freaks.

And it works in canon material, but adding an OC who is capable of keeping up with the Bo7– there’s no line between “special enough to join the Bo7 and capture Bankotsu’s attention” and “Mary Sue” here. The OC would have to be able to actively keep up with Bankotsu in strength and personality.

and they always have to tone down the Bankotsu/Jakotsu relationship, anyway, because no matter how you see them— friends or more— Jakotsu is literally cited as “the only person in the whole world [Bankotsu] can trust/rely on, even if [Jakotsu’s] a bit weird”.

like I’m sorry, but Jakotsu is the only one he invites to drink with him, and the one he outright ignores Renkotsu bringing up the Naraku problem so he can ask Jakotsu about it like 15 seconds later and a girl could never change that.

And frankly? I don’t think women operate any space in his mind. He never tries to fight Kagome or Sango. Talks about fighting Kikyou but doesn’t. Mostly complains theres no women around to pour their drinks so he doesn’t have to. (He still pours Jakotsu’s drink, though, instead of making Jakotsu pour his own drink.)

the only two plausible Bankotsu ships within canon are:

Bankotsu/Jakotsu (OTP)

and— this is me being completely unbiased, as I don’t ship this even remotely— Bankotsu/InuYasha (and I don’t think this would be requited on Inuyasha’s half, as he’s pretty Kagome-obsessed.)

That’s it. Those are the only in-character ships for him.

Anyway, this reminds me of an old abandoned fic I read called Catching Broken Glass, which is a crack fic about the absurdity of Bankotsu accepting a random girl into the Bo7 and everybody being chill with it.

#inuyasha #bankotsu #jakotsu #banja #banjak #bankotsu x jakotsu #you don’t like that character u just wanna fuck them #and that’s fine but like. don’t pretend #I’ve never understood the point of that tbh treating characters like blank slates to mold to your will #why not just write your own story????#If the canon character is basically an OC to you just make an OC based off of them

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justanothermemestrider · 5 months ago

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Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 7

Sgt Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Woooooweeeeee babes. Looks like our favourite couple is finally catching a break. Or are they?

Blood and gore under the cut, as well as loads of general 40kness. Apologies for spelling or grammar errors.

If this is your first time here, welcome! If you like the look of this fic but aren't caught up, check out the master list here to see all the parts I've done so far :)

Otherwise, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Gadriel is sure he's lost consciousness at least twice now. This time, rather than spur him back to life with yet another blow to his wounds, Severus allows him to awake on his own. Gadriel's eyes are heavy. His vision, a swirling mess of black and white spots. When the haze fades enough for him to actually see, he finds a a deep, rippling pool of blood at his feet.

The poison still hasn't worn off. Even after... Throne, how long has it been? An hour? A day?

"Hey! Angel!"

Gadriel raises his eyes.

"There you go," Severus smirks. "Stay with me, now. We're not even halfway done yet."

The slaver flicks his right wrist- the mechanical one. The metal joint clanks with the movement, and several, large droplets of blood are sent flying off its pointed knuckles.

"You know," Severus muses. "I'm thinkin' maybe I don't give you to the Drukhari after all. I'm thinkin' maybe I'll just bleed you like a pig, then strip you for parts. You angels got a lot of fun things going on under the hood; things that I bet'll sell real nice on the black market."

He flicks Gadriel's chest with his forefinger. Gadriel's mind is so lost amidst its agony, he doesn't even feel it.

"I mean, you've got what; two supercharged hearts and three superlarge lungs? A layer of subdermal armour as thick as steel and the literal progenoids of a demi-god jammed up in your neck? You're priceless, really! Still a pretentious little shit, of course. But a priceless one at that!"

Vaguely, Gadriel wonders what the dark eldar wyche must think of all this. He'd expected her to argue, or even just react. But when Gadriel casts his eyes to where she's standing at the back of the...

She's gone.

Gone? But where? Did she get bored? Have other duties to attend? Prisoners of her own to torture, perhaps?

Wait. Wait. He remembers something. A feeling, an idea. Formed ages ago, before blood loss and shock had vegetated his brain.

"Mmm. Yeah. Tell me, how's that been working out for you?"

"Not great. But soon, I expect that to change."

"Oh? And how do you figure that?"

"You'll see... "

I'd been waiting, Gadriel realises. Waiting for her to leave. And now she's gone. That means I can...

As if on cue, acidic saliva stings the back of his tongue.

"What else you got?" Severus continues to ramble. "You got a rib plate instead of cage? Surely that will go for something. Oh! And all those little bits of tech that hook you into your armour. Now, to the right people, those will go for bags!"

Dropping his chin to his chest, Gadriel mutters something unintelligible.

"Sorry?" Severus says. "Did you say something?"

Again, Gadriel murmurs. But again, no words are discernable.

Scowling, Severus closes in on Gadriel, turning his ear towards the space marine's face. "Speak up, damn you. Use your words."

"I said," Gadriel mutters. "That you forgot one."

"One of what?"

"One of the organs that seperates a space marine from a human."

Avarice ignites within Severus' black, soulless eyes. "Well, go on, then!" he demands. "Tell me!"

Now, finally, Gadriel raises his head. "It's called Betcher's gland," he says. His voice is little more than a hoarse, croaking whisper.

"Betcher's gland, huh?" Severus says. "Haven't heard of that one. What is it?"

Gadriel locks eyes with the slaver. He licks his lips. "It allows us to spit acid."

As he'd suspected, Severus is slow on the uptake. For all his cruel behaviour and love of technical jargon, the bastard is about as clever as he is brave. That gives Gadriel plenty of time to work up a glob of saliva large enough to hoick into the man's face. It lands on his left eyebrow.

Initially, Severus recoils in surprise and disgust. But before the slaver can curse Gadriel or punish him for his slight, the acid begins its grisly work.

Severus' eyebrow evaporates, the flesh beneath it popping and hissing as it retreats from his skull like melting plastic. His brow bone kisses the open air, then blacken and turns to gluggy, carbon ash. An acidic droplet lands in the centre of his left eye. The entire thing pops like an infected cyst.

Severus drops to the floor. Limbs locked up, mouth ripped open in a terrible scream. He claws at his melting face, but that only spreads the acid to his hands. The fingers of his alien hand remain mostly intact. His organic ones, meanwhile, are stripped to the bone in seconds.

Gadriel watches the man writhe and wail at his feet with half a smile- he's too exhausted to laugh; the exertion of it might just make him pass out again. But Throne dammit if he's not enjoying seeing this bastard is so much agony.

If this is where he is to die, there are few sights he'd rather be seeing. Well, in truth, there's only one.

If it can't be Ellie's face, let it be the face of her tormentor as it's melted off with acid.

Gadriel smirks to himself. Twisted as it is, there's a lot of romance in that. He appreciates it. Surprising how much he appreciates it. Surprising he even remembers what romance is, after everything he-

Throne. I'm loosing it. Can't keep my thoughts straight.

Must be the blood loss. Catching up with him.

How did it take in the end...

Can't see Severus anymore. Just black. Black and screaming. Blood and steel.

How long has he been here? An hour? A day?

Gadriel doesn't know. He doesn't...

"Gadriel!"

That voice...

It's her.

Ellie.

His Ellie.

Gadriel's smile widens a little. How kind of his mind to flash her memory before him as he dies. It would've been nice, however, to have seen her face one last time.

"Gadriel! Can you hear me? Open your eyes, darling. Please, open your eyes."

Gadriel can't. He knows he can't. He tries- how could he not try for her? But his body, his mind, they are lightyears away. He doesn't even feel the pain anymore.

I'm sorry Ellie, he would tell her if he still had a voice. I'm sorry to abandon you again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Gadriel!" Ellicent cries. "Gadriel, can you hear me?"

He doesn't look up. Doesn't even move. His head is entirely limp in her hand. Blood is literally lapping at the sole of her boot. His skin is as grey and clammy as a corpse.

"Open your eyes, darling." Ellicent's voice is meek with tears. "Please, open your eyes."

Nothing. Still nothing.

Oh Emperor, please. Please no. Please don't do this. Not again.

Thundering footsteps behind her. Ellicent looks over her shoulder in time to see Titus enter the room. His helm moves sharply between her and Gadriel. "Step aside," he says. Though it is an order, his voice is surprisingly soft. It's enough to coax Ellicent away from Gadriel and do as the Ultramarine says.

Titus exchanges his bolter for his power sword, activating the weapon with a plasmic whine. With one clean slash, he severs Gadriel's chains.

Gadriel collapses to the floor. The pool of blood beneath him splashes up his front. He lands on his knees, slouches forwards. Both hands clutch at his right side and terrible scream tears through his entire body.

Ellicent drops to her knees in front of him. Grabs his tear-streaked face and presses her forehead to his. "Gadriel. Darling, look at me."

He's trembling in her grasp. His breath, barely more than short ragged gasps. But he's alive. He's awake. And at the sound of her voice, he even manages to lift his head a little.

"... E... Ellie..."

Ellicent chokes on a sob. "Yeah. It's me." Throwing her arm around his neck, she hugs him tight.

Gadriel doesn't have the strength the speak. Nor to lift his arms to return her embrace. Even so, he manages to reply by nuzzling his face into her neck.

Weeping openly now, Ellicent kisses his cheek. "I know," she murmurs. "I'm here. I've got you."

To her left, ceramite clangs against the floor. "Can you walk, brother?" Titus asks, crouching beside Gadriel.

Without pulling away from Ellicent, Gadriel turns his head towards the other space marine. "I..." He's cut off by a grimace, followed by a vicious bout of wracking coughs. Titus touches his shoulder. "I'll take that as a no." Sheathing his power sword at his back, he carefully takes Gadriel's arm and slings it over his neck. Ellicent, taking her cue, gives Gadriel one last kiss on the cheek before releasing him and scampering out of the way.

Titus hauls Gadriel onto his feet with a grunt, putting an arm around his waist. Gadriel cries out with the movement and sags heavily against his armoured brother. Titus, however, holds him up with relative ease. Letting Gadriel's arm hang loose around his neck for a moment, he reaches for his hip. Ellicent notices another holster, from which he extracts a weapon. Small, thick and glowing a bright, humming blue.

A plasma pistol.

"Have you used one of these before?" Titus asks her.

Ellicent nods.

He seems to stare at the side arm for a second. Then, he offers it to her. "Take point," he says. Then, in a tone that's slightly softer:

"Keep us safe."

Ellicent is taken off guard. His allowing her to guide him through the ship is one thing, but to offer her a weapon? That's-

Cut it out, Ellicent snaps at herself. No time for that right now.

She takes the weapon from Titus. It's weighty, but we'll balanced. The fact it's projectiles are energy, too, should make its recoil easy to handle despite her single arm.

Looking back up at Titus, Ellicent nods.

"You've got it," she tells him.

Titus returns her nod. Then, he touches the side of his helm. "Squad Talasa, this is Titus. I've got the sergeant. He is alive, but badly wounded. Have an Apothecary on standby to receive him."

A pause.

"Affirmative. Broadcasting my locus now. Inform me when you are two minutes out. Titus out."

He drops his hand from his helm.

"Is that our rescue?" Ellicent asks.

"It is mine and Gadriel's, yes."

His tone is terse, pointed. Thought Ellicent feels her hackles rise, she keeps her own emotions on a leash. "Fair enough," she answers.

Turning away from the pair of space marines now, she steps towards the door. As she does, her metal foot clinks against something. She glances down. Her eyes widen at what she finds.

It's an arm. A bionic arm. Attached to the shoulder of a human man lying on his back. Half his face is gone. Melted, as if by acid. Even so, Ellicent would recognise him anywhere.

Severus.

She crouches beside him. His mouth is agape, but no sound comes out. His left eye is a watery puddle within his skull, and the flesh of that entire side of his face is entirely eaten away. Only bone remains. And even that is pot-holed and blackened. But his chest is moving. Breath still wheezing in and out of his throat. His one good eye also tilts towards her.

A chill runs through Ellicent's body. It is not, however, from fear. "I knew it was you," she murmurs. "If there was one thing you hated more than the idea of me escaping, it was the idea of my being saved."

Severus says nothing. Just wheezes at her. The contempt in his remaining eye, however, is palpable.

"Who is that?"

Ellicent turns to see Titus looking at her from over his shoulder.

Ellicent glances back at Severus. At his still-melting face. Gadriel must've spat on him; it's the only explanation she can think of. If that is the case, then the acid isn't anywhere near done with him yet. Another few minutes, and he'll be either dead or totally vegetated. The thought brings a smile to her lips.

"Dunno," she says to Titus. "Some kinda serf, maybe. He's too far gone though. Not worth saving."

"Perhaps we should give him the Emperor's Mercy, then."

Eyes still on Severus, Ellicent shakes her head. "No," she says. "No, we don't have time. Besides, the gunshot would alert every xenos still here to our location." She gets to her feet. Severus follows her with his eye. She could be mistaken, but she swears she sees a flicker of pleading somewhere behind it.

Ellicent curls her upper lip in disgust. Then, without a second glance, she turns her back on him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Where are we right now, in relation to the ship's outer hull?" Titus asks.

Ellicent clears the next hallway, sweeping the sights of her plasma pistol across it. Nothing.

By the Emperor, Titus has really aired this place out. "Far," she answers his question. "We're basically in the belly, right now." She looks at him from over her shoulder.

"Can you get us closer? To the outer hull, I mean?"

"Sure," Ellicent replies. "We keep moving down, we'll hit utility. Only walls thinner than those are the hangars."

Titus gives an affirmative grunt. "Take us there."

"Can I ask why?"

"You may. But I'll not be telling you."

Ellicent just smirks at that. Irritating as Titus' continued mistrust of her is, she understands it. And with him being the only one of the two of them who can carry Gadriel, she's not about to antagonise him, either.

With every second that passes, her beloved's condition grows more and more dire. He's slipped out of consciousness again, head lolling against his chest as Titus drags him along. Ellicent has to suppress the urge to go to him. To grab his face and scream at him to wake up.

Stay focused. The best way you can help him is to stay focused.

As they leave the torture chambers behind, the interior's architecture begins to change. Colours shift from black to grey. The rib-like structures lining the walls gain hard, mechanical edges, and the lighting gets significantly brighter. All are signs that they've finally reached the ship's utility levels. Means they're not far now.

It also means they start encountering the enemy.

Titus never made it down here. As such, the Dark Eldar force hasn't been thinned. When they hear the clang of Titus' ceramite and smell the stench of Gadriel's poisoned, thinned blood, they come swarming like flies. But most of the warriors here carry swords and knives. And Ellicent's fire is as ruthless as it is accurate. Alien heads, hearts and throats all explode under the glare of her plasma pistol. Soon, their wake is littered with charred and decapitated corpses.

In Ellicent's hand, the plasma pistol vibrates like an anxious heart. Its grip is becoming warm. The blue light from its chamber taking longer and longer to dissipate after every shot. She keeps this up any longer and the damned thing is gonna explode in her hand.

"Titus!" she shouts over her shoulder. "How far away is your rescue!"

"That depends," the Ultramarine booms. "How far are we from cargo?"

"This is utility!"

"In that case: two minutes."

"Thank the Emperor," Ellicent breathes.

At the next curve in the hall, Titus sets Gadriel down. He draws his bolter, aiming it straight down the corridor ahead. Ellicent, meanwhile, covers their rear. She glances at Gadriel. Throne, he looks like a corpse. Again, the urge to drop to her knees at his side threatens to overwhelm her. But again, Ellicent makes herself suppress it.

"The hell have we stopped for, Titus?" she hisses.

Titus' reply couldn't have been shorter or more curt. "Rescue."

Ellicent looks at Gadriel again. Her heart rages.

"We're in the middle of a Throne-damned hallway," she growls. "I can hear the xenos getting-"

"We hold this position," Titus says.

"Why the f-"

"Trust me, Ellie."

That makes Ellicent pause.

He knows my name; he used it. Not just my name, but the one Gadriel gave me.

Before she can process the implications of that fact, Titus is shouting at her. "Contact! Both sides!"

Ellicent blinks her head clear. Lifts her plasma pistol and stares down its barrel. It's just as the Ultramarine had said. Drukhari. Dozens of them. Sprinting down the hall with blades in hand.

Ellicent sets her jaw; aims and open fires.

At first, she manages well. The hallway is long, with very little cover. It creates a bottleneck; a funnel, that forces the xenos straight into her line of sight. Means Ellicent rarely misses. And every shot that lands is a killshot. But like a storm rolling over a hill, inch by inch the Drukhari start closing in. Ellicent can't keep up. Worse, the plasma pistol is starting to overheat. Won't be long until it's too hot for her to hold.

Heart pounding, she glances behind her. "Titus! Where the fuck is your rescue?!"

Her voice is almost entirely drowned out by the roar of his bolter fire. Somehow, though, Titus hears her anyway.

"Any moment now! " he bellows. "Hold fast!"

"Emperor save me," Ellicent scowls.

A shriek at her front whips her back around. A Drukhari- a wyche- is mere metres from her now. Ellicent raises her pistol, pulls the trigger-

The weapon shudders, spitting blue sparks from its chamber.

It's overheating. About to blow. Shit!

The wyche cocks back her sword arm. A cackling, sadistic grin contorts her thin, scarred lips.

Ellicent meets it with a snarl as she tosses the melting-down plasma pistol at the bitch's face.

It detonates like a shock grenade. Charging the air, flooding it with the stink of ozone and electricity. The wyche tumbles backwards, her head completely vaporised. She didn't even get the chance to scream.

But she isn't the last. More are coming. And Ellicent just lost her only weapon.

"Titus!" she screams. "I know you said to trust you. But-"

The next sentence dies on her lips as the wall to her left explodes.

The air ignites with fire and shrapnel. Swearing, Ellicent drops to the floor and covers the back of her head. Gale-force winds whip through the hole, howling like a thousand banshees, threatening to grab Ellicent and tear her out of the ship. The sudden change in air pressure make her ears pop and throb.

Ellicent squints through streaming, dust-filled eyes. Searching for Titus; for Gadriel; for anyone.

She can hear ceramite clanking, bolters firing-

Bolters. Plural.

Ellicent wipes her eyes on her forearm. Through the haze, she manages to make out Titus, but with him are two figures also clad in Ultramarine armour. On the other side of the hole in the wall, she catches a glimpse of a ship's open door.

A Thunderhawk, she realises. This is... This is our rescue.

Staggering to her feet, she hunts for Gadriel. There he is, slung between the two new marines while Titus covers them. Without a second thought, Ellicent sprints towards the blast hole. Just as she'd suspected, a Thunderhawk is hovering outside with its backdoor lowered and a squad of Astartes braced inside.

Ellicent stands aside as the pair carrying Gadriel's guide him towards it. Her heart skips a beat as they step outside, but the Thunderhawk is so close they barely even have to jump.

She finds Titus. Bolter still in hand, he goes to make his jump next. When he sees Ellicent, though, he suddenly stops.

"Go!" he shouts at her.

Yet again, the order utterly surprises her. But she doesn't argue with him. Steeling her nerves, Ellicent clambers to the edge of the breach, sets her toes on its edge. Before she can think twice, she jumps. Landing hard on the Thunderhawk's deck, rolling over her side and skidding to a halt. Titus leaps after her. His landing makes the entire ship shake. The moment his boots touch the floor, the Thunderhawk is gone. Tearing away from the gouge it had blasted into the Dark Star's side, its rear doors clamping shut. Ellicent's ears pop again. Her skin burns in the absence of the roaring wind. She has so many questions: who these space marines are, how they get here, how in the hell Titus had managed to coordinate such a daring, dangerous maneuver. But right now, such things are secondary concerns. Right now there's on one thing she can think about.

Gadriel.

He's laid out in the centre of the floor, flat on his back eyes still shut. Ignoring the two enormous warriors already looming over him, Ellicent shoves her way to his side. She drops to her knees. Crawls up to his head and jabs her fingers into his neck.

"Come on," she whispers. "Come on. Don't do this to me."

Her heart stammers. Pulses: a pair of them. One for each of his hearts. Both as rapid as they are weak.

Ellicent chokes on the lump that's formed in her throat.

A large hand grabs her shoulder. She looks up to see it belongs to Titus.

"Move aside," he says. "The Apothecary needs space to work."

Numbly, Ellicent does as she's told. Watching through watering eyes as her spot beside Gadriel is taken by yet another Ultramarine. He has his back to her, meaning she cannot see what he's doing. But she can imagine it. Taking Gadriel's bio readings. Injecting him with adrenaline, stimulants and pain suppressants, then pumping his veins full of blood-replacement fluids. Trying to keep his hearts beating, his lungs breathing, until they reach wherever it is they're going.

Walking backwards until her back finds a wall, Ellicent slides down to the floor. She hugs her legs, drops her chin on her knees. Tears are streaming down her face, but she hasn't the energy left to cry.

All she can do pray.

Please, Gadriel, she thinks. You promised you wouldn't abandon me again. You promised.

You promised.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Home stretch now, team. Almost time to see if happy endings truly are possible in the 41st Millennium...

Till then, stay safe out there xoxo

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi @justfreakynothingelse

#warhammer 40k #space marines #sergeant gadriel #gadriel #ultramarines #adeptus astartes #demetrian titus #primarchs #40k #space marine 2 #warhammer 40k oc

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moonstrider9904 · 6 months ago

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Never eat a furry beet and other valuable life lessons

Chapter 4 of Le Coeur

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Next chapter (coming soon!) | Previous chapter

Chapter summary: When Nea invites Steb over to her apartment for the first time, a quiet movie night results in both Nea and Blu getting tipsy.

Tags/warnings: Steb x Original Female Character, other OCs are in the fic as well. Canon divergence, flirting, pining, crushes, teasing, fluff, alcohol consumption and mild drunkenness.

Word count: 7.2k

Music: how many times, le coeur

A/N: Happy new year 2025, everyone! Sorry for taking longer with this chapter. I would have written this quicker, but I got a gigantic cold and only had so much brain space. Anyways, thank you to everyone who reads this and to the lovely people who comment. You all give me so much life 💖

To be the pastry chef of the Coffeewick meant being up considerably earlier than most of the people in Piltover. Blu was so used to it that she would often be awake that early even if it was a day off, and while most would whine about an early schedule, Blu cherished the opportunity to see the sky getting brighter with the sunrise. Her fuzzy, mouse-like ears would twitch in the direction of bird song, and her feet would carry her around in little dances in front of the oven while the pastries baked, oftentimes without her even realizing her acts. She could tell what time it was by the amount of people walking outside the coffee shop and the sounds that came from the street as well as from the Coffeewick's second story; Blu was all too familiar with the sound of water running through the pipes within the walls letting her know that Nea was already awake.

On that particular day, the water began running through the pipes about an hour sooner than it usually did, and the moment it began sounding, Blu stood completely still and stared at the spot in the wall where the pipes hid behind with her brows furrowed together like her own knitting needles. Had Nea mentioned she'd be up earlier? If so, for what? Blu could recall every detail from her century-and-a-bit-more of life, but she didn't recall Nea mentioning anything about getting up exactly one hour before she usually did on that day. Blu shrugged it off and continued her own activities, figuring she'd eventually find out the reason behind Nea's sudden change in habit.

But the next thing that caught Blu's attention was that, despite Nea having gotten up a whole hour before, she didn't head downstairs to begin prepping the Coffeewick earlier. It would seem that Nea's spare hour would be dedicated to her place, and Blu could pick up sounds of steps and shuffling from upstairs in the meantime, but it was hard to guess what Nea was doing without getting too creative or too dull. She could have been doing anything from getting a head start on cleaning to rearranging the apartment to house a dragon egg—one wouldn't know until they saw Nea's place.

There was some idle time in which her pastries would only sit in the oven and bake, and Blu decided to head up the stairs and figure out what was going on with Nea. She gave three gentle knocks on the door before opening it and letting herself in, and at first glance, Nea's apartment was unchanged. Squinting her eyes in mild suspicion, Blu stood under the doorframe and looked around, finding telltale signs of Nea's antics from furniture surfaces without a spot of dust on them to the faint scent of cinnamon-apple that filled the apartment. Finally, Nea emerged from her bedroom looking fully ready to head down to work, and she smiled brightly at Blu when she noticed the Yordle standing there.

"I'm just about to head down," Nea said.

"I heard you were up earlier," Blu stated.

"Yeah," Nea confirmed nonchalantly.

"So, what gives?" Blu put her Yordle paws on her hips. "You never clean before work, and even when you do clean, you never leave the place looking so..." Blu looked around the apartment again as she searched for the correct words. "Effortlessly perfect."

"Thanks," Nea smiled. "I was going for that."

Blu raised a brow. "But why?"

Nea's look of relaxed confidence turned into that of a puppy who'd just made a mess on the carpet and knew he was in for a spanking. "Okay, I have a confession to make."

"Oh, yay," Blu deadpanned.

"I couldn't exactly leave this cleaning for after work because, well..." Nea began as her cheeks started getting pink. "I'm gonna need the time after work to touch up my makeup, do my hair, change clothes, lay out snacks..."

Blu tilted her head. "Impromptu movie night?"

"Yes," Nea said. "But... not with you."

"Oh, just say who you invited," Blu blurted.

"Steb."

Blu's eyes widened in shock and a hint of protest. "Um... what?"

"I invited him over," Nea said. "He's coming here tonight and we're just gonna hang out."

A series of emotions ran past Blu's eyes from curiosity to distaste.

"Um... how did that happen?" Blu walked herself over to stand in front of Nea.

"Well, you'll be pleased to know that despite the bird incident, your party wasn't a failure," Nea began.

"None of my parties are failures," Blu intervened. "Go on."

"And judging by the fact that he felt he needed to bring someone to a large gathering, I figured maybe something more lowkey would help Steb feel more at ease," Nea explained. "So a simple night to hang out and talk seemed alright. I was waiting for him to know when he'd be off duty so that he could hang out without any pressure, and, well, tonight's the night."

"The night for what?" Blu pressed.

"For us to finally be alone together for a bit," Nea replied calmly. "Get to know each other."

"Unchaperoned?" Blu questioned.

"Oh, unclutch your pearls," Nea snickered. "You sound like a first generation councilman."

"Look, he seems nice and I get you like him but don't you think it's a little soon for you two to...?" Blu asked, and her eyes suddenly widened in shock before she ran herself to Nea's bedroom. Nea followed after her and saw Blu was searching the top of her made bed and her bedside tables as if she were looking for clues in a crime scene.

"What are you doing now?" Nea leaned on the doorframe and crossed her arms.

"Trying to find rose petals, aphrodisiac scented candles, anything that might suggest-" Blu paused to shudder. "I don't even want to think about it."

"Okay, just stop," Nea reached for Blu on her bed and set her down on the ground, kneeling in front of the little Yordle. "I'm not planning on getting into bed with him tonight. So you can stop worrying about that. All I want is to spend some time with him. But if it makes you feel better, you're invited. I'm sure he won't have any problem with you being there, and neither will I."

"Really?" Blu frowned, but Nea could pick up on the softness hidden behind her furious mask.

"Really," Nea replied. "If he's gonna come here more often, he'll have to get used to you either way."

"Get through me first is more like it," Blu muttered.

Nea leaned in and hugged Blu tight, just enough not to squeeze the air out of the Yordle. "Thank you for looking out for me."

Blu finally softened and leaned her head on Nea's shoulder. "Can I pick the movie?"

"Only if you don't hog the potato chips," Nea replied softly.

"Deal," Blu gently pulled away from the hug. "Now, I have to get back to check the oven."

"I'll be right down," Nea replied. "And don't you worry about a thing. I'm the one who should be nervous for tonight."

Blu giggled. "Wait 'til I tell Donnie and Lily about this."

Nea chuckled. "Knock yourself out."

Feeling mildly less distaste for what the night had in store for her, Blu retreated downstairs one more time and checked on her pastries. Not long after that, Nea went downstairs to open the Coffeewick, and from that moment on, it was business as usual. Blu kept a close eye on Nea, finding that even with the plans she had for the night, Nea was fairly focused on the job. She wasn't giggling like a schoolgirl or constantly blushing, she wasn't confused or off in a daze. She was simply Nea, the trustworthy, professional barista acing every order in the queue and brewing every cup with the same intent and passion.

For a moment, Blu felt as if her best friend wasn't being taken away.

Still, the day went by quickly, and it was time to close in what felt like a blink of an eye. Surely, the hours had zoomed by as quickly as Nea had wanted them to, and with the Coffeewick closed up, Nea was ready to head back upstairs to her apartment. She changed into one of her nicest sweaters, a fitted black one that was more like a wool blouse that greatly enhanced her silhouette and had a wide outstanding neckline that nearly reached her shoulders and showed off her collarbones. She styled her short hair into curls rather than the usual waves, and she touched up her eye makeup and lipstick. She didn't add any blush to her cheeks. It was enough simply to think about Steb for her to feel the apples of her cheeks turning pink, and if she dwelled on the thought of her welcoming him into her home and sitting next to him on the couch, she'd be flustered enough to be on the verge of swooning.

Finally, Nea sprayed herself with her favorite perfume. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and feared for a moment she may have dolled herself up a little too much for a simple night watching movies on the couch, but she brushed off the thought. As simple as the encounter would be, it was worth cleaning up nice. Steb was worth it. And with a little smile at her reflection, Nea wandered from her room to the kitchen and set out all the snacks that they would need on the coffee table in front of the couch, making sure not to neglect the bowl of chips specifically meant for Blu. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, indicating that the time for the date to begin was near—was it really a date? Nea still wasn't very sure what to call it. Either way, Steb would be there soon, and Blu would probably be at Nea's doorstep in mere seconds.

When the sky outside was almost dark, Nea heard the doorbell ringing from downstairs. Coming to a brief halt, Nea looked around her apartment to make sure one last time that everything was in top shape, and in her stillness, she could feel her heart beginning to race. Finally, she let herself out the door and down the stairs, approaching the Coffeewick door. Nea couldn't help the wide grin that appeared on her lips when she opened the door for Steb, and when he smiled back at her, she let out a little giggle.

"I'm so glad you made it," Nea said as she invited him in.

"Thanks," Steb said, making the one-syllable word sound elegant in his thick accent. "I just still think it's lucky both of our days off lined up for tomorrow."

"That just means we can enjoy movie night even more," Nea said, her tone shy and hopeful as her eyes appeared to shine at Steb.

In return, Steb gave her a chivalrous smile. "I'd like that."

As Nea closed and locked the door again behind them, the two shared a gentle look in silence. It let Nea observe what he chose to wear that night, dark trousers and a gray wool sweater with a white collared shirt underneath. She could feel the words glaring behind her lips, aching to come out, but it still felt too soon to utter how handsome he looked. For that night, she'd continue keeping that fact to herself.

"You look..." Steb began, contradicting Nea's inner decisions. "You look nice."

Nea's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she smiled at him in return. "You think so?"

"Yes," Steb smiled shyly, wondering how much further it would be appropriate to take the compliment. "Curls suit you."

"It's one of my favorite styles," Nea gave her head a wiggle, and the curls crowning her head followed. "You, um... you look nice too."

Steb opted to remain silent this time, but the gentle look in his eyes spoke of gratitude and undeniable affection. The tender nature of the moment made it feel like they had lingered on each other's gazes for an age, and Nea began to feel like perhaps it was time to move things to the apartment. She gestured to Steb to begin moving deeper into the Coffeewick, and she led the way past the darkened coffee shop to the staircase until they made it to the second floor and were just outside Nea's door.

"This is it," Nea said, reaching for the doorknob.

"It felt... strange, seeing the Coffeewick empty and from the inside," Steb observed.

"Oh, I know what you mean," Nea said. "I feel it too. But the Coffeewick deserves her rest too."

"Of course," Steb agreed as Nea opened the door, and when he was granted a clear sight of the place where she lived, he found himself unable to focus on anything other than the Yordle who stood on the coffee table with her back turned on them as she reached into the bowl of chips.

"Hands up, chip thief," Nea joked.

Blu turned around on the coffee table and shoved one last handful of chips into her mouth, after which she hopped from the table to the sofa and plopped down on it. "I picked the movie."

"Good," Nea stepped inside and let Steb in as well. "I told Blu she could join us, I hope that's okay."

"Of course," Steb smiled at her. "It's nice to see you again."

Blu seemed to hesitate for a moment, a sight so rare for someone as sharp-tongued as her, but she gave Steb a cheeky little smile.

"Of course it is," Blu said. "I'm a delight."

Nea playfully rolled her eyes and started making her way toward the kitchen, but first, she gave a quick glance at Steb. "Make yourself at home. Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure, I'll come with you," he said as he began to follow.

"'Kay," Nea smiled. "Blu, do you wanna put the movie in?"

"Yep," Blu hopped from the couch and went towards the television.

Meanwhile, Nea made her way swiftly towards her kitchen, knowing the steps all too well, but Steb inevitably lingered in his pace, observing as many details as he could. He found himself comforted by the earthy colors of the walls and the forest greens of the blankets and cushions on the living room. He found the warmth of the apartment enjoyable, and even with the snacks that had already been laid out, the place quite obviously smelled of coffee, though the scent was delicately mixed with the aroma of flowers, mainly lavender and rose. He stopped and looked, though not for too long, at the different potted plants around the apartment, each one well taken care of, and overall the cozy aura of the place was enticing, inviting him to spend his days and nights there.

Of course, the company he'd find in that apartment was very inviting as well, and when his thoughts circled back to Nea, Steb observed her as she took out a bottle of stout ale from the fridge.

"Blu, do you want a beer?" Nea called.

"You know which one I like!" Blu replied from the living room.

"What about you?" Nea asked Steb.

"I wouldn't mind one," he replied somewhat shyly, feeling out of place for a moment between these two lifelong friends.

"Light or dark?" Nea asked.

"Light, please," Steb said.

"Okay," Nea said as she took out one more bottle of dark beer and one of light.

"You and Blu drink stouts?" Steb's voice carried obvious surprise in it.

"We like our beer like we like our coffee," Nea said. "My liver's used to it by now, but don't be surprised if Blu begins asking some very forward questions halfway through the second bottle."

"Yes, fear me," Blu mumbled from the living room.

Nea giggled and acknowledged Steb again. "Would you like a glass?"

"Bottle's fine," Steb replied.

With little more, Steb and Nea made their way back to the living room, drinks in hand. As Blu finished setting up the film, Nea handed her the bottle of stout, which Blu took with a little grin.

"Why, thank you," Blu looked adoringly at the bottle. "Come to mama, my sweet, bitter little baby."

Nea chuckled when Blu began drinking from the bottle, and even Steb couldn't help but laugh softly at the sight of the little Yordle gulping down beer from the bottle angled nearly vertically as she held it in her little paws. Then, Nea and Steb sat side to side on the sofa, facing the television, and once more their gazes met, prompting a shy little smile from one another. On the screen, the film was just starting, followed by Blu pit-pattering her way around the coffee table with her beer in hand. She set it down on the coffee table and hopped on the couch, shamelessly sitting herself between Steb and Nea, and when she was fully seated, Blu made grabby hands at her beer on the table.

Steb and Nea shared another look, this one full of mischief and amusement at the Yordle's antics. Steb reached for the beer before Nea and handed it to Blu, who looked at him with a certain degree of approval.

"Hm," Blu said as she took the bottle. "Good move, officer. Pass the chips."

"Blu, say please," Nea reminded.

"I'll say thanks for the chips," Blu added.

"Here you go," Steb said as he gave her the big bowl of salty snacks.

"Thanks," Blu said and snuggled into Nea's frame.

"So, what movie did you pick?" Nea asked her.

"Only a timeless classic," Blu replied as a delicate piano melody began playing on the screen.

"Oh my," Nea giggled. "You actually picked Arrogance and Prejudgment?"

"Yes," Blu snickered. "You remember the tradition, right?"

"When it gets to the potato scene, we both quote the phrase in unison," Nea recited.

"And then we drink," Blu snuggled deeper into Nea. "I like movie night."

With a little giggle, Nea looked at Steb again. "Are you comfy?"

He nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

Nea blinked with a little grin. "Let me know if you need anything."

He gave her a quiet smile in return, and though they would have loved more conversation, both Steb and Nea felt that if they talked during the movie, Blu would have their heads. The movie played its course, and as it was with every rewatch, Nea enjoyed every bit of it the way she always did. The only difference was that Steb was present; knowing looks and lingering gazes were exchanged, and even with Blu sitting between them, Nea and Steb could feel how close they were to one another. It added a sweet variety of tension to the hours as they passed by, and even in the absence of words, it was what Nea had wanted—time spent near him, and the fortune of gazing upon him simply by looking at her side.

The movie eventually came to its end, and each one in that living room had roughly two drinks down. Even with the quantity being the same, the three were all at a different level of inspiration, with Steb being fully in his five senses, Nea with a faint sensation of lightheadedness she wasn't sure came from the ale or the extended proximity to Steb, and finally, being the worst of all, Blu quietly giggling to herself as multiple thoughts crossed her mind.

"We should watch that again," Blu slurred as she tumbled off the couch, falling with a light thud on the carpet. The sight prompted a laugh from Nea, one that brought to light just how tipsy she was.

"Oh my gosh, are you hurt?" Nea asked as Blu stood up and began a wobbly stride towards the kitchen.

"Yes," Blu mumbled. "On the inside. It needs alcohol."

Nea snickered.

"Are you sure you can handle another drink, Blu?" Steb asked when he noticed the Yordle reaching into the fridge for another three bottles.

"What, you wanna give me advice?" Blu challenged as she closed the fridge and made her way back to the sofa. She gave Nea one of the bottles and kept the other two for herself, giggling as she climbed on the coffee table and took a seat. "Fun game. Gimme advice, fishy boy, I dare you."

Steb turned towards Nea, his aquamarine eyes full of concern. In her lightheadedness, Nea suddenly wished he wasn't looking at her like that, but then again, any expression he could adopt would have the same effect on her. She wasn't fully sure she'd be able to resist him, and against her will, she grinned widely at Steb, and a dreamy sigh left her as she unconsciously stirred on the sofa and shifted her weight towards him.

"She's fine," Nea said. "She'll mumble nonsense and then pass out, but we're at home, so there's nothing to worry about."

"If you're certain," Steb told her, not at all oblivious to the change in Nea's aura.

Slowly, Nea nodded and smiled at him. "I am. But thanks for worrying. Now, please, humor her."

Steb chuckled, and he figured he'd enjoy himself as well. By logical deduction, he'd determined that the third bottle of ale was meant for him, and he reached across the coffee table in an attempt to take it only to earn himself a fluffy slap on his hand coming from Blu's hand. When he met eyes with the Yordle, she was frowning, looking about as ruthless and menacing as a marshmallow.

"Valuable piece of advice number one," Blu slurred, pausing to hiccup. "Never take a bottle from a Yordle."

"I thought—" Steb began.

"Never," Blu reiterated.

"Behave," Nea reminded her friend.

"Valuable piece of advice number two!" Blu enunciated as she attempted to stand up on the coffee table, only to quickly find out she was too woozy to properly keep balance and sat down again. "Never—hic!—ever eat a beet if it's furry."

Steb laughed softly and tilted his head. "Why?"

Blu directed an unamused look at him. "What do you mean, why? It's a beet! It's not supposed to have fur." Blu looked at Nea. "Can you believe this guy?"

Nea quietly chuckled and looked over at Steb with a little spark in her eyes. As Steb looked at her too, he felt a sensation in his chest, perhaps that of his heart swelling at the sight of her curled up on the couch hugging one of the cushions and looking up at him in adoration. He couldn't help but smile softly at her, and he found himself controlling the urge to reach out and take her in his arms—not only would it be wrong in her current state, but he didn't need Blu lunging toward him in an attempt to end him, funny as that would be.

"Valuable piece of advice number four!" Blu said as she tried to hop from the coffee table to the armchair.

"You skipped a number, genius," Nea said as she reached out and helped Blu get on the chair.

"Valuable piece of advice number five," Blu continued, unbothered, as she found a comfy seated position on the arm chair, holding her beer not unlike a child would hold their sippy cup. The Yordle looked over at Steb and, for a moment, an unavoidable seriousness peered through the tipsy cloudiness of her overall aura. "Don't you dare break this woman's heart."

In the few seconds it took for Blu's words to sink in, Nea felt herself sobering up as well. An alarming embarrassment threatened to creep up on her, and just before she could slip into overdrive and erupt in attempt after attempt to convince Steb that Blu didn't know what she was saying, the Vastaya let out a deep, soft laugh and he too straightened his posture, looking deep into Blu without a hint of hesitation.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Steb assured.

With his words, the plethora of worries that had invaded Nea vanished. Her features softened and her chest sank with the soft exhale that left her as she turned around to face him, and for a moment, she didn't know whether to thank him or to confess her feelings to him. But even in her lightheadedness, she knew that worrying or speculating, much less hiding from him, wasn't an option anymore, and with that realization, a smile curved her full lips. Steb's gaze then landed on her, smiling softly at her as well—if she had looked beautiful before, the current sight of her had Steb feeling as if he'd swallowed a box of fireworks, about to burst in the many things she made him feel.

"Then my work here—hic!—is done," Blu said and brought the beer bottle up to her snout, downing its entire content before setting it aside. With one more hiccup, she curled up on the armchair facing away from them and mumbled a few things no one else was able to make out, and in seconds, she fell asleep.

Giggling softly at the sight of her furry friend sleeping like a baby—as if she hadn't just chugged a whole beer—Nea turned around on the couch and faced Steb again. As she looked at him, she could feel her entire guard being let down, and she smiled dreamily at the man in front of her. Everything around her seemed blurry, but no less enchanting, and Nea felt her heart skip a beat when Steb shifted closer to her on the couch. His eyes held a blend of concern and affection in them, and the first thing he did was reach for the bottle in her hands when it tilted in a perilous angle that would let all the liquid drain from it, a fact that had been irrelevant to Nea before he reached to grab it. He took it from her and set it on the coffee table only to look at her again, managing a soft smile.

“Are you okay?” Steb asked.

Nea smiled and hummed in approval, feeling her body angling itself closer to Steb as his deep, rich voice allured her not unlike the song of a siren.

“Yeah,” Nea replied. She looked at him and her hopeful grin widened and a shimmer adorned her gaze. “Did you really mean that?”

Steb chuckled and found no harm in answering. “Every word.”

With another soft hum, Nea found herself ever closer to Steb. Her hand hovered over to his forearm and delicately brushed down toward her hand, lingering on the sensation of the wool beneath her fingers. The bottles of beer finally caught onto her, dimming her senses, and she was barely able to register the flash of recognition in Steb’s eyes when she leaned even closer to him and perked her lips up, intent on sealing the space between them and indulging in the perfect first kiss she’d been yearning for. But instead of feeling his lips on hers, Nea suddenly felt a force applied against her shoulders followed by the sound of Steb’s voice hazily filling her ears.

“No, darling,” Steb said as he gently kept her at bay.

“What?” Nea whimpered. “Steb…”

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he stated.

“No…” Nea’s whole face dropped into disappointment, well near breaking Steb’s heart, but a kiss in those conditions was out of the question for him. Delicately, Steb took Nea in his grip and helped her up to standing, and his own resistance built tension up in him as he looked at Nea, so beautiful yet so far off in a distant world.

“Oh, dear,” Steb said so quietly, just barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I’d rather you remember this when you’re sober or not.”

“You don’t want to kiss me,” Nea mumbled.

Steb felt the words she spoke burning through his skin. “I do. Believe me, I do…”

From the couch to her bedroom, the only thought Steb could register was how much he’d only wanted to kiss her since he met her, how it ached to long for her embrace, her dark brown eyes gazing into him, waking up beside her in gentle sunlight… It hurt to even think that any part of Nea might suspect he wanted anything other than that, but now wasn’t the time to prove her wrong. When they arrived at her room, Steb sat Nea down on the bed and he kneeled in front of her.

“Hey,” Steb said. “I’m gonna get you a glass of water, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Nea nodded softly, but she didn’t say anything else. Steb got up to head to the kitchen, but he stopped in his tracks when he felt Nea grabbing his hand.

“Wait,” she said, with a brief hint of desperation in her voice.

“Yes?” Steb’s whole frame softened when he looked at her again.

“Don’t go,” Nea pleaded.

“I’m just going to the kitchen,” Steb reassured her. “I’ll be right here with you until you can fall asleep, okay?”

Nea gave a soft nod and let her hand drop, letting go of Steb. Through the buzz, she could recognize the tenderness of Steb’s gaze as he looked upon her, and with a few quiet steps, he was out of her room. As he made his way through the cozy little apartment, he didn’t forget to check on Blu as she slept on the couch—she was still positioned on her side and her breathing was deep and steady, giving no reason for concern. Steb then finished his way into the kitchen and, though he didn’t love the idea of rummaging through Nea’s cupboards, he found a cup and filled it with water to take it back to her room.

When he arrived, Steb was greeted by the sight of Nea sleeping already, curled up on her side in a fetal position facing the bedside table. Of all the ways Steb had pondered on the slightest possibility of seeing her sleeping soundly near him, he didn’t think it would involve her being drunk. In fact, he would have hoped it wouldn’t be the case had he ever stopped to consider that course of events. But things were as they were, and all in all, Nea did look adorable. With a soft smile, Steb set the glass of water down on the bedside table and turned off the lamp, and he reached for the blankets on the opposite side of the bed, folding them over to cover Nea so she’d be warm. He then left the room and opted to leave the door open, making it easier for him to hear if she needed him throughout the night.

When Nea had fallen asleep, she had no recollection of what time it was, and no such conscience until the first moment she felt sunlight gleaming on her eyelids the following morning. She didn’t even remember at what point during the night she’d gotten up to drink the now empty glass of water that rested on her nightstand, but as soon as she’d remembered who’d left it there for her, all the embarrassment returned. With a grimace, Nea pulled her blanket over her face and pressed her palm to her forehead in an effort to soothe the cringe and the piercing headache, and the realization that she couldn’t do anything to undo the way she drunkenly came onto Steb plunged a void right in the middle of her chest. She hoped to avoid facing anything and anyone that day—thank goodness it was the Coffeewick’s day off—like a troll retreating to a cave for as long as the sun lit the sky.

Nea got up from her bed and decided not to open the curtains just yet. As she made her way to the door, she wondered a lot of things, mainly how she would ever make it up to Steb. Now in the living room of her apartment, Nea squinted and used one of her hands to shield her eyes from the natural light that peered in through the windows, and her feet carried her over to the armchair where Blu was still sleeping as soundly as ever. Nea remembered seeing Blu curled up on one side, but in that moment, she was splattered face down with a blanket covering only half of her body, and Nea couldn’t help but laugh quietly at the sight. Blu looked as if the three bottles of beer she’d had the night before were actually full of hard liqueur.

When Nea laughed, she quieted down instantly when she heard a deep, sleepy moan coming from the ground, and she quickly faced the direction of the sound to find Steb sleeping on the carpet, his head and lower back supported by the cushions from the couch. One of his forearms covered his eyes, shielding him from the light, and he was almost entirely scrunched—Nea feared he’d been cold all night. She then looked at the coffee table and realized it was spotless. The empty bottles had been rounded up and placed next to the trash chute, the bowls of chips had been emptied and cleaned, and whatever droplets of beer or crumbs had been lying around the furniture weren’t there.

Nea looked at Steb’s sleeping figure and it dawned on her. She realized the motivation behind all his actions, particularly—and perhaps, especially—his decision to not kiss her the night before when she wanted to. Though part of her would have wished he would have left to avoid further embarrassment, now she was happy he’d stuck around if only to thank him for tidying up when he didn’t have to. She smiled at the sight of him and controlled the urge to plant a gentle kiss of gratitude on his forehead, and instead, she turned towards Blu.

With the lightest touch, Nea lifted the blanket off of Blu and draped it over Steb, hoping to give him some sort of comfort in what clearly was not an ideal sleeping position, and then she picked Blu up from the couch and headed for the door. In little time, Nea was in Blu’s apartment setting the Yordle down on her bed for her to keep sleeping to her heart’s content, and Nea then returned to her own apartment, taking her time with each step she took. Perhaps she’d brew a pot of coffee—whether it was for the hangover or to cure a night of poor sleep, coffee was never an inadequate form of gratitude. She reached for the doorknob of her place and twisted it, pulling the door open with her gaze trailed on the living room where Steb was sleeping, and when the scene was revealed to her, she found he wasn’t there anymore.

“Good morning,” Steb’s deep, rich voice emerged from her bedroom.

She found him standing under her doorframe and smiled at him, closing the door behind her.

“I heard the door and thought Blu had gone on her own,” Steb said. “I thought I’d check in on you, but then saw you were gone.”

“Yeah, I took her,” Nea said, giggling at the memory of how she found Blu on the couch. “There’s no way Blu’s gonna move on her own.”

Steb laughed softly and walked over to Nea. “And… how are you?”

When she saw how tenderly he looked at her, Nea nearly broke into a flustered amalgamation of embarrassment and thanks. Judging by the way Steb’s eyes softened at her, she knew all the emotions must have manifested in her gaze, and Nea chose to lead with the one thing that was eating her inside, prompting her to cover her eyes with her hands.

“I am so sorry about last night,” Nea whimpered.

“Hey, come on,” Steb comforted. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I put you in a difficult position, and I shouldn’t have…” Nea uncovered her eyes and looked at him again. “It wasn’t supposed to happen, I’m sorry for letting myself go like that.”

“You had a couple beers in your own home,” Steb reassured. “Don’t apologize for that.”

“I tried to kiss you!” Nea blurted.

Steb chuckled softly, his ears giving a faint wiggle. “I’m… honestly flattered by that.”

“Don’t tease me,” Nea looked away from him.

“I’m not,” Steb reached, albeit without thinking, for her hand and squeezed it gently. The gesture instantly brought her eyes to look at him again, and though he considered for a moment swatting her hand away in regret, he kept it there and his ocean eyes softened as he continued to look deep into her.

“I mean…” Nea began. “It’s not like you don’t know how I feel…”

Her words abandoned her mid sentence, but she didn’t need them. Steb knew what she was trying to say, and the only thing that would pain him was for her confession to be clouded by remorse. He’d turn that around if he could, and in his eyes, he still had the chance. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at her, gesturing with his eyes toward the kitchen.

“You need to eat,” Steb said. “And hydrate.”

Still holding her hand, Steb led her toward the kitchen and stood in front of her fridge. “Mind if I make us some breakfast?”

Nea smiled at Steb with mild disbelief and she gave a soft nod. With her approval, Steb opened the fridge and looked around before taking out eggs, ham, and cheese.

“Here,” Nea went to the pantry and took out oil for the pan Steb was already putting on the stove, as well as a spatula and a whisk.

“Let me,” Steb smiled at her. “I wanna spoil you a bit.”

Nea felt herself blushing furiously. “Steb, you really don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he emphasized. “Scrambled?”

“What?” Nea asked.

“Are scrambled eggs okay?”

She chuckled and let him take the lead. “Yes, that sounds perfect.”

With that confirmation, Steb ignited the stove top and got to cooking, and in no time, the kitchen smelled amazing. Nea paused for a few moments to watch him move around the kitchen, until she moved on her own and prepped the coffee maker to brew a whole pot.

“So, you also brew coffee on your days off?” Steb asked her, still focusing on the eggs frying on the pan.

“Of course I do!” Nea beamed, walking up to him when she was able to leave the coffee maker to its own devices. “Coffee’s something I love.”

Steb could feel her proximity, and when he noticed the way she was looking at him, he turned off the stove so he could focus fully on her, his eyes beckoning her to speak up in the gentlest manner. Nea smiled softly at him, and her own gaze continued to hold an apologetic tone to it.

“Thank you,” she said, looking around the apartment for a couple seconds before looking at him again. “You didn’t have to clean up, by the way. But… thank you. For everything.”

Steb smiled at her and angled his body to face her. As he looked at Nea, he could see her anticipation growing when her eyes sparkled up at him again and her chest began to heave in soft pants.

“Steb?” She pronounced his name so endearingly, full of hope.

“Yes?”

“I…” Nea blushed. “I can think straight now.”

Steb gave a soft chuckle. “I’m sure you can.”

Nea’s smile widened. “So… Can I kiss you?”

The frills around Steb’s eyes flared in subtle waves as his own smile widened at her, and with a delicate grip, Steb rested his hands cupping Nea’s neck, his thumbs gently brushing the bases of her jaw. The adoration in his aquamarine gaze faded into something quieter, but no less adoring, slowly leaning down closer to her.

“Can I?” Steb asked her quietly.

Nea giggled. “Yes.”

No more barriers were placed, and beaming with joy, Steb leaned down to close the space between them. The initial contact of their lips was warm and unprecedentedly soft, both moving in tandem like waves dancing on a shore. Steb smiled into the kiss when he felt Nea’s chest rising with a deep inhale infused with soft surprise and a tender shyness that faded when she let her hands brush up his shoulders, resting on his broad frame. In turn, Steb took one of his hands to the back of Nea’s head, pressing her closer to him as he kissed with more strength, prompting her to wrap her arms around him. She also began to kiss with greater strength, letting everything—the yearning, the uncertainty, the many beats skipped by her heart whenever she thought of him—rest in that much anticipated kiss. Now that she was with him, she knew she wouldn’t want to let go; she was ready to give herself to him just as she could feel the same from him.

When the time was right, the kiss relented, but neither of them were quick to pull away. With little space between their lips, Nea looked up at Steb, who smiled lovingly at her blushing figure, a sight so endearing it prompted another flare of the frills on his eyes, tickling Nea’s cheekbones and drawing a soft giggle from her. She made no attempt to resist the desire to kiss him again and, wrapping her arms around his back, she kissed him with equal strength and he embraced her waist, gently spinning her away from the stove and swaying her gently to the sides until he pulled away with a final peck to her forehead.

“Sit down,” Steb whispered. “You need to eat.”

Nea felt her cheeks starting to ache from grinning so widely and, enamored by his selflessness, she resolved to let him finish what he started. But instead of sitting down, Nea wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back, hearing his soft laughter rumbling deep in his torso.

“I’m not letting you go now,” Nea whispered, not necessarily intending for him to hear her.

Still, Steb eventually turned around with two plates ready to be served, leaning down to gently kiss Nea’s lips again before leading her to the table.

“I should hope not,” he whispered and took the plates down to the table. “Should I pour the coffee?”

His words slid Nea out of her trance, suddenly rendering her able to stand in the real world where, next to Steb, everything looked far more beautiful.

“No, that’s my job,” Nea smiled.

Like he’d done many times already, Steb watched as Nea expertly poured the cups of coffee, finally for the two of them to sit down and enjoy together. As she made her way back to the table, he took the cups from her hands and set them down, pulling her close one more time to kiss her, and what he’d initially meant to be a quick kiss before breakfast evolved into Nea leading Steb to the couch where they continued, shy yet loving, without any need for fire or rush, merely adoring one another for as long as they’d wanted to since that first encounter, and long enough for the coffee to go cold and the sun to continue its way across the sky.

Thanks so much for reading! Please reblog to help me get out there!

Next chapter -> (coming soon!)

#steb nation #steb x oc #arcane steb #steb arcane #steb #moonstrider writes #le coeur fanfic #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #arcane fanfiction #arcane fluff #arcane #arcane steb x oc #arcane oc #arcane series #arcane league of legends #arcane lol

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spiritedstars · 10 months ago

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Roots In My Dreamland [ Eris x OC - Eiris ]

Happy @erisweekofficial ✨ Eris finds himself being followed in the forest by someone unexpected, leading to an unexpected bargain / A Spirit Meets the Bones AU where Iris seeks Eris out before the wedding. / Find it also on AO3!

Hope you enjoy this little spin on bargains! Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

He was being followed.

It was early, the sun had barely awoken as the crisp air of the morning whispered around him, and Eris had hardly begun his stroll with one of his hounds when he felt the presence of another.

His hand had rested on Lyra’s head to soothe the hound and immediately placed a shield around their bodies, while his strides continued evenly. There was no need to fret when they were in his forests. A forest he knew every inch of. Where he could hide a body and no one would find it.

But he couldn’t think of a single person in their court who would be foolish enough to dare tail him. Whoever it was certainly had a death wish, because Eris Vanserra didn’t take anyone infringing on his privacy or personal space lightly.

But he allowed the stranger to follow, his shoulders braced for a strike – any kind of movement to indicate an attack; but as Eris cocked his head to listen, he only heard even breathing. He could only sense slight anxiety. It made him even more curious.

So he continued to say nothing, walking leisurely, deeper into the trees, until he finally reached the secluded corner of the forest that no one would find them in. Eris made himself pause.

The footsteps behind him stopped a few feet away and Eris debated for a moment how to proceed when the scent of vanilla hit him —mixed with...some kind of floral? A hint of raspberry?

A scoff of disbelief slipped from his lips. A female had followed him.

Oh. This would be an exciting morning.

Eris glanced down at Lyra, the hound silently watching her master and the corner of his mouth curled up. “I have to say,” he finally said into the silence. “I’ve had many females try to catch me alone, but you’re the first to follow me so far out here. I’m incredibly flattered.”

A sharp intake of breath had Eris slowly turning, ready to see just who this foolish girl was and –

Eris blinked. Then blinked again.

He felt a part of his brain short circuit because standing before him had to be the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

And he’d seen his fair share of beautiful people.

She was a few inches shorter than him, dressed in a fitted long-sleeve burgundy dress, a cloak covering most of her body but her face – a full set of lips set in a small frown, hooded hazel eyes with a sharp nose…this face was an unforgettable one, and Eris was surprised to find himself momentarily speechless.

He could only stare at her in silence, confused by the way his body was reacting, the way his brain felt fuzzy.

Was this some sort of black magic? Surely Lyra would’ve sensed something sinister afoot –

But the girl was now glaring at him.

His eyes narrowed a fraction. Her anger confused him. Nothing about her was familiar and yet…there was something about her.

It was impossible she was a jilted lover. He’d never forget a face like hers so why was she angry? Angry enough to have followed him out here, alone?

He watched the bob of her throat as she faced him.

“You are very bold to have followed a male like me into the forest by yourself.” He said and straightened, clasping his hands behind his back, his hound standing alert beside him. “Who are you and why are you following me?”

The girl blinked, seemingly surprised by his question, before her face set back into that anger Eris didn’t understand.

“Haven’t you gotten my letters?”

Eris blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“My letters.” she said more sharply. “I have requested a meeting with you for weeks now, and you’ve been ignoring all of them, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Eris’s brows furrowed. He did not recall receiving any letters. It made him pause once more. “There seems to be a misunderstanding,” he stated. “I don’t even know your name so I’m afraid a meeting with you isn’t in the books, especially at this hour.”

The girl flushed, blinking rapidly. “You – you don’t know who I am?”

Eris’s amusement grew as her flush deepened and he watched her take a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut before letting out a harsh laugh.

“Typical.” she spat. “You ruin my life and don’t even know it’s me.”

Eris opened his mouth to answer when a flash of silver caught his eye and he let out a snort of disbelief. “Is that a knife?”

She pointed the dagger at him accusingly. “Don’t worry about it,” she stated. “Is the female you marry so irrelevant to you that you didn’t even bother to know what she looks like? I’d at least think they showed you a picture of me from the hat you pulled my name out of!”

Again, Eris was stunned into silence and her words hit him all at once.

Ah, yes. The sham of a marriage he was being forced into by his father. Truth be told, he’d done his absolute best to ignore that it was happening.

It wasn’t like his father had given him a choice. Eris had been ordered to get married and so married he would be. All he knew was her father was in the High Lord’s pocket and that could only mean he was as big of a piece of shit as his own father. His father had merely informed him that she was supposedly ‘quiet’, ‘easy to manage’, and a ‘looker’. Considering the nasty way his father had said the word ‘looker’, Eris didn’t find himself interested in knowing more. He would marry her, fuck her, and then keep her at arm’s length as expected.

But if this was the female he was meant to marry…Eris suddenly wasn’t so sure of his plan.

“So…” he began, his eyes carefully cataloging every inch of her. “You must be Iris.”

She scowled, her grip tightening on the hilt of her dagger. “Unfortunately.”

Eris let out a low laugh. “This is the first time you’re meeting your fiancé and you’re threatening me with a knife.” he said, amusement dripping from every word. “Bold.”

“You wouldn’t answer my requests. I did what I must.”

“I never received any letters.”

“Then someone is getting into your business.”

“I’d worry less about that and more about the act of treason you’re committing holding that knife.”

Iris scoffed. “I haven’t stabbed you with it so it’s hardly treason,” she said and straightened, holding her chin up. “I only came here to say one thing and then I hope never to see you again.”

Eris raised a brow, a smirk blooming on his face as he watched the bob of her throat and the slight tremor in her hand. “Color me intrigued.”

“Pick someone else.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pick. Someone. Else.” she snapped. “I don’t want to marry you. Find another person to make miserable in marriage. I want no part in it.”

Eris fought back a laugh. Who was this girl? Because Eris couldn’t imagine anything about her was easy to manage.

“And here I thought you were seeking me out for a little romance,” he said and his grin widened at the way her expression flattened. “I’m curious. Do you really think ambushing me with a knife is the way to go about requesting such a thing?”

“Given what I’ve heard about you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you considered this a romantic gesture.”

Eris’s lips twitched but he couldn’t stop his chuckle. She was certainly unexpected. “A romantic gesture while asking me to call off our engagement?”

Iris rolled her eyes and Eris was thrilled to see her so annoyed. “We both know nothing about this is romantic. You don’t even care who you marry. So pick someone else.” she said. “I’m sure you have a long list of females who would die to be graced by your presence. Choose one of them.”

Eris made a humming sound and took a step towards her. “But in all fairness, your name was the one that was pulled from the metaphorical hat. We must respect the invisible string of fate.”

She glared at him, her grip tightened on the dagger. “Fuck you and fuck fate. I had no choice in this and I’ll be damned if I let my wretched father sell me off like this.”

“And how do you think your wretched father would react if he knew you were here, threatening me, trying to call off a deal he made?” Eris mused and watched her lovely skin pale.

“He doesn’t need to know I was here.” she said and swallowed. “You’re the Prince. If you decide you don’t want me, he will have to deal with it.”

“And who said I didn’t want you?” he said, amusement dripping from his tone and Iris’s glare intensified.

“You don’t even know me!” she snapped. “You clearly don’t care about who you end up shackled with so let it not be me. Let it be someone else.”

Eris watched the slip of her expression, where the rage turned into desperation. She was truly terrified of the prospect of marrying him. Could he be worse than remaining under her father’s thumb? Was he truly that awful to be around?

He supposed his reputation hadn’t helped but he’d never been horrible to previous partners. He was mostly uninterested outside of the bedroom, and anyone he allowed under his sheets knew that upfront.

How awful did she deem him that marrying him would make her this distraught?

Any lingering amusement faded as Eris watched her. Maybe it had been a mistake to not ask further questions about her. To avoid meeting her. It felt pointless when he had so little choice in the matter that meeting her before the wedding felt like pouring salt into an open wound.

And yet, when he looked at her standing before him, it felt different. She wasn’t a viper after his money and wealth or a cowering thing that cried at the sight of him. She was as trapped as he was and lashing out.

“I regret to inform you, fiancé, that I had as little say in the matter as you did.” Eris finally said with a thin smile. “My father was the one who decided you would be the right fit and I must obey.”

Iris blinked then scoffed. “You truly think I would believe the High Lord wouldn’t listen to his Crown Prince wanting a different body in his bed?”

Eris crossed his arms and said, “He’d only tell me that the bed is big enough to fit three.” Shrugging, he took another step towards her. “Unfortunately for you, what the High Lord says, goes. You and I will marry and there is nothing either of us can do about it.”

He could only watch as her fists clenched and her bottom lip began to tremble. Eris could almost taste her panic, the anxiety flooding through her and how potent it was slammed into him. It made his chest tighten.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” he said sourly. “You can calm down.”

His words seemed to have the opposite effect and before Eris could take his next breath, her knife flew past him, landing with a thud in the tree trunk behind him.

Eris blinked once, then twice, lifting a hand to touch his face.

She had grazed him. Her dagger had actually grazed him. He glanced at the droplets of blood on his fingers in disbelief before his gaze found hers again and she had the audacity to be glaring at him.

He couldn’t help but laugh. A belly laugh that had him doubling over and Eris couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that.

“Don’t laugh at me, you heathen!”

Her insult only made him laugh harder and it took him a moment before he could straighten, running a hand down his face, Lyra anxiously moving around his legs. He patted her head gently before letting out a sigh.

He was suddenly so very exhausted.

“Thank you for that laugh. I truly needed it.”

“Normal people don’t laugh when someone throws a dagger at their head.”

“If you think I’m normal, surprised is all you’ll ever be around me.” he said with a snort, glancing back at the knife before he returned his gaze to Iris. “That was bold of you. And very stupid.”

His eyes didn’t leave hers as he reached to yank it out of where it struck then glanced down at it with a hum. “Now you have committed the act of treason. I could have you hanged for that.”

“Marrying you would be a death sentence regardless.” she said with a sniff, lifting her chin. “At least this way I went down with a fight.”

And everything about his life was already a fight. Gods knew he didn’t need his marriage to be another one.

He truly was exhausted.

“And what if this didn’t have to be a fight?” he said before he could stop himself.

“What?”

“What if we didn’t have to fight?” Eris said, twirling her dagger between his fingers. “Neither of us want this but it is something we must do regardless.”

“Not if I –”

“If you run, I will be forced to find you and drag you back,” he interrupted. “And then you’ll have embarrassed your father and my family and I will again, be forced to treat you horribly in front of them as punishment.”

Her expression tightened. “But I could –”

“Don’t even think about harming yourself. No one would mourn you and your entire existence would have meant nothing if you killed yourself out of spite.”

She glared at him so viciously, Eris was sure if she had another dagger, it would be lodged in his throat. “I was not going to say that, you pompous piece of shit.” she snarled. “You said it doesn’t have to be a fight but given the nonsense coming out of your mouth, I find it hard to believe.”

“You threw a dagger at me.”

“And I’d throw another one if I could.”

Eris snorted. “I fully believe that.” he said then shook his head. “This marriage doesn’t have to be a fight if we come to an agreement.”

Iris shifted on her feet. “And what agreement would that be?”

He pursed his lips. Eris knew he wasn't thinking this through but something about her…he knew he couldn’t let her go. He didn’t trust that she’d stick around and not do something rash until the wedding. He probably shouldn’t have cared — his father would easily find him another wife but this female…Eris may not have cared or wanted her before this but now? Now, he was intrigued. He was attracted. And he was slightly aroused.

She felt different in a way he couldn’t put his finger on it and Eris was always a curious male. He needed to find out.

“We will marry but it’ll be on the terms we agree on here. We will stay together until I take the throne and then you are free to leave me if that is your wish.”

Iris’s eyes narrowed. “You becoming High Lord could take decades.”

Eris shrugged. “Maybe,” he said carefully. “But if we agree on terms together, it shouldn’t be too difficult of a marriage. I am very rich and very well-endowed.”

Iris’s expression flattened. “And fucken insufferable, I see.”

He grinned. “I’m handsome. Being insufferable is part of the deal.”

“Good gods.” she mumbled and rubbed her forehead then held up a hand before he could say anything else. He watched as she worked her jaw, her cheeks flushed slightly before she straightened and met his gaze.”You do not touch me without my consent. You do not lay your hands on me in any way that will hurt me. You allow me the freedom of choice in our daily lives.”

Eris stared at her. Her demands made his chest tighten again. It seemed her life had been as pitiful as his own. But he was not a monster. He was not his father.

“I will not touch you without your consent or lay a hand to ever harm you.” he repeated then carefully said, “I will allow you the freedom of choice in our daily lives on the condition that we discuss it first.” She opened her mouth to clearly object when he lifted his own hand. “You will be living with me in the Forest House where snakes are everywhere. We make our choices within the limits we live in. I will honor your choices as I can but my condition is that we have to make them together. I am the Crown Prince. You need to understand whatever choices you make will always impact me and I need us to be united, especially in front of others.”

She fell silent and he could hear how quickly her heart was beating. Eris found the terms to be more than agreeable; she was a caged bird in this situation. It would be the sensible thing to take his offer. Then again, given the way this particular interaction was going, his gut instincts told him her stubbornness may have her picking the wrong battles.

He found himself silently praying to the Mother, the Cauldron, and the godsdamned leaves around them that she would be sensible enough to not fight him on this.

For some reason he didn’t understand, Eris didn’t want to be disappointed if she did.

Iris swallowed then nodded. “I have one more request.” she said and Eris raised a brow, gesturing with his hand to continue. She bit the inside of her cheek and let a heartbeat of silence pass before continuing, “You will court me properly in the months leading up to the wedding.”

He blinked then chuckled. “Is that so?”

Despite the flush deepening in her cheeks, Iris stood her ground. “I may have been sold off to you, but I will not be made to feel like cattle.” she said. “Court me and pull out all the stops.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “And what makes you think I’d agree to that?”

“I didn’t take the Crown Prince as someone cheap with his time and affection.” she mused and gave him a tight smile. “You did say you were very rich.”

“And very well-endowed.”

Ignoring his additional comment, she gave him a pointed look and said, “So put your money where your mouth is.”

“I’d much rather put my mouth somewhere else.”

“Do you mind giving me back my dagger? I’d like to stab you with it.”

Eris chuckled. “Rookie mistake. Always keep more than one dagger on you.” he said then pointed at her with the dagger in his hand. “I agree to your terms.” he said and then straightened as he said, “You will keep anything and everything you see, hear, find out about me and my family a secret and share with no one. You will respect our relationship, especially in front of others, and put in the effort to make it work until we otherwise agree.”

Iris furrowed her brows, seemingly surprised that these were his only requests, but Eris didn’t need to worry about anything other than privacy. Everything else didn’t matter.

She took a breath. “I agree to your terms as well.” she said quietly then licked her lips and Eris tried not to watch the movement too closely. “Where do we go from here?’

“You and I both know how the Autumn Court seals a bargain, little gazelle.” he said and smirked when she scowled at him for the nickname. He chuckled and began to walk towards her, striding leisurely as she walked towards him. He couldn’t help the pet name. It had slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, and given that she had tried to run from her fate tied to him, it fit her perfectly.

Meeting in the middle of the field, Iris thrust her hand out to him as Eris fought another smirk. His eyes never left hers as he took her hand in his and as gently as he knew, slit her palm with the dagger. He watched her fight a hiss, grimacing slightly but made no noise and Eris didn’t wait to do the same to his own palm.

“By blood we bargain, until we agree on these terms no more.” he said.

“By blood we bargain, until we agree on these terms no more.” she repeated.

And Eris slid his hand in hers and pressed, a flame emitting from their joined hands as blood dripped to the ground beneath them. They both took a sharp breath as the magic seared between them and when they finally pulled apart, they each found a tiny golden leaf on the inside of their ring fingers.

“A little on the nose with that mark.” Iris mumbled with a small frown.

“The magic always knows.” Eris said, the corner of his mouth curling up. “Though I do hope you’re more agreeable after marriage.”

“Don’t count on it, asshole.” she snapped then glanced down at the hound who had watched this all unfold quietly before glancing back at him. “Give me my dagger back. I have to return before my father notices I sneaked away.”

“Oh no, I get to keep this.” he said then laughed at her outrage, holding up his hand. “In return and as a gesture of good faith, you can have one of mine.” Reaching to his side, he pulled out one of his favorite daggers with a gorgeous golden hilt and handed it to her. “Consider this my first attempt at courting you.”

Iris narrowed her eyes at him before slowly reaching out to take the dagger from him. He watched her examine it and could tell by the way her eyes lit up that she liked its design; it had been his favorite for a reason.

Squaring her shoulders, she tucked it away then met his gaze one last time. “As a first attempt, I’ll award you two out of ten points. Do better not to steal from me first before gifting me something.”

With that, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and turned on her feet, disappearing back into the woods faster than Eris expected.

He stood in silence for a few moments, letting his thoughts wander. His soon-to-be wife was a beautiful enigma and he wondered if he had just made a huge mistake.

Glancing down at Lyra, he asked his hound, “What do you think of her?”

His hound barked enthusiastically and Eris couldn’t help his chuckle. “Agreed. There is definitely more to her than meets the eye.” And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this eager about anything. Or felt someone planting roots into him so deeply, so quickly.

Eris Vanserra wondered if maybe, just maybe he had finally met his match.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #erisweek2024 #eris x oc #smtb #gfics #fic:roots in my dreamland #eris x iris #hope y'all enjoy hehe

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enjoythesilentworld · 6 months ago

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2024 fandom review!

thank u for the tag @willesredlights sorry it took me literally ages to get to it

lets pretend we're not almost two weeks into the new year ok? and what a year it has been. holy shit.

~ Fics written ~

I'll be honest I did go a little batshit crazy this past year. 314k words across 19 published works, plus god knows how much more unpublished on tumblr. listen, I was deep in the ??? phase of my master's (still am, lets be honest) and desperately looking for a new creative outlet. I've always been a writer, always loved dreaming up stories, but I have never quite connected to a universe as much as I have to this one. I resonate with so many of the characters, and i just feel like there is so much room to play and explore. i will continue to add in old people OCs to my fics wherever and whenever i get the chance.

First fic: for the tree's sake (M, 48k) aka tree boys inspired by the trip that eventually led to my discover of young royals in late '23, and my darling baby. yes, that airplane ride that seems weird and random is based on truth!

Fav fic: just if for a minute (T, 53k) aka fake married idiots i greatly enjoyed making Wille suffer for just under 53k. that confrontation scene took days off my life and yet i am so proud of how it turned out.

Honorary mention to Growing towards the light, which was a dream to work on and create with my dear sweet friend Lia. there is one braincell between the two of us and it's full of nature facts and dick jokes. and beautiful stories about getting lost in the wilderness and finding yourself along the way. and tent-dick jokes.

Last fic: Wille på Hyllan (T, 13k) aka christmas shenanigans! another collab with my dearest friends which was hilarious to write and so silly and imo an example of one of the greatest perks of being in a fandom: meeting some of the most incredible people ever. also, dick-lights and dick-tomtar and dick-cookies. what more could you want?

~ Fics Read ~

if i tried to go through my history and tell you how many fics i read this year i would never make this post. i'd be here counting and trying to copy links forever. i read hundreds of fics. i enjoyed all of them, thoroughly. i got a lot better at leaving comments (sometimes). i was consistently and repeatedly blown away by the genius brains we have in this little Swedish corner of the internet.

if you are a writer i love you and i give u a kiss on the forehead.

also: i recently made a lil rec list here.

~ Other Stuff? ~

i had two big, busy months this year. three? : May, Wille's month & July, Simon's month i cannot believe i wrote 62 stories in 62 different universes (give or take a few). that's kind of stupid! but oh my god it was so fun!! some of my favs: -> Food, where Wille and Simon meet and embark on a mistakenly booked couples food tour in Barcelona -> Fashion/Style, aka the Met Gala AU aka the thing that turned into something so much bigger than i could have ever imagined. literally i thought people were gonna hate it. so, thank u for not hating it. and for letting it become 15k+ of pwp. -> Secret, friends to lovers RAHHHHHH -> Home (Improvement), aka grumpy home renovator Simon idk i just feel like this should become a full-blown fic one day

and oh boy who can forget about Kinktober from wax kinks in 17th century Italy to desperate love confession in the middle of wildfires to... whatever that was in the confessional (idk, that's between them and God).

2024...

I did some painting: x x I wrote some real weird lil ficlets: x x and I met dozens of incredible people. thank u for liking my stupid rambling posts from 3am and my silly little ficlets and for reading my stories and telling me about your stories and saving me from the Frankfurt airport and yelling with me about stuff thats definitely not in the Bible and sharing your time and space and art and care.

@bigalockwood @hergrandplan @gulliblelemon @saynomorefic @pagegirlintraining @skibasyndrome @sobadbad @impossibleknots @piebingo @theaviatorthatcouldnotfly @misfithive @sillylittleflower @zee-has-commitment-issues @purplehoodiesandclementines @justfriendsbestthings

giving u a big hug. and! this is by no means an exhaustive list. if ur reading this we are bffs. send me a message ok? ok. y'all keep me sane and happy and i am so grateful for you! live love wilmon

#i hate vulnerability but i had to tell yall how much u mean to me #and wow what a year it has been #all laid out like this its crazy #300k+ and no plans on stoppin 😎#you can pry my laptop from my cold dead hands #yr fandom review #jay reflects???#nosy hours

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evanmyersbadhabit · 2 months ago

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🩸‼️Eyeless Jack: My HCs :3 ‼️🩸

🗡️‼️~ I YEARN TO YAP!! ABOUT EJ!! ONE OF MY FAVS!! I LOVE CANNIBALS YAHOOOOO!! (I mean duh.. look at Hannibal😻) ANYWAYS!! This is just gonna be some Headcanons I have! All kinds of Random ones that just swim in my goldfish brain...🐟🎀

🧬‼️~ CW/TW: Mention of organs, Brief mention of Gore, Brief mention of Violence, and Brief mention of Throwing up / Vomit

🔖‼️~ Physical Appearance Headcanons:

⭐~ He gained more bat-like traits after his sacrifice, such as sharper teeth, enhanced hearing, and a strong sense of smell.

⭐~ Due to the much larger teeth, His Canines are to large for it's mouth, so they'd fit under the Snaggletooth territory.

⭐~ Due to the enhanced sense of smell, he can smell quite literally EVERYTHING.. (he will know if ur STINKY!!/silly) But back on track, this causes headaches from time to time due to the fact it isn't used to having such a strong sense. After a while he gets used to it though.

⭐~ POINTY EARS !! BIG POINTY BAT EARS!! Mainly to accommodate to the enhanced hearing. Which is much more of a nuisance then a gift. (To him)

⭐~ To add to the ear thing, Due to the strong hearing, everything seems obnoxiously loud to him, making him sensitive to sound, which leads to common irritability / overstimulation.

⭐~ Due to being blind, and having more Bat-like traits, he uses echolocation to see.. sometimes.

⭐~ VERY TALL!! He's 6'8, and fairly toned, hence he's super strong and not built like A FUCKING TWINK!!!! sorry... hater era.

⭐~ Claws... BUT RETRACTIBLE!?!? Hell yeah. HELL YEAH!!!

⭐~ He has a few scars here and there from fights and attacks from victims, but it has a stronger body so he heals much faster than the average human.

⭐~ He can purr.. And I fw the idea that he has a Tail.. so yeah🎀

🔖‼️~ Behavioral / Personality Headcanons:

⭐~ Very closed off. Rarely makes the effort to interact with others.

⭐~ Due to almost always being overwhelmed with his senses, he lashes out quite often.. and everyone is just used to it at this point, it's been years.

⭐~ Extremely touch averse. Unless he gives you verbal permission to touch him, Don't try.

⭐~ Tends to have a distaste for sharing it's space and becomes aggressive when asked to share. Only shares his space with a selective few pastas.

⭐~ Due to the Tar-Blood mix in his system, he's mostly non-verbal, as it tends to hurt to speak from time to time.

⭐~ If he's closer with you, he'll tend to be more open about things in his life, but if you aren't close, he'll pretty much just ignore you.

⭐~ Love Language (in both a romantic or platonic sense) is gift-giving, since he's iffy with touch and not the best with words, so he expresses his devotion through gifts! (Which would be small things like jewelry he stole from a victim or a book you've mentioned)(If your S/I or oc is a cannibal.. prepare for an organ or two/silly)

⭐~ Tends to have a lot of Violent impulses and/or intrusive thoughts, only acts on them rarely as he's learned to somewhat control them.

⭐~ Clean freak. Due to his status as an ex-medical Student, it likes to keep his space clean and organized. Well as clean and organized as it gets for a blind man.

⭐~ His ability to sleep is ASS. He could go to bed at like,, 9PM and wake up at 2AM and not fall back asleep till 8AM... Or go to bed at 2AM and not wake up till like 10AM..

🔖‼️~ Extra Headcanons: (some are me projecting but shhh..)

⭐~ He's Aceflux and Demiromantic.

⭐~ Doesn't really care for gender (in a dating sense), Panromantic.

⭐~ "I'm probably nonbinary but I have a job so idrc about that rn" ahh situation (He's Agender bc I SAID SO DAMN YOU !!)

⭐~ Never really Gave a damn about Pronouns.. then bro locked IN!!/Silly (Uses He/It)

⭐~ Doesn't tell people he's Canadian because people ask him dumb questions or make jokes and it pisses him off (HEAVY PROJECTING WITH THIS ONE!!)(Not Canadian... But German💔)

⭐~ After the cult stuff, his body rejects any food that isn't meat or flesh, strict Carnivore diet because eating anything else will make him throw up💔

⭐~ Always Cold. It could be 100 degrees out and he'd STILL say it's cold outside (Bro Just like me frfr..)

⭐~ It's the type of mf to take a 4 hour nap, wake up for like 10 minutes, then Nap for another 3 hours🎀

⭐~ adding to the sleep stuff, He can fall asleep ANYWHERE. Car? that's fine. Bed? Perfect. STANDING IN THE DOORWAY?? GET OUT BRUH !!

⭐~ One of the few Pastas who try to keep clean often, mainly due to his desire for cleanliness🎀

🧾‼️~ ANDDDD THAT'S ALL!! This took me a WHOLE. 3. DAYS. ... ANYWAYS!! Hope you like these.. if y'all want more lemme know.. I can TRY!! :3

#creepypasta #crp fandom #creepypasta headcanons #eyeless jack #jack nyras #eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack hc #i love projecting #this took way too long #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta hcs #yapping about my fav <33 #Brief mention of Hannibal Lecter bc he's my malewife

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offt0wonderland · 1 year ago

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The Runaways Fanfiction

The Outsiders x fem OC

word count 3.6k

Quick summary: A young Soc finds herself thrown into a loop once she befriends Pony and his family.

I continued to keep my distance, pausing each time Pony stopped to look at himself in the mirror. I’d twirl around, finding a small hidden space while I observed the comb running over his greased-up hair for the tenth time. Frankly, it was kind of funny how much he cared for his appearance – but it was also annoying; all I wanted to do was to drop off the journal and make my way back to my own part of town. The place that didn’t give me the creeps. Yet it seemed as if Pony was enjoying his casual stroll, not a care in the world with how quickly he’d appear in his home.

It took about ten minutes before he finally turned his last corner, trudging past a rusted gate and up the steps of a dilapidated home: The outer walls were painted eggshell white, chips and nails protruded from the corners of the architecture, and each step had a five-inch crack imbedded within. Honestly, the house was even worse than I had imagined it to be. There was no way in hell my brain could decipher how someone could live there for years on end – I mean, it appeared as if it was bound to collapse on itself within a few months.

The insides of my cheeks puffed out, a hesitation on my end halting me from following the path Pony effortlessly laid out for me. It was like all the muscles of my legs had stationed themselves firmly on the ground beneath, fear coursing my veins once more. I wasn’t sure if I was even going to be able to do it; I’d have walked this whole way, skipped an important lecture, and still ended up not finishing the one mission I set out to do. “Ugh, don’t be such a darn chicken …”

But I was. I couldn’t do it – I wouldn’t do it. I turned on my heels, preparing to find my way back to a comfort zone until a low voice spoke up from behind. “Are you lost?” I whipped my head around, eyeing the older man that had his arms crossed sharply across his chest. He seemed to be somewhere in his twenties, or at least looked like it. His brows pointed inwards, the rounds of his eyes dragging down to my outfit; a sense of confusion as to why a Social had somehow found herself eyeing his home.

I swiftly shook my head, taking a tiny gulp before speaking. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but is Ponyboy there?” Of course he was there, I just saw him walk in – such an idiot.

The man took a second, contemplating if he should grab the young boy in his home, but he soon obliged. “Pony!”

“What?!” I could hear Pony’s voice ring out in the background.

“Come here.”

“Uh-oh, someone’s getting their butt whooped for skipping class.” A more accented voice spoke up, which soon earned him a couple of yelps as slapping sounds echoed off the inside walls.

“Shut up Two-Bit, at least I know what obtuse means.” Pony sauntered towards the front, his shoulder leaning against the door frame as his eyes fixated on the man. “Darry, what’s – ” It wasn’t long before his voice trailed off, his eyes scanning over towards me outside of his gate. And just like Darry’s his brows sunk inwards.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” Darry backed away from the crowded front, slamming the door shut behind him in an effort to give us some privacy.

The two of us reveled in the silence for a few seconds, unsure of what words to say given that we’d never acknowledged each other in class. But then it hit me, all I had to do was show him the journal and he’d know. I cleared my throat, placing my bag on the floor as I rummaged through it to grab the same brown leather booklet he left in class. “You forgot this.”

Pony was swift to move towards me, grabbing the book from my hands and flipping through each page to observe the state of it. A sigh of relief was quick to escape his lips once he realized it was still in-tact. “Damn, I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, that’s why … I grabbed it.” Once again, we were engulfed in the quietude, no new words able to be mustered between us. It was all the more reason for me to get the hell out of there, pretend that none of this had ever happened. “Well, goodbye.”

A loud abrupt slam forced me to avert my attention, a sense of distraction that kept me from turning on the balls of my feet. “You gonna invite her in Pony?!” I narrowed my eyes, observing a younger boy pressed against the film of the window. His blue collared shirt was fully unbuttoned, exposing the streak of dirt and gas that covered his chest.

“Oh man, I love bird-watching.” The same thick voice that spoke up earlier was heard right after, only he didn’t have a work shirt on. It appeared as though he was fonder of cartoons, wearing a Mickey Mouse cut off that showed the muscles he acquired overtime.

I lightly tilted my head, confused at the random comment the boy, who I now gathered as Two-Bit, had made about bird watching. But Pony was quick to speak back up, taking me away from peering up at the sky for any Cardinals. “How do you know where I live?”

“I don’t – well, I didn’t … I followed you.” He seemed taken aback by that comment, unsure if that was meant as a compliment or a threat. So, I rambled back on again, making the situation even more awkward than it already was. “I mean, I don’t normally follow you – or anyone for that matter … I just wanted to give it to you today, in case you needed it to finish your essay over the weekend.”

He nodded slowly in understanding, a hint of disbelief still resonating off of him. “Yeah … Well, I already finished the essay.”

“But, you said that you didn’t,” Now it was my turn to be confused. “I don’t understand, why lie?”

“Didn’t need a good for nothing Soc on my case, wasn’t in the mood for it today.” He shoved the journal into the back of his pants, his eyes now fixated on the area behind me.

“Dennis – he … yeah, no there’s actually no redeeming qualities about him,” Pony chuckled along with me, finding humor that I also couldn’t fathom the idea of the horrid Soc boy we shared a class with. “Well, if it’s any constellation I’m cranked to hear what you wrote.”

Pony nodded at my compliment, taking a bit of courage from that statement; but it was soon overshadowed once a dark cloud hovered over me. I scrunched the tip of my nose, confused as to why his posture had switched so suddenly.

Did I have lipstick on my teeth?

Yet my questions were shortly answered once a pair of hands covered my eyes, encasing me in a darkness. “You got to be more careful out in these areas sweetheart, might find yourself kidnapped.”

Read the whole chapter here: The Runaways | Quotev

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idungoofed · 4 months ago

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Lol hi, I haven’t been here in forever, but I’ve been writing things again. So here’s something that my sleep deprived brain has come out with tonight. An excerpt of a fic I’m hoping (and I say this so loosely) to try and write that’s set after Din leaves Grogu with Luke Skywalker, and basically tries to run away from his problems and ends up on Earth during covid and finds my OC, Cate, a chronically online, lonely, thirty-something year old. It’s fairly early on so feelings are being felt but because they are both idiots no one’s gonna admit their to them any time soon. Super self indulgent, first person, unedited or proof read, and not gonna lie, this character is basically me, so take it or leave it I guess ❤️

____________

Over the next few days Din and I got into an easy morning routine of me waking up and going down stairs to sleepily wander into the kitchen to turn the kettle on, while he leaves the crest and wanders down from the clearing, due any minute through the stable door I’d opened the top of to let the morning summer sun warm me as I made our coffees; Dins black, mine strong but milky with a half spoon of sugar.

The teaspoon clinks in Dins mug as I stir- I gave him the duck one today where the head protruded out the side and acted as the handle. I live for ugly tea cups and coffee mugs and secretly enjoy watching the blank expression of Dins helmet inspect the weirdest ones I have in my collection when I give them to him, wondering what expression plays across his face. I’ve decided against the penis mug so far.

A shadow falls across my body as Din appears at the door, blocking out the sun, and I think of stomping on the butterflies that have swarmed my stomach before I’d even looked up.

I don’t know when exactly it started happening, when I realised that the feeling of easy companionship started to be something more. It seemed if anything my body knew before I did, inwardly cringing at the obvious full body shudder than had run through me when Din steadied me with a hand to my waist when I’d lost my footing on the streams stepping-stones the other day.

I grab our coffees and turn towards him. I needed to get myself under control, there’s no way a bounty hunter who adventured through galaxies would be interested in someone like me, and the extremely boring life I was currently living, but as my eyes honed in to the black visor of his helmet my breath caught in my throat.

The golden morning glow of the sun beamed off the back of his helmet and armour, illuminating him as if he just walked out of some kind of heavenly light.

I smile at him as he unlatched the lower door and walked in, his presence dominating the small space.

“Morning.” I say, slightly too breathily, holding out the duck mug to him.

“Good morning, Cate. Thank you, but you don’t have to make-“ Din stops as he notices what I’ve served his coffee in today.

He takes the mug holding it up to look at, and I try hide my smirk at the ridiculousness of this tall, broad, armour covered man holding and having to drink out of something so dumb.

Din finishes his observation and holds the handle-head up in a cheers. “This is the best one so far.”

I guffaw and smile, shaking my head. “I’m glad you like it.” I look up at him as he holds the mug, not realising I’m basically staring at him with a dopey smile on my face at this point.

Din shifts his weight, breaking the spell he’s unwittingly out over me.

“Oh! Sorry!” My face heats as I realise what I was doing, “I’ll just be out side.” I say, looking away, I awkwardly skirt around him and out the door, slipping back into our routine where I leave him to sit in the sun outside, so he can drink his caffeine fix without fear of me seeing him without his helmet.

Din watches me go, gripping the absurd handle of the mug, wishing I could sit with him and continue looking at him in the way I was. In adoration, as if he was someone special, someone who deserved to be looked at like that.

He’d started to feel the magnetic pull between you both too, but couldn’t see how it could ever be more than one sided. How could someone so sweet, kind, and who lived a quiet life so many worlds different to his own ever want to be with someone like him?

——————

Thanks for reading❤️

Will there be more?!!?! I don’t know, I hope so, but either way I hope you liked it. I did start to write a fic a few years ago where Din comes to earth but it just wasn’t working, I have no idea if it’s even still up because lawd knows I thought about deleting it enough times, but this one feels better, more me.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #idiots in love #Din x female character #mando #mando fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #original character #the mandalorian fanfic #Din x FemOC #din djarin fan fic #writing in progress #self indulgence at its finest #din djarin fluff #mando fluff #domestic din djarin

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the-indie-owl · 3 months ago

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It's been So Long since I have done using one of my Shipping Charts before, but I'd figure why not do it again based on one of my Recent Fandom Moods.

Here's my own Space Goofs Shipping Chart (And Yes, Despite Being in the Same Level Path as SpongeBob as Having Way, WAY Too Many Characters (Which Again, isn't a Shock when it Comes to Franchises Having Way Too Many Characters that Get so Milked to Death)), I've decided to Cut a "Cheat" Mode just by Focusing on its Main Characters using the First One.

Anyway, Here's a List of My Own Ships (+Some Explaining about some Personal Opinions, Please Be Respectful If You Don't Agree With Me).

OTP:

Purple Candy (Etno/Candy) (My Number One 💜💚)

Television Bookworm (Bud/Stereo)

BrOTP:

Extraterrestrial Brains (Etno/Stereo)

Evil Scientists (Dr. Saccharin/Igor)

Like:

Greedy Science (Etno/Gorgious)

Piggy Sloth (Gorgious/Bud)

Neat Halves (Candy/Stereo)

Ok:

Radioactive Nerd (Etno/Bud)

Hungry Egghead (Stereo/Gorgious)

Dislike:

Sweet Gluttony (Gorgious/Candy)

NOTP:

Ray Gun (Bolok/Etno)

TV Murderer (Bolok/Bud)

Trigger Wife (Bolok/Candy)

Etno/Ambre-Lou

MISC IN THE OTHER SECTION:

❤️OTP:

Bolok/OC (Elodie Auclair created by One of My Friends, @djinarocks)

Ambre-Lou/OC (Daniel also created by @djinarocks and even an Upcoming Character of My Own)

💚Like:

The Space Goofs with Any Fans' OCs

🖤NOTP:

Desert Cosmos (Etno/Zibouya)

Literally Any of The Aliens with Gerty (from "First Love") Because You Would Know The Drill ;P

Ok, so far, I wasn't going to even expect to Ship Bud & Stereo Together, but thanks to One Television Bookworm Shipper, it Recently Grew on Me. 😉😊

I'm Neutral When It Comes to Couples Bickering with Each Other but Gorgious/Candy aren't just my Fav. That's why I'm more of a Etno/Candy Person (Because I've Recently Love Them Together as Sweet Parents among their Group 💚💜💚💜💖💗)

For some reason, unlike Sweet Gluttony, a Few Gorgious Ships came to grew on Me and that's how I started to like Greedy Science & Piggy Sloth. I like them as Crack (especially since both Neat Halves & Piggy Sloth are such Rarepairs).

I'm totally gonna killed by Other Bolok Fangirls but I'm Sorry but I just can't. I mainly like the idea of a Alive! Reformed Bolok in a "Enemies to Friends" AU but despite Me being so On-And-Off of the Whole "Enemies to Lovers" trope, I'm neutral when it comes to it (depends on how the Writers tend to do So with their own Characters). I just kinda don't really like to ship Any of the Goofs with the Canon Humans from Each of their Villain of the Week Episodes (especially if it's Etno with Zibouya), since I'm mainly more on "Shipping The Main Characters with Each Other" Camp Side rather than "Shipping The Main Characters with Their Enemies" Side. Plus, I mainly prefer the idea of Bolok to be Ship with Any Fan-OC considering that this Fandom needs to bring back some OC/Canon Shipping as Bolok would no doubt be the Perfect Target for a New One. Deal With It.

Also, yeah, I apparently found out that someone else from back then shipped Etno with Ambre-Lou WAAAAAAAAAAY Long before this Fandom revived. I highly refused to give that a Ship Name of its Own Because Ew, DO NOT WANT! 🤢

Tbh, aside from Shipping the Goofs with Each Other, I also adore Many OC/Canon Ships around Any of Them. Doesn't really matter as long as Everyone has their own Ships (I do not regret being a Mulitshipper).

Because I've been meaning to plan to create more OCs around in this Fandom, My Friend already did had in mind for her own Love Interest for Ambre-Lou like Me, so hopefully this Fandom could finally give Her a Chance to Shine More after Bolok.

Granted, I wish I could explain more on The Other Side Characters for some More Crack Ship ideas (that is, if I were to use the Other Versions), but that's all I have for now for the first one.

Those who wanna try out their own version, Link.

#indie text #space goofs #stupid invaders #les zinzins de l'espace #xilam #shipping chart #shipping meme #etno polino #candy caramella #gorgious klatoo #bud budiovitch #stereo monovici #dr. saccharin #igor #lucien bolok #ambre lou astrean #lou #stupid invaders cancelled movie

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rakubalka · 2 months ago

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How Time and Fate playing chest with one specific mortal as the prize caused more than a few timelines to spawn . And how the og timeline would have looked

@karlithemuse sorry it took so long it turnned longer than originally planned

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

We start with Astaroth(I'm calling him Time to save time(pun not intended)) . That include his motive , plans and ending result

His motive is simple , he wants Sage(the Jusus like oc who is Asta’s previous life) to come back to life . So he starts planning ways to try and do it . And what his planing makes him do is look into the futures and try and find one that allows for any chances of Sage’s resurrection . While looking what does he see ? Asta . The same Asta whose body is makes him a perfect vessel and host for any and all spirits and devils exactly because of his lack of mana (having foreign mana in ones mana veins/stream can cause serious medical implication and not wanting to deal with that most spirit at least search for someone with a very compatible mana or at least someone sharing the same base element , Asta’s lack of personal mana means he can act the role of vessel for even the most rare type of element with absolutely no problems) . So what does Time do again ? Starts looking for ways to make him his vessel of course .

Unfortunately for Time , og and most timelines Asta only makes guaranteed contact with 2 demons . Those being a genocidal maniac who will end up killed and his brother with whom he will reunite (Of course there is also the husband , however said husband refuses to gamble the lives of those he cares about so no more devil summonings for him to be expected) . So Time’s chances of being summoned and offered a contract are zero .

And you would think any sane person would give up after that , unfortunately time has not been sane since Sage’s death . So he takes the next “rational” step to resurrect Sage . That being create a situation that either forces Asta to make a contract with him or take over Asta with strength . Problem however is that Asta uses his brain and is not just going to agree on a contract with an unknown devil , especially when he already has multiple different contracts with powerful great spirits (a few of which he also follows as a believer of theirs)

So what does Time decide to do ? Take Julius and Zenon offer for a contract and start working from there . Which is actually the reason the “canon” we know starts

One of the biggest changes he makes is being sure Zara Idiale dies , wich jokes on him he created a martyr people even thousands of year in the future will look up to

Also i think i should mention this but whatever “future sight” Zenon has is fundamentally not perfect . Mainly because 1) why should Time show to those idiots why Asta is so valuable and 2) reading the future is not Time’s strong suit but rather Fate’s

Now we have Fate and her meddling with how events go and play out .

A surprising amount of events were actually accelerated because of her . Asta getting Libei’s grimoire on the spring equinoxes for example . Accelerating the elf situation with Asta being stronger than in the og timeline .

And let me just say , so many people were born because of her medeling . And so i will be counting them :

Yami - he wouldn't even be born and on the off chance he was he would have stayed in Sun Country if not for Fate using her connection with Ocean to get him to clover

Dorothy - She wouldn't be born for at least a few hundred years

Fuegoleon - Only Inferno(aka Mereleona) was supposed to be born in that day and age but Fate convinced Forest Fire to also get a mortal form

Finral - Space wouldn't have even be mortal if not for Fate’s request

Vanessa - Fate knew she needed to be in moral form to do more than only create opportunities so she made herself mortal

Gray - Change had to be pushed a little but it happened in the end

Charmy - yet another being that would be in Sun Country if not for Fate’s meddling , granted however the dwarf-human couple who were trying for a baby wouldn't succeed if not for Fate meddling so at least they got a child out of this

Yuno - Spade wouldn't even have a heir , the High priest Of Air would be a different person and Asta would be a weaker if things were like the og timeline with Yuno still getting cleaned of his would be life as half-elf if not for Fate screwing his reincarnation a little , in a result of not properly completing the cycle Yuno has two magic types

Noelle - While the soul was ready for reincarnation there simply aren't parent powerful enough to give a proper vessel , in fact the closest to come to it would be Pechiks’s child

There are probably other people who I'm forgetting at the moment , but you get the vibe . A lot of people are missing of what we know and that changes how the story goes a lot . And in all honesty it could be an AU of its own with how different it is .

So lets start :

First of all , with Conrad not having his fall orchestrated by what is one of the core principles of the universe makes it so he is also alive . And wanting to make his good friend Zara's life a little easier (and also harder to discriminating against him) he gets given the position of squad capitan . And with no Time meddling Zara idealle lives and still inspires Charlotte , Merolona and Jack to become Magic Knights in his footsteps . With said future captains joining his squad , that also got him the niche the bulls have . Demanding a name for the squad the two of them and Lovilia come together and decide on White Phoenix with white in honor of his good friends’s squad color and phoenix in honor of the immortal bird symbolising the rebirth Zara is currently causing on the whole system .

Years go by and Conrad wants to retire from active duty to build a home with his wife and focus more on his political career , so he choses Zara as his successor . And considering how many small factions and one big faction (The Vermilions) supported him enthusiastically and also having the Shamrock in agreement of his choice , the transfer of title and power was largely uninterrupted even if not exactly everyone was happy about it . But that's how we get Zara Idealle as the 28th Wizard King and the first peasant Wizard King so down in history he will go .

However , as I'm sure you remember , the crowning of a Wizard King means the dissolving of the old squads and the creation of new ones . And in an ironic twist of fate around half of the current captains come from his squad . That being Mereleona captain of the Crimson Lions , Charlotte captain of the Blue Roses , Jack captain of the Green Mantis , William captain of the Golden Dawn , Henry captain of the White Bears and of course Morgen and Naucht of the Black Ravens .

Because do you really think that without Yami to distract Morgan he isnt to put his whole undivided attention on his brother ? Yeah no . Nacht barely gets his demons before their family gets busted by Morgen the moment he hears them trying to let his twin in such danger . He even uses his conections to make sure those who dare even try to hurt his twin face consequences . And if someone says this “isn't like canon” , name one mentally stable person Yami is friends with . There isn't . The man is a catnip for mentally unstable magical prodigies . So no Morgan isn't a saint , the man is far too bloodthirsty .

There is also some small thing happening in the au causing differences in it . Like Gauche and Mary being taken by an uncle of theirs after their parents death , that uncle being Conrad . It does make it so gauche gets it into his tick head that there are people who care for him . And also after getting his grimoire he gets scouted by the Ravens making him a member of theirs and then at autumn come for the official magic knights exam and becomes part of the White Bears (jailers) and starts developing a crush on his squad’s vice-captain , that being Gordon .

Another small thing that adds up is the lack of Fluedoleon . More specifically , without him Mereleona doesn't have someone who she can throw the title and responsibility of The Heir Of House Vermilion to . As a result Mereleona is forced to stay in the human realm making her a lot weaker than she would otherwise be . Then there is also the fact she and Charlotte also meet a lot earlier in life . Again Charlotte doesnt find she has a crush for quite a while , and is in a arguably worse position than the one with Yami . Nor because of densens mind you , as Mereleona caught the small building feelings and returned them almost immediately . The problem lies in that even with Leopold existing , Mereleona is still expected to marry and continue the family line as its head . So the political fall out of the heir of a royal house turning gay was to be dealt with .

And the resulting rumors were not kind to anyone they touched , but the rumor that grossed Mereleona , Charlotte and Jack is the one of the 3 of them sleeping with each other . Jack is especially grossed out as 1) Charlotte is his big sister in everything but blood as far as he is concerned , 2) Mereleona is one of if not his best friend , 3) Mereleona is his sisters gf and finally 4) He currently dating a silver haired birdy royal so he has 0% interest in the burning lioness .

There is the fact that Rebbeca(Remember she is 1 year older than Asta) having the financial stability and also help from other adults to look after her siblings follows in her uncle and cousin steps in becoming a magic knight (Conrad and Lovia get even more kids to look after ) . She joins the Crimson Lions as a rune and trap magic specialist and also In no time she earns the nickname “The Arsonist” .

I'm probably forgetting other things and people at the moment but we're moving .

So we finally meet Asta . For a difference of the world in which Fate meddled with , with no Yuno Asta isn't motivated to be a magic knight . Mainly because of the Light Triad it's only Yuno that is motivated by fame (Everyone deserves flaws and even then in this situation is less of a flaw and more just a small quirk that helps him improve) so Asta doesn't get pushed and continuously motivated , as a result Asta is actually weaker physically and not as far in his medical studies with no rival and brother around . It's still a happy and fulfilling life for him to be a small village hunter and doctor and when the situation calls for either a “true magic knower” or a hero to help those in the surroundings .

Fate’s madeling did however make it so Asta has a grimoire so he is clearly seen as an adult , because that's what grimoires are to the population , an identification card that means you're at least 15 . With no Fate messing tings the chain dude doesn't come , ands even and if he came Asta wouldn't be in or around the tower as he 1) suspected he won't get a grimoire so why make an idiot of himself by going there and 2) even if he got a grimoire the book would come to him anyway so why waste time when he can do minute preparations and hunting for the party that will happen anyway . So there was never a need for Libei to come out and allow himself to be used by Asta . Istedea few weeks later he is visited by a goddess , and not just any goddess but one he follows as his teacher . That being Divana who wants to make a contract with this follower of hers so had looked after for a few years already . So she gives him a task to accomplish toi cement the contract . With that task being “create or find something to give to me and only me” (fun fact the reason it might fell or look similar to a contract between a human and demon is because it's the same , more specifically this is one of few rituals and “true” magic that survived even with the grimoires existing , it did fall out of fashion with spirits overall however as grimoires made it a lot easier to make said contracts happened and also make sure they are equal ) . And what did Asta do ? He carved a mask out of birch wood of a sighthound , symbolising her and what she is the goddess rather well . So the contract was made with both parties rather happy , and with Devana starting to mentor in the use of magic . More specifically wind magic , and also how to deal with the resulting mar induced migraines . Thankfully at hw only need to figure how to power up the anti-mar medicine and not how to make it so small mercies . He also rather quickly becomes an even and if tumbling from time to time still even more proficient hunter .

Things happened however and there is a sudden influx of Flame Boars who creating some serious problems for the local ecosystem , Especially since while migration can happen the amount he had to deal had suddenly been upped by the dozens and he could barely keep up . Thankfully the chef of Rayaka wrote a letter to his nephew complaining about the monstrous boars that are mainly detail with by Asta and some help from other hunters but even they java problems keeping up , so he also nudging his nephew yo replay at least one of his debts to the kid who has been rescuing from the local leshy since he was an apprentice hunter . So Magna , having read the letter and having heard capitan Charlotte complaining about the idiots in charge of the food budget because of whom they might need to cut off meat for both of the squad . So he fills the documents for both a subjugation mission and a possible business deal and hands it in . To no one's surprise it gets approved immediately and he gets handed an ice elemental mage , money to buy the meat and even a few magic items to help transport it back . What he wasn't expecting was for captain Jack to decide a hunting trip would be fun . So they go on a hunting trip .

When they finally get to the place after going to Rayaka and visiting the chef they get oriented to go to Hage as 3 of the most capable hunters were there and taking the brunt of the migration . So they go there except Asta isn't there but only his sister and apprentice Recca who was renewing the traps , the also witness caching a few of the boars with said traps with a little help from a swordsman that has been hanging around for a few months already that has been in exchange for helping with the boars allowed saltare in the village . After this they get instructed to go to Sosshi as they requested help not being able to keep up with the sudden influx of boars and Asta eager to help only took food for 3 days and as good as he is in managing it its been 5 days and they have meat to get rid of as fast as possible least it rots as it is summer . So they are handed food for both him and himselfs , threaten to finish it or at least eat some of the meat and are sent on their way . Jack laughed at the situation of them grown magic knights commanded by a 13 year old that's half his size and goes along with it .

So in no time they get to Sosshi and the surrounding forest . They accidentally meet a swarm of boars who immediately attack them , and are beaten in no time by jack after he sent Magna to scout in a way of trying to train his vice-captain in scouting . Unfortunately while running back he almost gets his head sliced from his body by Asta . Asta who just stopped before accidentally committing manslaughter before the authorities .

Asta immediately starts to apologize to Magna . Jack is ready to commit mured , because that's his vice-capitan . The ice mage is hyperventilating on almost having her superior die . Magna however is in the most shock , as he just and even now can mar Asta with mana .

Magna immediately starts asking Asta of when he got his magic and where is his grimoire . Asta had to deliver the news of the mana being that of a spirit he made a contract with , more specifically one of the goddesses he follows . Jack is still suspicious of the “wind mage” but they don't have time for more speaking . Why ?

Because Jack and Asta felt the creation of an ice shield too big to be from one of the villagers and the lack of fire signatures can only mean someone is either taking the village hostage or directly attacking it and leaving no witnesses . So the group immediately bolts .

Before them was mist but with 2 hunters and one goddess of hunting navigation was easy , the brier even more so as one slash from Jack and it was down . After that it was a lot more straightforward . Asta even proved himself very capable in Jack’s eyes with his skills with the bow and was offered to take the magic knights exams in a few months if he wanted . Then they fly back to Hage (with Asta on magna’s broom as he is still rather new to the whole flying ting)

Having made a deal for most of the boar meat and hides with sister Lily as the main merchant(useful noble society skills she still uses) and attained the “bandist” the Magic Knight leave to report and give time to Asta to think . He hesitates for a while but after talking with a lot of people , he decided to show up and see how he does . He is chosen , he is chosen and if not , oh well .

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As this is getting very long I'm posting this(also why is it around the same lght as a chapter in the book i'm writing ???) and then starting to write the next part . Or maybe I should just make it another au or really a timeline of an au .

What do you think of mtwfmte og tl au ?

Ask any questions you want im happy to answer !

#black clover #black clover au #mtwfmte au #asta black clover #vanessa enoteca #yami sukehiro #the black bulls #charlotte roselei #jack black clover #magna swing #conrad leto #mtwfmte og tl au

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