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mysteria157 · 7 months

Text

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader

CW: Profanity, Light Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Cowgirl, Fingering, Fingersucking, Cunnilingus, Slight Dom Reader (not much), Car Sex, Bathroom Sex

WC: ~16k (It's long so get some snacks)

Summary:

Maybe you're single for a reason. You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations, and you refuse to settle for less. For the ones who aren't worth the air they breathe, you chew them up and spit them out. You savor the taste so you know what to avoid the next time.

So when he looks down at you with that devilish smirk and calls you 'Princess', you're determined to prove that Toji Fushiguro is no exception.

Notes: Hello! This is my first fic with Toji and I'm nervous to get it out here. The setting of this fic and the elements I incorporated connect a lot with my own childhood and the memories (not the interactions in this fic) that I had at family cookouts and get-togethers. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon Header: myself (stability.ai)

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | **Sequel**

“Can I get you a drink, princess?”

When you meet Toji Fushiguro for the first time, it’s on the fourth of July at your uncle’s house. It’s a big get-together at a two-story house located in the countryside. Every year he opens up his spacious home for a gathering of your extended family to bring excessive amounts of alcohol, play old school rap and R&B too loudly, devour delicious fucking food, and set off fireworks that have been collected since the beginning of the year.

Your uncle has already made a home by the grill and taken control of the speakers after one of your younger cousins attempted to play something ‘a little too racy’ for his tastes. You’re pretty sure it was an Ice Cube song from the 90s that your uncle hates but is too proud to admit, so he lectures your cousin about ‘what young folks should be listening to’ instead.

The smell of hamburgers and ribs has been teasing your nose for the past hour, and your hunger is borderline unbearable with each sniff. You avoid the allure of the long table of food because if you look, you’ll be three plates in before the meat is done. There’s coleslaw, baked beans, greens, and macaroni and cheese. Your favorite aunt also brought her potato salad and you know she’s going to make yellow cake with chocolate frosting fresh before the fireworks. You love it so much and you were deprived of it last year when you were called in to work at the last minute. You will get some today.

The backyard is expansive and well-maintained, and your cousins and aunts have already laid their claim on swanky cushions of the nice patio furniture.

The one cousin you’re closest to in age and personality sits next to you on a large blanket a few yards away from the rising volume of your extended family. You were able to get a good ten minutes of conversation from her before her fiancé showed up and made a home inside of her mouth.

Your family normally has something to say about PDA—a stupid quip about acting ‘too grown’ even though you are both knocking on the door of thirty. But she doesn’t care—just like you, that’s why you like her so much even though her fiancé is sucking on her face like it’s his last day on Earth.

Shiu Kong is nice—gentle in his own way and carries himself with a bored air that seems to pull your cousin in. He’s enamored with her, practically folds in on himself when she’s around, and worships the ground she walks on. They’ve been together for a few years and you’ve never had a problem with him.

But that just might change today because he’s brought along a friend who has already ignited a flame of arousal and annoyance deep within your belly. From the moment Toji Fushiguro stepped into the backyard with Shiu, your family was transfixed. Your aunts can’t stop ogling, and your uncles and male cousins try to jokingly size him up.

“Oh honey why don’t you sit down, don’t be shy. Lemme get you something to drink.”

“That’s not steroids? It’s gotta be. Don’t play.”

“How much you bench?”

It’s annoying. So fucking annoying but you can’t help but agree. He’s a little older—maybe early thirties—but dangerously attractive.

Raven hair that reaches his ears, looks unbelievably soft and falls over emerald green eyes. A grey shirt hugs him too fucking deliciously for your comfort and dark jeans hug an ass that’s too fucking juicy. He’s a big man—a burly man and unfortunately, that’s how you like them.

Big, burly like a bear, respectful, and capable of making you feel small and protected but also valuing and worshipping you as a woman. Unfortunately, such men are hard to come by because you tend to intimidate them. You don’t tolerate disrespect in any form and quickly put men in their place if they try to undermine, belittle, or confuse protection with control. You know what you want, and you refuse to settle for less.

They can’t stand it.

And right now, you can’t stand Toji. As he looks down at you with a well-worn smirk on his face, a smirk that suggests he has plenty of experience in situations like this, your irritation grows. He’s a smooth talker, confident in almost everything he says. His voice is deep, but melodic in a strangely feminine way that makes his words slide like silk down your back, and the minute you heard it, your thighs threatened to rub together.

Definitely a smooth talker. But the nickname you don’t care for.

Princess.

Like you’re a dainty little thing who will bat her eyelashes and call him Daddy. It makes your walls of self-defense rise even higher, and the gentle smile you had given Shiu when he first said hello moments ago transforms into the beginnings of a frown.

Without hesitation, you rise to your feet, plant your wedges firm into the grass, and turn away from them before muttering, “I’m good.”

Toji simply shrugs; a gesture that annoys you even more because he doesn’t offer any other reaction that satisfies you. He settles into your previously vacated spot, leaning back on his hands. The jacket on his shoulders falls open and the sight of his shirt hugging his muscles is too much for you.

You inwardly curse as your eyes wander over his physique. Thick pectorals that you could easily rub your face against and make a pillow for yourself to sleep on stretch the fabric in a way that you’re sure it’ll rip. Abdominals tease just below the surface of his shirt that clings to him like a second skin. You want to lick between each one, press your teeth into the hard skin to make him wince and beg as you count each one.

Four, six, eight?

Fuck.

You don’t show how you want to straighten your spine against the chill of being caught staring. That smirk is on his face again, tugging at the corner of his mouth. There’s a scar on the right side that slashes vertically over his top and bottom lip and you dislike the arousal that begins to boil between your legs from the sight. You wonder how he got it. If it was a fight, did he win? The thought of him wrestling another man to the floor and taking a cut to the face in the process shouldn’t arouse you, but god it does.

His eyes make you think of moss as you watch them slide up your body, and it almost feels like invisible hands caressing you. They’re large and pale, littered with scars along the knuckles as they glide up your exposed chocolate legs, dip between your inner thighs, and caress the curves of your hips.

“See something you like?”

He’s ogling you but has the nerve to try and put you on the spot? You have enough self-control to let logic worm through the rising lust inside of you. You sneer down at him, sharp enough for Shiu to visibly pale and your cousin to giggle at.

“To be honest, I don’t really see much.”

You don’t give him a chance to retort and you pretend not to hear the soft hum of nonchalance he throws back. You walk away from them, turning just in time to shield the way your eyes widen at the feel of your face and neck prickling with heat.

The moment you close the bathroom door inside your uncle’s house, the breath trapped within your lungs escapes in a rush. You press your forehead against the wood and the coolness of it offers only little relief to the burning of your skin.

You turn your head and press your cheek against the wood so the cold surface can slide along your cheek as you open your eyes to take in your reflection.

Of course, Toji would ogle you. You’re confident enough to know your beauty.

A red sundress that hugs your curves, stops at your mid-thighs. Knotless braids with curled ends are piled on top of your head in a loose bun with a few strands that spill along your hairline.

You’re good-looking. But you’ve been out of practice with a man for a long time. Your last relationship ended when you caught him balls-deep in your coworker. You’re too shy to pursue a one-night stand and not detached enough for a situationship.

However, you could risk it all for Toji and you hate that you’re entertaining the thought. You hate that you’re imagining him barging into the bathroom, bending you over the counter, and taking you from behind with his large hand digging into the small of your back and whispering how much of a good girl you are as you beg him to cum.

God, get yourself together.

To calm yourself down, you find solace in your uncle’s quiet kitchen. There’s only one person occupying it, your favorite aunt, who is heavily pregnant and working on the yellow cake that you’ve been thinking about all day. You use the opportunity to distract yourself and take over for her, shooing her away to relax in the backyard.

You crack an egg against the off-white countertop, fractures splitting up the sides before spilling its contents into the silver mixing bowl in front of you. A self-deprecating thought slithers in your ears, and whispers loudly with wicked intention.

Toji wouldn’t want a woman like you.

You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations. It pushes them all away, and although you normally take pride in keeping away those who aren’t worth your time, it can get lonely.

To see your ex actively cheating on you was icing on a cake that was slowly cooking in an oven of your own self-doubt. You have standards, and while your friends consider you the voice of reason in their misfortunes with men, most members of your family think you’re too picky. You’re too much work, ‘you think you know everything’.

“Men will always have a wandering eye, it’s up to you to keep them in check, girl.”

“Honey, I love you, but the more you pick apart a man, the less he will want to be around you.”

“They love it when you cook for them, girl. Take care of your man and keep him fed and you’ll keep him forever.”

Bullshit.

It’s bullshit to take care of a man in the same way his own mother does. It’s bullshit to lose all sense of self and independence, to wait on a man when he gives you less than nothing in return—when he can hardly give you the bare minimum. You don’t mind cooking for a man who takes care of you, who loves and values you, who would never hold you back and would encourage you when you can hardly encourage yourself.

But all the good ones are in relationships now, married with a few kids, and in your resolve to stay strong and weed out the bad to find the good, it’s left you a little bitter.

Most black families are old school, and yours is no exception. They hold ‘for better or worse’ a little too close to their heart. They cling to an ideal that a man runs the household down to the basics in a way that makes you uneasy and in your defense, you snap when you’re backed into a corner.

You love them, you truly do, but they probably will never understand just how aware you are of the world and how little you are willing to put up with the problematic things that others consider normal.

Your ex was great at first. But he got comfortable. And when he got comfortable, he got lazy, a little too controlling, and a little too frustrated when you asked for certain things in the bedroom. The only person who knows about your breakup is your mother, who had the gall to be out of the country for work, leaving you to fend for yourself for today.

You watch as the batter spills on each side of your wooden spoon, parting and then falling back together like sand. In your reverie, you don’t notice a few of your relatives who have now entered the kitchen and are roaming through the fridge. You can hear one of your least favorite aunts—the bitchy one—playfully joking with someone, and whatever drivel comes out of her mouth makes that person laugh. It’s deep and suave enough to make a tingle of electricity stutter down your spine because you know it’s him.

Refusing to look in their direction, you continue mixing the batter until the lumps disappear.

“You been hiding in this kitchen for awhile now,” your aunt begins, Atlanta accent the most grating it’s ever been as she turns her gaze toward you. “You’re normally a little more talkative when your man is here. He not coming?”

There is not a trace of genuine concern in her tone. You and her bicker often; she presses your buttons and then gets mad when you press back. Your ex’s infidelity is ammunition you don’t want to give her, but being caught in a lie is something she would only treasure more to use against you later.

You clear your throat and turn the spoon in the batter once, then twice before answering without looking her way.

“No, he actually came inside of my coworker a few weeks ago. So we split up.”

You can feel the noise before you hear it—a characteristic and sharp ‘mmm’ that seems to be ingrained in your family’s DNA. It makes your grip tighten on the wooden spoon, and you scrape along the bottom of the bowl until it screeches on the metal.

“You gotta watch out for this one, Toji. She’s always been an outspoken one. Too good for ‘em all and likes to be a little mean to her men.”

You scrape harder and then turn to her, a sickly sweet smile plastered on your face.

“You’re right. The fact that I won’t settle for someone who will get bored with me after a few years makes me way too good for them. Should have turned the other cheek just like you did with your last husband. Or…was it the one before him?”

You catch the way Toji pulls his lips in to bite down on them, scar twitching as he fights to hold in a snicker.

Your aunt glares at you, purses her lips, and turns them to the side before pulling in a noise that has been passed down for generations. Her mother and her mother’s mother used the very same tactic to strike fear and insignificance in their children when they talked back. It’s a sucking of air between her teeth and the sound makes years of discipline from your own mother flash in your mind like you’re in the trenches of war.

You know she wants to say something, and you can taste the ‘you always got something to say’ in the air before Toji slides from his perch against the counter and places a hand on your aunt’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you a drink, huh? Didn’t you say you wanted me to try the beer you brought in?” She throws you a knowing glare before letting Toji lead her away; because if there is one thing that will distract her from showing out, it’s letting a good-looking man touch her.

The shaking in your hands helps you sift in the dry ingredients—a mix of sugar, flour, and baking soda—into the batter. The breaths through your nostrils are heavy and thick with anger, and the corners of your eyes sting with heat. You whip the batter harder than necessary, your aunt’s words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. Don’t—

The sight of a can of hard seltzer pressing onto the counter in front of you makes the ramblings in your mind stop. Familiar long fingers unfurl from the can and slide on the counter, their fingertips touching the edges of your mixing bowl in an effort to get to you.

“I would have given you a bottle of beer. But I had a feeling you might bash it over your aunt’s head.” He’s not wrong, and in your frustrated state, you consider his defense admirable. “I like a fight, but I’m a guest and the food looks good.”

Your grip on the spoon loosens slightly as Toji leans casually against the refrigerator, arms crossed over bulging biceps that stretch the short sleeves of his shirt. His jacket is now gone, and you can’t help but notice the veins in his forearms that protrude, tempting you to lick against them.

It takes the sheer will to tear your eyes away and focus on pouring the batter into the bundt cake mold, observing as it fills the intricate crevices.

“So he cheated? Most men are pigs.”

“But not you, huh?” you can’t help but retort, shaking the mold to disperse the air pockets that bubble on the surface.

In your peripheral, he shrugs. “I know what I like in a woman and once I get what I want, it makes no sense to look somewhere else unless she wants me gone. I’m a man…but I’m a loyal man.”

When you meet his emerald gaze, you can see a hint of pain and vulnerability that unsettles you, tilts you back on your heels from the force of his honesty. You reach for the can of seltzer and take a long swig to give yourself time to get your thoughts in order. The carbonation is sweet and fizzles along the sides of your tongue and down your throat.

“So what is it you like in a woman, Toji?”

It’s a question that probably should have been left untouched, but your curiosity overpowers your restraint. You don’t want to go back outside, because if your aunt is still feeling particularly petty, she will say something that will only make you leave. And you don’t feel like letting your family win today.

Toji’s strong gaze certainly isn’t helping. Those invisible hands slide along the crevices and dips of your body, stroking the small of your back before pressing featherlight against the back of your neck. The hairs rise in response, your skin prickling with gooseflesh.

Unexpectedly, he pushes off the refrigerator and walks closer to you, and you’re too shocked to back away. Despite his imposing stature, you know he won’t harm you. There’s something about him that’s warm and inviting, soft and tender even though his exterior is hard lines and muscle. The two of you are now mere inches apart, and the air feels thin as if you’ve reached the summit of a mountain and struggle to breathe due to the change in altitude.

Jet black locks graze against a rough cheek, the tips kissing the raised scar on the side of his mouth. Up close you can see his features more closely. His eyes are sharp and intense with deep green between his lids as if hiding a pearl in an oyster. Thin eyebrows make him look more serious and cutting and you’re swallowing back drool because your nose picks up a faint whiff of woodsy amber emitting from his body. It smells cheap—he’s put together in the most basic sense—but it still smells…good.

“I like a woman who knows what she’s about. Independent and doesn’t fuck around. Smart and pretty with curves I can grab and squeeze. Someone with some sass and isn’t afraid to put anyone in their place.”

He steps closer and your lungs heave in a desperate attempt to pull in air. The brush of the wall against your back makes you stutter out your exhale and you press your palms flat against the cool surface to keep you grounded.

“I like a woman with nice creamy brown skin that smells a little like the cake she’s baking…” Through the sea of delirium, you distantly realize that he’s describing you. “The red dress definitely is a bonus.”

That familiar smirk pulls against his lips again and your heart is thundering in your chest. You would be surprised if he couldn’t see it thumping erratically beneath the skin between what’s exposed of your cleavage.

But this is just another trick in their book to get you in their bed. Or in the bathroom. Or over the kitchen counter.

And as much as you want to, you can’t give in. Because you’ll hate yourself tomorrow.

So you tilt your chin up at him and narrow your eyes at his amused expression.

“Describing me in place of your ‘ideal woman’? That’s boring. Go use it on my bitchy aunt, she’s got fillers in her ass so that’s more curves for you to ‘grab and squeeze’ when she throws herself on you after the Hennessey kicks in.”

Toji’s eyes widen slightly before a harsh laugh barks from his mouth. It’s surprisingly nice on your ears and rattles the drums inside in a way that you don’t dislike. He pulls away from you, giving you a few more inches of space and the altitude in the air seems to level out enough for you to take an inconspicuous deep breath.

“Nah, nothing against fillers, but I’m more of a natural man myself,” he admits.

“Cellulite and stretch marks?” you ask with a lift of a brow, teasing but…mildly curious.

You watch as that smile slowly slides on his face, teeth glittering and eyebrows raising. He looks like he’s hit the jackpot.

“The whole package, princess.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile, you push down the lingering arousal in your stomach, refusing to let it simmer. He’s funny and you appreciate a man who loves the raw and often overlooked intricacies of a woman.

His response is disorienting, throwing you off balance, and you’re unsure of what to do next. Your usual response is to talk back, to take delight in a man fumbling when his own cards have been turned against him. But you can’t think of anything right now.

You move around him to place the bundt cake mold into the oven, setting a timer with the plastic buttons above the stove. Snatching the seltzer from the counter, you lean back against the oven, putting a considerable distance between the two of you to think.

Toji mimics your movements, retreating to the fridge to relax against it, folding his arms across his chest, and god he still takes up the room. Even though you’re further away, it still seems like you can smell the cologne as if it’s sitting right on the skin below your nose.

“Do your moves always work on women?” you ask before taking a good swig of your seltzer.

He shrugs in response and turns around to dig a beer from the fridge. You don’t bother to hold back the urge to leer at him. You want to grab his ass, listen to him squeal in surprise, and blush in embarrassment when you squeeze. The thought of digging your fingers into the skin of it as he fucks you nice and slow makes your mind short circuit, a computer rebooting and making a loud noise before frying out indefinitely.

“On the rare occasion that I happen to use them, yes they always work. But…obviously not on you.”

“I’m not easy to win over. You need to be worth my time.” Your eyes flicker up to his face before he turns around to face you.

He takes a swig of his beer and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow. The column of his throat is long and pale and you want to slide your tongue along the side to taste the saltiness of his skin.

“What’s it going to take?”

His interest in you is admirable, and a small part of you is giddy with the attention. But you’re nervous to give him an inch when most are quick to take a mile.

“I have a name so stop calling me princess. I’m not a royal, so unless you’re offering me land, money, or power, I don’t want to hear it.”

He barks out another laugh, his thick chest shaking and eyes closing as he throws his head back. You despise how good it sounds and you’re reminded of these moments when men seem so beautiful and wonderful before the ugliest parts of them are visible.

“What else?” he inquires, still chuckling as he takes another long sip.

“If you’re expecting sex from me, think again. I don’t do one-night stands or friends with benefits. It’s messy and I just don’t have the strength for it.”

He seems to consider your remark as if he has no choice but to weigh your stipulation before signing a contract. Then he smirks that devilish smirk that makes your cunt pulse between your thighs when you know damn well it shouldn’t. You cannot be this turned on by this man.

“Not even if I have a big dick?” he teases.

He’s annoying and you’re mildly disgusted but still willing to banter with him, so you grimace and roll your eyes. “What, you want me to take a look first before I make up my mind?”

He full-on grins, the fucker. “If that’s what it takes.”

But in true fashion, you bounce back with your own quip. “Public indecency is a crime and I also don’t like to look at cock until after I’ve eaten something. It’s nauseating.”

Laughter erupts from him once again, loud and boisterous that it seems to shake the oven against your back. He probably thinks you’re joking. But you’re not. Dick already looks alien. Looking at dick on purpose without any sense of arousal is pathological behavior.

Your heart flips in your chest when he pushes off the refrigerator again, taking a swig of his beer as he saunters to you and the sight is criminal. Your fingers dig just slightly into the metal can in your hands, a faint pop emanating from it.

“What are you bothering me for anyway,” you can’t help but ask, frustration coating your words as you frown more at yourself than at Toji. “I have so many other cousins here who are single and would love to get their hands on you.”

At first, he doesn’t respond, and in the silence, you struggle to take a full breath again. You don’t like that he’s so close to you, but you also love the way he smells and the way he looks at you as if you’re someone and not something to fucking eat. You’re a fucking mess.

His head tilts slightly, and his hair follows the movement, brushing against his cheeks as his eyes take you in instead of scrutinizing you.

The air feels thin again, and you ready yourself to leave when your pregnant aunt suddenly barges back into the kitchen and stops short at the scene. Toji takes a slow step back, not really bothering to fumble at being so close to you. You’re sure he doesn’t really care.

She’s your favorite for a reason because she understands. She’s not dismissive and mean and she simply smiles knowingly at you both before gesturing with her head towards the backdoor.

“Time to eat. Honey, why don’t you show Toji what’s what before your uncles steal everything.”

***

He stays close to you when you both make it outside, and you do your best to ignore your bitchy aunt’s gaze from her perch in one of the patio chairs. The spread of food makes your mouth water and you waste no time grabbing a plate for yourself and absentmindedly handing Toji one as well.

“I’ve never had some of this before,” he admits, and his voice is a little apprehensive from next to you as he takes everything in. It makes sense, this is probably his first cookout…his first black cookout at least. Strangely, you’re proud to be the one to guide him along.

“What is this?” he asks, pointing to the heavy helping of greens and ham hocks on his plate minutes later. You’re both at a small table alone and away from the noise.

“Collard greens…it’s a cabbage that’s cooked in a pot for a few hours with spices and broth. The ham hocks give it flavor, cook it before you add the greens so the meat falls off the bone better.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing as Toji gives them a wayward glance, an arch of a thin brow that makes his features more handsome than they should be, and then he takes a tentative bite before moaning sinfully in appreciation. The vertebrae of your spine lock in place, stiff with a sudden chill at the noise as you picture it slipping from his lips while you ride him until the hinges fall off.

You take your own bite to stop anything stupid from coming out of your mouth.

You figure he has to eat to accommodate for his size but to see it in action is something else entirely. He finishes two plates in fifteen minutes and as he makes his way to get another serving, your bitch of an aunt speaks up from across the lawn.

“Why don’t you get up and get him another plate?”

Why don’t you shut the fuck up?

You grip the plastic fork in your hand tightly, digging into your diminishing potato salad and swallowing the vile that you want to throw her way.

Make your man a plate before you make yours, get him a drink, get him another helping so he doesn’t have to, keep him fed.

Maybe this is why you’re single. You want to scream. You want—

“Don’t listen to her. You’re still eating, don’t move,” he levels, and you don’t miss the hint of irritation in his own voice as he gets up. “The same seltzer as before?” he asks, pointing to your drink that you didn’t realize was empty.

“I—”, you fumble before clearing your throat. “I like the strawberry one…if there’s any left.”

He shoots a wink your way and your body ignites with heat.

Your cousin worms her way over when Toji disappears, and you try your best to ignore the sly look on her face.

“Defending your honor from our bitchy aunt? My, my, the perfect recipe for your feminist heart.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl, shoving the last of the potato salad in your mouth.

“He’s Shiu’s best friend. Moved here from Japan a few months ago and is living in the same city as you. It could be fate? You want his number?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap again, feeling exasperated but knowing that unless Shiu is here to stop her, she will talk until she’s tired or you’re swinging at her.

She giggles, undeterred and gearing up for more. “He’s single too. And you’ve got all our other cousins mad as hell because he won’t leave you alone.” You don’t reply, because you’re mildly intrigued and impressed with yourself. It’s nice to have the attention from someone so attractive; it’s just figuring out if he’s genuine that’s the headache. “When the music gets louder tonight…or when the fireworks go off, take him upstairs and fuck him on—”

“Didn’t I say—fuck you.”

She guffaws, loud and unabashed and it pulls a smile from the side of your mouth. You know she doesn’t mean it, you know that at gatherings like these, you’re the black sheep and she just wants you to enjoy yourself.

“Seriously though, cousin. Shiu doesn’t keep many around, but they’ve been friends since they were kids. That’s a good sign right?”

There’s some merit to it, but you still want to be careful.

And Toji Fushiguro makes it hard for you to be careful because he wants you around him all the time and is unashamed to show it.

Later in the night when the music is booming old school hip hop that your uncle won’t shut up about (he’s drunk), your other uncles—and a few cousins they will definitely con—have a table already bustling with spades. At first, you’re unsure how they convinced Toji to join, but he’s partnered with one of your cousins who has no clue about the game, and you realize they just want Toji to lose so they can feel good.

Feeling curious, you pretend to bring Toji a beer. He’s frowning down at the cards, irritated with his lips curled into a small scowl and your cousin is trying to act like he knows what to do, but his stupidity is palpable even from where you stand.

You offer him a beer and ignore the fact that the one on the table is still full. When he looks up at you, his sharp eyes hold you like a vice, frustration evaporating quickly before opportunity takes its place.

“Help me.” He doesn’t bother to hide the confusion in his voice and you can’t help the way your stomach flips.

One of your uncle’s snickers. “She doesn’t know how to play.” You do. “But she can try.”

You’re so annoyed, and you want to snap at him but Toji is pulling you closer to him with a muscular arm before you can. You’re in his lap before you know it, sitting precariously on a thick thigh with your back pressed against a broad chest and you can’t breathe again. The fluctuating altitudes are making you lightheaded.

Any other time and you wouldn’t hesitate to turn around and knock a man’s teeth in for grabbing you. But against your better judgment, you relax into Toji instead. His cheap cologne smells way too fucking good, he’s so big and warm against your body and your throat is drying up like you’ve taken a big breath in the middle of the Sahara.

“Don’t grab me like that,” you can’t help but grumble, only mildly put off.

“I improvised.” It’s a feeble excuse wrapped around a heavenly chuckle in your ear and you pray to whoever is listening, mentally offering up a sacrificial lamb, anything to ensure you don’t drip all over his thigh. “Now help me win.”

You do. Three times. He's adamant about winning and you're sure he has a gambling problem. And if your legs go a little numb from sitting on his thigh or if you lean into the way his outside hand slides to hold the curve of your waist, you don’t complain about it.

***

“You don’t dance?” Toji asks an hour later, joining you on the blanket that you occupied when you first arrived. It’s almost sunset, and the orange of the sky covers half of the backyard as your family revels in their merriment.

You shrug at Toji’s question, gazing at members of your family who are dancing in the yard. One of your loudest uncles is boasting about the music as he teaches one of your cousins dance steps. That used to be you so many years ago, and the moves are like muscle memory as you watch them. One of your aunts takes over the stereo, beginning what will surely be an hour of reminding everyone of the greatest hits.

You suddenly realize that it’s just you and Toji on the blanket. Your cousin and Shiu are off god knows where, and given her penchant for being a rebellious freak, she’s probably riding him on your uncle’s bed. The thought makes you shudder.

“Are you cold?” he probes, pulling you out of your thoughts.

It is cooler now, but that’s not why you were shivering. You’re ready to tell him no, to start shaking your head even as you watch him pull his own jacket off to place it over your shoulders. His hands smooth over your shoulders and down your arms as if securing it closer to your skin and your blood boils beneath your cheeks. Your skin isn’t light enough to show when you’re blushing, but you’re burning with nervousness.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you hiss instinctively, regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. The surprise is evident on his face and you immediately feel guilty. “I’m—I’ll only be mean to you in return.”

For the first time of the night, he looks angry. His eyebrows dip, the scar on his cheek twists with the harsh frown on his lips and he gives a severe ‘tch’ that makes you gape at him. “Why because you’re mean to men?” he snaps, impatient and free of any tease.

It raises your hackles instantly, and you’re talking back before you know it. “Exactly. So why don’t you take a hint and stop trying to get into my pants—”

You feel a rough finger on the side of your cheek turn you further towards him, preventing you from looking at anything else.

“You just don’t like bullshit. Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

For once, you don’t have anything to say even though your hand is twitching with the urge to slap the words from his mouth. You want to. It’s easy for you to fight back and push them away, you’re good at it. But you can’t fight the way his gaze seems to calm you down against your better judgment.

You pull your face from his hold and roll your shoulders, sliding out of his sharp gaze and turning back to your lively family. One of your cousins is arguing about why the Cowboys didn’t make it into the playoffs, and now everyone has something to say.

You pull in a deep breath, scolding yourself to relax just a little. He hasn’t been so bad, and you’re not one to make things intentionally difficult if a man is honestly trying. You’re still apprehensive about his intentions…but he is trying without being a beast. So you exhale your frustrations into the July air, calm down so your heart can steady its frantic pounding from the lingering scent of his cologne, and dig your fingers into your uncle’s well-kept grass.

“Fine. If I let you be nice to me…what would be the next thing you would say?”

You can’t look at him, but you feel his eyes on your body as you pluck a few blades of grass from the soil. The strands slide against the pads of your fingertips, rough and threatening to cut, before fluttering in the breeze when you release them.

He’s grabbing you again, tenderly but possessively, sliding you into his embrace so your back is to his muscular chest, his chin rests on the side of your temple and his arms wrap around your waist. Your heart is back to leaping in your chest, pumping loud and fast in your ears, drowning out the music and arguing as if you’re underwater.

“How about you tell me about your family?” he suggests, voice unmuffled through the thickness of your hearing.

It’s a random ask, as if he wants to impress them, as if you’ve been dating for a long period of time and he wants to be prepared to meet them for the first time. The thought doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth, even though you know it would never be a reality anyway. You don’t know if he’s just joking and frankly, the feel of him against you is warmer than his jacket on your shoulders and you don’t want to leave.

So, if it means he can stay put, you give in. You tell him about your aunts, uncles, and cousins—where they are from and what they do. You share your traditions when you all get together and the small intricacies you all share. It’s incredibly personal…maybe even too intimate. But he listens, and hums to let you know he’s paying attention, and asks you questions as you talk.

Eventually, his cheek rests on the crown of your head against your braids and you surprisingly don’t mind at all. When you notice his arms wrapped around you, you get a better view of the scars on his arms and fingers, and there is a rising urge to ask how he got each one.

“So she’s been married twice?” his voice is low in your ear so you can only hear him in the noisy backyard. His breath smells faintly of the beer he finished an hour ago, and it slides along the skin of your neck hot and thick. You resist the urge to cant your neck to the side to give his breath more room to roam.

You nod. “She got the fillers after the first husband. Those brought in the second husband. Then he left her for some girl in Cali.”

“Cali?’ he questions, confused.

You snort softly. “California.” You elbow him and the bone slides against hard muscle. Dammit. “You don’t know your states?”

“I’m foreign, not stupid.” The laugh that bubbles from your chest is sharp and you can’t help the smile that pulls against your cheeks from it. “I know my states!” He sounds truly annoyed and for some reason that makes you laugh harder. “Florida, Kansas—”

“I’m not asking you to prove yourself!” you sputter around a giggle, shaking in his embrace. But he’s not listening.

“Montana, New York…there’s another one…the big one.”

You gawk, turning just a little to crane your head up at him. He looks down at you with an embarrassed expression, his cheeks a little rosy even though his lips are flickering with the urge to laugh.

“I beg your finest pardon…the big one?”

The side of his face twists in the nastiest way, and he’s angry at being questioned. “Don’t—it’s the one down below!”

“In relation to what?”

His eyes narrow, emerald barely noticeable between thick lashes. You can sense his hold on you tightening slightly, his chest stutters in a huff and you realize with rising glee that he’s pouting. Normally you would revel in this…but—

“Texas,” you find yourself speaking up at him, voice soft and gentle on the edges. “The big one down below is Texas.”

He simply hums, his chest vibrating against your back, but his gaze is smoldering, taking you in and dipping down to your lips before flickering back up your eyes. You’re too hot now, his jacket against your skin too suffocating, your heart beating too fast against your ribcage.

You hate just how rebellious you like to be. “What, you gonna kiss me?”

The challenge is fleeting across his features and he leans down so quickly that you don’t have time to react. Your stomach flips with irritation at the implication that he would take from you without asking, and suddenly, you no longer want him touching you.

“I wouldn’t take it without asking,” he whispers in the small space between you both as if reading your thoughts. The tips of his raven locks brush against your cheek, there’s a slight kink in your neck from how you are looking up at him, but he’s so close that you don’t care. One of his hands skims up from your waist, caressing the curve of your ribs, and his thumb teasingly runs along the underside of your clothed breast. His touch is reactive in you, and you angle your body further into his actions. His gaze remains locked on yours, absorbing your very being without doing a thing and you’re fighting to stay in control.

“So can I?” he asks, voice deep with temptation. “Kiss you?”

You swallow the bucket of drool that has somehow pooled in the back of your throat in seconds. The thumping of your heart no longer fills your ears, replaced now by a deafening ringing, spurred by your growing desire as you open your mouth to respond.

“I…depends…are you any good?”

He nonchalantly shrugs, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as his scarred lips twist into a smirk. He’s completely calm and you can tell if you told him no, he would leave it alone entirely. But he’s enjoying this, you can see it all over his face.

“Jury’s still out.”

You don’t trust yourself to say ‘yes’. Some part of you feels like if it comes out of your mouth, it will sound too desperate and you want to stay in control as much as you can. But, you could give yourself this. You’ve earned it. Just one kiss and then you could hide away until the fireworks and then use the noise as a cover to leave. After all, he’s hot. He’s been so nice and honest and the warning siren in your mind has long faded.

You deserve a reward.

So you nod, stiffly but enough for him to notice, and the air seems to thin out again when he leans in a little more.

“Toji!” one of your uncles calls out, severing through the heavy cloud of lust between you both like a knife. You recoil from his touch, his touch now only making you itchy, and you pull from his embrace so that his arms unravel and his jacket slides off your shoulders. The cooler air is freezing this time against your skin. “Come help me with the fireworks, would you?”

You don’t pay attention to his response, because you’re already up on your feet and making your way inside the house. Your body floods with the embarrassment and shame of being caught by your family…kissing a man that you’ve just met. You know you shouldn’t care…but it’s so easy for their behavior to rub off on you when you feel vulnerable.

***

Thankfully, no one is in the kitchen when you finally make it inside. The music dulls down when you close the backyard door and the ringing in your ears is now silent.

You resolve to stay inside until the fireworks go off. No one is really paying attention to you anyway—most of them are drunk, others too absorbed in the music and gossip so it’s a perfect chance for you to duck away and show your face again next year.

Should you tell Toji goodbye?

No.

No, you hardly know the man. Just a few hours in good company and a kiss that almost happened that you probably would have let escalate. You probably would have let his tongue slide into your mouth. Probably would have let him pull you into one of the spare rooms, eat you out until you’re seeing stars, and then bend you over the edge of the bed to fuck you until he—

For fuck’s sake.

You yank open one of the kitchen cabinets in search of a glass. You need water because your body is piping hot. There’s a sheen of sweat on your neck beneath the layer of braids that fell when Toji laid his cheek on your head, and your hands are slick as they press into the counter to give you strength to peek into one of the lower shelves. Of course, the only one in the cabinet would be on the highest shelf. Of course, you’re too fucking short.

You climb onto the counter, knees digging into the off-white surface as you lift yourself up and peer into one of the higher shelves. You spot a glass, and you can have a heaping glass to cool yourself off enough to get you home. And then you can just use your vibrator once and go to sleep. Or twice. Or maybe a third time to get the thought of him out of your mind for the foreseeable future.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s standing behind you. You didn’t even hear the back door open and close. But you catch a glimpse of a long, muscular arm reaching past your ear to grab the glass. You’re frozen, your fingers digging into the wooden shelf, unable to turn around and face him, even though you can feel his gaze hot on your skin.

Your plan is shattered, and you have no choice but to come up with an excuse to leave him. You’re combing through scenarios in your mind as you slowly slide down and perch yourself on the countertop, finally facing him. He places the glass on the counter, away from you, and closes the distance between you until the ridges of his clothed abs brush against your knees. His hands are searing against your skin as they rest on your knees and you watch his thumbs trace an obscure pattern with a touch that is featherlight.

“Your uncle interrupted us,” Toji finally speaks, his voice carrying a hint of hopefulness despite his attempt to maintain a neutral expression. His gaze, so harsh and sharp, is alluring in its own way, tempting you to relax the steady clench of your thighs.

“It probably wasn’t a good idea anyway,” you chuckle, self-deprecation rising to the surface of your skin and prickling against the pores.

“Why not?”

Maybe because you would be too much for him and scare him away? Maybe the fear of being too demanding in bed, of not being able to stop once he kisses you, lingers in your thoughts, making the idea of having him only once and never again infuriating.

“I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. I’ll get you water and let you sneak away when the fireworks go off because I know you want to…even though you shouldn’t give a fuck about what your family thinks…but I would really like that kiss.”

Analyzing his features, you take in the sincerity reflected in the moss-green of his eyes. It’s a last-ditch effort to make sure something else isn’t hiding there, and you find yourself coming up short.

Slowly, you part your legs for him to stand between. His hands slide up your thighs tantalizingly slow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before pushing the fabric of your red sundress up to your waist. You try to ignore the way the cool air on your panties does little to quell the heat radiating from them. His hands wrap around your waist and a gasp heaves from your lips when he yanks you to him, your thighs brushing the sides of his thick waist.

One of the hands on your waist trails up to the side of your neck, gently tilting your head up, so you can look fully at him as his thumb traces the skin of your bottom lip.

“You better make it good,” you challenge, hoping your faux annoyance can mask the anticipation building in your gut.

He sees right through it and simply hums before he leans down to finally seal his lips against yours. He’s a big man, an overwhelming man, and you feel it in his kiss as his lips take every ounce of breath you have in your lungs. He tastes like the pound yellow cake that everyone got to before you could and a hint of beer and it’s the perfect combination that you want more of.

His hands are under your dress, brushing beneath your thighs for traction and pulling you impossibly closer to the point where you feel your clothed center brush against the zipper of his jeans. You dig your hands into the fabric of his shirt, twisting and silently commanding for him to give you more. You open your mouth to coax him and his tongue is wet and insistent against yours.

You can feel your resolve dissipating in the air, fizzling against the heat that radiates from your body and your self-control is walking on a tightrope, precariously and seconds away from falling. And once it’s gone, you’ll be a woman unhinged.

He yanks you to him again as if its not enough, harder this time with a growl in the back of his throat that makes you gasp into his mouth, then rolls his hips against yours and behind his zipper you feel him hard and bulging and angry and oh—

You pull away with a harsh breath, gasping for air and biting back a moan that gurgles in your throat when his mouth works its way down the skin of your neck. Your skin is sensitive, and it buzzes with the touch of his lips and invokes a fervent need so deep within you that you’re losing awareness of where you are. You’re lightheaded, brain in the fucking stratosphere and you have to lay down, you have to—

He’s guiding you onto your back before you can do it yourself and the cool counter is a balm against the skin of your exposed shoulders and back. He looms over you from his place between your legs, big and muscular and reeking of hunger.

“Toji,” you try to speak into the air, stifling a whimper at the sight of him stretching out your leg to rest on his shoulder.

One of his large hands caresses the canvas of your calf before you watch his lips kiss your chocolate skin. His rough scar scratches against you in the most delightful way as his mouth kisses up your calf, bends your leg to get closer, and then resumes his touch on the inside of your thigh. His face should be melting with the amount of heat emitting from between your legs, but he must relish in the burn because the second his tongue slides thick and wet against your clothed cunt, you whimper pathetically into the air.

You have just enough common sense to break from the desire to be fucked thoroughly to whisper.

“Toji, we can’t,” you swallow against the dryness in your throat. “Someone could see.”

You can feel the impatience on his body in waves but he has to listen to you. If your family were to walk in here right now to see their niece or cousin being eaten out like a gourmet meal, the Earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit,” he hisses, pulling you into his arms and carrying you out of the kitchen. You don’t care enough to tell him where to go; you’re too hot, too wet in your panties, and your need is twisting at the base of your spine in the most irritating way, begging to be soothed.

You hear the beginnings of fireworks being popped off in the backyard and your family is loud, thankfully so loud as Toji locks the door to the bathroom and drops you unceremoniously onto the counter. Though the metal of the faucet digs into the small of your back and you fall into the mirror as you clamber to get yourself in order, you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s on you again, all teeth and lips and sinful tongue in your mouth with equally sinful hands digging impatiently into the sides of your panties.

“Take them off,” you demand, practically whining and in less than a second you can only get one leg out before he’s sinking to his knees, eyes wild and shoulders heaving with untamed breaths.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. So damn pretty,” he whispers in reverence, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and the compliment makes your cunt throb in anticipation.

You can’t be sure if he’s talking to you or himself. Before you can breathe to calm yourself, it’s catching in your throat, hitching against a moan as his tongue licks a long wet stripe up the slit of your dripping cunt. His tongue parts your folds as if it’s the sea, savoring your essence and then sucking your clit into his mouth like it’s the cherry on top and you love it, whine at the feel, eyes crossing and rolling into the back of your head at the exquisite feeling.

He pulls away for a moment, taking a deep breath as if to regain control, and kisses the inside of your thigh before sliding two fingers up your dripping center, collecting your slick before beginning to rub circles on your clit. He’s mesmerized, and you take a moment to marvel at just how little of his green eyes are visible to you, his pupils are dilated with hunger and focused on the way your cunt moves with his fingers.

“Your bitch of an ex ever eat you out?”

You really don’t want to think about him right now, and you also don’t like the thought of someone feeling like they need to prove themselves to you.

But there’s a big man between your thighs who wants to unwrap you like candy. So you shrug, panting softly as you speak, “Every now and then.”

Toji scoffs, eyes seeming to darken like a forest at night.

“Every now and then,” he parrots, voice incredulous as if he’s heard the most insane thing ever, like he can’t believe it.

He increases the pressure on your clit harshly, causing you to buck against him, yelping in satisfied shock when he flicks your sensitive bud hard with his tongue.

“I’ll make you feel good, princess. Don’t you worry.”

The nickname doesn’t have the effect as before. No, this time you moan in response, your guts churning with satisfaction at the prospect of being worshiped.

Slowly the two fingers on your clit slide into you, testing the waters, gauging if you’re okay, and your jaw slackens at the feel of the stretch. Fingering is an art, an act that requires patience and skill. You have to know the right pace, when to curl, how to know a woman’s body to determine what she wants. It’s glorious when it’s done right.

And god, does Toji do it right.

He’s thorough and fluid in his strokes, using the tempo of your moans to curl at just the right time and sucking and licking your clit like he’s ravenous and your head is falling back into the space between your shoulder blades, eyes wide with disbelief as you stare at the ceiling.

The fireworks are consistent outside, popping off every second and it’s loud enough that you have the courage to voice how Toji is making you feel.

“Every now and then,” he hisses again to himself, angry and curling his fingers a little harder. You jerk against him, whimpering like a fool when you feel his tongue flick your clit harder as a reward. “He’s so fucking stupid. You taste so good, it’s unbelievable.”

He’s curling more now, brushing against that spongy wall that zings heat to your belly. Your insides churn, a molten heat popping to splatter against the base of your spine, pleasure coaxing you to reach that precipice that will let you fall apart.

Vaguely you hear him whispering words into the skin of your thighs that you can’t decipher, the thrumming in your ears too loud to hear anything else beyond the fireworks outside, your escalating moans, and the obscene sounds of him slurping you up. The muscles in your thighs begin to tighten, your fingers are sweaty as they slide against the cool marble of the bathroom counter, and you dig your wedges into the muscles of his back, white panties dangling off one ankle. He’s so good, so thorough and your breath is hitching, choking on a moan.

“There you go princess, cum all over my fingers. Get me nice and messy.”

His deep words are accompanied by a sharp bend of his fingers and you’re cumming with a shout, rejoicing in the hot pleasure that puddles along your bones. It’s abrupt and overwhelming, pulling a sharp current down your body that makes your back arch until it bumps into the sink behind you. He’s groaning from his place between your legs, still pumping his fingers and licking your clit to collect as much of your slick as he can.

By the time you look down at him, you’re still catching your breath, your thighs tremble from the sudden chill injected into your muscles. You catch Toji just in time to watch him begin to slip his two dripping fingers into his mouth, but you snatch his wrist, riding off the high of your orgasm to slip his digits into your mouth instead. Thin rings of green widen in surprise and you savor the way his cheeks darken as you swirl your tongue around his digits.

“You’re unreal,” he gulps when you pop his fingers out of your mouth.

You shrug, not willing to show him just how powerful you feel, and wrap your legs around his waist, panties still caught on the buckle of one of your wedges.

“I’m letting you be nice to me, remember? So what’s next?”

With a harsh pull, he stumbles closer to you, his hands slamming against the marble counter on either side of your waist. His breath hitches as you hastily undo his belt, eyes widening as he takes in the way you leer up at him.

“You got me a drink, defended my honor from my bitchy aunt, asked me about my family, ate my pussy…you wanna fuck me now?”

“I—” he starts, caught off guard by your forwardness.

“You want to bend me over this counter, make me look in the mirror while I take your cock? Smack my ass and make me beg for you to fill me up?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Toji chokes on a nervous laugh, hissing when your fingers graze the sensitive skin above his belt.

“Is that a problem?”

The hair of his happy trail is faint and dark just like the hair on his head, and your touch makes his stomach bunch in sensation. He shakes his head in response and you want to laugh so bad at the sight of him struggling to swallow. You haven’t done anything to the man, but he’s sensitive to your touch, and that makes the blood in your veins sing.

“If you’re letting me have you, you can have it however you want.”

Arousal hums to life between your legs, and you can’t help but be turned on at how much he’s giving you. You want him now and while the prospect of being fucked over the counter was what you had hoped, if your family comes in and hears you taking it like a champ, you’ll never show your face again.

So when the door to your truck’s backseat closes, you’re climbing back on his lap, relaxing further into him with the knowledge that you can be as noisy as you want. Your uncle has a seven-month supply of fireworks and land in the middle of nowhere, Hennessey, and classics booming from his sound system… it’s going to be loud for a very long time.

You’re running on your own current of desire at this point, pawing at his shirt so he can finally yank it off his shoulders and you’re drooling. He’s glorious and you don’t hesitate to rub your hands down firm pectorals, between the abs on his torso, and along the musculature of his Adonis belt. He’s cut like a marble statue, something that takes a painstaking process to hammer and smooth over until the result is almost—

“Let me take you out,” he suddenly suggests, voice gravelly with want but insistent.

Huh?

You’re immediately puzzled, eyebrows dipping into a furrow as you try to decipher his words. His hair is wild, black strands splintering and bushy but still giving you a gateway to his eyes and you see that he’s completely serious.

“On…a date?” A lift of his thin eyebrow in reply and the reality of him actually showing interest flags dangerously against your desire to ride him into oblivion. “Just the dopamine talking, I’m sure,” you say, hoping to dismiss the idea. You hadn’t expected him to actually…want to take you out. You can’t think about that right now because your head is too thick with hunger to try and have a conversation.

He hums, low and dangerous, a hand brushing the skin above your clit and you’re reminded of just how wet you still are from his sloppy tongue minutes before.

“You’re the only one here that’s cum, princess. I’m being serious.”

“It’ll pass,” you reply immediately, licking into his mouth to shut him up.

Thankfully he doesn’t try to interject because you don’t have time to talk right now—you don’t want to. You don’t know Toji, not well enough. While tonight has been one of the most relaxed evenings you’ve spent with a man in a long time, you’re unsure if he genuinely wants you or if he’s merely carried away by the thrill of being with a woman.

He tried to come onto you the minute he laid eyes on you, tried to kiss you after a few hours, and pocketed your panties even though you pretended to be oblivious. You just don’t know. If you had a pretty girl in your lap, you would probably say the same things. Ask her on a date, make her feel wanted so she’s more giving when you slide her panties off.

It’ll pass.

And that’s what you tell yourself when you feel his large hands palm your ass beneath your sundress. You are teeth against him, nipping his tongue, biting the skin of his jaw, the meat of his neck, and the sharp groan that you pull from him in response makes you drip like a bitch in heat against his jeans.

“Take off your pants,” you whisper to him sharply, turning around and leaning over the center console to fish a condom from inside. You had discovered them months ago, and they should have been more than enough for you to dump your ex then.

“Shit,” you hear Toji hiss from behind you before your ass stings from his slap against it. You yelp, jumping from the contact and you hope he can see your cunt pulse from between your thighs in response. “Hurry up, baby.”

When you face him again, you freeze, eyes widening at the sight of his cock. As you take him in, he snatches the condom from your hand and unfurls it on his cock.

Surprisingly trimmed with dark hair, he’s thick—not enough to be painful—but enough to enjoy the stretch so you can ride him until he flatlines and enjoy the ache in your thighs in the morning. It’s perfect; pale with a red tip that leaks into the tip of the condom, a vein along the side that you can’t lick without tasting latex. It’s a shame.

He throws you that devilish smirk, eyes twinkling in pride before he taps his thigh and beckons you like the best ride at the carnival.

“Hop on, princess.”

Your fingers grip the hair at his nape when you feel him inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that you have to breathe through, and the feel of his hands affectionately stroking your back catches you off guard. You don’t hate it; in fact, you want to lean into it, but you don’t want to give him any ammunition for something you aren’t sure about. So you slide down to the hilt and listen to Toji curse sharply through the sudden heat of you before you start a steady rhythm that throws him off.

Within seconds, you increase your pace, riding him with an intensity that makes the air in your throat catch and drag along the sides. He’s got a satisfying curve to him that grazes those magical spots within you to make the grip on his nape tighten like a vice. Your head is foggy with an overpowering mist that makes your mouth loose and your inhibitions low.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, pulling you out of the delirium you were basking in to focus on him. His jaw is relaxed, hot air puffing from between an open mouth and onto the skin of your neck, a few strands of his hair stick to his forehead and the sides of his cheeks and there’s a slight furrow to his thin eyebrows as if he’s trying to concentrate.

You’re giddy with desire. “Let me guess,” you tease, lips brushing against his. “Am I tight?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, eyelids hooded and upper cheeks darkening with a blush that spreads down his neck.

“Am I nice and hot?”

“Yes, fuck yes, baby.”

It’s meant to tease, because every man that has ever slid inside of you in the past says the same shit, but to hear it from him brings a strange sense of satisfaction that you find yourself slanting your lips against his. He still tastes like the yellow cake that you never got, but the flavor is intertwined with the remnants of your essence that still lingers on his tongue that dances with yours.

You plant your knees harder into the seat on each side of him, use your muscles to bear down and give you more control, and then you roll your hips, guiding him in and out in a tantalizing dance that elicits groans from him and makes him roll his head back against the headrest.

“Let me take you out,” he gasps into the air and you refuse to answer him—you can’t. It’s harder now to believe his sincerity because he’s delirious with lust. “Answer me.”

You growl softly and yank your hands from his hair to push down the straps of your sundress. You’re not wearing a bra, and he cusses like he just stubbed his toe as he watches your breasts spill free.

“Stop talking,” you whisper and yank his head forward, beckoning him to you and he catches on quickly, licking and sucking a nipple before pulling it into his mouth. The sensation makes you shudder, a gentle pleasure that your cunt appreciates and you pick up your pace on him again. “Stop asking me. Just let me fuck you.”

He bites down in retaliation to pull a squeak from you and licks over the sting in a half-assed apology. When you look down, his gaze is illuminated by the streetlights, a harsh glare that showcases his annoyance with your deflection, but his eyes droop when you squeeze around him in response.

You’re stuffed full of him, stretching along the sides, punching the air out of your throat with each bounce on his cock and your legs begin to burn with the build-up of exertion. Your nipples are wet and sensitive against his taste buds as he teases each peak into his hot mouth and it helps to mix that pot of pleasure in your stomach to life again.

You can feel it, like a crescendo of waves crashing against a dock, but the waves are coming in quicker and more turbulent with every moan and cry that falls from your lips. You push him off of your chest, dig your fingers into his shoulders for more leverage so you can ride his cock like you have nothing left to lose.

His chest is blooming red, covered in a light sheen of sweat that dips between his pectorals and pools in his collarbones. Your bun of braids came loose when he was eating you out in the bathroom, and now some are heavy on your skin with sweat and plaster over your shoulders and between your sternum and you’re hot and sweaty and trying so hard to reign it in.

He doesn’t buck up into you and you’re unsure if it’s due to laziness or the fact that he simply wants to watch you while he brings himself closer to climax. You hope it’s the latter.

“Do you like this?” you pant into his mouth and nip his bottom lip. “You can tell me, you know. Be a good boy and tell me just how I’m making you feel.”

He groans and lands another smack to your ass that makes you gasp and arch further into him. It's the right amount of pain that makes your pussy pulse in response, the right amount of manhandling that can take you higher in a second.

“You’re a natural, princess. You ever ride him like this?”

You shake your head and he smacks your ass again, harder this time and digs his fingertips into the flesh to let the sting linger. It's so good, and you can't help the whine that you puff against his lips as he smirks up at you with a proud disposition.

“He couldn’t handle it. Probably why he cheated wasn’t it? You were too much for him. You know how you like it and he couldn’t deliver.”

You don’t answer him, but he’s right. He’s so right. He couldn’t stand it when you took control, hated when you asked him to do something that didn’t result in him being dominant, hated when he couldn’t even eat pussy without you having to ask.

The feel of his fingers on your clit makes you jump and you poke your fingers into his nape again and pick up your pace, panting and moaning like you’re running a marathon as the pleasure rocks inside of you like a pendulum.

“Oh god. Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whisper, stomach burning.

You’re fluttering around him—pulsing and clenching and gushing over the thickest cock you’ve ever had and it’s glorious, you’re in fucking heaven.

The streetlight shines faintly into your truck, painting half of Toji’s face. He’s beautiful; that same annoying flicker of desire that captivated you when his green eyes met yours hours ago glimmers thin and dilated.

There’s a ruggedness to him that exudes masculinity, but glimpses into the depths of his eyes reveal a tender vulnerability that makes you wonder how soft he could be if he allowed you to get close enough.

The thought makes your cunt tighten around him, your thighs tense and fill with lactic acid and his fingers on your clit are unceasing, rubbing in a precise rhythm that makes you hiccup on a moan of incredulity. The hand not occupied with your clit is reclined across the headrest behind him and it makes him look unbearably sexy.

“I’ve never had a woman ride me like this,” he whispers, and you smile into his mouth, your kiss messy as you swallow down his compliment. He yanks you away and breathes that same insufferable ask against your lips.

“Let me take you out.” He rubs your clit faster, using the way you tighten around him as a guide to your pleasure, and his hand leaves the headrest to dig into the meat of your ass. “One chance. One dinner. I’ll give you what you deserve, whatever you want, princess. I promise just—”

“Stop it,” you whine and fight the burning sensation in your eyes. You’re so close, so fucking close and the storm inside of you is out of control but he won’t stop fucking talking. Won’t stop being so damn nice even though his cock is rearranging your guts in the nastiest way. You grip his hair and pull him closer to you so there’s no space between you to breathe. “Stop talking. Stop asking. Make yourself useful and make me cum.”

Thankfully he does. He scowls up at you behind the curtain of his hair but pinches your clit and you squeal, rolling your hips, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. The windows have already fogged up, the truck rocks with your movements, and you are consumed with a blissful incoherence that forces you to surrender and let your walls crumble.

Your thighs burn, your dress clings to your sweaty body, and the stimulation on your clit becomes almost unbearable as you whine with the need to cum. He hisses loudly into the car, bares his teeth for a second, and then his eyes roll before he’s slack-jawed and panting into stuffy air, a current of groans beneath.

“That’s it, Toji,” you gasp, voice strained as you teeter on the brink of an orgasm that threatens to overwhelm you. “Be nice to me just like you said and give me everything like the good boy you are.”

The hand not on your clit slips against the sweat on your hips, and you lick up the side of his neck, savoring the salt taste of his perspiration on his smooth skin, just in time to hear him. It’s faint and low, practically a whisper but he chants--

‘Fuck yes, fuck yes. So fucking good. Ride me, sweetheart.’

It’s tilted in a whine, pathetically desperate, but the sound of him does the trick because the flick of his fingers on your clit makes the biggest wave of pleasure crash over you.

You don’t get the chance to tell him you’re cumming, you simply yank his head back from the sudden force, tilt your head up to the ceiling and cum with an exhausted and wrung out ‘fuck!’ that you’re sure your uncle’s neighbors will hear a mile down the road. You’re dumbfounded with pleasure, dizzy with it and your belly is hot and simmering as you gasp and whimper at just how good it feels.

He’s laying you back on the seat before you can catch your breath. You’re still coming down, still moaning to catch up but his large hands are under your knees and bending them towards your chest to chase his own orgasm. The edge of the seat digs into the crevice of your spine, and your hand flies out to smack against the back of the driver’s seat so you don’t fall but it slips with sweat, is hard to hold onto and you can hardly focus with everything that’s going on.

His mouth is on you, stealing your breath that you still can’t control, swallowing your moans as he fucks you with a ferocity that pulls your soul from your body. He pulls away with a deep moan and stares down at you with a look that makes you anxious—like he wants to see you again, like he wants to come to another cookout with your rowdy family if it means he can bother you some more—like he really likes you.

You know he’s going to try and say something that you may not be able to talk yourself out of, so you take the intense furrow in his eyebrows and the stuttering of his hips as a cue.

“You gonna cum?” you purr up at him, moaning weakly from the harsh thrusts that stroke you into overstimulation.

“Yes,” he answers without fail, eyes locked on yours. “Yes, I’m gonna cum. Fuck—”

Reaching up, you cup his cheek, unsure why but feeling an inexplicable need, and the words that fall from your lips help him across the finish line.

“Cum inside me, Toji. Take what you want and fill me up.”

His eyes widen before they roll closed and he’s slamming against you three times hard and rough before the deepest moan you’ve ever heard slips past his lips. He pants heavily stuttering tiny thrusts into you as he comes down, the tips of his hair drip a few drops of sweat onto your neck before he lowers himself to rest on top of you. He’s too big for the seat and his knee digs into the floor of the truck to maintain his balance. His hot breath washes over your neck, slowly calming down, and in your daze, you realize that you’re holding onto his shoulders.

The hard lines of Toji that you noted when you first saw him now feel gentle against you.

He rumbles your name into your neck and you’re cutting him off before the dopamine can speak for him.

“We should get back inside before someone finally notices that we’ve been gone.” He abruptly lifts to look down at you, annoyance etched on his devastatingly handsome face. He wants to argue, you can taste it, but your fear wins. “My bitchy aunt has been at me all night, the last thing I need is her snooping.”

He’s quiet still, the edge of his lips curling into a dissatisfied frown. It stretches his scar in a way that takes away from the beauty of his face. Makes him look more alien and you have to pull your gaze from him. But he doesn’t argue like you think he would. He doesn’t speak or try to talk back or voice how annoyed he is.

He slowly pulls out of you and you immediately miss the feeling, ties off the condom, and pulls you up tenderly from the seat. Your skin is sticky and the truck reeks of sex. The high has worn off and all that remains is the overwhelming unease that rises like bile in the back of your throat.

When you both are finally dressed and creeping out of the backseat, the cool air is a welcome feel to your overheated skin. It washes away your trepidation, if only for a moment. Toji looms over you, tall like a bear that you desperately want to sink your embrace back into, but he still doesn’t speak, and the crease of annoyance between his brows doesn’t leave. He should hold onto it. It will help him get over you.

“Do you mind getting my purse from inside the house? I don’t want to go back inside just yet and I need to check my phone.”

Impatience emanates from his every pore, yet you can sense his anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. But he still doesn’t fight and makes his way back inside without a word.

You lied.

Your purse is in the front seat of your car—you threw it up there when you both snuck into the vehicle in the first place, but his attention was too busy trying to feel you up than pay attention to the satchel hanging off your shoulder.

Once you see the front door close, you get into the front seat, start your car, and drive away without a second thought. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as the temptation to turn back tugs at you.

It may not be right to leave without saying goodbye, and lying to him has left a bitter taste in your mouth. Your family is too occupied with the fireworks and each other’s company to really notice your absence anyway, and you’re sure they’ll have no problem trying to distract Toji when he realizes that you’re gone.

The grip on the wheel doesn’t lessen, but you roll down the windows and let the evening July air wash away some of the sex that still lingers on the seats.

***

“So you did fuck him,” your cousin snickers over the speaker of your phone a week later.

It’s a Saturday night and you’re knee-deep in your wash day routine. It took you all day to take out your braids and the clear shower cap on your head traps the deep conditioner inside. You wipe away some of the excess near your ear.

You have Chinese waiting to be delivered, and you’re ready to finish your routine so you can go to bed. Your eyes are glued to your television playing some sort of nature documentary but your attention is elsewhere, specifically on trying to worm your way out of this conversation with your cousin. She’s called you every single day since the 4th and she’s done nothing but make you feel guilty about your abrupt departure.

As you expected, your family didn’t really notice your absence. But when Toji asked your cousin for your purse and then realized you had lied, he sulked in a lawn chair for the rest of the night before Shiu drove him home.

“Yes, I fucked him. So what?”

“Soooo do something about it. Fuck him again? He lives in the same city as you and is here indefinitely. Make a move—”

“It was a nice night, but he was already trying to flirt with me as soon as he saw me and I still entertained him and fucked him and—I shouldn’t have done that…I should have waited, maybe tested the waters more. He only tried to ask me out because he was horny as hell.”

She’s quiet on the other line, and you look up at the ceiling in exasperation because you can feel her annoying logic rev up before she fires away.

“So you’re just scared? Your ex cheated on you because he was a spineless pissy boy who slithered away because you didn’t take his shit. That’s not a reflection of you, at all. I know you like to have it all figured out before you make a decision, but not everything works out that way. Toji saw a fine ass black woman who talks her shit and he made a move. He’s a nice guy...a little rough around the edges, but truly…a nice guy. Someone for you.”

James Attenborough elegantly voices something about the cuttlefish on the screen while you try to contemplate what to say. She’s right. You hate that she’s right. It’s why you two are so close but still you retort in the best way you know how.

“Girl, fuck you.”

Her raucous laugh vibrates over the speaker in delight and you snort and roll your eyes when the doorbell cuts you off. The prospect of your Chinese food makes your mouth water and you’re rushing to the door.

Only it’s not your Chinese food at the doorstep, it’s Toji Fushiguro. Toji Fushiguro who is protected from the rain under the overhang of your apartment door with one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other clutching a container. The annoyed look that you last saw on his face is gone, replaced by a neutral and bored look that seems natural for him, even though his eyes don’t convey that specific emotion. Those green eyes are reminiscent of your uncle’s well-maintained lawn as they look down at you with a nervous glint.

“Toji,” you breathe in disbelief. “How did you get my address…”

Your cousin squawks on the other line and swallows a giggle. “I’m gonna go—”

“Your cousin finally gave it to me.,” he replies simply and gestures down to the phone in your tight grip. “I’ve been trying to get it since you fucking left.”

“Damn, thanks?!” she barks at him. “Lemme get out of here, I’m getting another call anyway. Bye!”

You’re going to kill her. Slowly. Painfully and maybe in front of Shiu to get a few tears out of him if you’re feeling particularly evil.

You know she’s right about Toji, but you can’t do this. You shouldn’t have fucked him in the first place and you should have thought of a backup plan on the off chance that your cousin was going to be annoying and nosy as hell.

You ignore his intense and heavy gaze, shifting in discomfort, scratch the back of your neck, and blanch in horror when your fingers brush the edge of your shower cap. You’re wearing a large t-shirt, your feet are bare and your head is covered in a shower cap with deep conditioner leaking from the sides; a stark contrast from the calm and collected woman who snapped at him all day a week ago. Mortification washes over you in a heavy wave, drowning your mantra of not giving a fuck about a man’s opinion, and you step back to grab the door.

“Listen…I’m waiting for food and then I have to get ready for work in the morning. So you need—”

“You have time to spare then,” he cuts off and walks past you. You round on him, indignant in your gaze.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! Get out, Toji!”

“You want me to leave? Hmm?” he asks, goading you like you don’t know if you’re sure.

You’re not sure, but—“Yes, goddammit! I shouldn’t have left but I don’t do this sort of thing! The moment you met me, you only wanted to get in my pants. And that makes you trying to ask me out while your cock is inside of me, a lot harder to believe!”

He firmly places the container in his hands on your kitchen counter, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and gives you a look that either makes you want to melt into him or slap it off his face.

“Listen—”

You’re on the defensive now, backed into a corner and ready to pull every card you have to just make him go away. “You here for a quick fuck then? Because you got me to let my guard down and because we had such a steamy time in the backseat of my truck, you thought, what? You could just show up and bend me over my couch?”

That flicker of irritation is back on his face and it crinkles the edges of his eyes, makes him look nasty and hostile.

“Fuck, will you stop—”

“Wanna have a little ‘situationship’ while you get acquainted with your new life here? Have me get nice and comfortable and as soon as I ask for something more, you’re jumping ship. Sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it?”

A sharp growl leaves his throat and he glares.

“Girl—” he starts and immediately stops, eyes wide as saucers at the venomous gaze that you shoot his way. There it is, a hint of a name to make you feel small and insignificant. It reminds you of your parents when you used to talk back and they slid the name to you in a warning to stop talking. You hate it and it stings that you have to hear it from him.

“Get out,” you bark, seething with a rage that brings a sting to your eyes.

He throws up his hands in frustration, looming like a bear from his place in your kitchen. “Will you just stop it!”

“I said—”

“Oh my fucking god—I like you!”

His admission catches you off guard, cutting through your anger, and you stare at him in astonishment. His face is red with embarrassment, eyes trained up at the ceiling as if asking the gods to give him patience. He takes a deep breath before meeting your gaze from across the kitchen.

“You don’t do this sort of thing?” he asks, gesturing between the two of you. You can’t find the words to respond, still too shocked, so you simply nod.

“What sort of thing is that? Flirting with you because you looked like the sexiest little thing in that backyard and I wanted your attention?” He’s annoyed, deep voice razor sharp as he speaks, but you don’t miss the step he takes closer to you.

“Me trying to make you feel better because your family is judgmental? Teaching me about the food you like because I’m not from here?”

He’s closer now and the air is thin again just like that night a week ago.

“Helping me win that little card game?” It’s spades, but you’re too lightheaded with how close he is to correct him. “Telling me about your family? What sort of thing is that? Hmm? Tell me.”

You don’t have a retort. You’re too stunned to speak even though you refuse to let the annoyed expression on your face vanish. You want to hold onto what little shreds of defiance you have left.

“You aren’t mean. You don’t tolerate bullshit, you don’t fuck around, and you put people in their place. You refuse to settle for less, and I already told you that’s what I like in a woman…And I like you.”

What do you even say? You never expected to see him again, and your mind is muddled as if you’re submerged in water. Your heart feels too big in your chest, your body too hot and sweaty and you’re nervous. He’s angry with his confession, almost annoyed and you’re beginning to realize that it is an emotion that’s second nature to him even if it’s not as intense as you think it is.

“Is that right?” you can’t help but test him, lifting a brow. You have to crane your neck just a little to look up at him.

He scoffs, the crease in his eyebrows smooths out and the scar on his lips twitches.

“Yea, that's fucking right. So…” he takes one more step closer and his body is brushing against yours. He smells mildly of toothpaste and bergamot from another brand of cheap cologne and the combination makes you weak in the knees. “Let me take you out.”

It’s the same demand that you’ve heard so many times now, but this time, it feels more serious, more meaningful with a hint of desperation. In the kitchen light, you can see just how silky his raven locks are and you grip your phone and the fabric of your t-shirt to resist the urge to run your hands through them.

“I’m listening,” you jest with a practiced air.

That wicked smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, scar adding a devilish flair to his features, and your stomach burns with the realization that he’s too cocky for his own good, and you’ve unfortunately grown to like it.

“Shiu has tickets for something here called…football? He’s taking your cousin and has two extra tickets. Come with me and show me how to win.”

You can’t help the snort that leaves your mouth and your stomach flips at the genuine confusion on his face. “We don’t participate in the game. We watch it. But it’s fun.”

“All the more reason for you to come with me.”

“I…”

It’s a compelling argument, all of it is. And you want to, you really want to give this a shot and just be vulnerable for once. Because Toji seems like the kind of man who would let you be just who you are and would never make you feel lesser than about it.

The feel of his large hands cupping your cheeks pulls you out of your thoughts, and he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are mesmerizing, like the color of pine trees right before the sun sets and you feel yourself weakening completely.

“One date, princess.”

The deep timbre of his voice does little to help you and it’s worse because it’s just how he fucking talks. You’re not a royal, and you don’t have land, lots of money, or power, but you can tolerate ‘princess’ if it’s coming from his mouth.

Just one date. You deserve it. You’ve earned the reward.

You wave away his hands from your face just so you can breathe a little easier. He chuckles but gives you your space, and makes his way to the door that you usher him towards.

“Fine. Make sure you bring cash because it’s easier at the concession stands. I want a pretzel…and a hot dog.”

He snickers as he pulls his hood over his head, obscuring most of his face except for the ethereal glow of his eyes. His teeth shine from his bright smile and you roll your eyes in response before watching him open your door.

“Toji?” you call, your voice softer…apprehensive.

He turns around to watch you shuffle to him, your feet and legs cold against the chill from the open door. You hand him your phone wordlessly and he takes the hint to insert his number. When he’s finished, you open your mouth to speak, lips shaping words that won’t come out—words you want to say. But you can’t. Not yet. Maybe one day.

For now, you throw him an annoyed eyebrow lift and grumble. “Parking is a real bitch, so pick me up early.”

You avert your gaze, frustrated at yourself for sounding so mean as usual. Because that’s just who you are. The bitter, mean—

A finger beneath your chin lifts your gaze to him and he kisses you full on the mouth, slow and reassuring, minty breath sliding into your mouth when he nips your bottom lip. The self-deprecating voice in your head finally quiets, smothered by a pillow held down by his scarred hands.

When he pulls away, that stupid smirk is on his face, but it’s not as teasing, and your heart does something weird in your chest that makes you swallow hard.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies finally to your demand.

You watch his eyes take in your form from head to toe before he kisses you quickly once more and ducks into the rain.

When you finally get your Chinese and place it on the counter to dig in, your eyes land on the container that was in Toji’s hands from earlier.

You peek inside, and your heart does that weird thing again in your chest when you see a heaping slice of the yellow cake that you never got to have a week ago.

Thanks for reading! You can find the sequel here!

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beansprean · 7 months

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Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

One day in January I thought, "wouldn't it be hilarious if there was an episode where the camera crew changes places with a crew filming a documentary on werewolves in california. and everyone is playing a werewolf counterpart version of their character?" And it all devolved from there. Ty to @vampireshmampire and @memosminifridge for riffing with me and coming up with hilarious ideas <3

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Title card, close up on a full moon glowing blue, surrounded by swirls of fog and bands of purple, blue, and green light. Overlaid is tht title "What We Do Under The Moon" in the What We Do In The Shadows font, letters dark blue with a brighter blue to purple gradient at the bottom, backlit in white.

2. Wide shot of the werewolf character played by Kayvan Novak doing a talking head. He is wearing medium wash jeans, a grey tee shirt over a millennial pink vest, a small gold medallion around his neck with a matching crescent moon earring, and has his long wavy hair half up in a messy bun. He is sitting on a light cream L-shaped couch adjacent to a glass patio door letting in the sunlight and below a wall hanging that says 'live, laugh, lick'. The lower third identifies him as "Navid - beta werewolf". Navid leans back casually against the cushions and props one elbow up on the back of the couch, leaning his head into that hand, and says, "If I am to establish myself as the Alpha of the pack over Lionel and Niki, I must find a mate. Someone strong, powerful, and...nearby. In the same house even, if possible." As he speaks, he glances meaningfully to his left, where the character played by Harvey Guillen is standing behind the couch, his back to Navid as he fusses with a vacuum. He is wearing square retro glasses, airpods in both ears, brown chinos, and a short sleeved green button up unbuttoned to the sternum with a dog silhouette pattern and sleeves rolled up his biceps. His beard is well-kept stubble and hair is buzzed short on the sides, curls pushed to the side in artful disarray and sun-bleached a lighter brown.

3a. Close up on Harvey's character as he walks down the hall away from Navid's talking head. In the background, Navid whips around to lean over the back of the couch with an expectant grin, howling, "Gerardo!! Eavesdropping again? Do you have anything to add to this topic?" Gerardo barely pays him mind, tossing his reply over his shoulder: "No, sir. Seems like a werewolf-only interview. I'm going to go vacuum the alpha den, they've been shedding." 3b. Waist-up of Gerardo standing with his arms crossed, doing a talking head. The lower third reads "Gerardo Cordero de Luna, werewolf familiar (familiar is crossed out) apprentice." Gerardo says haughtily, "I am not a familiar! Only witches and vampires pull that nonsense. I'm an apprentice, and I'm part of the pack." 3c. Repeat. Offscreen, one of the crew asks, "And what does a werewolf apprentice do?" Gerardo goes a bit red, embarrassed, and glares off to the side, hesitating to answer.

The following are all cropped close ups on a mottled orange and yellow background from a colored doodle dump. 4. Waist up of Gerardo and Navid as Navid begs, hands laced together, "Gerardo, won't you let me bite you?" Gerardo avoids his gaze with a nervous grin, flapping his hand dismissively, and replies, "Ehh...not yet! There's still plenty for me to learn about being a werewolf! I've only been apprenticed what, 3 years?" "Almost 15!" Navid shoots back.

5a. Knees up of Navid and Natasia Demetriou's werewolf character, Niki. She is wearing dark red gradient high waisted leggings, a dark red low cut bralette with crossed straps in front, a fluffy cropped brown fur coat, a gold medallion matching Navid's, and multiple golden piercings in her ears with two large oval discs dangling from the lobes. Her lipstick and square cut nails are dark red, and her long hair is permed in tight fluffy curls half up in twin buns. Navid grabs his left wrist with his right hand and thrusts it at Niki's face with an anxious expression, asking, "I smell like I love him, right??" Niki curls her lip and cringes away from him, hands up to swat his arm away as she spits back, "Ugh, yes!! You stink up the whole house with your pining! There's no way he can't smell it." 5b. Knees up of Gerardo sitting on a light cream couch, reading from a book titled "Care for the Lonely Werewolf" help up in his right hand. Navid is laying across the couch, sans vest and hair loose, with his head resting on Gerardo's left thigh. His right hand is trapped beneath him, fingers hooked at the back of Gerardo's knee, and his left rests on top beneath his cheek. Gerardo's left hand his idly petting his hair. Navid stares intently into the middle distance, thinking, 'Perhaps I should be less aloof with him...'

6a. Bust of Gerardo, who is holding up an iPad in his left hand with a drawing stylus poised in his right. Navid, large and hairy in werewolf form but still sporting his dangly earring and little hair bun, is hugging him from behind, clawed hands on his shoulders and wet nose nuzzling into the side of his face. Navid's eyes are closed and his mouth is hanging open, tongue lolling out happily. Gerardo looks up at him with a fond, if confused, smile. 6b. Knees up of Navid raising a triumphant fist with a grin and confidently declaring, "He is playing hard to get, but he underestimates how hard I am to get rid of!"

7a. Waist up of Matt Berry's werewolf character, Lionel, who looks much the same but is casual in a light cream linen shirt unbuttoned well below his sternum tucked into matching linen pants, his only accessory the gold medallion matching the others'. He is standing in front of a countertop hosting a box of Thin Mints and cringes away with a drawn-out whine as Gerardo pops into frame to spray him with water, scolding, "No, bad Lionel!" 7b. Waist up of Mark Proksch's character, who appears to just be Colin Robinson dressed like Indiana Jones, as he walks into frame with a rolling suitcase. He smiles and waves, shouting, "Howdy, guys!!" Lionel stands in the background, hands on hips with an easy smile, and says. "Oh, look, it's our landlord Arthur Simon Santiago who lives such an interesting life in New York City and uses this condo as a vacation home!"

8. Group shot, knees up, of Lionel, Niki, Gerardo, and Navid smiling for the camera. Lionel has one hand on his hip and the other around his wife's waist, leaning into her. Niki has one arm thrown around Lionel's shoulders, flashing a peace sign, and the other held up behind Navid's head to give him bunny ears. Gerardo is standing slightly in front of her, one hand clutching a pamphlet for Tisch School of the Arts and looking a bit uncomfortable as if he had been dragged into the photo last minute. Still, he offers the camera a hesitant smile and allows his left arm to be crushed to Navid's chest as the werewolf pulls him close with an arm around his shoulders. Navid leans his entire body into Gerardo with a huge grin, flashing a peace sign with his free hand.

9. Uncropped version of the entire doodle dump, repeating images 4 through 8. /end ID

#wwdits #wwdutm #werewolf au #nandermo #navardo #mlm #what we do under the moon #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described

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pholla-jm · 6 months

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Welcome Home

IMAGINE: WELCOME HOME ~ NANAMI X F!READER GENRE: ANGST/FLUFF cw: shibuya spoilers. mention of death. f!reader. uses of (y/n). she/her pronouns used. non-proof read. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When his eyes opened, he was a bit confused to find himself on the beach. He wondered how he got here. He doesn’t exactly remember his trip to the beach.

The last thing he remembered was Shibuya station… oh right…

Nanami sighs, a slight frown on his face as he looks down at his bare feet.

The sand felt warm against his feet and he couldn’t help but let his muscles relax. Let everything in his body relax for once. He wasn’t exerting himself, he wasn’t stressed, and he didn’t have a heavy pressure in his head.

The frown slowly started to ease on his face because he felt at peace, content at where he was now.

The waves from the ocean wash over his feet, the sand below him shifting. It was paradise.

Nanami turns his head, eyes catching a cottage that was a few meters away.

The cottage was a one story, pale yellow house with a patio up front. There was a white picket fence wrapped around the front with luscious green plants that decorated the area.

Some chairs with cushions littered the patio with lights hung above it.

No one was around, none that he could see. So he took it upon himself to enter the cottage.

The inside was clean, but still looked comfortable and lived in. With each step he took, the sound of his footsteps reverberated throughout the cottage.

If this was the afterlife, he could get used to this. When he steps into the main living area, his eyes widen seeing someone sitting in a single chair next to the window. Their legs were pulled up and leaning to the side with a book in their hands.

Upon hearing the footsteps, the person looked up and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“(y/n)?”

She smiles when she hears his voice, “Kento.” She closes her book, and sets it to the side. Her attention now fully on him. She was having mixed feelings on him being here. She thought it was too early for him to be here, but she couldn’t do anything to change the fact.

Tears started to well up in Nanami’s eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He didn’t think he would ever see her again after her accident.

Nanami didn’t say anything. Instead, he takes large strides towards her as she stands up.

Once she was within arms reach, he pulled her into his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around her, almost like he was afraid to let go of her.

In reality, he wanted to make up for all the lost time together. All the missed mornings together, all the missed date nights, all the petty arguments, all the secret exchange of love words. But now… now it seems like he has all the time in the world. And he wasn’t going to miss a single second of it.

Nanami pulls back a little, so he could get a better look at her face. She hasn’t aged since the accident, staying at the young age of twenty four. He still found her beautiful, even after all the years of not seeing her.

“Is this heaven?” He asks. “Now it is.” (y/n) replies.

Nanami grins at her words, leaning down to capture her lips with his own. Her lips were smooth against his. The kiss full of passion of love, the one that made (y/n) weak in her knees and her heart skip a beat.

(y/n) pulls back with a love struck look on her face. She raises her hand, the palm of her cheek stroking the side of his cheek.

“Welcome home, my love.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #oneshot #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #kento x reader #kento x y/n #kento x you #nanami angst #nanami fluff #jjk #jjk x you

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rahjasmine · 2 months

Text

Petrichor

Chapter 1 - Undergrowth

Summary: Elain has something most Fae don't; A beast form. After learning of her darker side, she begins using it to aid the Night Court's Spymaster in secret. But how long can secrets truly be kept?

Chapter 1 word count: 4,294

Ratings: Explicit. Mind the tags on AO3

Read it here on AO3

A snippet is available below the break.

Elain’s sharp hooves clattered against loose shale as she hurtled toward the glowing lights in the distance. Pieces of the flakey rock breaking free and tumbling down the mountain after her. Sage bushes scraped at her tawny fur as she crashed through them, desperate to make her deadline. Nearing the city edge, she slowed. Trotting along the line of fences that sectioned off the gardens belonging to the copious townhomes on the city’s outskirts. Breathing hard, she stopped at the fence-line that smelled like sweet, exotic jasmine, and leapt.

From a standing position Elain was able to clear the nearly six foot wooden fence that closed off the townhome’s garden from the rest of the world. The perfectly maintained wooden slat fence was no issue for her, in this body.

She landed, pausing to shake from shoulders to tail. Sending dust and a concerning amount of pine needles from her pelt. She would need to wash before dinner. The thought of licking herself clean as the normal deer did, well…. that was not an option.

Careful to keep her steps quiet on the pathway, Elain kept her head low as the bushes yielded to open patio. The empty painted iron furniture gleaming in the moonlight. She scanned the space for any sign of movement. The townhouse lights were on. Casting a yellow glow through the thick windows.

A sound near the empty day bed caught her attention. Ear twitching in that direction, her graceful neck swiveled on reflex. Shadows hung heavy in the air, and with a slight shift in the very fabric of the world, Cerridwen appeared sprawled on her back. Her arms behind her head, legs crossed at the ankles. Clearly enjoying the new cushions, bought just this spring here in Velaris.

Without even looking away from whatever was so interesting in the sky above, Cerridwen teased, “Your nose is so shiny, like obsidian. I think it’s pretty cute like that, actually.”

Elain snorted, shifting back into her familiar fae body. The night air suddenly humid against her skin, despite the lightweight dress she wore. The wind shifted, and Elain shivered despite the warmth. Not used to the feeling of it on the bare skin of her chest and neck. Her fingers, the way the joints in her arms moved, it all felt strange as she put her hands on her hips.

“You were gone too long.” Cerridwen scolded, her voice tight.

#pro elriel #elriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic

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sophie-hatter-jenkins · 10 months

Text

Teddy

Written for @hinnymicrofic November 2023 - Prompt 9

Ginny sat on a plastic garden chair on the patio at the back of the cottage, nursing a glass of iced lemonade. She took a deep breath, and allowed the June sunshine to warm her skin, stretching her legs out in front of her and lifting her face to the sky. The whole summer seemed to stretch out in front of her - the season was done, the Harpies had finished a creditable fourth. Rest and relaxation beckoned, for a little while at least.

If she listened closely, she could just about hear the sea, gently lapping at the shore, just beyond the hedge at the end of the garden. High overhead, seagulls cawed and wheeled, and there was just the faintest tang of saltwater in the air. It was difficult to overstate just how much she loved this place. Oh, Grimmauld Place was fine, particularly since the renovations got completed, but Ginny had always been a country girl at heart, and there was just something very special about this stretch of the Welsh coast, as far west as you could go. It felt like being at the very edge of the world, a place of big skies and even bigger seas, beautiful in its isolation. That, she thought, was probably what Harry loved most about it.

No one bothered them here. Yes, of course, they had every ward and protection known to wizard kind, but barely anyone ever ventured out this way anyway, barring the occasional Muggle walking their dog along the beach. Otherwise, there was nothing here but peace and quiet - the perfect refuge from the constant noise, stress and pressure of each of their chosen professions.

Of course, the moment that particular thought crossed her mind, the peace and quiet was utterly shattered, by the shrieks of an over-excited five-year-old accompanied by his godfather, making their way back from the beach. Teddy’s hair was bright yellow, a sure sign of the heady mix of happiness and excitement that accompanied much of a weekend stay in Pembrokeshire.

“Can I go on the trampoline now, Harry?” he asked. “Please? I promise I won’t bounce too high! Just for a little while?”

“Okay, okay!” Harry held up his hands in mock surrender, although of course Ginny knew perfectly well his answer had never been in doubt. “Just until Granny comes to take you home.”

“Yay! Best day ever!” yelled Teddy, dashing towards the corner of the garden where Harry had installed the trampoline. “Come on with me Harry! Let’s bounce together!”

Ginny suppressed a laugh. When Harry had explained the Muggle concept of a garden trampoline to her, she had been incredulous, let alone when he insisted on buying one for Teddy. There was, after all, a wide selection of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products that would have produced a similar effect, but Harry had insisted. Eventually, after much prodding, he had confessed that he had always been jealous of the one that Dudley had at Privet Drive one summer, which Harry was, predictably, banned from using. Ginny had subsequently teased him repeatedly with the suggestion that the trampoline was as much for Harry himself as it was for Teddy.

Harry looked up at her, as he trailed after Teddy towards the trampoline. He waved, and gave her one of those crooked grins that still made her heart skip, no matter how many years had passed. Seeing her laughter, he shrugged, wordlessly telling her that yeah, okay. You got me.

Teddy was leaping higher and higher, giggling as Harry joined him, and used his own weight in counterbalance to catapult Teddy into the air. Teddy squealed with delight, though Harry’s own face was no less joyful. Even a perfect stranger would have been under no doubt that he adored the little boy

Just then, Teddy veered just a touch too close to the springs at the edge, and in a flash, Harry’s hand was at his back, gently guiding away before Teddy even really knew it had happened. There was no real danger given the number of cushioning charms that had been cast ‘just in case’, but watching them, Ginny felt a warmth spread through her chest, and a contented smile settled on her lips.

She remembered being more than a bit daunted at taking on caring for Teddy (albeit on an occasional and very much second-fiddle basis), in the aftermath of the battle. Back then, she was still mourning Fred, dealing with her own trauma and attempting to repair her relationship with Harry, even before adding an actual baby into the mix. It had been a lot. Now, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Seeing Harry with his godson, all the time, energy and patience that he had for the little boy, brought her so much joy that she wondered if her chest could burst with it.

Checking her watch, Ginny saw it was close to four o’clock; Andromeda would be arriving soon. Harry would be disappointed to have to say goodbye for Teddy, but Ginny was pretty sure she would be able to cheer him up.

She wondered exactly how she would phrase it, when the time came. She didn’t have long to decide - only until the green flames signalling Teddy’s departure died down in the fireplace, she reckoned. If she kept it to herself any longer, she was worried she might actually explode, and she decided just to trust that she would find the right words when she needed to.

She glanced back down the garden one more time, to see Andromeda at the gate, and Harry helping Teddy down from the trampoline. Without even realising it, Ginny’s hand moved gently to settle on her stomach, and the smile became a grin as one thought swirled into her head with absolute certainty.

He’s going to make a brilliant dad.

#hinny #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #harry potter #hinny microfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

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chickensarentcheap · 7 months

Text

Lost and Found- Chapter 28

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. You do NOT have to read the series to understand this fic)

Warnings: slight profanity

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @thebejeweledwatercat @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @munstysmind @themaradwrites @kmc1989 @karimac @asirensrage @residentdormouse @fanficanatic-tw @ninjasawakenedmystar @arrthurpendragon @occommunity @ocappreciationtag @theesirenteller @alisbackalleybbq

Link to Ao3:

My tag list is OPEN. Just ask if you'd like to be added :D

****

On day six, she forces herself out of bed. Tired of staring at the same four walls and depression and frustration setting in; feeling isolated and lonely, jealous as she listens to life as it continues around her. She misses the constant interaction and stimulation; saddened by the lack of colour, the smell of fresh air, the absence of conversation, and even the briefest and most innocent of physical contact.

The absence of tubes and wires makes it easier to slip out from under the confines of the crisp, warm sheets. The pain is dull yet manageable; centred in the ribs, sternum, and the middle of her back as she carefully sits up and gingerly swings her legs over the side of the mattress. The effort leaving her winded, but not defeated; her eyes closed as she slowly and deeply breathes through the tightness and the discomfort in her chest. Waiting until it passes before she stands; her knees initially buckling and her legs feeling impossibly weak, the room briefly spinning around her as her both body and brain try to centre and strengthen themselves. And she’s unsure of how much time passes before she makes those first movements; shuffling her way across the room and gaining confidence with each successful step. Spurred on when she finds it easier than expected to slip out of her nightgown and into fresh clothing; a simple pair of terry cloth shorts and a t-shirt pulled out of Tyler’s duffle bag.

The journey out of the room and down the hall and stairs is slow and tedious; her legs and her determination driven by a mixture of stubbornness and sheer spite. She has survived much worse; the many beatings that Mark had bestowed upon her, the times he’d put her in the hospital, the two stints in the ICU. If he couldn’t break and defeat her, she surely wasn’t giving Alessio and his family the pleasure of knowing they succeeded. And although she is forced to take several small breaks along the way and has to resort to leaning against stair railings and walls, she enjoys the feel of the smooth, cold marble under her bare feet.

The conversations on the outside patio become clearer with each small step. Yaz with his cool, calm tone laced with humour and sarcasm, Tyler’s much lower and resonating deep within his chest, each syllable dripping with his Australian accent. And Millie with that tiny yet always confident and sometimes commanding voice; high-pitched with excitement, her words occasionally making way for that infectious giggle.

Esme can imagine that sweet face; sunkissed cheeks and nose, vibrant blue eyes, a smile that spreads from ear to ear. A fierce, free-spirited little girl who routinely throws caution to the wind and lives her life one mud puddle to jump in or towering tree to climb at a time. Fearless and resilient in ways no one that young should ever be; witnessing things that someone so innocent and precious should never have to endure. Yet somehow, she hangs on to breathtaking levels of vibrance and exuberance and a love for the world and everyone and everything in it.

The patio is enormous. A central courtyard surrounded by the villa’s stucco and brick walls and countless picture windows. The flooring intricately laid mosaic tiles; a mixture of turquoise, vibrant yellow, royal blue, and smoky grey. An inground pool with outer edges lined by over a dozen loungers and chairs; simple wooden frames with crisp, white, navy blue, and gray striped cushions. An outdoor kitchen rivalling the gourmet one that resides inside the house; stone pizza ovens, wood burning stoves, top-of-the-line smart fridges, and a fully stocked bar.

The elegance is teamed with a section dedicated solely to Millie; an expansive wooden play structure with a spiral slide, saucer swings, a rope and rock climb, a teeter-totter and a sandbox. And a water table, a child-size three-story dollhouse -that had been handmade especially for her-, and a ‘battleground’ for her GI Joes. Doll-sized mud piles and trenches and caverns for them to hide in.

“Look! Look! Look!” Millie squeals from her spot at the dining table; the top covered end to end in various Lego pieces. Kneeling on her chair, she holds aloft a separate baggy of building bricks; her long, slender frame clad in a purple bathing suit, its front adorned by a lone brilliant pink flamingo. Both arms covered in multicoloured beaded bracelets. “Where do you think these go?”

“Open it up,” Tyler suggests, as he stands across the table in only a pair of camo board shorts; his hair damp and sticking up in several different directions, eyes covered by a pair of aviator shades. The lack of a shirt gives a clear view of the now-healing bruises that mar his back and shoulders and crawl down the rear of both biceps. “We’ll figure it out.”

“You can’t do that.” Yaz heaves an exasperated sigh. “That’s not how it’s done. You need to plan. Figure out where you want to start first. You can’t just jump into it and hope for the best.”

Tyler frowns. “I think you’re taking this way too seriously. It’s Lego. For kids.”

“Lego isn’t just for kids. Adults invest a lot of money in this. A lot of time. A lot…”

“Adults that don’t have sex lives, you mean. Because if they had them, they wouldn’t be so caught up in this kind of thing.”

“Adults who enjoy their hobbies. Who are into the finer things in life. Who…”

“Finer things in life? They’re plastic bricks.”

“These aren’t just any old Lego sets. These are intricate pieces of art. Some of these kits cost into the thousands. People have whole rooms dedicated to the ones they’ve put together; replicas of the Eiffel Tower, the Roman Coliseum, the Titanic.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Millie declares. “I just want to build shit!”

Tyler nods in his daughter’s direction. “What she said.”

“It’s true. The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree. You’re both feral.”

“The best part is when you get to break the thing!” Millie enthuses. “That’s my favourite! When I get to bust it all up!”

Leaning sideways in his chair, Yaz playfully tugs at the little one’s hair. “What is wrong with you? You can’t just ‘bust it all up’”

“Why not? It’s mine to do whatever I want with. You were the one who told me to pick out a Lego set, remember? And you didn’t like the one I did pick! I wanted the Lego Friends set with the cupcake shop, but you said, ‘No Mills. That’s not good enough. ' You were the one who picked THIS one.”

“You said you liked this one.”

“I do! But I thought I was going to get to break the shit out of it after I built it! That’s the part I love the most. About Legos. I love wrecking stuff. Causing a mess.”

“You’re definitely your father’s daughter. Tell you what…” Scooping Millie out of her seat, he settles her on his lap. “...we’ll go back to the store and get you a whole bunch of those Lego Friends sets. And you can put them together and bust them up all you want. But this one? This one stays in one piece. And here at mine and Auntie Nik’s place. On display.”

“You’re going to put it in your room, aren’t you? I don’t know, Uncle Yazzie, if you should do that. I don’t know if girls like seeing that kind of thing.”

“Not like that’ll happen any time soon,” Tyler mutters. “He has to actually know girls to be able to bring one back to his room.”

Yaz scowls. “I heard that.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” Millie continues. “I don’t think it’s very appealing. If you’re a grown-up and have Lego in your room. It’s kinda geeky.”

“Girls like geeks.”

She tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Do they though?”

“I’ll have you know that plenty of girls like geeks. You don’t think you’d ever like a geek?”

“How should I know? I’m only four. I don’t like ANY boys. They’re all annoying. They piss me off. They do gross stuff thinking it makes them look cool. Like burping and farting and stuff like that.”

“Hey, don’t shit talk burping and farting. How do you think your dad landed your mom?”

“Oh God, I hope not! That’s not how it happened, is it? You really didn’t…”

“I promise, there was no farting or burping involved. Not on my part anyway.”

Millie crunches her nose up in disgust. “Ewwww.”

“There was no gross stuff, I swear. From me or your mum. Do you really think your mum burps and farts?”

“I KNOW she does. Everyone burps and farts. Even girls.”

“I bet you don’t.”

“Are you kidding? If I eat too much cauliflower, my farts can clear an entire room!”

“She’s telling the truth,” Yaz confirms. “And her favourite thing to do is sit on your lap, carpet bomb you, and then take off.”

“It makes Uncle Yazzie gag,” Millie proudly announces, then giggles into the palms of her hands. “And if I eat lots of popcorn…”

“She’s a cute little thing, but she’s also smelly. And a savage.”

“I get it from my momma. Not the stinky part, but the cute, little, and savage stuff. Although I’m definitely going to be taller than her one day- probably by the time I’m ten. I have really long legs! See!” Leaning back against Yaz’ chest, she stretches out both legs. “They’re super skinny, too! And I got really big feet! I already wear a kid-size two! And I’m only four!”

“You get your skinny ass legs and your big feet from your dad,” Yaz says, and playfully tickles her stomach. “And your big ass forehead.”

“I do NOT have a big forehead!”

“Are you kidding me? Look at the size of it!” He playfully taps a fingertip against her brow. “I could land a helicopter on that thing!”

“That’s mean, Uncle Yazzie! That’s not friends.”

“I say it with love. Lots and lots of love.”

As he watches his daughter and Yaz together, Tyler notices that the anger is beginning to fade; no longer hurt or incensed over the realization that while he’d been kept in the dark about his daughter’s existence, those he’d trusted and respected had been allowed to be part of her life. But now he’s able to see things from a different standpoint; how lucky Milie is to have so many people who love and adore her and would do anything to keep her safe and sound. Protecting both her and Esme FOR him; in expectation of him and Esme reuniting and being able to raise their little girl together.

It’s obvious just how loved Millie has been; happy and healthy and thriving and one hundred percent comfortable with the people that surround her. And she’s been a positive influence on all of their lives; a bright and bubbly and rambunctious little one bringing a sense of normalcy into the rather twisted and dark world they’re immersed in. Gun runners and soldiers for hire that trade in the danger and unpredictability for giggles and smiles, kisses and hugs. He’s witnessed sides to Nik and Yaz that he never has before; a softness and patience and a compassion that he’d never been privy to.

“You even got his ears,” Esme declares as she stands behind Tyler, pushes herself up on her tiptoes, and playfully tugs on his earlobes. “Cutest elf ears ever.”

“Momma!” Millie shrieks and hurriedly slides off Yaz’s lap; bare feet slapping against the patio stones as she races towards Esme. Heeding Tyler’s reminder to ‘be ‘gentle’ as she throws her arms around her mother’s thighs and buries her face in her stomach; her entire body trembling as she openly sobs. “Momma…”

Pushing through the pain that comes from simply embracing her daughter. Esme curls an arm around Millie’s long, slender body. A hand on the back of her head as she holds as tight as she possibly can; showering her little one’s temple and cheek with kisses. “My sweet girl. My sweet sweet girl. How I love you.”

“I missed you, mommy. I missed you so much.”

“How could you miss me?” Cradling Millie’s face in her palms, she uses her thumbs to clear tears off the four-year-old’s cheeks. “You see me all the time. We always hang out. Watch movies, do crafts, take naps. And you gave me a pedi yesterday.”

“It’s not the same. It’s different. I don’t like it. I like it when things are normal. When we do our normal things together.”

“Yeah, you’re a stickler for routine at times, aren’t you? Things will go back to normal soon. And in a few days, we’ll be out of here and on our way to Australia.”

“Home, right? Our forever home?”

“Our forever and ever home. And you’ll finally get to see kangaroos and koalas and…”

“And really big spiders and snakes! I really want to see those spiders! The ones that are the size of a dinner plate!”

“Well, I know I could go without ever seeing one of those. But if you’re looking forward to it…”

“And I get to school, right? And make friends?”

“As soon as it’s safe for you to go. We just have to wait for Auntie Nik to fix the problems back in New York City. She needs time to do that; to make sure no one is going to show up and try to do bad things to us.”

“I’m not worried. I don’t care if they come to our house. Daddy won’t let them hurt us. He’ll protect us! He’ll kill the bad guys! ALL of them!”

It’s the first time hearing Millie call him that, and emotion immediately grabs hold of her. Tightening her chest and throat and bringing tears to her eyes. “Your daddy loves us very, very, VERY much. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for us. And if anyone can keep us safe and fight off the bad guys, it’s him. I’ve seen it. With my own two eyes.”

“I’m not worried. Not one bit.”

“Good. Because there’s no reason to be. We’re safe now. No one can hurt us. Not with your dad around. Now…” She combs her fingers through Millie’s hair “...what have you been up to? Lots of swimming? Look at all the sun you got on her cheeks and your nose. And I love your new bathing suit. Did you pick that out all on your own?”

Millie nods enthusiastically. “I picked out a whole bunch! And lots of summer clothes. For when we go home. ‘Cause it’s always hot there! And I got a new Lego set. Uncle Yazzie bought it for me! I’ll show you!”

As she excitedly scurries off, Esme smiles up at Tyler, tucking herself into his side when one of his hands settle at the small of her back. “Daddy? When did THAT happen?”

“First night here. Just came out while I was putting her to bed. Mind you she was half asleep when she said it..”

“It still counts. Half asleep or not.”

“After that, it became a regular thing. She’s been saying it ever since.”

“It must feel good, huh? Hearing it.”

“Nearly brought me to my knees when she first did it. And I won’t lie; I still want to cry every time she says it.”

“It’s been a long time; since you heard someone call you that.”

Tyler nods. “It has. And after you left, I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance. To hear someone say it.”

“She’s wanted to meet her dad for so long. She was only three when she started asking about you; wanting to know where her dad was. WHO he was. All her little friends at daycare had daddies, so why didn’t she? She’s so smart, Tyler. So, so, so smart. So intuitive. So…you.”

“I don’t know about that, Me. I see a lot of you in her. The more time I spend with her.”

“She’s got way more dad in her, trust me. She’s got your heart. She loves with everything she is and everything she has. Just like you. And it’s such a beautiful thing. How much she IS like you.”

“Must have been hard. Seeing that every day. While doing it all alone.”

“It was. But it was also amazing. Because I had that connection to you. We create this amazing little human being together. And I’m sorry it took me so long to bring her to you. I can’t make up for those years you lost. I can’t go back in time and change everything. And that’s something I’ll live with for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t want that. You holding onto that forever. You don’t need to. I forgive you, Esme. And I’m starting to accept it; you making the decisions that you did. I don’t want you carrying around that guilt forever. I know what it’s like; never letting something like that go. I speak from experience.”

“I never said a bad word about you. I may never have told her your name or what you looked like, but everything I DID tell her? It was all the truth. That you were a good man with a big heart. And that I loved you very much. That I still did and always would.”

“Even when I’m an enormous, insufferable pain in your ass?”

“Even then.”

Grinning, he moves his hand to the nape of her neck and pulls her into him, lips meeting her temple. “Speaking of being a pain in my ass, just what in the hell do you think you’re doing? Being out here?”

“I couldn’t stay in that room any longer. I was starting to go stir-crazy. I need some fresh air. And have you ever thought maybe I just miss you guys? That I just want to hang out with you and Millie?”

“Hey!” Yaz calls out, from where he returns to the painstaking task of building their Lego creation. “Am I invisible?”

“Alright…” Esme sighs; heavy and exaggerated. “I suppose I could hang out with you, too. If I have to.”

“You shouldn’t have come all the way out here by yourself. You should have texted me. I would have come and helped you.”

“I made it safe and sound. Mind you, I had to stop a dozen times along the way…”

He stares down at her pointedly.

“I’m fine,” Esme assures him. “I don’t feel nauseous or dizzy, and the pain is bearable. Way better than I expected to feel, actually. Now, I may need you to carry me when it’s time to head back…”

“I’ll just slip you in my pocket. Keep you safe and sound. Get you where you need to go.”

“Don’t start with that crap. Making fun of my height. Saying I’m pocket-sized. That’s rude.”

“I say it with love. And amazement. I’ve never seen a grown woman that never grew past the age of twelve.”

She scowls up at him.

“I’m going to call you that, you know. When we get married. Pocket wife.”

“You think so, do you?”

Running a hand over her hair, he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I KNOW so.”

“Look, momma!” Millie scurries over, carrying an empty box longer than she is tall. “Look! Uncle Yazzie got it for me! It’s the Imperial Destroyer! Isn’t it cool? Do you know what movie it’s from?”

“That is very cool! And I do know where it’s from; those movies were around when I was a little girl. When did you get into Star Wars?”

“We watched the movies. Three days in a row! Daddy, me, and Uncle Yazzie.”

Esme cocks her head to the side as she grins up at Tyler. “You watched Star Wars?”

“Just the original three. You know, the only ones that matter.”

“When did YOU become a Star Wars fan?”

“I’ve always been one.”

“How come I never…”

“Hey, everyone has a secret or two. That they’re allowed to keep.”

“Well, if they’re as tame as liking Star Wars, I can live with it. I might call you a geek from time to time…”

“A geek that can kick total ass!” Millie declares. “Do you want to help us, momma? Put it together? We need all the help we can get. There’s A LOT of pieces.”

“You know what, if you give me a little bit of time to rest, I’ll definitely lend a hand. But I really need to sit and catch my breath, okay?”

“Do you want me to get you a drink? And a snack?”

“You know what? That sounds awesome. But only if you get a drink and a snack for yourself, okay?”

“Yep!” Rushing off, the four year old returns the box to the ‘lego building area’ before hurrying towards the house. Calling for the cook as she slides open the patio door and disappears inside)

“I should probably go in there,” Tyler says. “Help her. If she can’t find Carmen, I don’t want her going all Swedish Chef and burning Nik’s house down.”

“First Star Wars, now the Swedish Chef? You’re a Muppets fan, too?”

“That was the second secret I had.”

“You are just blowing my mind today. I lived with you for a YEAR and never knew ANY of this stuff How?”

“Some things I wasn’t ready to tell you. Guess I was worried you’d think I was a dag.”

“Dag meaning…”

“A geek.”

“You are a man of many, many, MANY layers, Tyler Rake. What else are you hiding?”

“That was the last of it.”

“A true enigma,” she declares, turning her face up towards him when he leans down for a kiss.

“You need my help? Getting you over there and settled?”

“I’m not a complete invalid, you know. It’s not even five feet.”

“Still…” Hand on her hip, he guides her closer to the table and pulls out a chair; using his free hand to keep a firm, protective grip on her bicep as she carefully lowers herself into the seat.. “Here…” Reaching for the hoodie and beach towel slung over a nearby chair, he drapes the garment across her shoulders and spreads the towel over her lap. Giving an almost sheepish grin when she looks up at him, lips curled in amusement. “It’s kinda chilly out. Pretty good breeze coming in off the water.”

“Tyler…”

“Esme…”

“You need to chill a bit, okay? I’m alright.”

“You know what whole worrying thing that you do? Incessantly?”

She nods.

“Must be contagious. ‘Cause I’ve done nothing but.”

“He was insufferable,” Yaz chides. “Not like that’s anything new for him, but…”

“Hey!” She grabs a hold of his hand as he turns to leave; raising to her face and pressing a kiss to his palm. “I love you.”

Standing behind her chair, he cups her chin in his palm, gently tilting her head back to press a kiss to the bridge of her nose, then her mouth. His lips a hair's breadth from hers when he returns the sentiment. “I love YOU.”

*****

Grimacing in discomfort, Esme stretches out her legs and places her bare feet in the empty chair across from her. Watching Yaz as he continues to put the Lego set together; his lips pursed and his furrowed in concentration. After minutes of silence, she uses her thumb and forefinger to flick one of the plastic bricks in his direction.

“You been keeping yourself out of trouble, young man?”

Smirking, he picks up the brick and snaps into it place, then drops into his chair. “What kind of fun would that be?”

“How come you didn’t go to Manila with Nik? It’s been years since she’s done a job without you.”

“She didn’t need me.”

“I find THAT hard to believe. You’re a jack of all trades. And while I know she’s a total badass who can more than handle herself, I also know how protective you are of her. And that you’d never let her go on ANY job alone. So…”

“Can you keep a secret?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Did I not just get finished with keeping the mother of all secrets? For almost FIVE years?”

“Touche.”

“Nik didn’t go there for work, did she?”

Yaz shakes his head.

“She found herself a new boy toy?”

“Not exactly.”

“Girl toy? She’s finally discovering the best of both worlds?”

“Not a girl, either. Sorry to disappoint you. Your raging crush on my sister will have to just stay just that.”

“So not a girl, not a boy. What…?”

“It’s a guy. Just not a boy. A man. An OLDER man.”

“How much older?”

“Quite a bit.”

“Quite a bit as in ten years? Fifteen…”

Yaz raises both brows.

“Twenty?”

“A little higher.”

“Thirty?”

“Minus five from that.”

“That’s just…” Esme grimaces. “...ewwww.”

“How do you think I feel? That’s my sister.”

“I don’t like the direction my mind is taking this in. I can understand her wanting to try her hand at guys her age or a little bit older, but someone old enough to be her father? Just…no.”

“If it makes it any better, he is a decent guy. I’ve met him a handful of times; he’s one of our biggest clients.”

“Weapons?”

Yaz nods.

“He a merc or…?”

“Runs his own business. A very lucrative one.”

“Are we talking gross and wrinkled old man? Or are we talking like Paul Newman level of hot old man? Because if it’s not the latter…”

“I’ll give him Paul Newman level.”

“Good for her. ‘Cause I would have hit old man Paul Newman in a heartbeat. Well, at least she’s not slumming. Because that last guy? The boy toy…”

“He was a complete tool.”

“That’s putting it lightly. I mean, he didn’t even appreciate her. He had this total goddess fawning all over him; giving him a fancy place to live, spoiling the shit out of him, paying all his bills, putting expensive clothes on his back. And what did he do? Cheat. The ungrateful fuck. He was nothing when she met him, and I bet he’s back to being nothing now.”

“We both warned her. That he was a piece of shit. And while I wouldn’t say ‘I told you so’ to her face…”

“She’d smack the ever-loving shit out of you.”

“...I can at least say it to you. It hasn’t been easy not having you around, you know. I got used to having someone on my side. Sticking up for me. Helping me talk the she-beast down from time to time.”

“Believe me, in hindsight, being around here would have been a lot better than where I ended up.”

“You mean with Alessio? Or Winston?”

“I think it’s safe to say that ‘both’ is an acceptable answer.”

“Speaking of ‘I told you so’....”

“Remember, I’m not completely feeble now, Yaz. I happen to have just enough strength to slap you upside the head. So tread lightly.”

“I DID tell you so. When Nik brought that job to you. I told her -right in front of you- that I didn’t have a good feeling about it. That things weren’t going to end well. And I tried talking you out of it; getting you to back off before you even got started. More than once. But did you listen…”

“You know I’m stubborn.”

“To a fault.”

“For what it’s worth, I do appreciate that you wanted to keep me safe; that you tried your best to stop me from getting caught up in all of that. But I couldn’t turn that job down. I couldn’t say ‘no’ to your sister. After everything she’s done over the past five years…”

“You don’t owe her anything. And she certainly doesn’t expect something from you.”

“It was a lot to ask. A huge secret for BOTH of you to keep. And the way you’ve continued to help take care of us and make sure we’re safe and sound and how you love Millie the way you do…”

“We’re family. That’s my niece. I don’t do the things I do because I expect something in return. And neither does Nik. That isn’t why she asked you if you wanted that job; she wasn’t preying on your guilt or your regret. She wanted the BEST. That’s it. And when it comes to what you do? The things you know? The things you can get away with? The best is YOU.”

“I felt like I DID owe you. BOTH of you. If it wasn’t for you and Nik keeping all my secrets…”

“We helped because we wanted to. Because you were scared and you were alone and you didn’t know who else to turn to. And maybe things got way out of hand and lasted way longer than they should have…”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

“...but we don’t regret the decisions we made. And you don’t owe us a damn thing. So if that’s why you took that job…”

“I felt it was the least I could do. After everything that you guys do for us. All the things you STILL do. I…”

“Taking that job was a mistake. I told you it was. Before you even started it. That you had no business getting involved. Not with Millie in the picture.”

“I wouldn’t have taken it if I thought she’d get hurt. If I thought for a second she was in any danger…”

“Why wouldn’t you expect the worst? You knew who and what Alessio’s family were. The kind of things they were involved in. Those were the last people you should have gotten involved with. If you were alone, I wouldn’t have said a damn thing. I would have worried. But I wouldn’t have tried so hard to stop you. I just didn’t get it. Why you’d be so willing to drag Millie into this life.”

“Hasn’t she always been part of it? Right from conception? Hasn’t it always been in her blood? You do realize who her parents are, right? Who her father is?”

“But you stayed out of things. Or just helped from behind the scenes. She was never exposed to it. Not directly. Millie’s always been the one normal thing in all OUR lives. The only person that’s truly innocent in all of this. And we made sure to keep it that way; keep you and her safe and under the radar and…”

“I would never…EVER…do anything to hurt her. Or put her in danger. I had no idea things would go that bad. Not after months of everything going right. I…”

“The point is you never should have been involved in this person. There shouldn’t have been a chance for anything to go bad.”

Sighing heavily, she gnaws on the inside of her cheek, eyes in her lap as she considers his words.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you. Because I would never do that. Hurt you. And you know it.”

“I do. I DO know that.”

“Things could have been so much worse. And they were pretty fucking bad.”

“Oh, believe me, my body reminds me just how bad every day.”

“What if he hadn’t been able to get you out of there? What if Charon hadn’t helped out? If he’d taken Winston’s side?”

“But he didn’t.”

“He could have.”

“Isn’t playing the ‘what if’ game one of the major no-nos in this life? Isn’t it one of the things Nik preaches against? Doesn’t she always say that it only leads to trouble? Spending that much time inside your own head?”

“You can’t tell me you don’t think about it. How much worse things could have been.”

“I only think about it every day. Well, since I became lucid enough to form a coherent thought, anyway. I know how horrible things could have gone; had we not had the help that we did. But you know what? As bruised and busted up as I am, a lot of good things happened, too.”

Yaz stares at her pointedly,

“If things hadn’t gone wrong and I hadn’t gotten into trouble, I never would have had a reason to contact Tyler. It forced me to do the right thing. For both him and Millie. Because who knows how long I would have let it drag on. Before I finally did get up the guts to take her to him.”

“If it had gone on much longer, I would have told him. I would have taken one hell of an ass-kicking in the process, but…”

“Everything happens for a reason. I like to believe that, anyway. I had no choice BUT to call him. I knew he would do whatever it took to get Millie out of there. And to keep her safe. At that point, I didn’t care about me. All that mattered was her.”

“There was no way he was ever going to leave you behind. If he didn’t walk out the door when he realized you were the client, he sure as hell wasn’t going to sacrifice you. For anyone or anything.”

“If it was for her, I like to think he would.”

“Why would you even wish that on him? After everything he’s already gone through, why add that on top of it? The last five years haven’t exactly been kind to him, either. I know he puts on a good front…”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? Just how bad he got? You always let on that he was doing okay. That he was keeping himself busy; he was firefighting and running his little business and doing the odd job for Nik. Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? That he was a wreck? Why…?”

“I thought you would have just realized it. That you leaving destroyed him. I didn’t think you needed to be told.”

“I never meant to hurt him. I didn’t do it intentionally. Ruin his life. And I know I should have contacted him sooner. About Millie. Believe me, there are A LOT of things I wish I could go back and change.”

“Had you never left, he never would have ended up in Georgia. He wouldn’t have taken that job. Not even for his ex wife.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit. There’s no way he would have turned that job down. Even if I fought him tooth and nail about it. Mia knew exactly what she was doing; she knew that preying on his guilt and his regret would get him to do what she wanted.”

“She wanted the best. Just like you did.”

“She used him. She used his deepest and most painful secrets against him. To get what she wanted. And nothing I said would have made a difference. He would have taken that job regardless.”

“Millie would have been the difference. She was almost two. If you’d stuck around and the two of you went through it together? Having her? She would have made all the difference in the world. He wouldn’t have taken the chance. Of never getting home.”

“And then what would have happened? To the sister-in-law and the kids? If he hadn’t gone…”

“Mia would have had to find someone else.”

Esme sighs.

“There is no way he would have agreed to that job. Not if you were still in his life. And especially if Millie was. He wouldn’t have done that to her. To EITHER of you.”

“God, I really DID fuck up, didn’t I? In more ways than I ever realized.”

“There’s always a bigger picture.”

“If I’d stayed, the chances of us having Millie would have been slim to none. The High Table would have made sure of that. We wouldn’t have gotten through that. Had they come back and found us there and Tyler tried to put up a fight, they would have killed us. In the most gruesome ways possible. And he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to pay for something I did.”

“You don’t think he paid for them AFTER you left? That he didn’t pay for them for the last five years? I saw him at his worst. When he was barely hanging on. He spent an entire year looking for you. He turned down every job Nik offered him; he did nothing but travel the globe, trying to track you down. No matter how small the lead he was, he was going to check it out. And all that time, we knew where you were.”

“I never should have dragged you into it. I never…”

“We lied to him that entire time. We knew how you were doing, and where you were living. We knew about Millie. And we kept that from him. All that time.”

“Have you just been lying in wait for five years? To dump all of this on me? Just biding your time until I seemed ready to hear it?”

“Someone has to say it.”

“Oh trust me, Tyler hasn’t held back. He has said way more than you have. And not just once, either.”

“I’m not saying all of this to be an asshole. Or to hurt you. I know what you’ve been carrying around because of all this. I know it hasn’t been easy; not having him in the picture and raising Millie on your own. But I just feel for the guy, you know? He lost way more than you did. You at least HAD a part of him. You left him with NOTHING.”

“You don’t think I know all of this? That I haven’t been beating myself up since the day I left him? I don’t need you hating on me. I do enough of that for BOTH of us.”

“I’m not hating on you. I never could. I’m just saying things that need to be said. I feel bad for him, alright? Not just for you taking off and hiding out for the past five years. But for not even letting him know that you were okay. That’s the least I could have done.”

“I don’t know what it is you want from me. I’ve apologized. Over and over and over again. To you, to Nik, to Millie, to Tyler. I don’t know what more I can do. To get people to forgive me. Especially him.”

“Nik and I? We’re just as guilty for everything as you are. We could have stopped the bullshit. For his sake. But we didn’t And as far as Tyler goes? I don’t know, he doesn’t seem to be holding that big of a grudge. If he’s even holding one at all.”

“I hurt him. Badly. And not just once, either. The only person that’s ever loved me for ME. Who taught me that not all men hit and love isn’t supposed to hurt. And look what I did to him. How I repaid him. And if leaving wasn’t bad enough…”

“I think he might be further along in the ‘getting over it department’. He’s here, isn’t he? Stepping up to the plate. No matter how tired or how much he’s hurting. . He didn’t take off in New York; when he found out you were the client.”

“He very easily could have.”

“But he didn’t. He stuck around. Because it WAS you. Because he never got over you. He probably never would have. Not really. That guy held out hope for five years; that you’d just come walking back in as quickly as you walked out.”

“And I wanted to. Many, many, MANY times.”

“I know you were worried about rejection. That he’d turn you away. Not want anything to do with you or Millie. But there was never…EVER…a reason to worry about that. It wouldn’t have mattered what he was doing or who he was with, he would have dropped everything to be with you. It’s all he’s ever wanted. And then having a kid on top of that? That he didn’t know about? There’s no way he would ever turn all of that down.”

“He wanted to be a dad again. We used to talk about it every so often. I knew he was scared; he admitted he was worried about fucking things up. But he was willing to jump right into the deep end. No matter how terrified he was. He knew how much I wanted it; a chance to be a mom. And that I wanted that with HIM.”

“There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. Even face his worst fears. I know he’s not invincible. No one is. But you sure as hell make him feel that way.”

She smiles wistfully. “Sometimes I think I even SEE him that way. That there’s nothing he can’t do. No one he can’t protect me from. He was the first person who ever made me feel safe. Protected. I didn’t even know I NEEDED to feel those things.”

“So what happened? Five years ago. What made you run? What…?”

“He wasn’t a hundred percent. He was still healing. From Dhaka. And he wouldn’t have stood a chance against The High Table. NO ONE stands a chance against them.” She glances away as she attempts to fight back a flood of threatening tears. “ Tyler would have fought for me. Until his very last breath. And they would have done horrible, horrible things to him. In front of me. They would have made me watch. And I couldn’t let that happen, Yaz. I couldn’t let him sacrifice himself for me. He’d already done it once. In Dhaka. I didn’t want there to be a second time. Not for a mistake I made.”

“There were other ways. Nik and I would have helped. We would have found a place; for the two of you to hide out while we took care of things.”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally. I was terrified. That I’d lose him. Permanently. That they’d kill him. It would have been all my fault and I never would have been able to live with myself. The choice I made? I made it for him. Because I loved him. I wanted to keep him safe. And I didn’t know how else to do it.”

“He should have been given the chance. To help.”

“I couldn’t risk it. I just couldn’t. Everything I did that day, I did to protect him. I don’t regret the choice I made; sacrificing my happiness to make sure that he’d be okay. But believe me, I regret so many other things. So many other decisions I made. But I can’t take them back. I can never make it up to him. Not completely. I hurt the one person who made me feel human again. Who made me feel beautiful and wanted. Who made me realize I was worth something. To SOMEONE. And look what I did. Look how bad I hurt him. I can’t ever take that back.”

“That’s the unfortunate part of it. You can’t.”

“I don’t even know why he stuck around. When he found out I was the client. He had every reason to turn around and walk away. He didn’t know about Millie yet. Not at that point. Nothing was keeping him there. He didn’t know he was a dad.”

“YOU kept him there. That’s all he needed. It’s all he’s needed for five years. Did you honestly think he’d just turn around and walk away?”

“I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know how he’d react. It had been five years. It could have gone either way, I guess. He could have still been really pissed or he could have been completely over it. Over ME.”

“He never got over you. I don’t think he ever would have.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve HIM. Not after everything I’ve done. Yet here he is. Sticking around. Wanting a life with me. Why? After I hurt him so badly. Why would he still want that? Why would he still want ME?”

“He loves you. Simple as that. Does it need to be more than that? Isn’t that enough? He just LOVES you.”

“It’s enough. It’s more than enough, believe me. And it’s way more than I deserve.”

*****

Several minutes of silence pass before she speaks again; casting a glance over her shoulder, towards the house.

“How has he been? Since we got here??”

“He’s been hurtin’. Got himself pretty banged up in that accident. Wouldn’t let the doctor take a look at him, though.”

“Tyler not taking care of himself? Being stubborn as hell? Colour me surprised.”

“He’s been hanging in there though. Pushing himself through it. He’s been worried, though. About you. Can’t say I blame him. We’ve all been worried.”

“I don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces. But I know that every time I woke up, no matter how out of it I was, he was there. Ready, willing, and able to take care of me.”

“He didn’t leave your side much during the first few days. And didn’t trust many people with you. Not even the doctor and nurse were off his radar.”

“He’s always been a little…protective.”

“Just a bit.”

“What about Millie? I kind of threw them both to the wolves. Just dropped them right into the deep end without even a warning. Has she been alright? With him?”

“Are you kidding me? That kid is in her glory. They BOTH are. I mean, she’s finally got a dad. And not just any dad, HER dad. Her flesh and blood. And man, when I tell you she’s just like him…”

“Kinda scary, isn’t it? How much of him is in there? As if looking just like him isn’t enough, some of that personality just had to trickle down, too.”

“Some of it? There’s a lot of Tyler in her. And I’m still trying to figure out if that’s good or bad.”

“I like to think she got the best parts of both of us. Especially those parts of him that he doesn’t let everyone see. But, honestly, the mouth on her…”

“She’s definitely her father’s child.”

“Momma!” Millie’s bare feet slap against smooth stone as she races towards her, one of her plastic sand pails clasped tightly in both hands. Usually reserved for rock and seashell hunting on the beach, it now carries water and a selection of flowers. Vivid purple orchids, snow-white tulips, and brilliant orange roses. “Look it! Look what we got!”

“Oh my goodness…” Accepting the ‘gift’ from her daughter, she slides over in the chair, making room for the four-year-old to squeeze in beside her. Sheer pride and unbridled happiness glow in Millie’s eyes as she wraps both arms around her mom’s torso; beaming up at her as she rests her head on Esme’s chest. “...for me?”

“Just for you. Daddy helped me pick them.”

“All my favourites! They’re beautiful. I bet I can guess where you got these from. Auntie Nik’s front garden, right?”

Millie gives a sheepish smile, then giggles into her mother’s breast.

“I won’t tell her if you won’t. Thank you…” Wincing slightly as she leans forward to place the pail on the table, she takes Millie’s face in her hands; pressing kisses to her cheeks and lips. “....I love them. But not nearly as much as I love you.”

“I love you, mommy. I’m sorry I was mean. In New York City. That I said bad things to you. I was just upset.”

“I know you were. And you had every right to be. Your entire world was just turned right upside down, wasn’t it?”

Millie nods.

“But I love you. More than you could ever possibly know. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Well, other than your dad of course.”

“I’m going to ignore how casually you said that,” Tyler says ss he sets a tray of food and drinks on the table. “How big of a smart ass you sounded.”

“You love daddy.” Millie declares. “Don’tcha”

“I do. I love him very, very much. I always have. And now things are going exactly the way they should. I’m feeling better, in a few days we’ll be on our way to Australia and our new life.”

“And living in our new home. Our FOREVER home.”

“Exactly. And you’re going to love it there. I think it’s exactly where you’re meant to be. The perfect place for someone like you. All that sunshine and all that water and all those animals. Not to mention it’s in your blood; being an Aussie. Well, in HALF of it anyway.”

“And then I’ll get to go to school and meet new friends! And you and daddy will get married and have lots of babies!”

“Okay, slow your row. We’re not even home yet. And besides, I never said anything about LOTS.”

“Are you going to come, Uncle Yazzie?” Millie inquires as she tends to helping unload the various dishes from the tray. Carefully setting a mug of tea, a plate of cheese toast, and a bowl of fruit salad in front of her mom. “When mom and dad get married?”

“I hope I’m invited.”

“I get to wear a really pretty dress! Momma said I can pick it out! And I get to wear my Spiderman sandals too!”

“Because you’re not Millie if you didn’t.” Esme drops a kiss on the top of her head. “And you know what? We’ll even get you a brand-new pair. Just so you can wear them with your dress.”

“And then you and daddy will get married and start having babies and…”

“What is your obsession with me having babies?”

“I REALLY want to be a big sister. It’s just been me all this time! I want a brother or a sister. Mostly a sister. So we can do things together. We can play dolls and ride bikes and go to the beach and do each other’s hair and nails and…”

“You do realize that even IF I had a baby right away, you’d be five years older, right? By the time they’re old enough to do those things, you’re probably not going to want anything to do with them. They’ll be too young for you to want to hang out with.”

“I’ll still want to hang with them. They’re my sister. Sisters are supposed to do things together.”

“And what if you get a brother?”

“Well, I won’t be happy about it, but I’ll deal, I guess.”

“And probably beat on them. And torment them.”

“Maybe just a bit. Here, mom…” Sliding the plate of cheese toast over, she selects a piece. Blowing a steady stream of air onto it to cool it down, then holding it up to Esme’s lips.. “...eat.”

“I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, baby girl. I appreciate you wanting to help, but…”

“Daddy said that it’s up to us to take care of you. Until you’re all better. He said that we’re a team; we work together to keep an eye on you and help you out. And that’s what I’m doing.”

“Whether I like it or not, huh?”

“Exactly!”

“Geez…” Esme grins at Tyler as he drops into the chair beside her, playfully nudging him with her elbow before briefly laying her head on his shoulder. “...I wonder where she gets THAT from.”

She wakes to a storm raging outside the window; lightning splitting the sky as thunder rumbles, wind rattles the windows, and rain patters against the glass. Sighing loudly, she rolls from her side to her back; any discomfort kept at bay the medication taken shortly before she’d settled in for the night. Eyes squinting into the darkness, she finds herself greeted by the glow of Millie’s iPad as it rests on Tyler’s thigh as he sits beside her; headphones on, eyes riveted on the screen. So invested that he doesn’t react when she gingerly sits up and slides closer to him; not acknowledging her until she moves the headphone off his right ear and places a kiss on his temple, then his cheek. Nuzzling it with the tip of her nose.

“Hey.”

Removing the headset, he presses pause on the iPad and turns it screen down. Giving her that soft, loving smile that creases his eyes and fills out his cheeks. “Hey.”

Laying a hand on his stomach, she presses a series of kisses along the line of his jaw, then rests her head on his shoulder. “What are you doing up?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“I had a really weird dream.”

“Weird as in bad or…?”

“Weird as in weird. It was about The Kimberley. Being back in that old shack of yours. Millie was there too; she was just a tiny baby and she was wearing this cute little bubblegum pink onesie. You were carrying her around and telling her all about the koalas and kangaroos and big spiders. And all about the ocean; about swimming and surfing and how the shark spotters call people out of the water.”

“Gotta start ‘em young.”

“It would have been hard. Raising a kid there. In the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, that was never the plan. We would have already been in Broome. When she was born.”

“We should take her there. To the old place. Let her see how things were before she was even a twinkle in my eye. I highly doubt it’s liveable now, so we couldn’t stay there, but…”

“I still own it though. We could always fix it up. Add onto it. Make it a place we can just take off to. When we just need to get away from the city.”

“The city.” Esme laughs. “Broome is hardly a city.”

“Not by your standards, maybe. Miss ‘studio apartment in Brooklyn, New York’.”

“I think she’s going to love it there. In Australia. She is HALF Aussie, after all.”

“The best half of her is, at least.”

“The best half,” she scoffs, then reaches up to flick the tip of his nose with her thumb and forefinger. “You wish! More like the half that’s an enormously stubborn pain in my ass.”

“You know you love me. That you’d be completely miserable without me.”

“I do love you.” She speaks between kisses to the underside of his chin. “Very, very, very much. And believe me, I WAS completely miserable without you. I don’t want to ever do that again. Be away from you that long.”

“Well lucky for you, I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“I might become really, really, REALLY clingy, you know. At least for a little while.”

“I can handle clingy. Especially when it has an ass like yours.”

“And needy. Extremely needy. And demanding. CRAZY demanding.”

“Are we talking in the dirty sense or…”

“As dirty as we can get, baby.”

“Then I can DEFINITELY do crazy and demanding. Figuratively and literally.”

“Look at you. Busting out the big words. Pretty impressive for a big, bad, mercenary man.”

Grinning, he gently and playfully tousles her messy hair. “And you say I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Why ARE you awake? I thought you’d be exhausted. I heard through the grapevine that Millie’s been keeping you on your toes. Wearing you out in your old age.”

“First you call me fat, now you’re calling me old. What’s next?”

“Impotent?”

“Don’t even put that out into the universe. That’s not right.”

“Considering you’re a horny high schooler trapped in the body of a forty-year-old man, I don’t think you’ll ever have a problem like THAT. Seriously though, aren’t you tired? I know what a handful she can be. She’s so much like you. Can’t sit still for too long, always wants to try new things, isn’t scared of a damn thing…”

“I’m scared of a lot, believe me. I learned just how scared I could be. Seeing you in that SUV. Thinking you were dead. Of all the things I’ve been through, the things I’ve survived, the people I’ve gone against? Nothing was as bad as that. I’ve never been that afraid of anything, but at the moment…” He takes a deep, quivering breath.. “...let’s just say I don’t ever want to go through anything like that ever again.”

“I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour from here on out. Once we’re home, that part of me is gone. I get to start a whole new life. With you and Millie. The only two people that really matter.”

“You think you’re going to be happy? Being a good little housewife? Staying home and raising kids?”

“After everything I’ve gone through in the last ten years, I’m going to be ECSTATIC to live like that. Think you’re going to be alright with you? Doing normal things? Having a normal job? A wife and a kid?”

“I was alright with it five years ago, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be okay with it now?”

“Baby…” She presses a handful of kisses on the side of his neck. “...you always have the best answers. You may be a man of few words, but when you DO talk…”

“I had to learn, didn’t I? When we started living together? To watch the shit I say? And how I say it? I wasn’t used to that; worrying about someone else’s feelings.”

“You learned pretty quick, though. Mostly because I’m a mouthy bitch who doesn’t hesitate when it comes to putting you in your place.”

“Small but mighty. The only person on this earth I’m legitimately terrified of. Even if I can pick you up and carry you around in my pocket.”

Rolling her eyes, she playfully pinches his stomach, head on his chest as she drums her fingernails on the iPad. “So what were you watching?”

“Nothing important.”

“It wasn’t porn, was it? The least you could do is save that kind of stuff for when I’m healed a little more. So we can watch it together. And let things…you know…progress from there. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.”

“You are a dirty girl, Esme.”

“In the ways you love best.”

“And no, I wasn’t watching porn.”

“Good, because…”

“I watched that earlier.”

“Oh God,” she groans and attempts to move away. Laughing when he lightly tickles and pinches her side and then pulls her into him, tucking her body tightly and protectively against his, hand coming to rest on her hip.

“I wasn’t watching porn. Not now, not earlier. I was watching other stuff.”

“Stuff, huh? What kind of stuff?” Reaching for the iPad, she scowls when he lays his palm on top of it, preventing her from flipping the device over. “What’s your issue?”

“What’s yours?”

“I just want to know what you were watching. Why is it such a secret? Why are you hiding things from me?”

“It’s not a secret. And I’m not hiding anything.”

“Then why won't you tell me what it is? Don’t be so sketchy.”

“I’m not being anything. I was just watching some stuff. On youtube. It’s not a big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal, you’d tell me what was. Surfing videos? Football highlights?”

“No. And no. Like I said, just…stuff.”

“You’re being very weird about this. Unless…” Her eyes narrow. “...you weren’t really watching anything. You were chatting and sexting and sending someone dirty pictures. Or they were sending YOU pics.”

“That’s exactly it. You figured it out. I was totally sexting with someone. Sending dick pics.”

She frowns.

“Are you kidding me right now? Do you honestly believe that? I just spent five years wondering where the hell you were and if you’d just show up on my doorstep one day. Do you honestly think I’m going to fuck this all up? When things are finally going the way they should have way back when? I know I’m not the smartest guy on the planet, but give me SOME credit.”

“I have never said you were stupid. Or even insinuated it. But to be this secretive over videos you��re watching on YouTube…”

“I just don’t want you to make a big deal out of it.”

“Christ, how bad are these videos?”

“They’re not bad at all. They’re just…I don’t know…kinda lame, I guess. I just don’t want you laughing at me. That happens, I might have to kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try. I’ve got nine lives, Tae. And I haven’t even used up half yet. But if you’re THIS embarrassed about whatever you were doing, keep your secrets. That’s three in one day, you know. Stars Wars, The Muppet Show, sketchy videos on the internet.

“They’re not sketchy. They’re just not what you’d expect. Can’t a guy browse the ‘net in peace?”

“How do I know you’re not googling the easiest ways to kill me and dispose of my body?”

“Because that would be a waste of time. I already know those things.”

Esme scowls.

“Fine. If you wanna see, I’ll show you. But I swear, if you make even one small smart-ass remark…”

“Get a grip. I’m not going to laugh at you or make fun of you.” Turning the iPad over, she presses play; watching for several seconds before pausing it and glancing up at him. Brows arched quizzically. “A hair braiding tutorial? Why…?”

“I’m doing it for Millie.”

“She told you to watch it or…?”

“The first night here, she told me how you always braid her hair before bed. Because of how knotty it gets when she sleeps I didn’t know how to do it. And I’ve been so caught up with other things, I haven’t had the chance to get her to teach me. And you weren’t able to do it, so I just pawned her off on Nik.”

“I could have taught you. It’s honestly not that hard. Even Millie would have taught you. She was three when she learned how to do it on her Barbie dolls.”

“I just figured I’d look it up and learn on my own. I mean, I’m a girl dad now. I should know how to do these things.”

As a slow smile spreads across her face, she reaches up to playfully tug at some of the wiry hair on the underside of his chin. “Baby, you are so cute.”

Tyler frowns. “Shut up.”

“Despite what you think, being called ‘cute’ is NOT an insult.”

“To me it is.”

“Well, to ME, you’re a six foot three, two hundred and twenty-pound ball of walking cuteness.”

“Esme, fuck off.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said that it’s sexy? Watching you embrace the whole girl-dad lifestyle? Seeing you playing with her and drawing pictures and colouring. You even watch Bluey with her. That takes some real courage and balls, you know. To sit through that show.”

“I suppose being called sexy for doing all that stuff IS better. Somewhat.”

“Well, I find it incredibly sexy. You in ‘dad mode’. It’s even better than I ever daydreamed about. And that’s saying something because those daydreams were pretty damn good.”

“I just want to do right by her. Not fucks things up a second time.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re off to a really good start. From what I’ve heard AND seen.”

“Scary as hell, though. Not gonna lie.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s so unsettling? What’s scaring you so much? Is it because you’re worried about things going wrong? Like they did with Austin? Are you worried about making a mistake or making bad choices or…?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what it is. I’m just…terrified. Maybe there’s not even a reason. Or a sound one, anyway. Maybe it’s just all in my head.”

“In all fairness, you’ve had a lot dropped on you in the past week and a half. Enough shit to last most people a lifetime. Maybe it’s all just coming to a head, you know? Having that all put in your lap at once. Seeing me again, finding out about Millie, us trying to put things together and work through our shit. Well, MY shit. All of this messiness IS my fault.”

“It’s a lot. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. But it’s not as messy as you think. Trust me, I know messy. I AM messy.”

“A hot messy, though,” she teases. “VERY hot, actually.”

“God your taste in men is fucked up.”

“Hey, it WAS. If you saw my ex-husband, you’d realize what a huge step up you are.”

“Have you ever thought of seeing a therapist? For your horrible life choices? Because if this is the type of men you’re attracted to…”

“You’re not as messy as you think you are. I wouldn’t be with you if you were. Do you honestly think I would have hooked up with you in Dhaka if you were THAT bad?”

“If you were desperate enough.”

“Listen, buddy, I’d already gone eighteen months without a hook-up. And had you not come along, I would have gone even longer. If being with Mark taught me anything, it was to be more discerning when it came to men. Do you really think I didn’t have any options? Between you and him?”

“I don’t even want to consider that. The thought of you with other people…”

“The point I’m trying to make is that you’re not nearly as messy as you think you are. I’d already been one with one extremely messy man, I sure as hell wasn’t going to hook up with another one. Look…” Removing the tablet from his lap, she gingerly moves onto her knees; his hands immediately securing her by the hips as she carefully straddles his thighs. Using gentle fingertips, she clears the longer strands of hair off his forehead before cradling his face in her hands. “...I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re scared of. I’m not even going to try and guess. Or put words in your mouth. And I know when you figure it out yourself and are ready to tell me, you will.”

“I wouldn’t keep that from you. You’re the only person who knows everything about me. Even all the ugliest, darkest of things.”

“You know what I DO know, though? I know that Millie loves you. And trusts you. That was obvious before she even found out you were her daddy. Right from day one you made her feel safe and important. She loved you for YOU. Not just because you helped make her. That just makes everything she feels even bigger and stronger. You see that, right? How much she loves you? Trusts you?”

Tyler nods. “Reminds me of you.”

“Look how messed up we both were when we met. Look at all the baggage we were carrying around. It shouldn’t have worked; two broken people barely staying afloat yet somehow trying to find something…anything…between them. Remember what Gaspar said? About how two broken people can’t fix one another? They can’t come together to be a whole? That they’d only make each other worse? Destroy one another?”

“Fuck him. He had no clue what he was talking about.”

“Exactly. Fuck him. Fuck anyone that thought that everything was wrong between us and that nothing could be right. It wasn’t the ideal situation. We agree on that. But I don’t regret it happened. Or why, how, or where. Do you?”

“I’ve never regretted it. Not even when you took off. I’ve never regretted you. Us.”

“I knew who you were. I know what you did for a living. Even before we met, I’d heard all the stories. About the people you’d gone against, about your kill sheet. I was in that life, too. I was part of it. And then you filled in all those blanks; told me your deepest and darkest secrets and regrets and everything that tried to break you but didn’t. There were other things, too. You LET me see you. The real you. Outside of that life. Yeah, you were messy. But I still fell in love with you. Just like Millie did. As soon as she heard your mint chocolate chip was also your favourite ice cream, that was it for her. That’s all she needed.”

He gives a small chuckle.

“She LOVES you. And she loves LIKE you. With everything she has. She’s a little girl, but she has a massive heart. You’ve seen it yourself. How fiercely and deeply she loves.”

“I have. Especially when it comes to her mum.”

“I’m sorry I kept her from you. I wish she could have loved you from the very start. But she has a long life ahead of her. And so do you. That’s a lot of time with her, Tyler. And she’s already attached to your hip. She’s already a daddy’s girl. Imagine what she’ll be like in a few weeks or months. Years. If you think she’s clingy now….”

“She can be as clingy as she wants. That’s my baby. My little girl.”

“I never doubted your abilities as a father. Not for a second. You were a great dad to Austin. You made some mistakes; you weren’t around as often as you should have been, sometimes you chose the military over your family, and you left him when he needed you the most. But…”

“How can there be a ‘but’? How…?”

“He loved you. With everything he had. You were his hero. He didn’t die hating you. Or thinking you hated him. He died knowing you loved him. Thinking you were brave and strong And you need to try and remember that.”

“Have you been talking to my ex-wife? Don’t tell me you’ve been friends with her all this time, too.”

“I’ve never met her. I don’t think I ever want to. That’s just…I don’t know…awkward for me. But I know what she’s told Alcott. When I sent him fishing for information. I kept an eye on you. In the only way I knew how.”

“You spied on me, you mean.”

“I was worried about you. I may have walked out, but I didn’t stop caring. I didn’t stop loving you. And I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. That you weren’t unnecessarily putting yourself at risk. I just wanted to know you were alright.”

“I was far from alright. Regardless of what people told you.”

“But you didn’t let them see that, did you? I know you, Tyler. Better than you know yourself. I’m the person that you ‘let in’. That you showed every part of yourself, too. And I know how quickly you can turn it all off. For the sake of the job. For self-perseverance.”

“I can’t do it anymore. Or at least I couldn’t do it in New York. Turn it off.”

“You did everything right in New York. You were handling both sides of things. You knew exactly what I needed WHEN I needed it; job Tyler or normal Tyler. Nothing that happened in New York was your fault. Things go wrong. You know that.”

“Seeing you like that, thinking you were dead…”

“But I’m here, right? You made sure of it. A little worse for wear, but I AM here.”

“So this what it’s like when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh? Guess I’m getting a taste of my own medicine. Everything you went through…everything you did for me…after Dhaka.”

“I did it because I wanted to. Because I was already in love with you. You, you got your absolution. You deserved to live. But I had my reasons for what I did, Purely selfish ones. I liked being with you. I liked how you looked at me. How you made me feel. It was like you thought I was the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“I did think that. I still do.”

“And I wanted more of that. I still do. I’ve always wanted you. A life with you. And I’m sorry things didn’t go the way we planned. But now we can make new ones. Have new dreams. And the best part is that Millie exists. She’s here. We get to do all of that WITH her.”

“She’s amazing, Me. I don’t know what I ever did deserve her, but it must have been pretty damn good.”

“You loved her mother. Even on those days when she couldn’t love herself. ESPECIALLY on those days.”

“Falling in love with you was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. And the scariest.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Knowing we proved Gaspar wrong. We DID make each other better.”

“We still do.”

“Think we can keep it up?” She trails the pad of her thumb along his lips. “For…I don’t know…the next forty, fifty years?”

“Yeah…” Smiling, he combs his fingers through her hair; settling his palm on the nape of her neck and gently pulling her into a kiss. “...I think we can.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake

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yazzberry · 2 months

Text

posting the prologue of my high school au total drama fanfic

it is also posted on wattpad: ENDGAME [total drama] by aliasyasmine

link in bio <3

no beta reader so lmk if u find any errors :0

chapter 0: the funny way i feel tonight

— ❈ —

"Yo! Gwen!"

The faint tap of a popcorn ball landing (and sticking to) her head brings Gwen's attention back towards the party. She had been in the midst of zoning out, as her friends knew she was privy to doing, before loosening her lips into a waxed smile at the sight of them—her friends.

Friends. Wow, never thought I'd use that word so fondly, she thought to herself as her ears readjusted to the discordant mixture of blasting party music and blasted partygoers—Gwen could tell from the lingering fumes of weed spilling in from the patio, where everyone would go for a smoke. She considered that she hadn't taken a hit all night, and should likely go out for one later. Thank God she wasn't driving home.

"I didn't realize we were back in middle school, what's with the food projectiles?" She scoffed, picking the popcorn out of her hair and launching it back at its thrower.

"Oh come on, pasty. Don't act like you're above it." He didn't miss a beat as he spoke, smartly dodging her lame attempt at a rebuttal. Duncan—it's crazy to see what his smirk could do to Gwen, even now. But she's not into him, of course she's not. Gwen and Duncan, they've always been the best of friends. Huh, there's that word again: friends.

His playful expression was perfectly painted by the dancing firelight, courtesy of Geoff's fireplace. All the emanating hues of red and orange and yellow accentuated every corner of the den, acting as the only source of light probably across the entire house, save for a few LED strips and lamp fixtures.

Nevertheless, on a night as auspicious as the last Saturday before the first day of school—the final, dying call of summer—all darkness of the night was welcome. And, like with any high school party, it served the ultimate purpose to guise all the soon-regretted (yet presently indulgent) decisions made by dumb teens looking for cheap thrills.

For Gwen, it let her sneak longing glances at Duncan without him noticing. She knew her affinity for darkness would serve her good one day, aside from labeling her as the 'weird goth girl'.

She playfully punched his shoulder, eliciting an eye roll from Heather, whose uncanny insight and understanding of the teenage brain once made her a formidable opponent, but now, an all-knowing friend.

"Ew, is this really any better than third-wheeling with Bridge and Geoff?" Heather said, looking down on them from her comfortable position on an armchair, a lazy arm propping her head up on the side of the couch and legs tucked parallel into the seat. "And where are they anyways? I'm bored." She added, feigning a deep interest with her nail beds as she stretched her hand closer to the fire, trying to examine them.

Duncan and Gwen sat on the floor with their backs against another couch. Duncan cackled as he laid his head back, slightly resting it on the cushion behind him, "Oh I'm sure they're getting nice and cozy in some random room."

Her voice dripped with attitude, lined with disgust, "Like I needed you to tell me that."

He scoffed back. "Well, it's not like you outright asked me or anything—oh wait, you did."

"It was a rhetorical question."

"Didn't sound it."

Now Gwen was the one to roll her eyes, before deciding to be a good samaritan and end the spat before it killed the vibe: "Guys, I'm gonna go get a refill. Anyone want another drink?"

But before she could even get up, another voice chirped in. "Wow I guess this is great timing!" Bridgette exclaimed as she and Geoff set down their load of red party cups on the coffee table, in number totaling five. One for each friend of the group: Geoff, Bridgette, Heather, Duncan, and now, as the most recent addition, Gwen.

"The party turnout is great tonight, I'm so glad everyone from school could make it!" Bridgette sighed as she threw herself on a loveseat, consequently dragging Geoff down with her from their intertwined hands.

Geoff doted on her, moving a careless strand of hair that found its way right in the middle of her face, "I always thought my parties were great, but they're even better when you help me plan them. I'm starstruck by you, babe."

Gwen, Duncan, and Heather, for all their differences, looked amongst each other and shared the same expression, lost somewhere between disgust and humor.

"No way am I sitting through your little love-fest this sober," Heather remarked as she reached for a drink, Duncan doing the same as he shook his head in understanding.

"No!" Bridgette exclaimed, jolting herself out of Geoff's touch and paying indivisible attention to her friends. "You see, I kind of had an idea.."

"Alright! Malibu's got a new drinking game for us to play!" Duncan hooted, raising his cup to her.

Gwen smiled as she followed in suit, grabbing a drink and clutching it a teasing distance from her mouth, certainly close enough to get a foul whiff of whatever concoction Geoff had cooked up for them moments earlier. Gwen couldn't help but grimace at the strong stench of liquor—how anyone could stomach a sip of that was beyond her.

Bridgette coyly rubbed her neck, tousling her honey blonde waves as they moved with her nerved expression. "Not exactly, Duncan, I just thought maybe we'd go around and say some stuff we wanna do this year, y'know, like goals." Then, finding the confidence to properly pitch her idea, perhaps herself excited about the prospects of a new school year, "Junior year is a really important one—it's our second-to-last year before college! Big big deal, guys!"

She frantically waved her arms in the air, as if the earnestness of her expression wouldn't be enough to convince them of it.

"God you sound like my mom," Gwen laughed as she set her cup back down (at a safe distance from her nostrils, of course).

"I think that's a great idea Bridge!" Geoff declared, raising his cup to his girlfriend's ingenuity.

Duncan leaned into Gwen's ear to whisper, "Can't remember if he's in Division 1 lacrosse or D1 glazing." She only slightly bursted with laughter as she tried to feign her whole attention on her too-wholesome friend.

"Laugh all you want guys, but I for one want to have a memorable year with you all," the blonde huffed as she protectively hugged her cup to her chest, as if it were a manifestation of her most sincere ideas.

"Well you've got a point there, Bridge," Heather started, leaning into the conversation and raising her cup to toast with a devious smile, "Junior year will be perfect, because I'll be taking my rightful spot as cheerleading captain and Queen Bee, especially now that last year's seniors have graduated."

At this Gwen couldn't help but scoff, Oh, this is too good.

"Yeah, fuck this year's seniors, right? It's not like they'll wanna go for those much coveted positions either," Gwen spotted her an incredulous look, at which Heather only smirked.

"Well, unlike you, Gwen, I'm not scared off by a little competition, or confrontation." She confidently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Especially when I know that I'll always come out on top."

Gwen didn't dare humor her antics with a response and instead just rolled her eyes at Heather's massive ego. And it wasn't like Gwen didn't pick up on Heather's subtle dig at her—"scared off by confrontation" what the hell was that supposed to mean, Heather?!—she just had to swallow back all angered sentiments and stuff it into the brimming jar of "Heather Complaints" she had, filed away in her mind.

But no. They were friends. Friends! Even with all the qualms, contentions, complaints. They had to (at least for everyone else's sake) pretend they could stand each other and weren't actually at each other's throats half the time.

I mean sure, they had their moments of camaraderie—some sort of pseudo-friendship existing between them—but never mind the fact that were it not for Bridgette's unwavering kindness, Geoff's welcoming and contagious joy, Duncan's uncanny ability to attract all things fun, exciting, and maybe a little dangerous, they would not be friends at all.

Duncan, completely ignoring whatever subtle feud was occurring between the two and taking Heather's toast as an excuse to go in for a greedy sip of his drink, offered his signature smirk and dismissive shrug, "The seniors this year suck; if it means sticking it Scott and his loser girlfriend, I'm game."

At this, Bridgette melted into a sigh of frustration.

"Now that's something I can get on board with. I mean, seriously, I'm so glad we don't have any douchebags like him in our grade," Bridgette added, also taking a drink from her cup (and with no visible reaction, Gwen noted—maybe Gwen was just a lightweight after all).

The gears started turning in Gwen's head. She'd already been apart of the friend group for a whole year now, but even so was still catching up with all the complex lore of her friends' dramas with other people. "Scott..wait a minute is he the person who you guys said st—"

"Yep." Duncan responded before she could even finish her remark.

Hmph, guess he's still not over it. Understandable, though unexpected from someone as stoic as Duncan makes himself out to be.

"Well Bridgette's right," Geoff beamed at his girlfriend, "Everyone in our grade's hella chill." He sat back contently, and, as if on cue, all of the attention in the room was snatched by someone singing, loudly, into a microphone all the way in the living room

"AND I JUST CAN'T LOOK, IT'S KILLIN' ME...AND TAKIN' CONTROL..."

At the sight of Cody belting his little heart out, drinking in all the glory of the generous crowd pooling and cheering at his feet, Geoff's kitchen island being his stage, Gwen immediately whipped out her phone to take a picture.

"JEALOUSY, TURNIN' SAINTS INTO THE SEA!"

"With some notable exceptions," Bridgette said, finishing her boyfriend's thought.

"That's so fucking embarrassing," Heather sneered, her bored expression apparently not quelled by the sudden mosh pit forming in the living room. Duncan followed in suit, taking his eyes away from the train-wreck of a performance, "Remind me to bully him for it later."

"Come on, you guys don't have to be mean. How about you share your goal for this year, Duncan?" Bridgette chastised, trying to find a lighter conversation within his general broodiness.

"Yea pass, I don't have goals," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Oooh you're such a bad boy, Duncan. You don't have any hopes or aspirations—let me guess, juvie crushed them," Gwen taunted with a playful smirk, setting the bait for a much too-humorous reaction.

"If the role's already written, might as well play into it," he nonchalantly shrugged, a similar smirk finding its way onto his face, "And besides, the chicks love a bad boy."

Now he was looking straight at her, and, put simply, Gwen could not deal. "Alright, cool down, Casanova." She tried to play it down, even turning away so that he couldn't see a layer of blush spreading across her cheeks, noticeable against her (way too, according to Heather) pale skin.

"You think you're slick but I see your game, D-man," Geoff professes with a knowing expression. "And let me just say, you're out of luck, because the best girl in school is already taken-"

Geoff tried to give his girlfriend a sweet peck before she abruptly stood up in sudden excitement, even knocking his beloved cowboy hat off his head.

"OH MY GOD!" She shrieked, clutching her phone.

Geoff joined Bridgette on her feet, sneaking a peek over her shoulder at her screen. A matching smile soon colored his own appearance with elation, "No way! Mocha's coming to town??!!"

"Ugh, your nickname-giving skills suck, Geoff. Who the fuck is Mocha?" Heather scoffed, feigning pretension to hide the the great curiosity baked into her question.

Bridgette still hadn't stopped her gleeful jumps as her fingers flew across her keyboard, "You guys know Courtney, my friend from California?? Her older sister got into the residency program at our local hospital, y'know, the one for neurosurgery?! And anyways—they're moving to Wawanakwa!!"

The bubbly blonde hugged Geoff in excitement and the two were in the air, squealing with joy.

Duncan burst out laughing, "Geoff, dude, have some dignity."

But Geoff, whether he heard his friend's disapproval or not, didn't care and kept jumping up with Bridgette.

"Pretty underwhelming if you ask me, especially considering you've never mentioned her to us," Heather dryly stated.

"Yea Bridge, is she the other woman?" Gwen joked, falling victim to her friend's contagious joy.

"Come on guys, you're all gonna love Mocha! She's really cool!" Geoff added, trying to get his underwhelmed friends excited.

"Personally, I couldn't care less. Call me when Latte and Cappuccino are in town," Duncan lamely remarked as he took another sip of his drink.

And then, he did what Gwen never expected him to do—he looked straight at her.

Not at her, per se, more like into her. It was really stupid, actually, how one single motion—it's not even a motion! just a turn of the eye—could have Gwen second-guessing her entire existence under his unwavering glare.

The truth is, Gwen's not as lovestruck as she sounds. She's just a teenage girl with a crush, and while Gwen had never previously been able to identify with the cheesy generic teenage experiences, she felt a small internal victory within the fact that, for once, she finally fit a socially acceptable stereotype.

"So pasty—you gonna share your goal with us now?" He taunted her, his trademarked smirk covering his face.

"Yea Gwen! Come on, share with us!" Bridgette doted as she sat herself down on the floor right next to Gwen, with Geoff sitting down right beside Bridgette, scooping her with his arms.

Gwen sighed, slightly wringing her fingers in her lap. Cheesy as it sounded, she had a lot of goals for this year. And while she was never one to set high expectations for just about anything—with the knowledge that they'd inevitably be let down by some cosmic force in the universe, denying her a happy and conventional life—this time around, the question found her with more hopes and dreams than she'd like to admit.

"What is weird goth girl pining for? Hmmm, let's see, can I take a guess—" And before Heather could even finish her sentence, Gwen threw a pillow at her, having anticipated a lame remark from her direction.

"Come on Gwen! Speak your truth, brah!" Geoff encouraged, raising a cheerful cup at her hesitancy to, well, 'speak her truth'.

As she looked around at all her friends, Gwen couldn't help but revel in the disbelief that a) she'd actually made friends as the weird new girl in town and b) got close enough to people that they actually care about what she has to say. Seriously, her former self would've never bought this.

Oddly enough, her life was perfect in the way it was imperfect—she had friends, and a love interest on the horizon. It was the scene where every cheesy high school movie would cut to the credits. What more could she even say?

"Umm," she started, "I guess this year I want to...do more stuff."

At this, Bridgette raised a questioning brow. "Care to be just a little bit more specific?" she prodded.

"I mean that I want to take more risks, go after what I want, and not let things pass me by because I'm too...self-conscious, or, in my head." Gwen took a deep breath, not realizing that she had been staring into her lap this whole time and couldn't hold eye contact with anyone in the group when she was being vulnerable. But, in the spirit of her professed goal, she hazarded a look up, "Y'know what I mean?"

And all of them, even Heather, offered a knowing glance. "Yes...dorkula." She admitted, hiding her smile behind her cup.

Geoff applauded the side of his cup, "Well that's a toast-worthy goal if I've ever heard one—to Gwen!"

"To Gwen!"

They all took a hearty drink from their cups, even the honored girl herself despite her great aversion to alcoholic beverages.

The burning sensation of the mystery juice sliding down her throat produced a sour expression on her face, much to the humor of the rest of her friends (friends!).

Yep, she definitely was a lightweight.

— ❥ —

"Psst, Court! We're here!"

Another gentle tap and nudge on her shoulder was enough to wake the brunette up from her sleep. It takes her a second or two to come to—her eyes slowly blinking, panning around the car to find a disheveled mess of snacks and candy wrappers thrown askew the floor, a wool blanket wrapped around her body, and her sister sitting beside her, trying (and failing, but waking up from a nap is disorienting anyway) to softly wake her up.

"Josie...how long was I out for?" Courtney asked, sorely rubbing her neck in a sorry attempt to recover from whatever horrid position she had slept in.

Her sister scoffed, blowing an unruly strand of blonde that had fallen from her messy bun—emphasis on messy—out of her face, "Oh, you know, not too long; maybe just the whole car ride over from the airport, so basically like 2 and a half hours."

"Talk about middle of nowhere," Courtney groaned as she took a wistful look out the window.

"Well, I prefer to think of it as small-town charm!" Josie beamed as she hopped out of the car door and embraced the fresh air of a forgiving, 3:00 AM Wawanakwa night.

"Yes, and how charming it is to be so stranded from civilization. Tell me, you do know that Santa isn't real, right?" But even as she teased, Courtney couldn't fight the shadow of a grin appearing on her face.

Josie's energy was contagious, and while sometimes her optimisms were misled on some fantastical, idealistic (and ultimately unrealistic) notions of what the world had to offer, Courtney had to admit that it felt nice to just take things as they came—nice and easy.

In theory, at least.

She joined Josie in getting off the car and stretching her limbs a bit, before getting back to business and taking their luggage out and paying the driver.

"Come on Josie, let's get inside—it's freezing out here!" The brunette called to her sister as struggled in trying to maneuver all six of their suitcases up the walkway and onto the porch.

"Oh Court, hold on! It's such a pretty night, and look at the stars!! We never got these in LA," The latter comment was more of an afterthought as her thoughts fixated only on the sight above, her eyes wide, her jaw dropped.

Courtney rolled her eyes before deciding to indulge in her sister's wishes and bother a glance a upward.

Oh, how she hated to admit when Josie was right. But she really was.

It seemed as though every single star in the galaxy put on its best dress to welcome the Barlow sisters that night, in a true display of beauty that Courtney, with her cache of travelled places and around-the-world luxe vacations, couldn't say she'd ever seen before.

So this is Wawanakwa Falls, a light chuckle and the shadow of a smile punctuated her thoughts.

"Alright," Courtney muttered, "let's get inside."

And even as she started to walk towards the entry of their new home, her gaze was still fixed above.

—୨୧—

Hope you enjoyed this short prologue! Some food for your thoughts:

What do we think of Gwen? Her liking Duncan, shocker, right?

And what about her and Heather being friends-ish so early on in the story? They obviously seem like they have stuff to work out, but most fanfics make them friends way later on, if at all. I don't know, we'll see how this goes.

And also a Scott mention in the prologue—what is his deal? And what's his beef with Duncan?

Drop all your thoughts, opinions, predictions (?) in the comments, PLEASE, I love interacting with you!! The lengths of full episodes will be longer (this prologue was about 3k words and my writing average is 6-8k (!) words), so don't worry if this was much too short for your taste. See you next time!

a. yasmine

#total drama #total drama island #total drama au #tdi #total drama fanfiction #total drama fandom #td courtney #td gwen #td duncan #td bridgette #td heather #td geoff #gidgette #high school

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