#zilla answers

[gogogodzilla]

peeta mellark being you to let him eat your 🐱

Just a Taste || Peeta Mellark

peeta mellark x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, cunnilingus, porn with plot, panty sniffing, reader is wearing a dress, panty stealing masterlist ✩ read on ao3 ✩

The stage of the training center under your heels was a familiar feeling. The stage lights shone brightly, and you squinted slightly as you walked out with Peeta hand in hand. The air practically crackled with energy as the booming applause from the audience of Capitol citizens nearly deafened you. 

Caesar Flickerman warmly welcomed both of you. He gave you a good-natured kiss on the cheek and shook Peeta’s hand. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to how touchy the Capitol people were. 

Once the crowd settled down, Caesar gave the two of you a beaming smile. “It’s an absolute delight to have the two of you here once again,” he exclaimed and you wondered how he got his teeth to be so white. “The Victory Tour has been a success, wouldn’t you say? What has been the most memorable moment for you both?” 

Peeta squeezed your hand before answering, “As much as I’ve loved spending some time in all of the districts, the most unforgettable part was spending time with the person I love and sharing our love with the districts.” 

You feigned embarrassment at his words and looked away. You couldn’t avoid the heat that flooded your cheeks, which brought a boisterous laugh from Caesar. “You two are adorable. I love it!” he gushed. 

The audience cheered in response, and Peeta kissed your knuckles. After a few moments, Caesar settled the audience down and turned back to the two of you. “I’m sure you both know that we have immensely enjoyed seeing your love blossom in front of us. It’s truly a marvelous sight.” 

“Thank you, Caesar. We’re extremely grateful for the opportunity to be here with you and the rest of the Capitol citizens,” you give him a dazzling smile before turning to Peeta. “I am also incredibly grateful to be here with the love of my life. I couldn’t ask for anything better,” your gaze softens as you look at Peeta. The audience ‘awws’ and cooed at the two of you while Caesar pressed a hand to his heart. 

“Ugh, we can’t get enough of you two. What does the future look like for the two of you? I’m sure we’re all eager to see more of your love blossoming,” Caesar questioned and the audience buzzed with excitement. 

You shared a glance with Peeta. You gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and he turned to Caesar. 

“The future looks bright as long as I have my love by my side,” he answered, allowing a hush to fall over the crowd. Damn, he was good at this. “And I would like to have my love by my side for as long as we both shall live,” his voice trembled slightly as he pulled out a small velvet box. He got on one knee and looked up at you. Your hand covered your mouth in feigned shock. “My love, you have been my light in the darkest times, and I can’t imagine a future where you’re with me. Will you make me the happiest man in Panem and marry me?” 

Emotions swelled within you. Peeta was laying it on a bit thick, but you didn’t care. You nodded your head, forgetting to speak for a moment. He slightly raised his brow, and you forced yourself to speak. 

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding rapidly. Your voice returned and you spoke louder, “Of course I’ll marry you.” 

Applause and cheers thundered throughout the room as Peeta got to his feet and slid the ring onto your finger. Peeta’s smile was radiant as he pulled you into a kiss which caused the audience to roar even louder. You grinned as you kissed him back. You truly did care for him, and didn’t mind being stuck with him forever. You would’ve been dead without him. 

As you pulled away, Caesar dabbed his eyes theatrically and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. Peeta kept his hand around your waist as you curled up against his side.  

“Ladies and gentlemen, a proposal during the Victory Tour! This is certainly a night to remember, wouldn’t you say?” Caesar beamed as he swept an arm out toward the crowd which roared in response. 

Peeta held you close as the interview wrapped up. The crowd buzzed with excitement, and you couldn’t fight the grin that graced your features. Eventually, your time with Caesar was over and you were ushered off the stage. 

Effie met you as you exited and she clapped her hands in excitement. “Wonderful work you two. Now, time to get ready for the reception President Snow offered to throw to celebrate the two of you. It’ll be a party of the ages,” she declared, walking quickly as you returned to your quarters. 

Cinna intercepted you as you stepped off the elevator. You clung onto Peeta’s hand until the last possible second. 

Cinna grinned as he led you away, “Don’t worry, you’ll have some time to catch up before we leave.” 

“Can’t I just wear what  I have on?” you thumbed the fabric of your dress as you walked, frowning slightly. 

He chuckled, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

He led you to your room and helped you onto your podium in front of the mirror. Cinna got to work almost immediately, fluttering around you with practiced movements. The soft rustle of fabric accompanied his steps as he brought the dress over to you. He quickly got you changed, his gentle hands working wonders as the fabric draped over your body. Cinna’s hands danced delicately over your hair, weaving it into an elegant style perfect for the celebration tonight. 

“You look radiant,” Cinna complimented as he stepped back to admire his work in the mirror. 

You met his gaze in the mirror, a grateful smile on your lips, “It’s all because of you.” 

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and a knock sounded at your door. You both turned and Peeta poked his head in.  A soft smile made its way onto your features as he stepped into the room and finally got a good look at you. His eyes widened as they raked over your form, and your cheeks flushed. 

“You look…” Peeta’s words faltered as his gaze remained on you. “Wow,” was all he managed to come up with as he took a few steps toward you. 

Cinna chuckled, “I’ll let you two have a moment. You have 15 minutes before Effie’s going to come knocking.” 

He gave you a suggestive look as he left, and the flush of your cheeks spread. Peeta held out his hand so he could help you down, and you graciously took it. 

You ran your fingers over his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his suit. “Portia outdid herself… You look amazing,” you grinned, tugging him closer. 

His hands wrapped around your waist, enveloping you like they had done so many times before. This time it was different though. The soft scent of his cologne engulfed you as he leaned in. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, but there was something more to it. Something hungry. 

“Is it bad that I’m glad we’re stuck together forever?” you whispered as you pulled away to catch your breath. 

He grinned, “You make marriage sound so pleasant.” 

You chuckled in response and pulled him into another, deeper kiss. You tugged him by the lapels toward your bed, acutely aware of the seconds ticking by before Effie would be knocking. 

His hands wandered across your hips as the backs of your thighs hit the edge of your bed and you slowly fell back. You parted for long enough to scoot back and Peeta eagerly followed you. His lips were back to devouring you within moments. You let out a small noise as he slotted his knee between your legs, the smooth fabric of his slacks brushing against your inner thighs. 

 You pulled away, attempting to catch your breath. Something shifted between you, and your entire body seemed to hum with need. Peeta caged your head between his forearms and his nose bumped against yours. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” you trailed off as Peeta scattered kisses across your neck. 

He grinned against your collarbone, “I’m sure they’ll understand if I want to take a few minutes to ravish my fiancée.” 

Your cheeks flared at his words. There had been rumors going around all tour that Peeta’s nightly visits to your room were far from innocent cuddling. You did little to dispel them, though. You couldn’t deny that this was the first time you’d felt this hunger for Peeta. 

He ran his hands up the bare skin of your thighs, and your heart fluttered. 

“Just a taste,” he murmured as he scattered kisses across your covered breasts and moved down your body. “Please, my love. I just need a taste.” 

He ran his fingertips over your thighs as he situated himself between them. You craned your head to look down at him, and the sight of him had heat pooling between your legs. He looked up at you with those big brown eyes you couldn’t resist, begging for permission to ruin you. With the slight inclination of your head, he was sliding the fabric of your skirt to the side, letting his hands wander across your hips and thighs. 

He pressed featherlight kisses across your inner thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin there. He wrapped his arms around your legs, keeping them in place. His breath fanned over the thin fabric of your panties, and you instinctively clenched them together. His grip held you in place as you squirmed, aching for more. 

He hooked his fingers in the sides of your under and tugged them down and off your body. Your eyes widened as he brought your panties to his nose and inhaled your scent. He let out a noise that was something like a whimper combined with a groan, and you flushed. 

He set your panties to the side and settled between your thighs. A gasp escaped you as he swiped his tongue through your folds. His grip tightened on your thighs as he desperately pulled you closer to his eager mouth. His tongue worked relentlessly against your sopping core, circling your clit before dipping down to tease your entrance. 

You wanted desperately to tangle your fingers in his blonde locks, but you settled for the blanket below you. You were sure that Peeta’s prep team might have your head if you messed up his hair. 

You slapped one hand over your mouth, muffling the desperate pleas and whines that escaped your lipstick-covered lips. Peeta eagerly lapped up everything you were giving him, and his nose bounced against your clit as he dipped his tongue into your entrance. Peeta reached up to intertwine his fingers with yours, grounding you.

Peeta whined against you, sending vibrations coursing through you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your hips jutted against him, grinding against his tongue. Every fiber of your being was tensed and ready to snap. 

Peeta’s tongue circled your clit once more, and your release had you arching against the mattress, pushing you closer to his mouth. Your thighs attempted to clamp around Peeta’s head as you spasmed against him. He helped you to ride out your high, and his fingertips dug into the plush of your thighs. 

After a few moments you stilled, and Peeta pressed comforting kisses against your inner thighs. You lifted your head to look at him, and your cheeks flushed at the sight. Your arousal had covered the bottom half of his face, and a satisfied grin covered his features. 

“You did so good,” he praised as he crawled forward to kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips, and a groan left you. 

You were able to sneak in a few more lingering kisses before Effie’s knock sounded at your door. Peeta crawled off of you and helped you to the edge of your bed, your skirts only slightly getting in the way. 

He grabbed your panties before you could and shoved them in the front pocket of his suit. 

“For safekeeping,” he murmured with a grin plastered across his face as he leaned down to kiss you. You scowled at him in response but kissed him nonetheless. 

He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the rest of your arousal off his face before neatly tucking it back in its rightful place. You shuffled to the bathroom to clean yourself up, returning moments later looking slightly more put together. 

Effie knocked once again, more insistently this time. You cringed, sensing the inevitable lecture you’d receive later. 

Peeta held his arm out for you to take, and you gladly clung to him. 

“Shall we?”

You rolled your eyes, “Let’s get this over with.”

[elendsessor]

There's a really cool fanmade found-footage style video about Godzilla(s) Vs the Gryphon https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=baMFh69gp98

Would be awesome if they include Zilla like this in the newer Godzilla movies, but that's probably never gonna happen

ooo definitely watching that!!! would kill for like. a cloverfield-style goji film.

as crappy as the 98 film is, there was some good ideas that came out of it!!! most though came from the tie in show. i’ve seen a few episodes and it’s solid, plus it had a bunch of mutated creatures that would probably never really be considered for any future godzilla films, so the gryphon could’ve definitely been a possible inclusion of it went on longer. it was just neat too—seeing how the nuclear stuff impacted other animals. yeah some kaiju are just big animals and heck maybe monsterverse would do it (skull island looking at you) but the dude got a girlfriend and everything.

thought you’re right about that probably not happening. with where the monsterverse is heading despite having a lot more big animal kaiju they tend to be a lot more alien, we haven’t gotten many films on the japanese side and they tend to be just the political stuff, and though we haven’t seen the griffon in action in any official media, it may be seen as “too bland” in design to be used. the reputation that era got doesn’t help at all either :(

it’s interesting to think about. monsterverse is really loyal to a lot of the older films so we need some unused kaiju to come back in. or more random alien races or cyborg women falling in love with humans. gotta get crazy with it.

[qualxon]

Draw 1998 Godzilla Jr. being friendly, but annoying legendary Godzilla.

As far as Goji goes, anything Zilla does annoys the hell outta him lol

T h one of the few reasons he genuinely even tolerates Zilla is because Fodie and Delmar are both friends with Ajax

[pseudonympls]

you should post your cat

I already have, but that was a while ago.

This is for all intents and purposes, a Bo Burnham blog - with sprinklings of writing and personal stuff.

Soooo here’s a sprinkling of my lil baby gremlin 🖤😅

[starry-sky-stuff]

👪 🙈 ⚙️ 🚆 🌠 💔 for Zilla?

👪 FAMILY - what is their family like? what is your ocs relationship to them? does your oc have any siblings?

Zilla's mother died when she was a child, but her father's alive. Her father was a wealthy man and her mother was his mistress. Zilla has nothing to do with her father and hasn't since her mother died, but she does have a stepmother and half-siblings.

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

Any vulnerability whatsoever. She wants to seem cool, calm and collected at all moments. So pretty much any emotion other than cynicism or wry amusement is suppressed.

⚙️ GEAR - what are your ocs thoughts on science & art? which do they give more importance to? how much value do they place on each?

I don't think Zilla gives too much thought to either, but probably prefers art. She doesn't think too hard about art, and basically judges it on whether or not she likes it.

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

If she didn't know the 1 person, she'd probably save the group and kill that 1 person. If they were a loved one of hers, then she'd kill the group and save them.

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

She would wish for her freedom, and possibly some money. What she wants most of all is to be free of her debt and not be forced into government service, allowing her to have autonomy for once in her life.

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

Betrayal of any kind. And also getting in the way of her goal to attain her freedom. It's a big conflict between her and Maximilian, that Loyalist vs Idealist conflict of people versus causes.

[kaiju-overlords]

How have you survived the exterminations?

"Gotta say it wasn't a cake walk in the beginning, before I got to be where I am, I had a hard time hiding considering my size. That was only with the first extermination I went through though, I was more prepared afterwards, and now his highness even let's me hide in his palace during the extermination."

"I was... under the Vees protection during my first extermination... Zilla helped me make a hiding spot that I hide in now for exterminations, no one knows about it except for her."

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬

model!choi chanhee x fem!assistant!reader

you were just supposed to be his assistant, but at some point, you'd come to mean a lot more to him.

6.4k words (WHOOPS my hand slipped), technically s2l, fluff, angst if u squint, slight pining?, kissing, model stuff and first world problems 😔✨, like one curse word, barely proofread

a/n: istg it wasn't supposed to be like this ;-; it would have been longer but i got impatient </3

Choi Chanhee once made a girl cry because she had forgotten his phone in the car. In his defense, he hadn't gotten much shuteye the night prior, but Kevin liked to always remind him of that instance.

They said that was the first, true moment the tabloids began painting him in a new light.

'Choi Chanhee, Model-zilla, Hits the Streets of Paris for Fashion Week Once Again'. 'Choi Chanhee's Ex-assistants Come Forward with Shocking Experiences'. 'Satin or Silk: the Truth Behind New's Refusal to Wear Alexander McQueen'.

The last one didn't even make sense; Alexander McQueen only used silk, anyway, and Chanhee had walked in one of his shows a few years ago. Chanhee simply hadn't the time to pen the designer into his schedule since.

The one about assistants? Well, they were all entitled to free speech, but that didn't mean that he would spare them any mercy if they decided to blatantly lie about him. He could always trust Lee Sangyeon, his personal attorney, to take care of business, if and when any of his ex-employees decided that a good payout was comparable to spewing filth.

Then there was you.

Chanhee hadn't needed a new assistant in a little over half a year since you came along. Fresh out of university with a bachelor's in communication and punctuality, you waltzed into his life, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You'd sat across from him, no-nonsense; he hired you right there. (He had not regretted it since. This was the last time he would let anyone but himself do the interview process.)

The best part about you was not that you always had his schedule memorized before he did, or that you appeared at his apartment before the car picked you both up with his favorite coffee order, or that you actually had decent taste in perfume—not… that he paid attention to what perfume you wore—but it was the fact that you could look him in the eye when he spoke to you, and you to him.

"—and you have a fitting with Chanel at five o'clock this evening right after that meeting with Maison Margiela about the perfume line. We'll have just enough time to—"

Wow, your eyes were pretty in this lighting, he thought. The two of you sat before the massive, floor-to-ceiling window in his penthouse apartment. The entire city laid sprawling at your feet while you sat across from each other at his breakfast table, eating blueberry muffins and drinking lattes.

And for some reason, all he could think about was how nice your hair looked again today, how brilliantly the shine in your eyes was from the sunlight, how impeccable your fashion sense was—even if it wasn't perfect, but that could easily be remedied. Chanhee would have to remind you to remind him to—

"Chanhee. Chanhee, are you listening to me?"

He snapped out with a flutter of his long eyelashes. He reached for his cup of coffee, delicately bringing it to his lips. "Hm? Of course, Maison and then Chanel. Did Changmin cancel our dinner or are we still on?"

A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips when he saw how your expression lightened knowing that he was paying attention. You idly stirred your latte around with a little silver spoon. "He says he's still good to go for tonight. Same place, same time."

A nod. "Good."

He nudged up the Prada sunglasses on his nose as he turned his head slightly to gaze out the open window. It was an awfully beautiful day out today. The sunlight was gentle, the skies were an azure wave of silk, sewn with clouds of white. "Yn, dearest, are we clear until the Maison meeting?"

You blinked. "Yes," you answered, checking your watch for the hour, "it's 10:32 right now."

"Mm, that gives us about five hours to refresh your wardrobe."

Your lips parted, and he smiled in amusement. There was something so adorable about your flustered state. "Excuse me?"

"Call it a little token of my appreciation," he sang, standing up from the table to deposit his empty plate and cup into the kitchen sink. "Could you call the driver to round the front?"

"Oh, uh, sure—"

"Thanks, love. I'll be back in a few," he called to you just as he disappeared into his bedroom to freshen up. You were left at the breakfast table, dumbfounded. You'd only ever gone shopping with Chanhee for him or for someone else. Not you. You were always on the clock when you were with him, and you figured he would probably take everything you bought today out of your paycheck, but…

You couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in your chest like the wings of a butterfly. This could either be the best thing that happened to you… or a complete shitshow.

There was something odd about walking into one of Chanhee's go-to leisure shopping stores—Dior—with the mindset that you were supposed to be shopping for yourself. Chanhee had asked the driver to pull up to the Dior storefront even as the regular paparazzi camped outside.

Your eyes gazed longingly at the Macy's across the mall.

Chanhee followed your gaze with a little scrunch of his nose. "Absolutely not," he clicked his tongue, dragging you out of the vehicle and to the sidewalk.

The press already dubbed you a "miracle" for being in his employ for longer than a day. But when they got shots of him literally hauling you into the Dior… you could imagine what they would all claim now. This was going to be a whole lot of cleanup, but you had learned after months of working with Chanhee that he was way tougher than he looked. He also didn't mind biting back.

When the two of you were safely stowed away within the guarded interior of Dior, you breathed easier.

Straightening, you greeted the staff members with a shallow bow, who did the same to both you and your boss.

Chanhee wiggled his fingers in silent greeting, then beelined for a white, quilted blazer on a mannequin. A worker scrambled after him to talk about the piece while another stuck by your side to make small conversation.

"How was your morning?" They asked you pleasantly.

"Oh, it was quite nice! How was yours?"

"Pretty quiet," they smiled. They were about to say something else when both of you were interrupted with Chanhee calling your name.

His eyes were pinned to you from over the rim of his sunglasses. Draped over his arm was a tapered coat of some sort, a dress, and… oh, god no. "Yn, come here."

You could already hear your wallet crying. "Chanhee, I literally cannot afford a single thing in here—"

He pressed a palm between your shoulder blades and steered you in the direction of the dressing rooms. "That's besides the point because I can afford them; that's what matters."

Surprise made your footing falter. "Huh?"

"Silly Yn-ie," he teased, "did you think I was gonna bring you all the way out here to not treat you?" Before you could say anything else, he was shoving the items into your arms, and your body into the grandiose space of the Dior dressing room. He winked over his glasses. "Now hurry and put them on. I wanna see!"

He ripped the curtain closed, and you stood there for a moment.

In your hands were the jacket, the dress, and a pair of shoes that probably cost you more than your entire bank account combined. You blew out a puff of air, just as you heard a staff member offer him a glass of champagne on the other side of the curtain.

"No getting out of this, Yn," you muttered to yourself, then began hanging everything up."

Chanhee was no stranger to the effect he had on people. In fact, he wielded it like a dagger. It was how he had gotten so far in this industry in the first place other than his immaculate good looks, of course. The face of an angel and an attitude of the devil—at least, that was what one article had said about him. He quite liked it, actually.

There was something wholly different about his effect on you as you stood beneath his scrutinizing, heated gaze, as you tried on piece upon piece. He loved being able to unabashedly stare at you, to take in your flustered expression as you did little spins for him in the outfit of choice. For once, you couldn't look him in the eye, and when you had done so once, it had been when his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

It wasn't just the champagne he was tasting.

It was the next morning when you appeared in his home at 7 o'clock sharp, as usual, but with a new accessory hanging off your arm. It was one of the more low-key purses he had bought you yesterday—and to be honest, it was actually one of his personal favorites. It was a Chanel one, of course, and it complimented your pant suit quite nicely.

"Morning," you chirped, handing him his cup of coffee as he stumbled out of his room in a silk robe and with a yawn widening his mouth.

Chanhee smiled at the sight of you, graciously accepting the coffee from you. He leaned against the countertop next to you. "Good morning," he murmured lowly, peering at you over the rim of the cup, taking a languid sip.

He sighed as the caffeine began working its magic. "How are you this morning, dearest? Have a good night?"

You had set your purse down on the island, then moved away from him only to go check his refrigerator to see if he needed anything restocked. Always so attentive. "I had a good night. How was dinner with Changmin?"

"Lovely," he said fondly. "I see you are putting my gifts to use." His fingers danced along the gold chain draped along one end of the quilted leather.

He swore your cheeks flushed, but then again, his eyes had never tricked him for a second. "Ah, yes. Thank you so much for yesterday, by the way." The fridge closed softly, and you grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter to wash and munch on. "I really don't know how I can repay you—"

Chanhee dismissed you immediately, his wrist flicking outward. "Pfft, none of that. I told you it was all a token of my affection," he grinned, propping his chin onto his palm across the island counter from you. "And gratitude," he added. "I don't say this to just anyone, Yn, and I don't buy just anyone all that stuff—but I did it because I appreciate you."

Your chewing slowed and you swallowed. "Oh."

He said it so easily. God, was he lucky to have met you.

Knowing he had successfully rendered you speechless once more, he laughed lightly, deciding to change the subject. "What's today's schedule like?"

You immediately straightened; this was something you knew like the back of your hand. It was much more up your alley.

As you ran him through his activities today, you failed to notice the difference in his posture, the softer smile on his face, and the way his eyes could not leave you for a moment, not even to drink his coffee.

Grueling was an understatement. Today had been one of the worst days of your working existence under Chanhee's employ. You'd endured rough days and nights before, but today, it seemed to have been hassle after hassle after hassle. You probably got around thirty-thousand steps by how much you ran around trying to find emergency kits and emergency outfits and running to the emergency dry cleaner's.

As much as the fashion world enthralled you, sometimes you wondered how anyone could survive it.

Chanhee was just as maxed out as you were by the end. It was maybe three in the morning by the time the two of you collapsed into the backseat of his driver's car. Streets were barren at this time in the ungodly hours of morning, and your joints ached every time you breathed.

Chanhee was quiet as well as he leaned his head back against the headrest to allow his body some rest. He just barely managed to get through that last shoot—clearly the directors had no clue what they were doing, he thought with a dead look in his eyes. That was how he felt—dead. If it hadn't been for you swooping in with a creative direction…

You were brilliant; that much he was certain of. Without you, that shoot might have dragged on for another couple of hours, or Chanhee would have just walked out. Usually, he had a good sense and eye for things, but with everything that happened today, for once, he didn't have the energy to yell or direct.

He needed to treat you to brunch tomorrow, if he was even able to wake up in time—

His inner thoughts halted when he felt a sudden weight fall upon his left shoulder. He froze up.

Your head had slumped onto his shoulder, eyes closed and no doubt deep asleep. Your bangs had fallen out from the bounds of your ponytail and draped across your face as you slept. He could smell the Miss Dior on you with this proximity.

Chanhee smiled to himself, taking his other hand and brushing the hair from your face and gently caressing your cheek. "Cute," he murmured.

By the time the car rolled to a stop in front of his complex, Chanhee had made a couple of executive decisions.

He lightly roused you from your sleep, cooing into your ear, "Come on, Yn-ie. Let's get you to bed, hm?"

You hummed, lifting your head from his shoulder with a yawn. You rubbed your eye with no care for the makeup smudging. "Chanhee? Why're you still here?"

Normally, the driver would drop Chanhee off first and then you, especially when it came to late nights like this. But… what… was happening?

Chanhee helped you out of the car, thanking the driver while mustering up a kind smile for him. "You're too tired, love. I'm taking you upstairs to my place."

"Wait, I can't—" but you weren't physically protesting; your body ached and ached and ached. But this was your boss, your employer. This wasn't professional.

"Yn, you're exhausted," he countered, buzzing into the building and helping you inside.

You couldn't argue with him anymore. You just wanted your face to hit a pillow and be out for the night. "Okay," you mumbled, letting him press your face into his shoulder on the ride up the elevator.

"Good girl," he sighed. He tilted his head back against the elevator wall, one arm wrapped around your middle and the other cradling the back of your head. Just a little longer, then the both of you could finally get some well-deserved rest.

You would argue you had seen Choi Chanhee at some of his best and worst moments. He was one of the most beautiful human beings on this planet, and yet, none of the prior moments could even compare to when you stumbled out of his bedroom to the sight of his back to you as he fried eggs and ladled waffle batter into the maker in the kitchen. He had a big T-shirt hanging from his lean frame, as well as a pair of loose pajama pants on, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for everything to cook.

Even at ten in the morning, the light pink waves of his hair looked immaculately styled. You almost forgot he hadn't gotten a perm in awhile.

The panic of waking up in his sheets instead of yours had faded when you recalled your conversation with him just seven hours prior. He had managed to wrestle you into an extra set of sleepwear he just had lying around (Gucci, nonetheless), before he deposited you onto his bed, then promptly curled up outside on the living room couch.

You swallowed. Now what?

It was then that Chanhee turned around with an innocent look on his face. You watched as it melted into something softer at the sight of you. "Good morning, dearest," he beamed, "sleep well?"

Drowsiness lingered at the corners of your eyes, but you somehow managed a nod. "Yeah, how about you?" You asked him quietly. Actually, that had been some of the best sleep you'd ever had. Something about his sheets with high thread count and the smell of Chanhee lingering on everything. But you weren't just about to say that to him.

"Well enough," he replied. He waved you over. "Come sit; breakfast is almost ready."

Your eyes widened a smidge. That was for you? Now you really needed to go home. "Ah, I appreciate it, but I've practically overstayed my welcome—"

He sent you a look. "Yn, come have breakfast with me."

You caved. Because at this point, you'd already screwed yourself over. And breakfast really did smell nice; what was the difference between Chanhee making you breakfast and you bringing him breakfast from the café down the street?

(You didn't even want to go home, as much as your logical brain was trying to urge you towards.)

So the two of you breakfasted, and for a moment, you could forget, for once, that you were just supposed to be his assistant.

Some things changed after that morning, and Chanhee found himself getting you to stay over more and more often. Even if he had to come up with something stupid like "You haven't watched the 2001 New York Fashion Week rerun?" For some reason, you bought into all his excuses, and even though he knew it was probably because you were always attentive to his needs, a part of him liked to fantasize that you felt it, too.

The pull.

Something had shifted after that morning when he made you breakfast and the two of you ate together at the breakfast table. Sleep had lingered in your eyes, and your hair was a mess, but it was soft and beautiful and… he'd never been so in awe at someone's "I woke up like this" look.

His heart had leapt at the sight of you in those pajamas with that subtle pout to your lips.

God, he thought he might sweep you into his arms and kiss y—

"New. Chanhee. Choi Chanhee—"

He blinked, lifting his eyes from his menu to meet Changmin's. "Hm?"

Changmin wrinkled his nose at him, adjusting the sunglasses seated atop his head to hang from the collar of his dress shirt. (How it managed to hang with two buttons popped open, Chanhee chalked it up to fashion magic.) "You're awfully quiet today. What, tabloids finally shut you up?" He joked.

Chanhee rolled his eyes. "One of these days, I swear, they will render me speechless with their ridiculous delusions," he muttered airily, half-heartedly skimming the menu again.

He and Changmin were seated at their usual booth in their usual restaurant at their usual time. It was their weekly dinner together, something they had kept up since their university days in order to keep themselves grounded. They, of course, touched base with all of their university friends often, but the two of them were two peas in a pod. They even refused to let Sunwoo in on these weekly dinners specifically (something the younger friend was undoubtedly salty about).

Changmin could figure out when Chanhee was occupied with something other than the present. Usually, he was all up and out of his seat dealing out gossip or what torture he and you had been… oh.

Changmin cocked his head to the side, nostrils flaring slightly as he tried and failed to suppress a sly smile. "How's Yn these days?" He asked nonchalantly, lowering his eyes to the menu in front of him even though he always got the same thing every time.

To his credit, Chanhee didn't even react. "She's lovely as always. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno," Changmin drawled, "you haven't gushed about her like you usually do. I feel like you hang out with her more than me."

Chanhee raised a brow at his friend. "She's my assistant; of course I'm going to spend more time with her."

"Yeah, but—"

"And she's a lot more agreeable most of the time."

"Hey!"

Chanhee grinned in impish delight. "You asked."

Changmin sent him a stink eye, huffing as he raised his hand up to summon a waiter. "Yeah, whatever. Okay, but you literally refused to go out with me the other night, and when I texted Yn if you had a schedule, she said that you two were at home!"

That got his attention. Chanhee pursed his lips together, sheepishness peering through his smile. "In my defense, she hadn't seen New York Fashion Week in 2001."

"You hated that year, Chanhee."

"Exactly."

Changmin sighed to himself, and just as he was about to add on, a waiter came by to take their order. Once that was done, Changmin laced his fingers over the table and leveled his friend with a pointed look.

"Just admit that you like her."

Oh, Changmin. If only you could hear the rapid palpitations of his heart when you called him out like that. Chanhee blinked innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he swallowed.

It wasn't even two days later that Chanhee had you staying a little later at his place, once again. There was something jazzy and vibey playing in the background, while Chanhee finished up plating dinner and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. You were over at the small table by the window pouring wine into twin glasses, your hair pulled haphazardly out of your face (for the most part) with a pearl-studded claw clip from Chanhee's personal PR box.

(You blatantly refused, but he then reminded you that he couldn't even use the clip himself.)

Chanhee didn't often think about sharing his life with someone, but it was moments like these—moments when he heard you hum under your breath, moments when the two of you could laugh about the day over dinner, moments when you weren't just his assistant but someone closer—that he could indulge himself. He wasn't a very domestic person; since childhood, he dreamed of places far away from home, seeing sights and experiencing cultures… but if he could come home to you? And experience this every time?

Suddenly dinner was over, and you were collecting dirty dishware and glasses to bring to the sink to wash.

"Yn-ie, hey, I can wash those—"

"No, no! You made dinner; I am washing dishes," you asserted, pushing him away from the sink when he tried to come up to you.

Chanhee broke into a laugh, coming up behind you to set his hands on your shoulders and rub the upper parts of your arms. "Okay, okay. Thanks, love," he said. He didn't even think before he pressed a kiss to your cheek and walked off to go to the bathroom.

Your cheek tingled where his lips had been, and you turned the faucet on to drown out the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears. What was happening?

You felt like you were floating on air as you hummed to the music and washed the dishes, with the ghost of Chanhee's lips left lingering on your cheek. It served as a reminder of your growing affections for him. This was dangerous, dangerous territory, and yet… it was thrilling. It was new, bold, and delectable. It was Chanhee, for goodness sake.

He was the man you saw crying drunkenly over a cat video on TikTok, the man who lended you Gucci pajamas and his bed for the night. He was on the face of every magazine cover, always excited when you could read his mind about a certain piece of clothing. Everyone in the world wanted to be him or be with him. He was so out of reach, yet right in front of you.

Maybe it was the wine making your head buzz with this wave of unmitigated sentimentality.

You finished up with the dishes, drying off your hands with the towel hanging on the oven door. Chanhee sang your name out from somewhere deep inside his bedroom, and you followed his voice to his location.

He was seated on the rug in the middle of his walk-in closet, the white LEDs washing you with light. It was a far cry from the darkness of his bedroom and the warmth from the kitchen. Chanhee patted the spot next to him on the carpet, where he had a smattering of PR gifts littering the floor around him.

Curious, you lowered yourself next to him. "Are we sorting through PR stuff?" You asked, already making a mental catalog of all the things he'd probably want to keep and the things he'd want to donate.

Chanhee hummed his dissent, rising onto his knees and shuffling over to you. Your eyes widened as he stopped close to you and you held your breath. He raised a pair of twin diamond drop earrings from Tiffany and Co to your earlobes, eyes narrowed in consideration.

"No," he muttered, dumping the earrings into their box, then digging out another.

You scrambled to delicately put the earrings back into their proper holdings. "Chanhee, what are we doing?"

"You—" Chanhee returned with a pair of sapphire earrings this time, performing the same ritual as before, but this time smiling, "—are going to sit still and look pretty for me. I am going through the PR stuff for anything nice."

"Anything nice?" You parroted in disbelief. It wasn't like he just threw a pair of diamond earrings into a box like it wasn't nice, or anything.

"I've never seen you in pearls before," he said offhandedly. From a black velvet bag, he withdrew a string of pearls clasped at the end in gold. His mouth parted in awe, and you suddenly thought of how cute he looked. Chanhee, oftentimes, was attractive and elegant and spellbinding—but this Chanhee was adorable.

He eyeballed it around your neck, then moved to clasp the collar onto you. He brushed the stray strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, gently grazing the pads of his fingers along the warm skin there. The action sent a shudder down your spine, and you were reminded of the cheek kiss from earlier.

"There," he murmured, coming back around to inspect you from the front. "Looks much better on you than it would on me."

You scoffed, reaching up to touch the cool pearls seated on your collarbone. "I disagree wholeheartedly."

He had turned around to go digging again, but the grin he threw over his shoulder at you was a certified heart stopper. "Then we'll just have to go get me a matching one."

"This is the last time I'm letting a company get me lunch," Chanhee grimaced as both you and he feverishly dabbed at the sauce splattered on his cream silk blouse.

One of the interns working on today's interview and shoot had come to deliver him his lunch when you noticed that the sauce lid on top was a dark red and not the usual light mayo Chanhee always requested beforehand. That, as well as the fact that the lid wasn't fastened all the way. Suffice to say that when you were about to point it out, said intern became flustered at Chanhee's side profile and spilled his lunch onto him.

You made sure to send the intern away before Chanhee could react.

"This was the Burberry one Haknyeonie got me," he whimpered in devastation as he took in the mess of dark brownish-red on his chest.

"Hey, it's okay. The cleaner I usually go to can fix it up," you said, biting your lip and assessing the situation. You gave a sigh, straightening, then swiping at the dampness on your forehead. "For now, you'll have to change into something else."

Chanhee pouted. "I promised I would wear this one for the interview…" He glanced back over at the clothing rack in the far corner of the dressing room at the dozens of options he had, as well as the backups you had brought, when all he wanted was to wear the shirt Haknyeon had given to him.

You wondered how long you had until the interview. You wondered how fast you could run to the dry cleaners and how fast they could fix this, if only to make that pout on Chanhee's face go away.

He pursed his lips. "I'll change into the YSL one," he resolved, standing from his vanity chair to go grab the YSL blouse from its garment bag. "Y'know," he said to you as he disappeared behind the changing divider, "we'll probably see something about this in the tabloids sometime tomorrow, depending on how bored the press people are."

You leaned back against the vanity counter, mentally noting the time. Hair and makeup would be here soon since the interview was set for half past noon. Chanhee would have to wait until afterwards before he could eat lunch. You frowned, "It wasn't your fault, Chanhee."

"I know." You saw him drape the dirtied Burberry blouse over the top of the divider and you walked over to take it down and inspect the damage yourself. "But it doesn't have to be my fault."

Unfortunately, he was right. The press would do anything for a juicy story, even if that meant twisting the facts just a little. You abhorred those stories; you always saw Chanhee's eyes glaze over like a shield at the "model-zilla" headlines, when in fact, it had little to do with Chanhee's "attitude". You wondered if someone would blow up his reaction to this out of proportion—he hadn't said anything to the intern before they ran out of the room in tears, but you supposed if you had spilled coffee on someone with as much name power as Chanhee, then you would also freak out.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, leaning slightly against the divider. A weight sank into the pit of your gut; you felt pathetic. These were one of the few things you couldn't just fix for him.

You thought you felt him lean back against the divider on the other side. "Nothing to be sorry for, dearest. It's just a shirt."

It wasn't just a shirt. It wasn't just the tabloids.

Chanhee, being the professional he was, carried on through the interview and subsequent photoshoot with elegance and grace. He wasn't in a bad mood, save for the slight melancholy in his smile when the intern's superior came by to apologize profusely and offer to have the blouse dry-cleaned for him. Chanhee politely declined—he only trusted one person with his items.

When you and Chanhee finally made it back to his penthouse suite, the sun had disappeared into the seams of the horizon, hoisting a bejeweled night into the sky. Chanhee collapsed onto the couch face-first while you dropped everything on the floor by the door and made a beeline for the refrigerator.

"I'm making tea," you declared.

Chanhee raised his head slightly. "Me too please."

You got the electric kettle started and brought out two porcelain mugs. While you waited for the water to finish boiling, you fished your phone out of your pocket to check your messages to see if the dry cleaners had alerted you yet as to the status of the blouse. On the way back, you had swung by to get the shirt to the dry cleaners. Hopefully it would be done by tomorrow morning so you could go pick it up.

Chanhee shifted and adjusted his positioning on the couch. He sat upright, leaning his cheek against his fist. "Yn-ie."

"Hm?"

"I'm lonely over here."

You huffed air out of your nostrils in a silent chuckle, but obliged him and went over to the couch. He raised his arms up toward you, making grabby hands and pouting. "You're lonely?" You repeated in amusement, slotting yourself next to him and allowing him to curl into your side.

"Well, not anymore," he said into your shoulder.

The apartment filled with the sound of water bubbling on the stove and the muffled sounds of the city outside the window.

With nothing said, you could imagine for a second that this was not your job, but your life instead.

You felt him move a little, his arms wrapping around your stomach. "Thank you," he murmured, "for everything."

Your chest tightened. "Of course," you replied simply. Because doing all of this for him was as easy as breathing air now. Taking care of him had become as easy as breathing air. It was just that simple.

He was quiet again, fingers fidgeting with the cuffs of your blazer. Something lingered in his mind.

"Yn…" He slowly brought himself to sit up straight, one hand braced on the cushion space between your bodies and the other on the back of the couch. His face was so close—you could see the baby pink hairs falling in his eyes, the bits of glitter on his eyelids, the length of his lashes brushing his cheeks. But there was something wobbling, shimmering in his irises like the ripples in a pool of water. "I think we need to talk."

Your voice was trapped in your throat. He was going to fire you. He was going to tell you that all of it had been a lie. He was going to—stop. Stop freaking out. You knew him. You knew him better than what the people on the outside only claimed to know about him. You gulped. "Okay."

Chanhee brought his hand up toward your face, but instead stopped short, his hand dropping. He wet his lip, head ducking for a second before meeting your eyes again. "You know how much I appreciate everything you do for me, right?"

Oh no.

You nodded shallowly, hands clasped in your lap. "Mhm."

"And you know that I would rather hurt myself before ever hurting you?"

You didn't like where this was going. "Chanhee—"

His eyes shuddered. "Just—just listen for a second. I promise I'll let you speak, just… I just need to get this out."

"I can't really think straight," you croaked. His cologne—god his cologne. You would die suffocating in his cologne, but he was so close and yet so out of reach.

You thought you saw hurt flash across his face. "Oh. Uh, I'm sorry—" He was leaning back now, and you were internally hitting yourself. You'd never heard Choi Chanhee stutter before.

You resisted the urge to say "come back". Come back, where you could pretend that he was yours. Shit, this had gone too far. "Chanhee, I think I have to quit."

Alarm shot his eyes wide open. "What?"

"I can't keep working for you because I have feelings for you," you blurted, staring him straight in the eyes. "I have to quit because the feelings—the want—I have for you are so strong and precariously unprofessional. And I'm sorry, because this was the best job I could've ever gotten, but—"

Chanhee grabbed your face and crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. Shock had you freezing, but it wasn't long before you held him close and let him wholly devour you.

When he pulled away, his forehead was pressed against yours, the space between your lips near nonexistent. His hands were still cupping the sides of your face and his breathing was slightly labored; all either of you could feel, hear, smell, taste were each other.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudibly you thought you'd imagined it. But then he said it again, "I love you", and everything…

Everything settled.

"How could you?" After all, you were just… you. It seemed impossible that someone as high as he was could love someone like you.

His reply was simple, paired with a sweet return to your lips. "How could I not?"

You stood outside the massive, sky-piercing high-rise of Vogue headquarters, your heart pounding in your ears and your fingers drumming nervously against the seam of your dress pants. In about twenty minutes, you would be in the topmost office of the building interviewing for a chance to become CEO Anna Wintour's newest personal assistant.

"Well?"

You glanced over to your left where Chanhee stepped beside you, asking the driver to make a loop around the building and meet him back here in a few minutes. His hair, freshly dyed a silken midnight black, had grown slightly to mullet-length; and this morning, he was clad in a pristine white suit set in a classy contrast. A pearl collar sat on his defined collarbones like it was a throne. Beautiful, as always.

There were reporters lurking around here somewhere. That definitely didn't make any of this better for you.

You released a breath. "I've got this, right?"

He passed you a gentle, yet teasing grin. "Hey, you survived me. How much worse can she be?"

That made you crack a smile.

The two of you stood side by side staring up at the building for a moment longer. After you had quit being his assistant to instead be accepted as his partner, you and Chanhee worked to find you a new gig. You received about a hundred dozen job offers from lesser brands and big names when they all heard you were leaving Chanhee's employ on good terms. Anyone who survived Chanhee, and left with a stellar recommendation letter, was a hot commodity.

Chanhee reached for your hand, squeezing your fingers slightly. "Breathe, darling. You'll be in and out and hired before you know it."

He turned you around so you faced him. His tongue stuck out between his lips as he adjusted the pearl necklace around your throat, then the lapels of your jacket. "Wow," he breathed out.

"Huh?" You hummed with a smile in your eyes.

"You still take my breath away."

A nervous laugh fell from your lips, and Chanhee swooped in to taste it—that, your laugh.

"I love you," he murmured against your mouth. Nevermind all the press and paparazzi, or Anna Wintour, or anyone. This was just you and him, even for a little. You could imagine the headlines, but that was the last thing on your mind right now.

Your tongue swiped over his bottom lip to catch the last bits of him. "I love you, too."

There was a cunning glint in his eyes, offset by the soft smile on his face. "Okay, this is it. Call me if you need anything."

You began walking toward the entrance backwards. "What if I need you?"

His smile widened. "I said call me, didn't I? Anytime, anywhere." I'm yours.

tbz m.list

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[iamknicole]

Chapter Eleven

A/N: I'm on a roll, yall! Enjoy! Please remember to ⭐Comment, reblog & share⭐

Warnings: Slight mentions of abortion, cursing, physical violence. TYPOS. 18+ MINORS DNI

Masterlist

Chapter Ten

Saturday had rolled around quicker than Zilla would have liked. His first go round in therapy was mandated, though he did learn a couple things he didn't take much from it. The therapist they paid him with wasn't a good match and they wouldn't let him swap. But this time his therapist was someone chosen by a loved one. While he trusted Kamille's decision he wondered how this therapist would be. She had told him that he could take Moriah but with everything that's transpired between them, he figured it wouldn't be a good idea to take her. 

The suede sofa felt good under him, he rubbed his left hand back and forth on the arm of the sofa. Dr. Barnes sat in the matching chair across from Zilla awaiting the answer to his question. 

“If you don't wanna answer, we can circle back to it at the end of the session, Mr. Fatu.”

At the sound of his name, Zilla's eyes moved from the sofa to his new therapist. 

“Can you ask it again?”

“Sure,” Dr. Barnes chuckled, “What landed you on my sofa?”

Zilla's eyebrows rose for a second. “You want the long answer or the short answer?”

Again, he chuckled. “For the sake of time, since we have a shorter session today you can go ahead and give me the short version.”

“Short version is Pops died when I was little and I just found out I had a kid, they dead too.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your father and your child. Which one would you like to talk about first, Mr. Fatu?”

Zilla scratched his face, chuckling. “You can call me Zilla, man. You ain’t gotta call me mister. But uuuh I guess Angel.”

Dr. Barnes nodded, giving the younger man his undivided attention. “Zilla it is. Angel is your child, I’m assuming. Boy or girl.”

“Boy.”

“How old?”

He rubbed at his nose, deflating against the suede material. “I guess you could say 12 week or sum’ like that.”

Dr. Barnes studied his reaction with a slight brow raise. “Tell me about the circumstances.”

“Uuh, my girlfriend she found she was pregnant after I got locked up and when she was 12 weeks I think, her mom made her,” he paused rubbing his hands together, “She made her get rid of the baby.”

Dr. Barnes wrote a few things down.

“You said that you are just finding out about his passing so no one told you when it happened. How did that make you feel that no one told you?”

He sat quietly for a few minutes then shrugged. “I mean I was pissed at first that they hid it from me.”

“And now?”

“I get it. They weren’t not tellin’ me at first cause they ain’t know how but they were gonna tell me. Then when that bi–that lady did what she did, they felt like it was Fat place to tell me and she was scared to tell me.”

Dr. Barnes wrote a few things then looked up with a smile on his face. “Fat?”

“Oh, Moriah, that’s my lady.” He informed him with a proud smile on his face. “Wanna see her?”

Dr. Barnes chuckled out his response then sat his notepad aside so he could lean up. He took Zilla’s phone, a smile on his face while he studied it for a moment then gave it back. 

“She's beautiful. Who else is in the picture?”

“Thank you. Our niece and my mama,” he said, glancing at the screensaver before putting it away. 

“Have you and your mom talked about the circumstances with Angel?”

“Not really no. Like for a second but nothin past that. I wanted Rye to be involved when we talked and she's finally off today.”

Dr. Barnes smiled. “Today is the day then. How does that feel? From the picture it seems you and your mother have a good relationship.”

His smile was back again. “Yeah, we do. It got better when I got out. I feel kinda nervous.”

“Tell me about that.”

“Cause me and Fat talked to each other about it and I talked to one of my brothers but it's different with our parents. Well my mama and her dad.”

“You think you're gonna hear something that might make you emotional or you think she's gonna tell you something that you and Moriah may not already know?”

“Is both a good answer?”

Dr. Barnes leaned up, resting his arms on his thighs. “There's no right or wrong answer. Whatever answer you give is the answer, Zilla.”

He nodded slowly stroking his chin hair. “Then both.”

“It's okay to feel nervous or apprehensive to talk about something as long as you do it. Going through with it is the focus. Make sure you're open to listening to what your mom says and that you get whatever questions out. If you feel like you might forget, type them up on your phone.”

“Yeah … maybe, man.”

Checking his watch, Dr. Barnes steepled his fingers, pointing his index fingers at Zilla. “You almost made it through your first session. How do you feel about making this a regular meet up? I promise if you're not comfortable, I'm okay with that. You can't heal and grow properly if you're not comfortable.”

Zilla thought for a second, making the commitment of talking about his feelings every other week made him nervous. The question echoed in his head a few times then his mind went to his relationship and his family. 

“I'm coo’ with that.” He answered with a small smile. “We can do that.”

“Great, great. So I'm going to give you a little homework.” Dr. Barnes chuckled at his frown. “You act like I'm about to assign you geometry homework or something. It's something easy and you don't even have to write anything down.”

Zilla laughed a little sitting back up. “My bad. Homework ain't ever been my thang.”

“Mine either,” he chuckled. “Your homework is for you to plan something for you and Moriah to celebrate Angel. Doesn't have to be extravagant unless you want it to be. Just something. Sound good?”

Zilla scrunched his face a little. “Like something fa kids?”

“Whatever you think is appropriate to celebrate you and Moriah's son. Something that you can look back on and always think of him. Okay?”

“Aight, I can do that.”

“I know you can. I’ll see you in two weeks, can't wait to hear about what you planned.”

After therapy, Zilla stopped by a floral shop and a bakery he passed on the way home. He eased into their apartment, sat her gifts on the coffee table then followed her voice to their bathroom. Moriah rapped along to her music as she finished up her skin care routine, Zilla stood in the doorway watching her with a smile on his face. 

“That's yo shit, huh?” He laughed seeing her jump. “How you scary listenin to thug ass music?”

“You're gonna give me a heart attack, Isayah!”

“Naaaah,” he laughed, going to give her a kiss, “You'll be aight.”

Pulling him closer, she kissed him a few more times and hugged him. “Oh whatever. How'd it go?”

“Went good, Auntie picked a good one.”

Moriah clapped excitedly then grabbed one of her moisturizers from the counter. She squeezed a little bit into her hand. “So you're gonna go back then?”

“Yeah, ima go back, Fat.”

“Tell me about it.” She dabbed a bit of the moisturizer onto her fingertips then started to massage it into his face, “Girl or guy? Old or young? Me or them or you?”

He laughed trying to get away from her hands. “Mane, what is you puttin on me?”

“I thought you were losing your thick ass accent but I see it's still there,” she joked. “Moisturizer. Now answer please.”

“I don't need that.” He complained allowing her to continue. “Man, older, you. Aight na, you don't gotta squeeze my cheeks like that.”

She giggled while still doing it. “You squeeze mine and I don't say nothing.”

Grabbing her hips, Zilla pulled her closer to him then slid his hand to her butt and squeezed.

“Cause you like that shit. Duh.”

“Isayah,” she squealed, “Stop that, I'm tryna help you moisturize.”

“I already got my own moisturizer, I don't need that.”

She stared at him. “Boy what moisturizer you got? I have never seen you use moisturizer. I have to put everything on your face.”

“You know what moisturizer I got, Fat.”

“Nope, I don't. Tell me.”

His eyes met hers, glanced down briefly then back up with a smirk on his face. She stared at him for a moment before it hit her. 

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Nasty for no reason.”

“It ain't for no reason,” he laughed, “It's all to make you happy so say thank you.”

Laughing, Moriah stepped away from him to the sink to wash her hands. Not one to be away from her, Zilla moved to stand behind her, staring at her through the mirror. Her eyes met his for a brief moment making her smile. 

“Zay,” she called out softly. 

He hummed out a response.

“I don't know if you know this but,” she paused to turn the water off and dry her hands, “There's no other place I'd rather be than here with you.”

Her heart swelled watching the tint rise to his cheeks as his smile spread across his face. It wasn't often she was able to make him blush so when she did, she enjoyed it. Pulling her closer once again, Zilla put his face in her neck kissing her there then lifted his head to look at her through the mirror. 

“You sure?” He asked softly. 

“Of course, I am.”

He kissed her face a few times. “I got you something. Come on.”

Moriah allowed him to lead her out to the gifts. Immediately she went to the flowers, inhaling their scent and gently caressing their petals. Zilla quickly snuck a couple of pictures of her.

“They're so pretty, Zay. I love them. You picked them?”

He scrunched his face playfully. “What I get if I say yes?”

She laughed softly looking over at him. “The same thing you'd get if you had help.”

“Mmm then yeah, I did. I did good? I think I remembered all the ones you like.”

She nodded, moving her eyes back to the flowers. “You did. All that time I thought you weren't listening to me but you were.”

“I tell you all the time, even though I wasn't actin like it all the time, you was and is the most important to me, Fat. I listened to everything you said to me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, girl. I mean it.”

She tilted her head back and puckered her lips at him. He put a hand on her throat, pecking her lips a few times. They held each other's stare for a moment until she stuck her tongue out at him making him laugh. 

“Silly ass, I got you something else. I'm surprised you ain't see it first.”

She frowned a little, turning to look. “Ooooh that's a bakery box. What you get me?”

“Open it and see.”

She eyed him before turning to the box that sat on their coffee table alongside the vase of flowers. She slowly opened it, excitedly wiggling when her eyes landed on the contents. 

“I haven't had good red velvet cake since we left Texas, babe. Wait … is it good?”

He sucked his teeth playfully. “I'm not tryna get cussed out about that damn cake, I wouldn't give it to you if it wasn't, Fat. And I damn sure wouldn't have got you a whole cake if it wasn't.”

She laughed. “I cussed you out one time and you won't let it go.”

He stared at her. “Twice. Both times you went on for a hour and a half.”

“Blah, blah,” she said, picking the box up, carrying it to the kitchen, “You want a piece?”

“No and neither do you.”

“Wait, what?”

He chuckled. “You heard me. You not eatin that right now. Close it up and get back over here.”

She pouted. “But why not?”

“Cause I said so. I know you ain't ate no real food so you not eatin no cake right now.”

The following silence made him chuckle. Quietly, he crossed their apartment to the kitchen. He watched her try to quietly cut a piece. 

“Moriah,” he called out sternly. 

She jumped and pouted. “Just a little piece.”

“What I say?”

Rolling her eyes, Moriah closed the box lying the knife across the top and slid her feet over to him. He kissed her head ignoring her pouting.

“Think you my Daddy,” she mumbled as she walked past him. 

He laughed. “I know I am cause you told me. Get in that room so we can call Mama.”

The couple laid across their bed with Moriah's iPad in front of them waiting for Leata to answer their facetime. Zilla bothered Moriah while they waited. 

“If you lick my face again, I'm gonna bite you.” She warned. 

Zilla paused for a second then laughed as he leaned in to lick up her jaw to her cheek. Grabbing his face, Moriah pulled him closer and bit his cheek just as Leata answered the call. She sat quietly watching them, glad they were in a good place still. Laughing, Zilla pulled away from her grasp and wiped his cheek.

“Don't lick me again, Fatu.” She laughed. 

He leaned forward and licked her lips. “You say I don't listen anyway so.”

“Isayah, stoooop.” She laughed, wiping her lips. “You so annoying.”

“But you love me,” he laughed, leaning over to do it again. 

“Zilla, what are you doin to her?”

“Making her laugh, Mama.”

“No, you're annoying me,” Moriah corrected, laughing. “Tell him to leave me alone, Ma.”

She chuckled softly. “Behave, Zilla. How are you two?”

“I'm aight. How you?”

“I'm good, son. Rye, how are you?”

“Well,” she said bumping Zilla, “I was good till your son started bothering me. And he wouldn't let me have any of the cake that he got me. He's being annoying and mean.”

Leata looked between the two of them. “Why can't she have cake?”

“Cause big head ain't ate real food since last night.”

“Rye, its what,” she paused to look at the time, “Almost 2 and you haven't eaten yet? You need to eat before all that sweet stuff.”

Moriah pouted. “Yes ma'am but only cause you said it and not him.”

Zilla mushed her head playfully. “Either way you ain't gettin it right now.”

“Alright, are yall ready to talk?” She asked stopping them before they could start arguing. They nodded putting their attention back on her. “Okay so where are we starting?”

Moriah nodded for Zilla to go.

“Um when yall found out Fat was pregnant, did you and her people talk without her?”

“We did. We actually spoke a few times. Rye, you don't know this but Hassan knew before you told him. You said you wanted to tell the two of them at the same time but you and I were going to need him as an ally while you told Nadine.” She explained. “When he got in town, I had him come to the house first so I could talk to him. He understood my point of view and he was glad that I had told him prior to. His main concern was the two of you and the baby.”

“Wow … thank you. I didn't even think about that.” Moriah admitted.

“Of course, manamea. While Rye were in school, the three of us got together to discuss the whole situation. It was made clear that no one was to say anything to you until I figured out how to tell you. Surprisingly enough, Nadine agreed to that but knowing what she did that's probably why.”

Zilla nodded, rubbing over his chin hairs. “Anything else?”

Leata thought for a few seconds. “Just that even though the timing of the pregnancy wasn't ideal, Hassan and I were never mad at you two. A little disappointed but we were honest with ourselves,” she chuckled, “We saw it coming from a mile away. We thought it'd be a little later but we knew.”

Moriah and Zilla looked at each other then back at the screen. 

“Knew what, Ma?” She asked with her brow raised. 

“That there was gonna be a pregnancy or a scare at some point in high school. We knew it.”

Zilla scrunched his face up. “We wasn't even datin then.”

Again she chuckled. “You two never put a name to it but yall were. You went on dates, you were always cuddled up on my sofa, in your bedroom with the door closed and locked and sneaking out together.”

The couple laughed softly. 

“We wasn't doin nothin that most of that time. Not till later.”

“Oh trust me, son.” She laughed. “I know when yall started. I just didn't say anything. You didn't wonder why all of a sudden your brothers were giving you condoms and talking to you?”

Zilla laughed thinking back about it while Moriah sat mortified with small giggles escaping her. 

“I'm embarrassed,” she declared. “I told you, Zay.”

He laughed. “You was always scary anyway so I ain't pay you no attention.”

“Any other questions for me?”

Moriah looked to her boyfriend for his response. 

“Uuuh … after Fat told you what happened, what did you do?”

“Well first I went to pray,” she chuckled humorlessly, “Because if I didn't, I knew whatever I would've done would not have been good. I consoled and talked to Rye until she had to go back home afterwards I went to my bedroom and I cried. I called Arthur to tell him, he was livid. I had to keep him from going to see Nadine. And then you ended up calling me, Isayah. You usually never called as late as you did but I remember you saying something was telling you to call me so you did.”

Zilla tried hard to remember that call, he could recall certain parts of the conversation but not all of it. 

She continued on. 

“It was hard to act like everything was okay but I had to because I knew it wasn't my place to tell you. I could assist Rye with it but that was all. Plus telling you while you were in there would not have been good.”

Moriah reached over to wipe the few stray tears from his face. He sniffed a few times. 

“I appreciate y'all for carin enough about me not tell tell me then cause I prolly would've got more time. I woulda caused hell in that place.”

“And that's what we didn't want.” Leata said softly. 

Zilla leaned over, kissing Moriah's cheek then whispered for her to go ahead. She nodded, starting to play with her fingernails. 

“I gotta tell you something else about this whole thing, Ma.”

“I'm listening, Rye. Whatever it is, it's got you nervous. You only do that with your nails when you're nervous.”

She smiled a little, trying to stop clicking her nails. “After everything, I kept asking my mom for information. I wanted to know if she knew the gender and what they did with my baby afterwards. Then finally she told me that she had the gender and she had them cremate the remains. And she said the only way I was getting any of that and my sonograms was under one condition.”

“Which was what?”

Moriah bit her lip, fighting the urge to cry. “I had to get my tubes tied.”

Leata frowned, leaning in a bit closer. “You had to what? Cause I know Nadine did not.”

“I had to get my tubes tied, Ma. I wanted what I had left of my baby so I agreed.”

Leata's face was set in shock on the other side of the facetime. There were so many words that wanted to come out but she was unable to say a thing. Moriah asked Zilla to pass her the baby blue box from his nightstand, when she got it she held it in view for Leata to see. Zilla rubbed soothing circles on her back. 

“She just had him in this ugly carton thing so I used the money that my dad had given me for something else to buy him this. He's gone everywhere with me even college,” she chuckled softly.

Trying to process everything, Leata brought her hands to her face for a moment. She allowed her tears to fall freely as she stared at the screen. 

“He?”

“Yes ma'am,” Moriah tilted it a bit to show where his name was engraved at the top. “I was having a boy. I named him Angel.”

“Oh, Rye. This just makes what she did that much worse. It wasn't enough that she made you abort Angel but then continued to use him to manipulate you and pretty much take away the chance to have another.”

Zilla and Moriah sat quietly listening to her come to terms with everything.

Leata took slow deep breaths. “That is an evil woman that neither of you need to be around. I know that's your mother, Moriah but you have done all you can do. There is no saving grace for her and you will not give her any. Do you hear me?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“I am so sorry that she did that to you, Rye. If I would've known I would've done something to stop it. Does Hassan know?”

“I know, Ma. No, I never told anyone until now so only you, Zay, my mom and me know.”

She nodded. “Well no one will find out from me, that is your business to tell. I um I need to go. I love the two … the three of you so much. Call me or text me if you need me.”

Zilla noticed the look on his mother's face and got concerned. “You good, Mama? You look pale.”

“I'm okay, I'm okay. Just processing. I'm gonna go.”

Without waiting on them to respond, she disconnected the call. Moriah closed her iPad case then rolled onto her side to look at her boyfriend.

“She is not okay.”

“She ain't,” he agreed. He grabbed his phone sending out a quick text, “I told Arthur to go check on her.”

“She looked pissed. I'm pretty sure if not now, in the next few days she's gonna go see my mom.”

Zilla thought then shrugged. “Nadine need her ass whooped anyway. She get what she get.”

Moriah laughed, “You not wrong but Ma do not need to be doing that. We don't want her to get in any trouble.”

He huffed loudly. “You right but Nadine still need her ass whooped. I guess text Auntie Kami too but that would mean you gotta tell her.”

Moriah tapped on her phone, sighing softly. “The good thing about Auntie Kami is I don't need to tell her right now and even though she'll find out in the midst, I can still talk to her about it later and she'll be okay with it.”

Zilla gently pushed Moriah back, making her lie on her back so he could put his head on her chest. She reached one hand down to rub his head while she continued to text. 

“I'm proud of you, Fat.”

“What did I do?”

“Everything. You went through all that plus her basically torturin you till I got out and you stood ya ground. You strong baby.” He praised softly. “You got a good ass heart too. I ain't gon let nobody else play with that shit or you. Zilla got you.”

“And Fat got you. You know I do not play about you.”

He laughed a bit. “Shit, I know. Remember ole girl you beat up at that skate party? Made that girl piss herself.”

Moriah busted out laughing, almost dropping her phone. “I did not.”

“Yeah you did. I remember,” He laughed “I remember cause when you realized it got on your hand, you punched her ass in the mouth.”

“Cause that shit was nasty. If she couldn't hold her bladder she shouldn't have started with you.”

He turned over to look at her, a smile on his face. “I thought you said you ain't do that?”

She stared at him trying not to laugh. “Okay, fine, I did. But in my defense I was only doing what Pops, Ejay, and your cousins taught me to do.”

“They did not tell you to make nobody piss they self, mane. You did that.” He laughed now sitting up.

“They did so. They said make sure whoever I fight is leaking by the end. They never specified what kind of leak.” She shrugged playfully. “Point is, I won, she apologized and never bothered you again.”

He shook his head at her, still laughing. “And that's why I tell people not fuck witchu cause they don't want them problems. And I don't either.”

She swatted at his arm after she put her phone down. “Don't tell people that. They gon think I'm mean.”

He pushed his lips to the side staring at her. “That ain't a secret, Fat. Everybody that know ya ass know you mean as shit. You only nice to your patients, Mama, Hassan, and Toni. And I really don't think you that nice to Toni, I just ain't seen it yet.”

“Aht. I am nice to her. She's not nice to me.”

“Damn,” he called out, “That mean she meaner than you. Yall was meant to be friends.”

Moriah sat up and launched herself at him, he grabbed Angel's box moving it to the nightstand then wrapped his arms around her. He laughed as she landed playful jabs to his torso.

“Since I'm mean, I might as well beat you up then, Fatu.”

“Now you know the only one of us that gets beat up around here is you,” He joked, tickling her sides making her giggle uncontrollably. “Now say sorry.”

“Zay! Zay, stop!” She yelled in between giggles.

He continued his playful assault on her sides through his own laughter. “Say sorry and I stop.”

“Okay! Okay! I'm sorry!” She yelled.

He hummed not stopping. “That ain't enough. Am I your daddy, Fat?”

“Zilla, I gotta pee!” She giggled. 

He laughed still tickling her.  “Then you better answer me. Am I your daddy?”

She fell over giggling. “Yes! You're my Daddy! Stoooop!”

Laughing, he let her go. He watched her jump off the bed and run into the bathroom closing the door behind her. She yelled from behind the door. 

“You get on my nerves, Fatu!” 

He grabbed his ringing phone and put it to his ear. “Love you too, Fat! What's up, Jon?”

“The hell is yall doing? Yelling in my ear.” He asked, talking just as loud. 

Zilla laughed putting the call on speaker. “Nothin, man. What's up?”

“Checkin to make sure yall still coming this weekend. Trin made me call cause she said if her favorite cousin not here I'm gon be in trouble.”

“Ayyye, I'm the favorite. Tell her we gon be there.”

Jon laughed. “She wasn't talkin about you, man. She was talkin about Moriah.”

He sucked his teeth. “Just for that tell her, I'm comin but Fat stayin home.”

Moriah came out of the bathroom and went back to the bed, leaning against Zilla. “I'm not staying home. If I don't go, you don't go.”

“I can go places without you, big head.”

“You can but you can't go visit them without me.”

He looked down at her. “Why I can't?”

She stared back at him. “Jon gon let you live with him?”

Jon laughed, interrupting them. “Damn, she sound just like Trin. Always tryna put us out over a lil jokey joke.”

“Cause yall not funny.” Moriah fired back playfully. “We'll be there, Jon. And I want the same room, Trin told me it was mine.”

“Lil girl, how you just gon claim stuff in my house?” 

“Huh? You said you want me to tell Trin you being mean to me?”

“Maaaan,” he drug out playfully, “Aight fine but you gon tell Sefa why he can't have that room.”

Moriah squealed, “My second favorite Fatu man is gonna be there? Why you didn't tell me before?”

Zilla frowned. “I better be the first favorite.”

She scrunched her face. “Ew, no. Arthur's my first favorite then Sefa.”

“And what number am I?” Jon asked. 

“Uuuuh let's see …. There's Arthur, Sefa, Zilla, Jacob, Ejay, you and then Naio.” 

“Now wait a damn minute,” Jon called out, “I'm number six! Why am I so low on the list? What I do?”

“And why am I number three?”

“Jon, you're never on my side just like Naio so that's what yall get,” she explained quickly, “And you're number three because Arthur spoils me and Sefa always took my side and the both of them always check on me.”

Both men sucked their teeth. 

“Aye, Zay, we gon jump Sefa this weekend. Traitor.”

Zilla laughed. “Hell yeah.”

“But aight then. Text me what snacks and stuff yall want for the weekend so I can add it to the list. Call if yall need anything.”

“Bye number six!” Moriah joked. 

Job sucked his teeth. “Just for that, no snacks for you.”

“Bye, man.” Zilla chuckled, ending their call. “Fat?”

“What, big head?”

“I'm really number 3?”

She nodded, smiling. “Yup but you're my number one Fatu in the non platonic way.”

“I'm the only non platonic Fatu you got.”

She huffed playfully. “Boy, just take the number one spot and hush.”

After her shift, Moriah changed out of her work clothes and into her regular clothes then went to the ED to wait on Toni. She watched the older woman check in a second patient in the last ten minutes. Bronco, Zilla and Moriah had finally convinced Toni to come to a show and see him wrestle. 

“Nurse Bryant, it's fifteen minutes past your shift.” Moriah called out looking at her watch. 

Toni finished up with the patient then turned to her friend. “I couldn't just stop what I was doing, Rye. I'm coming, give me a second.”

“We're gonna be late if you don't come on. We still have to stop by your house to drop off your car and for you to change, go to mine to drop my car off and uber to the show. Bring your butt on.”

The handheld monitor went off again interrupting them. Before Toni could check it, Moriah snatched it and passed it to the nurses relieving her, who had been trying to get it. They had a short conversation then Moriah pulled her friend from behind the nurses station and towards the doors.

“Wait, wait, my purse.” Toni called out trying to go back. 

“It's in my bag, let's go. Cause if I miss my man because of you, me and you are gonna need a ref.”

When the friends got to their cars, Thomas was sitting on the hood of Moriah's car. Toni rolled her eyes and Moriah stayed to dig through her purse. 

“Why are you sitting on her car? Get off.”

Thomas smiled. “Was just waiting on her. No harm done, Toni.”

“Yet you're still sitting on it,” she clocked with a tilt of her head. 

He waved her off putting his focus on Moriah. “Can we talk, Moriah? It won't take but a second.”

“You have until I find what I'm looking for to say whatever it is you wanna say to me and I believe I told you to call me Nurse DeBreaux.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I'll love you and wanna be with you regardless of us being able to have children. We can try and if it doesn't work, we can always adopt. I really want to give us another try, I've matured. I'm not the same person I used to be.”

“Found it,” she announced triumphantly and pulled her pink taser Jacob had given her years ago from her purse. She moved closer to him, putting it near his crutch. “If you ever sit on my car again, call me anything but what I've told you to call me or bring my medical information up again, I won't be the only one who may not have kids. Am I clear?” She pressed the side making it spark for emphasis. 

Toni stood back laughing to herself.

He jumped a little. “Whoa, I'm just tryna make amends. It's bad enough you might not have kids, don't want you to be alone on top of it.”

“Why do you assume I'll be alone, Thomas?”

“Look at all the kids in that family. If you can't give him kids, he's not gonna stay when he finds out.”

Moriah chuckled. “Get the hell off my car, Thomas. You got five seconds.” 

He jumped off the hood, taking a few steps back. “Just think about it, Mo.”

“You are so lucky I got somewhere to be. Stay away from me and I mean that shit.” After he jogged off, Moriah turned her taser off and threw it back in her purse. She passed Toni her own purse. “I'll follow you to your house. We gotta hurry.”

Forty five minutes later, the friends made it to NXT Arena at Full Sail University. They walked around the backstage area looking for their other halves.

“Haven't you been here before?” Toni asked, looking around. 

“Yeah twice but both times he was with me. Let's just ask somebody.” Moriah looked around then spotted what looked like a friendly face. She approached the woman, tapping her shoulder. “Sorry to bother you but we're kinda lost.”

She smiled looking at the two of them. “Well I hope I can help. I'm literally like two almost three weeks in. What are yall looking for?”

“Catering. We're supposed to meet someone there.”

“Now that I can find. Follow me,” she laughed, starting to head in that direction with them. “I'm Gia, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Moriah and this is Toni.” Toni gave a polite smile and wave when Gia looked over at her. “What do you do here, Gia?”

“Journalist but in basic terms, I do backstage interviews.”

“Sounds cool. And you don't have to get all sweaty and thrown around so that's good.” Moriah joked, ignoring Toni’s mimicking. 

“That's the best part,” Gia agreed, stopping in front of catering, “Do you see who you're looking for?”

Moriah and Toni looked around for a few seconds. Toni nudged her friend's arm and pointed. 

“I see them over there.”

“Where?” Moriah asked, frowning. 

Toni pointed, “Right there. Left corner. I know you see Bronco's tall ass and Zilla.”

Gia's ears perked up at the mention. “I see them. Come on, I'll walk yall.”

“Uuh, we got it but thank you, Gia.” Toni frowned.

Gia laughed it off. “No worries plus I hadn't had a chance to speak to them today. They're always on the move.”

Gia walked in front of them, leaving the two friend's to exchange looks before following her. Moriah mumbled under her breath a bit. 

“Oh my gosh, Zilla! Look who I found wandering around,” she announced putting a hand on his arm.

Moriah didn't miss the grimace on his face as he looked in Gia's direction. He moved her hand then noticed Moriah and Toni. Bronco rolled his eyes accepting Toni's hug. He whispered to her that Gia got on his nerves. Zilla smiled widely at Moriah going to hug her. 

“What's up, Fat? What's up, Toni?”

“You didn't tell me your sister and her friend was coming, Zilla. I could've met them at the gate for you since you and Bronco had them wandering around.”

Toni laughed under her breath looking up at Bronco, who rolled his eyes again. 

“Sister? Do me and him look alike to you?” Moriah asked, confused. 

Gia laughed, clasping her hands in front of her body. “I'm sorry, I was assuming. Cousin then?”

Zilla pulled Moriah into his side, placing a kiss to her temple. “She not my cousin. This my lady, mane. And we got them. We good, Gia.”

“Oooh this is your girlfriend? He really loves you, girl. Every time I talk to him, he mentions you.”

“I wonder why,” Toni mumbled. 

Moriah smiled looking between them. “Good to know, Gia.”

Gia patted his chest a few times then let her hand linger there. “He's a tough cookie to crack but I think I'm wearing him down. We're gonna be friends. And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him for you. These girls around here can be a bit much.”

Before Zilla could, Moriah pushed her hand off of him.

“Yeah I can see that about the girls,” Moriah sassed tilting her head. “Just a little thing to keep in mind about him … he doesn't like to be touched by people he don't know like that and I don't either.”

“Noted, girl. I'll make sure they keep their hands off of my friend.” Gia smiled at Zilla and Bronco then moved to hug Moriah and Toni. “Enjoy the show. Ooh come find me afterwards, we can go get drinks.”

Moriah turned to stare at her boyfriend, who held his hands up. 

“Fat, I ain't do shit. She can't take a hint.” 

Bronco nodded. “He ain't lying. He literally gives her no indication that it's okay for her to even talk to him and she still do it.”

Moriah folded her arms. “She better learn how to take a hint or she gon have a problem that she don't want. Talking about some damn sister or cousin. She knew I wasn't either one of those.”

“She did,” Toni agreed, “She was trying to be messy.”

“And had the nerve to put her hands all on him like I'm not standing here. She lucky I ain't break her damn hand.”

Toni clapped her hands. “Girl, seriously. She was trying you. Being all bold like, I can imagine what she does when you're not here.”

Moriah groaned inwardly. “And she better hope I don't ever find out cause I will beat her ass and then ima beat his ass.”

“And then ima beat Bronco's ass,” Toni added.

“Wait, I moved her hand just like I do any other time and tell her to stop. Why I'm gettin my ass beat?” Zilla asked. 

“Ion even like that girl and I tell her to leave him alone. I shouldn't be gettin my ass beat.” Bronco stressed. 

“Just so yall know we not nothing to play with,” Toni explained with finality. 

Moriah nodded. “That part.”

“Listen, me and Bronco not worried about that girl. We dodge her ass and whenever she do catch us, we keep it short. Right, B?”

Bronco nodded. “Right.”

“It better stay that way too. I don't mind beating her ass, Isayah.”

Zilla nodded her face then her lips, holding her body against his. “I know you don't. Don't worry about her, she ain't important.”

“Mmhm.”

“Oh! Rye almost tased Thomas’s nuts off.” Toni announced with a chuckle. 

Zilla looked at Toni then his girlfriend. “Not that it matter but why?”

“He was sitting his ass on my damn car and was tryna talk to me about being together,” she explained, “Then I told him if he ever sat on my car or brought what he brought up again, I wouldn't be the only one with fertility issues.”

“Good job, sis.” Bronco praised excitedly. “But next time do it. Teach his ass.”

Toni hit his arm, chastising him.

“You know when he work next?”

“Why?” She asked, staring at him. 

“Do you know, Fat?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, Thursday same time as me.”

“Aight, yall go head to your seats. We'll send somebody to get yall before the show over.” He pulled her closer, kissing her slowly. “I love you, fat head.”

She laughed softly. “Love you more, Fatu. See you later, Bronco.”

Bronco hugged and kissed Toni then smiled at Moriah. “Aight, sis. Yall cheer loud for me and my boy.”

The men watched their girlfriends leave catering before turning to one another. Bronco's smile widened with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“What time I need to be ready Thursday?”

Fortunately for Nadine, Kamille was able to detour Leata for a couple of days. Knowing her sister's work schedule, she invited Nadine to her house Wednesday afternoon for a snack and to talk. Kamille left the detail about Leata coming out to ensure her sister came. 

Leata and Kamille had been sitting in her living room since Arthur dropped her off thirty minutes prior. The two waited on Nadine's arrival. 

“Which one of your babies was that, that dropped you off?”

“Arthur, my oldest. And he was not happy that I wouldn't let him stay.” She chuckled. 

Kamille laughed. “Yeah, he didn't look happy. Rye told me that he's the only brother that knows so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that he's on the list of people that aren't happy with my sister.”

“He's definitely on that list. I don't blame him … just thinking about it makes me so angry. She was 15 years old, a baby.”

“I've been giving her shit about the way she's been with Moriah for years and she tells me the same thing every time. That she can do what she wants with her child.”

Leata rolled her eyes. “Same crap she's said to me.”

The door opening and closing momentarily ended their conversation. Nadine called out for her sister then followed her voice to the living room. Her smile slowly dropped into a frown as she went to sit on the love seat. 

“You didn't tell me there would be a third wheel, little sister.”

Kamille smiled. “Seems like you were the last one here so you're the third wheel, big sister. How are you?”

“I'm well. How are you? Hello, Leata.”

“Same, Nadine.” Kamille answered, nudging Leata.

“Hi, Nadine.” She greeted stiffly.

Nadine hummed at her. “How is your son treating my baby?”

“You would know if she were still talking to you,” Leata chuckled, “He's treating her the way he's always treated her, like a queen.”

“Queen of what? The hood?”

Kamille jumped in to stop them. “Nadine, cut it out. Don't get sassy because you know she's right.”

“Kami, why am I here? I've been working all day and I am too tired for this.”

Girl,” Kamille scoffed, “You worked two hours today, you not tired. Anyway Leata wanted to talk to you and I am here to facilitate. Don't be your usual asshole self either.”

Nadine rested her elbow on the arm rest, moving her attention from her little sister to Leata. “What would you like to talk about, Leata? What can I do for you?”

Leata counted backwards from ten in her head before responding. “I'm just gonna jump right in, I don't have the patience to beat around the bush. You made Moriah get her tubes tied?”

“Yup.” She answered popping the ‘p’. “Anything else?”

“Anything…. Anything else? Are you kidding me? You don't see anything wrong with making a 15 year old girl get her tubes tied? She was a baby, Nadine.”

She smiled at her former friend. “No, I don't see anything wrong with making hard decisions for my child. She was a baby that didn't need to be having babies so I made sure she wouldn't.”

“Birth control was an option, Nadine.”

“Wasn't gonna do what I needed to be done.”

“What if she never able to have kids again? Does that even make you feel a little bad?”

She shook her head, a slight smile on her face. “Knowing that she'll never have a child with that child of yours brings me joy and a sense of accomplishment. And if I'm as lucky as I think I am, he'll break up with her.”

“Nadine, what is your got damn problem with me and my kids? You went from being one of my best friends to my enemy.” Leata yelled while sitting up on the sofa. 

“You and your kids are just like that husband of yours.” Nadine yelled standing from the love seat. “I didn't realize it until after his ass killed over.”

Leata stood as well, pointing her finger in Nadine's direction. “You better be careful with the next words that come out of your mouth.”

“Hmm well let me take a second to think about what I wanna say about you, your husband and your kids.” Nadine paused dramatically. “Your husband always had his ass in my family's business, in my husband's ear about this and about that. Thought it was just him but you and your damn kids are the same way. You took your husband's spot in my husband's ear and your kids are in my daughter's ears.”

“Hassan and Moriah know how to make their own choices! We did not make them do anything they didn't wanna do, Nadine!”

Nadine rolled her eyes. “Oh sure. They just happened to make these stupid decisions after talking to one of you Fatus.”

“Oh please, Nadine. I'm glad you think so highly of us that we have that much control but sorry to tell you it's complete bullshit.”

“I'm not my daughter or my husband, I'm not falling for that.” She chuckled. “As bad I felt when your husband died, I was glad cause I thought I was finally getting control back of my family. But then the manipulation and interference didn't stop.”

Kamille stood at that. “Nadine, you're going too far. Stop that.”

“Oh I'm just getting started,” she spat, laughing. “I don't think I'll have to wait that long to get control back and have my baby come home to me. That child of yours is following in his father's footsteps literally so it won't be too long before he joins him. Now that's a funeral I would pay good money to sit front row at.”

Leata's right arm reared back then forward with as much force as she could muster connecting with Nadine's left cheek. There was so much force behind her slap, Nadine lost her balance and hit the floor. She held her cheek, opening and closing her mouth trying to check her jaw. Kamille stepped in front of Leata. Pushing her back gently trying to calm her. 

“That was the last time you will ever talk about my kids or my husband! If you ever talk about them again like that it'll be your funeral we're sitting front row for!”

Slowly, Nadine pushed herself up onto the love seat. She heard Leata but the pain in her face and jaw kept her from responding. There was a slight ringing in her ear as well that wouldn't go away.

“Breathe, friend. Breathe. I got her, you go call Arthur.”

Leata glared at her old friend as she left the living room, mumbling to herself. Kamille stared at her big sister wondering how the sister she used to look up to turned into this person. They were fifteen years apart but at 38, Kamille felt like she had much more sense than the 53 year old sitting in front of her today. 

“Why would you say that to her? You can't really feel that way, Nadine.”

Nadine winced a bit when she opened her mouth. “You know I don't say things that I don't mean.”

“I don't know that but I do know if you say things to hurt people to get the upper hand. You wished death on her kid. That's not right.”

She chuckled. “What's not right is her family breaking up mine.”

“Their family didn't do a damn thing but love you, Hassan and Moriah. Although it's clear that they wasted their love on you. You and you alone broke up your family.”

“If I didn't know any better I'd swear you were drinking the Kool-Aid too.” Nadine smirked as best she could. “So tell me which Fatu are you sleeping with? Hmm let me guess … Jacob. He was always fond of you.”

Kamille frowned at her big sister. “Me and Jacob are friends, basically family like the rest of them and you know that. You just say anything to avoid accepting fault. Mama didn't raise us like that.”

“How would you know? I was damn near grown when you were born. You don't know shit about how I was raised.”

Kamille sucked her teeth, “I know enough to know that she raised us both the same way. You need to stop this before you get to a point where it can't be fixed.”

“I don't need to do anything but call the police.”

“For what, Nadine?”

“I'm pressing charges. She assaulted me and you witnessed it.”

Kamille shook her head. 

“You are absolutely not. If you call them, I'm calling Mama and telling her what you did to Moriah and what you just said to Leata. And I know no matter how old and bitter you are, you do not wanna deal with a pissed off Trenice Parker. Do you?”

Nadine stared at her sister for a few moments then huffed loudly. “Go get me a ice pack, don't just stand there.”

Knowing how her son felt, Leata waited until they got back to her house to tell her how the meet up had gone. He then spent thirty minutes going off about Nadine and debating on going back to Kamille's to finish what his mother had started. 

“You know you gotta tell Zay and Rye, right.”

She shook her head. “No, they've already got a lot going on. I'll tell them just not right now.”

“Mama, they need to know now. Especially Rye. This not nothing to keep to ourselves.” Arthur stressed kneeling in front of her while she sat on the sofa. “She better hope I don't see her in public.”

“That right there is why I don't wanna say anything. Your brother is gonna react that same way.”

“And he should, Mama. Her bitter ass wished him dead. You don't say stuff like that.”

She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay fine but this is gonna hurt Moriah.”

“Whether you tell her now or later, it's gonna hurt her, Mama.”

Begrudgingly, she facetimed Zilla. A part of her hoped he didn't answer so she had more time. Her hopes were dashed when she saw his smiling face and heard Moriah's voice in the background. 

“Aye! Stop hitiin’ me, Mama on the phone and ima tell!” He laughed. “Mama, tell this girl to keep her hand to herself.”

Arthur moved to sit beside Leata, putting his face in the frame. 

“What did you do to her, son?”

“I … ow, your lil hands hurt, mane. She offered me cake and now she mad cause I ate it.”

“Nah uhn! I offered him a piece yesterday and he ate another piece today!” Moriah yelled.

“He sorry,” Arthur suggested, “Right, Zay?”

Zilla frowned a bit, pulling Moriah into a loose headlock. “Uhuh, right. My bad, Fat. What yall got going on?”

Arthur put his attention on Leata, silently urging here to go on. 

“I wanted to tell you two that I went to Kamille's to talk to Nadine. And it didn't go well.”

Zilla moved him and Moriah to their sofa to sit down. Moriah got comfortable against his chest. 

“What happened?” Zilla asked, looking between his mom and brother. 

Leata looked at Arthur then back at the screen. “It didn't last long, I'll say that. We got into a spat, she said some ugly things and it escalated.”

“What did she say?” Moriah asked softly. 

“I asked her about what she made you do and she said she was proud of it and felt accomplished.”

It was heartbreaking to see the residual joy leave Moriah's eyes. Zilla pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Leata waited for her to respond, when Moriah didn't she continued. 

“She also said some things about your father and your brothers but mostly you. Things escalated,” she sighed, “I'm not proud of it but it ended in me slapping her.”

Zilla's brows raised. 

“What she say? Had to be bad for you to do that.”

Arthur realized she wasn't going to be able to say it so he stepped in. “She wished death on you, Zay then Mama slapped her.”

Moriah sat up immediately, pushing herself off the sofa but Zilla held onto her waist with one hand. 

“Fat, sit down. Come ‘ere, man.”

She shook her head, roughly pulling herself from his grasp. “No, I can't. I can't.”

Leata spoke up. “Let her go, Zilla.”

He huffed watching her walk off to their bedroom. “The hell I do to her for her to say that?”

“I'm telling you that you did nothing to deserve having someone say that about you, Isayah. You could tell that woman to have a good day and she would swear you cursed her. You hear me?”

He nodded starting at the closed bedroom door. “I hear you, Mama.”

“Isayah,” Arthur called out, getting his brother's attention, “Mama told yall that so yall would know what that lady got going on not to cause a setback between the two of you.”

He nodded again. 

“Go do what you need to do.”

Zilla disconnected the call as he got up from the sofa. He went to listen at the bedroom door for a moment before going in. Moriah laid with her face in her pillow, crying softly. Going to her side of the bed, Zilla kneeled there and rubbed her back. 

“You meltin again, Fat?”

She shook her head, not lifting it from the pillow, followed by a muffled ‘no’. He smiled a little, nudging her over so he could see her face. 

“It look like you meltin’, baby.”

“Just a little,” she said softly. 

“You don't gotta melt over that. Zilla ain't goin nowhere, Zilla gon stay right here with you to get on your nerves.”

She nodded, sniffling softly. “Promise?”

“Zilla promise. What can I do to make my lady stop meltin?”

“A kiss maybe.”

He chuckled, leaning up to kiss her. “Better?”

“Mmmm … maybe one more.”

He kissed her again. “Now?”

She shrugged. “I kinda feel better. A snuggle would probably make it all the way better.”

“Whenever you ask me to snuggle, you end up tryna do more than snuggle, Fat.” He pointed out getting up from the floor and climbing into the bed behind her. She moved her body back, closer to him. “See? You already startin’.”

She laughed softly. “Just getting comfy. Plus ever since Zilla threw his condoms away, he hasn't wanted to snuggle with me anyway.”

He laughed in her ear. “We both been tired as shit, Fat. My bad.”

“You never cared about me bein tired before.”

“That's cause I wasn't tired.” He kissed her neck a few times. “I promise to snuggle with you next time. Aight?”

“Pinky promise?” Moriah proposed as she lifted her pinky up.

He linked his pinky with hers. 

Since they were leaving for Tampa as soon as Moriah's shift ended, Zilla dropped her off at work Thursday morning. She had long forgotten about Zilla's inquiry into Thomas’s work schedule so she didn't question him taking her to work or warn him to not do anything bad. Moriah liking to be thirty minutes early to her shift worked out in his and Bronco's favor seeing as the friends made it to the parking deck minutes before he did. Unbeknownst to him, he parked his Audi between Bronco's truck and Zilla's challenger. When he stepped out of his car, Zilla was standing at the back of his car startling him. 

“What's wrong? Why you so jumpy, mane?” Zilla laughed. 

Bronco crept up behind him, slamming the driver side door for him. “He act like he seen a ghost or sum.”

Thomas jumped again looking between both men. 

“There are cameras in here.”

Zilla looked up at the cameras, smiling even wider. “You mean them right there? I wouldn't count on them workin.”

“Naaah they definitely outta order, my guy. Kinda like yo ass,” Bronco added with a chuckle. 

“What do you want? I need to get to work.”

Zilla moved closer to him grabbing his collar to shove him against Bronco's truck.

“Wait, why he not hemmed up against his own car?” Bronco asked, frowning. 

Zilla ignored his friend, maintaining eye contact with Thomas. “Moriah told me yo ass still botherin’ her and if it's one thing I can't stand is somebody that don't understand no especially when my lady say it. She asked you one too many times to leave her alone so now I gotta step in.”

Thomas struggled to get out of his grasp but his strength was nothing compared to Zilla's. “It's not that serious. We were just having a conversation.”

“A conversation that she told you she ain't want which mean she said no to your ass.” He spat, pressing his forearm into Thomas’s throat. “This the one and only warnin you get from me. The next time you see me or my boy it won't be to talk.”

Bronco stepped forward and leaned down so they were sure level. “And if you don't keep this lil meeting between us, you'll see us sooner than that. Comprende?”

“Sis! I been missing you!” 

As soon as Moriah and Zilla stepped inside the house, Trinity ran to them engulfing Moriah in a tight, bear hug rocking them from side to side. Jon and Zilla watched them with frowns on their faces. 

Jon hit his cousin's arm. “Uce! I missed you!” The two of them hugged mocking their women. 

Trinity sucked her teeth. “This why you number six. Get on my nerves.”

“They just jealous cause nobody ever misses them.” Moriah rolled her eyes playfully. “Everybody else here or we early?”

“Yall late as hell.” Jon fussed loudly. “Should've took off like uce told you to. Lucky I ain't give ya room away.”

Moriah laid her head on Trinity’s shoulder. “My favorite cousin wouldn't let you do that.”

“And won't. Everybody in the backyard, come on.”

Trinity pulled Moriah along with her while Jon and Zilla followed behind. They talked softly and briefly with each other until they got to the patio. Moriah scanned the backyard, squealing when she spotted Jacob and another cousin on the grill. She ran to jump on his back. 

“Jacob! I missed you!”

Laughing, Jacob sat the spatula he was using down and backed away from the grill. “Damn, girl, I missed you too. You almost took us both out.”

She got down, laughing and fixing her shorts. “I haven't seen you in so long. I missed my buddy. I don't have nobody to get on Zay's nerves with.”

“Shit, we got all weekend to make up for lost time, sis.”

“Yall asses is not about to get on my nerves all weekend unless her big head ass wanna get left here with you,” Zilla declared approaching them. He slapped hands with both of his cousins. “Fat, you remember Josh. Right?”

She nodded, moving to hug him. He barely returned the hug but she didn't notice. “Hey Josh. Of course I remember. He's the twin that's not annoying, the good twin.”

Josh nodded his head at her, mumbling out a greeting then turned back to the grill. Jacob noticed how their cousin acted but realized Moriah and Zilla didn't. 

“Aye, sis, there go Sefa. Better get to em before mean ass do.”

Zilla frowned playfully. “I'm mean ass? You know her ass meaner than me.”

Moriah stuck her tongue then ran over to Sefa, jumping on him the way she'd jumped on Jacob. Zilla let his cousins know he'd be back after he spoke to Sefa. Turning back to the grill, Jacob nudged his cousin. 

“What's up with you?”

“Nun man, I'm cool.”

Jacob started to flip the burgers. “I would believe that if you don't just give that girl the cold shoulder.”

Josh shrugged, focusing on the chicken. “Ion like her. I ain't think he'd stay with her this long.”

“You don't like her? Moriah? Moriah that's been around since they was kids?” Jacob asked with his face screwed up. “Why you ain't like her?”

Josh looked over at Moriah with his family, his lips turning up at the sight of them being happy and friendly with her. “She ain't right for uce. He deserve better.”

“Better than Moriah? She the best thing that ever happened to his mean ass.”

“That's what yall think.”

Jacob scratched his head looking over at his family then back at Josh. “Ion know man. You gon have to explain that one to me later on. But word of advice, chill on the attitude with her, that boy ain't right in the head when it come to her. He protect her heavy.”

Josh waved him off. “We'll see.”

[kdinjenzen]

Guess I mentioned that first US Godzilla 'cuz the military could actually hurt 'em without some kinda sci-fi device. I'll freely admit to "sure, Jan"-ing whenever anyone (including some 'murican-edition exposition scenes back in the '62 movie) starts going off about Kong's ~superior primate intelligence~. Oh, and to answer that person in the last ziller ask's notes: IIRC there was never any official crossover, but someone *did* edit up this "ad" fanvid where toon Kong & Zilla fight.

I mean Godzilla has been hurt by the military in multiple movies and continuities. It’s not like Godzilla is impossible to kill.

It’s just Kong doesn’t have like… anything to balance out most of the things he’d fight. So even American Zilla would likely beat him because … I mean… Kong is just a giant gorilla. That’s it. That’s all he’s got.

[gogogodzilla]

If you take asks for Connor, I'd like a story where basically reader does connor so hard he short circuits or something along those lines and reader is like "omg are you ok???" And after a moment, he's like, "very" idk I hope I explained it well

Missed You || Connor (RK800)

Summary: You couldn't wait for date night.

Warnings: smut, afab read, semi-public sex, fingering, slight choking, Connor has a praise kink, argue w the wall

{Masterlist}

After a few months of dating, you and Connor had developed some form of a schedule. Every Saturday was date night, and this week had you particularly eager for it to arrive. You’d barely spent any time with Connor with him being stuck on a case that had him halfway across the city for most of his days and working late nights. 

Saturday night rolled around like it always did, and you paced your shared apartment in anticipation of Connor arriving. You’d both agreed on just going to a movie. It was the one you’d been dying to see, so you weren’t complaining.  

The sound of keys jingling against the lock had you practically sprinting to the front door and flinging it open. Connor looked down at you with wide eyes, his keys hovering mid-air. 

You grabbed the lapels of his usual suit jacket and brought him into a kiss. He let out a small sound of surprise against your lips but quickly melted into your grasp. He wrapped his arms around you as he nudged you further into your apartment and kicked the front door closed. 

“Missed you,” you murmured against his lips as you ran a hand through his hair. 

He slowly pulled away, taking in your features. “I just need to get changed and then we can go,” he offered, patting your hip as he released you. 

You wanted to say to hell with date night and just ravish him where he stood, but you forced yourself to nod. It’ll be worth the wait, you tried to convince yourself. 

The tension in the air was palpable as Connor emerged from the bedroom, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up. Your gaze traveled up his forearms, taking in every inch of exposed skin. He had the same idea, and his eyes raked over the hem of the dress that danced across your thighs as you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

You forced yourself to look away as you moved to grab your car keys and tossed them to Connor. “Ready?” you questioned, ignoring the way your heart was practically bursting out of your chest from the way he was looking at you. 

“Always,” Connor responded, kissing your forehead as he passed and grabbing your hand to lead you to the elevator. 

You eyed the emergency stop button as you stood far too close to Connor in the cramped elevator. No one would even notice the elevator was stopped for a few minutes, you reasoned.  

Ding!

The chime of the elevator caused you to nearly jump out of your skin, and Connor shot you a look. 

“Are you feeling okay? Your heart rate has been high ever since we left; we don’t have to go to the movie—” 

“No!” you cut him off, even though every fiber of your being was begging you to drag him back into your apartment. “I’m fine,” you assured him, resting your hand on his arm and keeping it there for far longer than you should have. 

He raised a brow, eyeing you. You ignored him and led him out to your car before hopping in the passenger seat. 

Connor wordlessly hopped into the driver’s seat, and you watched him. You wondered if the long week apart was affecting him as much as it was affecting you. You saw how he was practically undressing you with his eyes when he came home. His usual precise movements were far more controlled than they usually were, stiffening every time your skin came into contact with his. It couldn’t hurt to test the waters. 

Connor always set his right hand on the gear shift or your thigh when he was driving, and today was no exception. He loosely gripped the gear shift as he drove, gaze never leaving the road. A wise decision. 

You took his hand and placed it on its normal spot on your thigh. He glanced over at you. You could’ve sworn you saw his free hand tighten on the steering wheel, betraying the small smile that flashed across his lips.

A few minutes of comfortable silence pass, and you decide to push your luck a little further. 

“Are these pants new?” you causally questioned as you leaned over and ran a hand down his upper thigh, giving him a perfect view down the bodice of your dress. 

Connor cleared his throat and swallowed hard, “They’re the same pants I always wear.” 

You hum and move to return to your seat, your hand accidentally grazing over the place you wanted so badly. Connor sucked in a breath as he approached the red light. You grinned, bathed in crimson. 

“Connor,” you purred, lolling your head to the side to look at him. The light turned green and he pressed on the accelerator, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His eyes grazed the bare skin of your thighs before returning to the road. 

Your heart rate picked up as Connor turned down a side street in the opposite direction of the movie theater. You weren’t going to make your showing.

Connor’s movements were controlled as he picked a secluded spot to park. You were on him before he could even fully pull the keys out of the ignition, clumsily climbing over the center console. 

The keys tumbled out of Connor’s hand and clattered to the floorboard, but he didn’t seem to care as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. He pushed the seat back so you could comfortably sit, legs straddling his thighs and skirt hiked up just enough to tease him. 

“Couldn’t wait,” you murmured against his lips as you pulled away, your breaths entangling in one another. 

“You’ve been looking forward to this movie all week,” Connor teased, running a hand up the bare skin of your thigh and cupping the curve of your ass. 

You dipped down and hovered next to his ear, whispering, “I’ve also been looking forward to riding you until you short-circuit.” 

Connor’s grip tightened on your ass, and he shoved your hips down to grind against him. The tent in his pants pressed against your clothed core and caused a shudder to run through your body. 

 “Do you feel what you do to me?” he questioned, voice husky and increasing the ache in your core that had gained intensity since you left the apartment. 

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him and run a hand over his covered length. Connor jutted his hips up to meet you, groaning as you ran a hand over the smooth fabric of his pants. His nails raked up your thighs and he hooked his fingers on the waistband of your underwear and tugged hard enough for the side seams to rip, and for them to fall in his lap. 

Your gasp was quickly swallowed by his lips against yours and his fingers sliding through your folds and circling your clit. Breathy moans escaped you as you shoved your head in the crook of his neck, lazily pressing kisses to the hardly exposed skin. 

He ran a finger over your entrance and you pressed against him, begging for him to fill you. He obliged, slowly inching a finger inside of you before quickly adding another, stretching you deliciously. He pumped his fingers, savoring the way you clenched around him, aching for more. He curled his fingers inside of you, brushing against the spot that had you seeing stars, and you cried out his name, throwing your head back. 

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, grinding yourself against his fingers when he stopped his movements. “Please, Connor.” 

He removed his fingers and slipped them past your lips, making you taste yourself. You ran your tongue over the pads of his fingers as you met his gaze. He used his free hand to undo his belt, the smooth leather brushing against your thighs. 

You reached down to where your hips met, unbuttoning his pants and yanking down the zipper, impatience coursing through you. You released his length from his pants, eliciting a breathy sigh from Connor. You pumped your hand, thumb sliding over his tip and spreading the bead of precum that had formed. 

You aligned him with your entrance and you both groaned as you lowered yourself onto his length, savoring the way he stretched you. You started rocking against him, flushing as the suspension of your car squeaked with your movements. 

Connor gathered the skirt of your dress in one hand and watched as you ground against him. You dipped down to kiss him, reaching up to rest one of your hands against his throat. He twitched from within you, and he snapped his hips to meet yours. 

“So good for me,” you praise, squeezing his throat lightly as he looked up at you, eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open. 

His hands found your clit and resumed the same tight circles as before. You released your hold on his throat as you rocked your hips into his, feeling the familiar heat pooling in your stomach. 

It took no time for your release to hit you, Connor’s length finding the spot that had you moaning his name over and over again. Your release caused you to squeeze Connor’s cock, pushing him to finish directly after you. Connor lifted his hips to meet yours, and threw his head back, letting out a guttural moan. His whole body froze and tensed under you as his climax washed over him. Connor twitched inside of you as you slowed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

After a few moments, when his eyes still hadn’t opened, you brushed a finger over his chest, relief washing over you when you felt the familiar thrumming of his bioregulator. 

“Connor?” you murmured, tapping his cheek lightly. “You alright?” 

His lashes fluttered as he slowly opened his eyes, a small smile curving into his features.  “Did I say how much I missed you?” he hummed, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“No,” you mentioned, chucking, “although, I think I have an idea.”

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

BLACK TIE OPTIONAL: PART TWO

Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen (background)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HBO RomCom bullshit, IDK if this is angst or not, but there are feels

Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.

We’re skipping to the actual rehearsal because, as an ex-event professional, I tend to get bogged down by etiquette and details instead of the shenanigans that Dean and Vanessa have come to be known for and which we all love. So, we will remain in tight focus on those two and in vaseline-lensed focus on the event itself.

Thanks, as always, to @stunudo and @brrose-apothecary for pre-reading and being my friends.

PART TWO

“Dude, this food,” Sam whispers, scanning the room. “But this place is huge and heavily staffed. Remember the last time we were in Chicago?" 

Dean ignores Sam’s concern over supernatural crime families in favor of delicious, impeccably presented food.

“It’s just... tacos? But not.” Dean stares at the spread of the taco bar. “Sorcery.”

“Dean... Lassiter? Duval? Any of this ringing a bell?”

Dean shrugs. “That was, what, two years ago? Not our problem — especially if you stop saying their names out loud.”

Then his eyes go wide. “What is this?!” He scoops mango salsa onto his plate like he’s never seen a mango in his life.

Sam pulls a face, realizing that Dean has probably not ever seen a mango in his life and remembered it fondly, and chooses not to tell Dean that there’s fresh, healthy fruit in what he’s putting on his plate. He’d rather Dean be pleasantly surprised by the topping.

“Hey,” Emma pops up next to them, fidgeting and forcing a smile. “Our table’s over there whenever you guys’re ready.” 

The boys stare at her for a moment because her voice is pitched higher than it was when she was visibly more relaxed in their suite, and her smile looks painful. She motions to a table where Vanessa appears to be barely surviving the onslaught of three other women. 

“Hopefully sooner rather than later?” Emma turns back to face the boys with flushed cheeks and pleading eyes. 

Dean peeks around her. “What’s up over there?”

“Nicole’s grilling Van about you being here and asking a bunch of questions about you.” She motions to Dean and Sam respectively before reaching between them for a tortilla chip to scoop into the mango salsa before shoving it into her mouth.

“Who’s Nicole?” Sam asks, also scooping into the mango salsa.

Dean rolls his eyes and answers with his mouth full. “The bride from the last wedding, total ‘zilla.”

“God, that salsa’s good,” Emma mutters, licking her lips as she swipes the salt from her fingers. “Anyway, we need you.” 

Sam draws a breath, getting pulled into the verdant depths of Emma’s desperate gaze. He soaks in her anxious vibrations for a moment, then deftly sets the spoon aside to give her his full attention and warmest smile.

“Lead the way,” he says, stepping away from the table with his plate in one hand and the other on the small of her back.

Dean watches his brother glide through the crowd like a white knight. He considers making a joke of asking Sam if he lost his soul again somewhere between the guacamole and sour cream but opts out, realizing that his little brother is as committed to showing up for Emma as Dean is to Vanessa. He follows the couple to their table without any wisecracks. 

Sam wedges his gigantic frame between the pack of bridesmaids and a couple of chairs; one he pulls out for Emma, the other he barely squeezes himself into. One of the women scoffs and stumbles like Sam shoved her or something, which he didn’t, but he does remain a buffer between his date and the Mean Girls.

Dean is inspired.

He winks at his brother and Emma as he swaggers past the group of women. Two of them he doesn’t recognize gawk at him as Nicole glares. 

He sets his plate on the table and mirrors Sam’s actions by pulling out and patiently holding Vanessa’s chair for her. “Hungry, kitten?”

Vanessa grins and wiggles out of the circle of women.

“Hi, Dean,” Nicole says like they’re old friends or enemies. He forgot how fucking bitchy her voice and facial expressions are. He thinks she must be a miserable person and not just on her own wedding day.

He tosses her a polite nod. “Hey, Tracy.”

Vanessa tries not to cackle at his consistently intentional misnaming of her frenemy and Nicole’s subsequent sneer of derision.

“I am hungry,” she says, smoothing her skirt and pivoting to take the proffered seat, but before she can sit down, Dean leans into her with a conspiratorial smirk. 

“Missed you,” he coos, kissing her smirk.

And sparks fly.

--

They’re seated with Nicole and Katie and their respective partners, which should be uncomfortable since Nicole is doing her best to make it so, but Dean can’t be bothered to care. 

Vanessa’s skin is like a fucking beacon to his senses. He can’t keep his hands or lips to himself, and Vanessa purrs like a real kitten in response. Dean starts to feel a little high from the simple acts of a traditional couple.

“Sir? Another tequila?” 

“Uhh,” Dean blinks, pausing to look down at his half-empty rocks glass. He’s ordered two tequilas on the rocks since they’ve been downstairs, which isn’t a lot for him, but he doesn’t want it to be, either. “You know what, I’ll take a beer.”

“Yes, sir.” The server produces a small drink menu. “We have a selection of—” 

Dean waves his hand. “Just somethin’ three-point-whatever.” He leans nearer to the server but doesn’t lower his voice at all, so everyone within earshot can hear him. “Don’t wanna disappoint my girl later, know what I’m sayin’?”

He winks before settling back into his seat with his arm stretched across the back of Vanessa's chair, and the server discreetly nods and tucks the menu away. “Yes, sir.” 

“You could never disappoint me,” Vanessa reassures him like they talk this way all the time. 

Nicole and Katie give each other a look while Zach and Ryan appear to be rethinking their beverage choices.

Dean knows, though, that he could and will disappoint Vanessa. Not tonight, probably, but it will happen. Instead of saying that out loud, he focuses on showing her a good time like he planned. 

“So,” Nicole sighs as she tosses her used napkin to her plate. “Are you guys coming to Brando’s?”

Dean arches a brow and shifts his gaze to his brother with a pointed look.

“Babe?” Sam looks at Emma. “I know you’re tired, but we can probably go for one, don’t you think?”

Emma grins. “You’re right. We should show.”

Sam nods before looking back at Nicole. “I’m sorry, we’ve had dinner together and still haven’t met. I’m Sam, Emma’s boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend. What about Joshua?”

Nicole motions across the room where a group of Abercrombie rejects are measuring each other’s dicks. The guy doing most of the talking has his arm tightly wrapped around a girl who appears no older than 18 and is absolutely enthralled by the conversation. 

“Apparently, the new girl enjoys lengthy descriptions of his watch collection,” Vanessa mutters at Dean’s side.

Dean can feel his lip curl because he looks like the leader of that pack of douchebags he hustled the night Rowena tried to kill him. The first time.

Nicole turns back to face the group. “Last I heard, you were still crying your eyes out over him.”

“Hmm.” Sam furrows his brow. “That must’ve been a while ago.” 

The smirk on Sam’s face sends Dean into the stratosphere.

“Well, let’s get the bar outta the way.” Dean pushes away from the table to stand, holding out a hand from Vanessa. “We still got catchin’ up to do, kitten.”

Vanessa takes his hand, barely stifling a giggle.

“Yes, Dean, we all know what you mean by catching up.” Nicole rolls her eyes as she stands, smoothing the front of her dress. “Also, did I miss the memo on matching our dates like it’s prom?”

“C’mon, Nicki,” Zach nudges his wife.

Katie and the groomsmen have warmed up to the brothers and don’t seem to have ever shared Nicole’s animosity toward Vanessa — and, now, Emma by extension — and Nicole herself has evened out a bit, but she’s still got some snark left in her.

“What? We aren’t matching. Katie and Ryan aren’t matching. But Van and Dean look like they’re headed to a red carpet somewhere.”

“A red carpet or prom?” Emma pokes the bear.

“Shut up, Emma.”

Nobody hides their snorts and laughter as they all leave the table to head out for the bar.

Before they can get out the door, the mother of the bride stops them. She’s petite with dark red hair, dark eyes, and a bright smile.

“Oh, Van, you look so pretty.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Ricci.” Vanessa hugs the woman.

Dean watches Vanessa twirl at the woman’s request to see the back. He didn’t realize it before Nicole said something, but the flowers intertwined with black lace skulls on her bodice match his dark red pants.

“What a unique dress. You have such great taste! All you girls look so pretty!”

There’s a chorus of “thanks, Mrs. Ricci” from Katie, Emma, and Nicole.

“How long are we staying out?” Sam asks Dean, pulling his attention from Vanessa, who shines like a diamond in a coal mine. 

“Up to them, I guess,” Dean mutters, never taking his eyes off her. 

“Well, you kids have fun tonight,” Mrs. Ricci says. “But don’t stay out too late! And don’t let Toni drink too much. You know how she bloats, and we can barely get her into her dress as it is.”

Vanessa looks desperate to run from the extended conversation. He doesn’t want to insert himself unless she asks, but decides to test the waters. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you ready?”

Vanessa looks up at him with relief and gratitude, clasping her hand in his. Butterflies flap their wings in her gut, and she tries to remind herself that the look in his eyes is temporary and meant as a show.

“Well... who’s the handsome gentleman, Van?” 

Vanessa smiles, turning back to face Mrs. Ricci. “This is—” 

“Dean.” Dean extends his free hand to Mrs. Ricci, and she accepts. He turns her wrist and kisses the back of her hand. “I’m this beautiful girl’s plus one.”

Mrs. Ricci raises her eyebrows and nods, eyeing them closely. “I see... I didn’t know you had someone, Van. You make a lovely couple. How long have you been together?”

“Little over a year, ma’am,” Dean easily answers.

“Well, then, I guess you’ll be talking marriage soon as well. You better catch that bouquet tomorrow!” Mrs. Ricci teases Vanessa.

“Oh, we’re all set!” Vanessa chirps, not realizing how what she’s just said sounds.

“Really?!” Mrs. Ricci’s eyes go wide. “When’s the wedding?”

Vanessa blinks as her skin prickles. “Next fall?”

“Congratulations!”

“Yeah, congrats, Van,” Nicole deadpans with a roll of her eyes because even she knows this is all an act. “Are we going or what?”

Vanessa keeps her eyes on anyone but her date for the rest of their night out. 

--

Dean gently closes the door to their lock-off, shutting out Emma’s squeals of delight and Sam’s laughter. He watches Vanessa busy herself around the room as he unfastens the cuffs of his button-up and rolls up his sleeves. 

He isn’t well-practiced in relationships. He and Cassie always fought, and Lisa was easygoing. His relationship with Vanessa was never supposed to reach this level, so he isn’t sure how to break the tension. 

“Hey.”

Vanessa's wary gaze doesn’t quite meet his. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth.”

She motions toward the vanity and takes the last few steps barefoot to get there. Dean appears behind her in the mirror as she reaches for the toothpaste. 

“Give it a minute.” Dean touches her wrist.

Vanessa tenses. “I don't know why I reacted that way.”

Dean shakes his head. “Turn around.”

She sighs and slumps in defeat before turning toward him with her eyes on the floor.

“Look at me.”

She swallows and reluctantly drags her gaze upward. “Dean, I’m sor—”

He pulls her in, wrapping her in his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She asked when we were getting married, and I said next fall.”

Her voice is muffled against his chest, but she sounds miserable, and Dean can’t help but chuckle.

He pulls back to look her in the eye. “Who’re you worried about? That old lady?”

Vanessa blinks away the onslaught of embarrassed tears from her eyes. “You, Dean. Aren’t you... freaked or mad or...”

Dean shakes his head, grabbing a tissue for her. “Why would I be mad? Or freaked.” 

She takes the tissue, and he crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the wall. He likes being with her, but he isn’t marrying anyone any time soon — they both know that. What bothers him right now is that she regrets such a simple blunder.

Vanessa dabs at the corners of her eyes and sniffles. “I said that... so now you probably think I’m clingy. And now I’m crying.”

She throws her hands up in the air and focuses on Dean, who’s watching her with a quiet smile and, if she isn’t mistaken, amusement. 

“Why are you smiling like that?! You didn’t sign up for this!”

“Nessa.” Dean pushes away from the wall to gently grasp her shoulders. “If you had any idea what my brother and I do? You’d get how you could never turn me off short of becoming an actual fucking monster. I can’t quit you.”

Vanessa closes her eyes and sighs. “The problem is that I like you, Dean. A lot.”

She opens her eyes, and Dean’s face has shifted to an unbearably soft melancholy. He nods, holding her gaze. “Yeah. Me too.”

“But we barely know each other,” she continues, taking a step forward and smoothing a palm down the sateen placard of his black button-up. “And you have some secret and dangerous job that I’ll never understand.”

“What makes you think it’s dangerous?” Dean sits back against the edge of the bathroom counter, wrapping his hands around her lace-enveloped ribcage, and lets her wedge herself between his open knees.

Her eyes land on his mouth. He’s so beautiful. She’s told him a dozen times. But he’s also a walking, talking mountain of trauma, and Vanessa guesses that damage extends beyond physical.

“Scar tissue, for one.” She reaches for his right hand and raises it between the two of them, knuckles up. “And busted knuckles?”

“Just a bar fight, honey,” Dean mutters, and Vanessa huffs a wry laugh, rolling her eyes up at him again.

“Maybe, but I doubt it.” She doesn’t drop her gaze as she dips in to press a kiss to his healing knuckles. “I’ve never known what I wanted in the long run, but... I know I want you. Now.”

Dean eyes her quietly for a moment before dipping in to kiss her. “You got me.”

He kisses her for a long time, pushing one hand up into the back of her hair and resting the other over her clavicle and breastbone. His thumb and first two fingers dance along either side of her neck, and she moans into his mouth.

He stands and steps away from the vanity, pulling her with him toward the bed, kissing her the whole way. She works on the buttons of his shirt as he opens the zipper of her dress. Black and red lace and chiffon flutter to the floor, and she walks over it.

Once she has his shirt undone and pulled from his pants, she slides her hands over his hot skin and pushes the garment to the floor. Dean stops at the edge of the bed with his hands on her waist as she pulls his belt and oxblood pants open and off. 

“Hey.” Dean clasps her hand in his before she can reach inside his boxers. “Just listen a minute, OK?” 

Vanessa slowly brings her anxious gaze to meet his. 

“You’re, what, 26 years old?”

She drops her eyes and starts to pull away. “Twenty-seven, and I don’t need your condescension.”

“No, no, no.” Dean grasps her wrists in his hands and pulls her in again. “Not condescending, reassuring. Nessa... you don’t need to have anything figured out right now. You got your whole beautiful, perfect life ahead of you to fuck up and win.” 

Her brow furrows, and Dean grins.

“Sometimes I wish somebody’d told me that when I was 27.”

Even if someone had told him, Dean had and has a different life than hers. His path was cut out for him long ago, and all he can do is live it, get up, and kick ass. It still would have been nice to hear.

Vanessa turns into him again, resting her hands on his beautifully scarred and tattooed chest. She lightly traces a long-healed gash until she runs into his tattoo and circles it. 

“You my guru, now?” She flicks her eyes up to his.

Dean shrugs, sliding his hands up her sides along her bodysuit's soft, plain black fabric. “Can be anything you want.”

She closes her eyes and leans in to kiss his sternum. She hums and drags her lips to one of his nipples, gently pulling it between her damp lips. 

Dean groans, smoothing a hand down the back of her long, wavy tresses before briefly pulling away.

“Just—” he sighs and closes his eyes from her wide, bright gaze to compose himself. “Believe me when I say that one little slip of the tongue ain’t enough to ruin a great weekend with one of the most gorgeous, delightful women I’ve ever been with in my life.”

Vanessa tosses her head back and laughs. 

“Seriously,” Dean continues as Vanessa pushes him back to sit on the bed, giggling the whole way. 

“You smell good, you’re beautiful.” As he lists off the things he likes about her, Vanessa climbs astride his lap. “You laugh at my terrible jokes. Your voice alone is enough to give me wood, I’m not even kidding.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

She wiggles a little, making him whimper and grip her hips, and drapes her arm over his shoulders to finger the velvety nape of his neck.

“Thank you. I like being with you, too.”

He smiles, and she pitches forward to kiss him. 

“Then why don’t you tell me about everything I missed,” he mutters around her lips.

“When?” she breathes into his mouth.

“When I wasn’t with you, and you couldn’t get off without me.” Dean holds her close as he moves back to the mountain of fluffed-up hotel pillows.

“Mmm... Which time?” She steadies herself as he gets situated, watching his skin ripple over muscle.

“Start at the beginning.” He settles in, giving her his full attention, his hands sliding up her thighs to shroud her hips. “What made you realize thinking about me— about us together’d do the trick?”

Vanessa bites her lip, her cheeks flush dark pink, and her eyelids flutter.

Dean chuckles, reaching up to pull the front of her strapless bodysuit down, freeing her breasts. “Did you think about how I held you up and drilled you ‘til you soaked the bed of that swank hotel?”

“Jesus.” Vanessa grinds over him, leaning backward on her hands, and arching her spine. “Yes...”

He cups and squeezes one breast, then hooks three fingers around the front of the thong bottom of the body suit to knuckle at her opening. 

“Did you think about me for seven days after?”

Vanessa nods, blindly grinding against his hand. “At first, it was your voice— it was when I was alone. I tried to remember... the way it rumbles your chest when you call me kitten.” 

“Uh-huh.” Dean does his best to keep his voice warm and deep. “You’re so slick and hot right now, kitten. I’m here now.” 

Vanessa lurches up and forward to brace her palms against his chest. “Keep talking.”

“You look so pretty, grindin’ against my fist. All open and juicy, so sexy. You gonna get yourself off like this?”

“God, Dean.” Vanessa grips his wrist and ruts against his knuckles hard, digging her blunt fingernails into his chest.

Dean hisses and whispers. “Do it, and I’ll fuck you just like you want. ”

“Oh, fuck!” She comes, shaking and panting, then collapses over him.

Dean slowly removes his hand from between her legs and wraps his arms around her while she catches her breath.

After a few moments, she speaks. “Then I was with this guy.” 

“Hmm. Did he make you come?” Dean rolls her to her back.

“You know he didn’t. I told you that.”

“Did you?” He peels the bodysuit the rest of the way off her before throwing it across the room.

“On the phone. That’s why we’re having this conversation, I assume.”

“Ahh, yeah, you did.”

He shoves his boxers over his hips and flings them to join their other clothes — away from their bodies and the bed — before climbing between her legs and stretching out over her. He props himself up with his forearms and brushes her hair away from her face with his hands.

“What else, then?”

She raises her knees at his sides and drags her fingertips up his spine.

“After a couple more guys, same results, I gave up. My toys and memories are better than anyone who isn’t you.”

Dean makes a sound like pity cut with need as he grinds and bucks until his dick is snug and wet between her pussy lips. Then he drops his forehead to hers.

“Tell me exactly what makes you come when I’m not there.”

Vanessa closes her eyes and shudders when he slowly forges ahead. She hooks her hands over the backs of his shoulders with a gasp.

“I’ll never forget the utility closet,” she whispers. “The way everyone outside knew exactly what you’d done to me. I can’t stop thinking about if someone had seen us— if we’d been less careful.”

Dean moans as he slides all the way inside her, tucking his face in the crux of her neck. “You an exhibitionist, kitten?” 

She shakes her head. “You’re just so sexy and so good at everything. I bet we’re hotter than any movie.”

Dean buries himself deep and settles in. He doesn’t lie to her, never has, and probably never will, but her willingness to be so fucking vulnerable with him makes his heart skip.

“You wanna watch us in the mirror? Just you and me over there?” Dean nods toward the vanity.

Vanessa peers across the room, then looks back at him and nods. “Yeah, later. Right now, I like you right where you are.”

Part Three

Series master list | Dean Winchester Masterlist | SPN Masterlist | All Fic Masterlist

[luckyshotwrites]

WIDFALI ASKS!

I know no one asked for this. However, I want a way to easily treasure those asks ya'll have sent me. THANK YOU for them! I'm always accepting more and I AM STILL WORKING ON A FEW. The, well, life right now is fighting me but ANYWAY ENJOY! THESE ARE NOT ALL OF EM' I don't think, IM STILL LOOKING AND ADDING, PROMISE! My computer broke recently and looking for them on mobile sucks!

Random Questions: Simply the goofs/the stuff I think are fun

Alexander and Lynette - Will he see her more than food? Does she consider anyone there as a friend?

As Kids - How the night crew were as kids. Spoiler free as possible.

Cat or Dog person - I did a lot of individuals in this ask, what animals they vibe with.

Coziest Sleeper - The coziest Sleeper

Favorite Character - without using their name, species, or gender describe your fav (already introduced) character from widfali.

IF I was trapped in a room - Which character from Widfali would I want the most and least, I answered with Main Crew.

Lev - Does Lev have elemental breath?

Lev with a human friend part 1 - How would Lev treat a friend? Would he eat you with consent or not? Would he still want you to be unwilling and scared? Would he comfort you if you needed it?

Lev with a human friend Part 2 - What if Lev had a human friend that was scared of him, and if said human friend was in danger? If they didn't know he was a monster would he risk revealing himself to save them?

Lynette - As Patrick Star (still gotta draw her in costume)

Main Cast as Teachers - What classes would they teach and how would they be?

Main Crew Songs - Songs I have for the Morning Crew and Wicks

Morning and Night Crew Emoji's - Described using Emoji's, plus Wicks

Night Crew Character songs - Songs that I associate with the night crew of Widfali.

Night Crew Parody Songs - These are more of their joke songs that make me laugh to listen too.

Oc Ask Game (Alexander) - 6, 19, and 21

Oc Ask Game (Drake, and Alexander) - 9, 10, and 12 for both

Oc Ask Game (Elliot) - 7, 8, 10, 14, and 19

Oc Ask Game (June) - 6, 8, Badly injured, collections

Oc Ask Game (Lev) - Number 8, what does he collect as a Dragon

Oc Ask Game (Lev) - 7, 19, 47

OC Ask Game (Lev, Zilla, and Zane) - For this ask game, Lev - 12, 20, 39, Zane - 28, 33, 49, Zilla - 12, 20, 31

Plethora of Questions - Craziest Sleeper, Calmest, the heaviest sleeper, and lightest sleeper out of day and night crew. How Beatrice feels about humans, Zane and Zilla's closeness, and lastly the best and worst with horror movies.

Pizzeria Crew Forming a Band - Night and Morning Crew forming a band, who plays what and their band name!

Silliest Character - Who do I think is the silliest?

Silly Vore Ask Game (Lynette) - 1, and 7 for this ask game

Soft 'Spoiler' Angsty Facts - Facts/hints for the main crew.

Videogame-Fali - What kind of Videogame would Widfali be?

Widfali's First Concept - The creations of the cursed!

Widfali Au List - I have plenty of more, a whole list on my server now but these were the originals.

Who would Lynette take to the Wedding - Out of the Morning and Night Crew (plus Viola on Mid-shift) who would Lynette take and why.

Worst Au - As will be explained in the post.

Worst Character - Which character in Widfali would I want to be real the least.

Worst and Best Roommates - I did this for Morning and Night Crew

Theories/Questions: Explanations or Needed context?

Will contain spoilers in most of these, make sure you're caught up first!

Alexander's Standards - Alexander being nice?

Early Bind Lore - Some information/Chapters where binds are explained.

My First Official Theory - I still think this was cool and very close!

Widfali Prediction List - A bunch of theories!

Suggestions/Talk/Sweet Encouragement: As the title says.~

A ship - Between my two idiot Oc's

Alexander Development - Did he really?

New Favorite Character - Lev Anon having a change?!

JUNE - June Hug

Positive Dance Time - A song recommendation for June!

Why can't I be trusted with a Knife - Because of darn Lev.

About my pfp (Alexander Mouth) - Is Alexander my poster boy?

Took a Nap - Widfali haunting dreams 😈

How Long does it take with each Chapter - My estimated time on each.

Don't Apologize - I had a lot of stuff bopping, and this was a nice.

Art Style Be Like - The compliment I received for my art style being similar to Haikyuu

"Lynette's a girl?!" - A goofy response to one of my favorite parts

Lev and I have no knife privileges

How The Privileges Got Revoked - Undeserved 😛

Doing Fan Art for Me? - *joyful tears*

AGAIN, YOU ALL ARE LITERALLY AMAZING PEEPS WHETHER I KNOW YOU PERSONALLY OR NOT. THANK YOU FOR FOLLOWING ALONG WITH ALL THESE SHENANIGANS. AND I WISH ALL YOU FANTASTIC PEEPS PROSPER AS WELL AS HAVE A GREATO DAY!

NONNEGOTIABLE

As always!~

[qualxon]

Since you are taking requests, could you have Caelignis meet Zilla Jr. so they can talk about their daughters?

First order of business upon meeting: swapping stories about the kids

[balanceoflightanddark]

What Dreams May Come

When it comes to Godzilla, probably one of the last things you would expect they would tackle is mental health. Admittedly with a series as long and storied as this one it's bound to have brushed with it somewhere down the line. Though even stranger still is where we find it: a cartoon.

Godzilla: The Series is the animated continuation of the 1998 film, following the adventures of the HEAT team and the last surviving Godzilla offspring as they handle a rising surge of kaiju around the world. Despite tying in with one of the lesser regarded films in the franchise (I personally had opinions on it that soften a lot over the years), it's highly regarded among G-fans, myself included, for being a bit more faithful and respectful of the source material. While there's plenty of episodes I could talk about, "What Dreams May Come" is a personal favorite of mine.

The premise of the episode is that a mysterious kaiju suddenly appears in New York City. It first attacks an apartment complex, then a bus depot, and finally a baseball stadium. As you can see, it's...pretty freaky even by the series standards. While most kaiju from Godzilla: The Series is some mutated form of animal, this thing neither looks nor behaves like anything natural. Especially as it almost vanishes into thin air when attacking, making it hard to track down or predict where it's going to pop up next. It's even difficult to fight: Godzilla's (or Zilla Jr.) atomic breath just makes it stronger and is able to go toe to toe with him in an even fight. Couple that with a really unnerving cackling like growl and a downright bone chilling shriek when enraged, and you've got a really unnerving opponent.

Turns out though, the Crackler's origin is actually linked with a man by the name of Sydney Walker, a resident of the apartment complex that was first attacked who's residence was remained untouched. The guy was relatively quiet despite living in a rather loud and disruptive complex, and had a nasty habit of getting electrical shocks as a result of his job as a technician at the bus depot. Randy, the team's tech expert, figures that Walker may have snapped and somehow mutated into the Crackler to get revenge.

He's...half true. The Crackler is ultimately tied to Walker...but the truth is a bit more complex.

Randy and Elsie, the team's specialist in kaiju behavior, track Walker down to a laboratory where he was admitted for insomnia. Despite Randy's initial belief that Walker was some kind of madman, the resident doctors actually show that...their patient was just some guy looking for help. They managed to put him to sleep via an experimental machine, but he hasn't come to. Importantly, a psych evaluation showed that despite his quiet exterior, Walker genuinely has massive amounts of suppressed rage both from his job and crappy home life. And being hooked up to a machine, his subconsciousness is actually the one that's manifesting the Crackler. He is not doing it knowingly.

Here's where the episode really shines. They make it clear that Walker is not a bad guy, but rather his inability to process his problems in a healthy way has led to a hateful subconsciousness has manifested as a literal monster. You figure that waking him up would cause it to disappear, but being conscious actually makes the Crackler go completely berserk, attacking everything in sight. Since his subconsciousness is suppressed again, it's not able to direct Walker's inner rage. Hell, Walker doesn't even know he's connected to the Crackler and gets pretty distressed when Randy drills him for answers.

Thing is, Walker getting distressed and angry finally lets his inner rage come to the surface, which actually weakens the Crackler since its power is being redirected. Cue Randy doing everything he can to piss Walker off, much to the protest of the doctors, which results in an absolute breakdown from Walker who starts ranting at basically everything in his life. It...actually works. With his inner rage finally released, the Crackler is weakened enough for Godzilla to deliver the coup de grace. And when all is said and done, Randy's the one to gently calm Walker down and tell him it's all over.

What makes this episode great was...well, how well it addressed the core issues. Rage and anger can't just be suppressed, it'll manifest itself in some other way, often more toxic and harmful than just being mad. Neither is Walker a bad guy. Remember, he isn't even aware of what his subconscious is thinking and doing. The narrative treats him like a person as opposed to a monster. And the Crackler is ultimately defeated once that anger is finally released. Even if it's not pleasant and makes him feel like crap, it's implied he'll be able to better process what he's feeling instead of bottling it in all at once.

It's not a case of whether or not you feel angry. It's how you are able to deal and process it that affects who you are. You can say the same with all intense emotions. As somebody who has suppressed his feelings because he didn't want to be a burden, "What Dreams May Come" is a pretty impactful episode in an underrated series. And it's definitely a highlight for the cartoon as a whole in my opinion.

[hazbinhoteloc-ninlil]

Full Life Timeline (Simplified.)

Brief Timespan of her life;

- was orphaned and abandoned at 14 and left to take care of her baby brother, Conner (Coco)

- Adopts Coco at 18

- Coco dies when Ninlil is 23 and he’s 9

- Ninlil meets a physician named Adam, (This is NOT the first man Adam, they just happen to have the same name.)

- They fall in Love.

- Ninlil realizes that people want to Hurt Adam.

- Ninlil becomes a serial killer and kills 30 people to protect Adam

- Ninlil realizes these men are all connected, if she can expose one, she exposes them all.

- an enemy tries to Poison Adam, Ninlil gets to the poison first.

- decides to drink the Poison and publicly die so that there HAS to be an investigation.

- arranges evidence to point right at the bad men, and dies in the arms of her beloved.

Into Hell;

- She is sent to hell, on an extermination day.

- Makes 3 deals that day to keep a couple sinners safe and give her some extra eyes to keep watch.

- realizes deals can make one stronger and in her case, give her more eyes to keep better vigilance,

- Begins to make deals to find people or protect people at the cost of their power, not their souls.

- people like being able ti make deals without selling their souls, her reputation grows.

- Her weaknesses begin to develop, and she finds she can no longer sleep.

- overlords begin to take notice, she’s invited to Overlord meetings, but doesn’t take an official seat.

- She makes friends with Rosie, Helps Carmilla with security on her own private property, and begins a casual rivalry with Alastor.

- A situation with Miss Zilla occurs, and Ninlil supercharges Zilla in order to assist her. (It lasts 15 minutes.)

- Her reputation continues to grow, the Vees, Specifically Vox, wants her to join the team as his secret powerhouse.

- one overlord tries to kill her but she’s already so strong she scares them away with her Chained Hands, the first instance of her doing so.

- begins to realize now what she can be capable of, hunts down the men she’s killed and begins to torture and kill them again. But they keep pulling themselves back together.

- realizes she can see all over Hell now thanks to her deals, and even into other layers thanks to deals with the Hellborn.

- comes to the conclusion that if she makes Angelic deals, she can see into heaven.

- next extermination, she leaves out some signs for the exorcists to see. “Wanna hunt someone specific? Come find Ninlil, the Watchdog.”

- To her surprise, a couple actually answer. She makes seven Angelic deals over the next 3 years.

- she can see into heaven now, but it’s painful, a sinner isn’t meant to gaze upon heaven… but if she can get past the pain, she can see.

- Also gains Seven Angelic chained hands, she can officially send sinners to their second death. And she immediately hunts the men who tried to hurt her Adam and her little brother once more. Officially ending them.

After a Time;

- Ninlil begins to get tired and depressed, now she’s being harassed by people wanting her to join them, and she just wants to be left alone. Becomes more of a recluse.

- watches the Hazbin Hotel defend itself against the Angels and realizes hiding between Alastor, Charlie and Lucifer, she could have that privacy.

- Goes to the Hotel, and is hired by Charlie to be the Director of Purchasing and Revenue.

- becomes more of a recluse, but slowly starts to develop friendships because of Charlie’s insistence

[the-arcade-doctor]

Theres also no specific answer -Velvet

Ill tell u what my answer was i gotta whisper it -Missi Zilla

Nuh uh! That’s cheating! -Alastor

Come on Alastor don’t be a bitch -Rosie

[ my answer for every question i don't understand is and always will be 87. ]