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softspiderling · 19 days ago

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illicit affairs - part eleven

summary:

“You’re joking, right? You’ve never been interested in a real relationship and you talk to this girl for five minutes and suddenly you’re ready to settle down?” you snorted and Rafe glanced over at you, his eyes finding yours.

“Sometimes a risk is worth the reward, Precious.”

OR; you reap what you sow

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: kinda emotional damaging, idk what to tell you

word count: 2,4k

author’s note: okay so full psa I did kinda tear up a bit while writing this, but I'm also insanely sensitive so it doesn't have to mean anything idk lmfao I just wanted to warn you beforehand. either way, this chapter also is heavily inspired by is it over now by Taylor swift so do with that info what you will. hope you enjoy it my lovelies <3

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pt. eleven: “look at this idiotic fool that you made me” alternatively: "I think about jumping"

“He is smitten with you, girl. You’re blind if you don’t see that.”

The words kept echoing in your head, even after the dark had settled over Nassau, even as you stood in line for the new club Kelce was raving about where you just had to go. You, Rafe and Topper knew better than to fight Kelce about this, so you all just agreed to go, especially because you had promised him earlier that day. You severely regretted that promise now, absolutely not in the right head to go clubbing.

The woman’s words made you question your entire friendship with Rafe. Had he been feeling the same way all along? Were you just to blind to see the signs? Or was that just some sales ploy, to get you to buy more?

“Hey, come on Precious.”

“What?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, as Rafe waved you forward. Without realizing, the line had moved and you were holding it up. Quickly, you joined your friends and Rafe furrowed his brows at you.

“You good?”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you tried to play it off. “Yeah, sorry. Just didn’t think it would take us this long to getting into a club.”

“Right right, precious is used to skipping the line,” Topper said with a nod, and you swatted his arm, grinning.

“Shut up, Top.”

“I promise it’s gonna be worth it,” Kelce said, looking over the heads of the people who were standing in line in front of you. “Only like, five more groups before we get to go in.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Rafe deadpanned and Kelce elbowed him as you laughed.

The time passed quickly as you waited, mostly spent with making fun of Kelce. When the bouncer finally gestured for you inside, the breath nearly stocked in your throat.

“Oh my god, I can barely even move.”

“It’s great, isn’t it!”

At least that was what you assumed Kelce said. It was so loud, you could barely hear yourself speak, let alone anyone else. You moved towards the bar, where you quickly claimed one of the last free stools, the boys crowding around you. Kelce’s head bopped to the music, clearly feeling it.

“Let’s go dance!”

“I need another drink for that,” Rafe snorted, while Topper nodded in agreement, Kelce’s eyes falling on you. You glanced over to the packed dance floor, then back to Kelce, who stretched his hand out to you.

“Come on, Precious.”

A dance wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it would shake out your nerves. Distract you.

“Fine,” you sighed, taking Kelce’s hand and he didn’t even waste a second to drag you towards the dance floor.

“Get me a drink!” you shouted over your shoulder to Rafe and Topper, who only gave you a nod, watching in amusement, but they soon disappeared behind dancing bodies.

You turned back to Kelce, who must have found a decent spot to dance in because he twirled you around, making you laugh, holding onto him when you finally stood straight again. The two of you quickly found your groove, moving to the loud music that was blasting through the speakers. You lost yourself in the music, your worries melting away as you only focused on the rhythm and the beat, that was so loud, you could feel it in your heart.

It wasn’t long until people started to edge closer to you, hoping for a change to share a dance or two. Kelce was quick to weed out the people, especially the ones who were coming up behind you. He seemed to approve of one guy, because he eagerly nodded at you, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

Glancing over your shoulder, you could tell that the guy was cute, even with the strobing lights, his dark hair curling over his forehead and he had a nice smile. He just wasn’t Rafe.

You didn’t know how to tell Kelce nor this guy that you really weren’t interested, so you just let him dance behind you, what was the harm in one dance?

Kelce gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up, his focus quickly averted when a guy came up behind him, giving him a charming smile, and you could tell he was definitely Kelce’s type. They quickly melted into one, with the way they were dancing and you tried not to grin, happy that Kelce could forget about Malcolm, even if it was for only one night.

You really should take a page out of his book, but alas, you were just a girl.

“I think I need some air,” you told the guy behind you, offering him an apologetic smile. “Thanks for the dance!”

The guy seemed to take the hint, nodding at you with a small smile before you slipped through an opening in the crowd, trying to find your way off the dance floor. The bar was crowded, making it hard to try to spot Topper and Rafe. Craning your head, you finally found Rafe at the side of the bar, Topper nowhere to be seen.

Rafe’s back was towards you as you approached him, so you reached out to tap his shoulder.

“Hey, Rafe I-” the rest of your sentence got lost in your throat when he turned to you, revealing a pretty girl by his side. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.”

“Hey Precious,” Rafe greeted you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, so you were standing face to face with the girl, introducing you. “This is my best friend.”

“Hi, I’m Kayla,” the girl said with a bright smile, whereas yours was tight, forced, still trying to process what was happening.

The rest of their conversation passed you by like a blur, honest to god, you didn’t even want to hear what they were saying, but before you knew it, they bid their good byes. When Kayla disappeared from sight, you looked up at Rafe, and you wish you hadn’t.

He was still looking at the spot where Kayla had left.

You were a fucking fool.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to cockblock you,” you said, slipping out from under his arm, taking a sip from the cocktail that stood on the counter next to Rafe. It was strong, lots of rum, but that was exactly what you needed right now. If you were lucky, it’d make you forget the whole night.

“Cockblock me?” Rafe echoed, amused. “How do you know she only wanted to fuck?”

You took another huge sip of your drink because you were in no way drunk enough for this.

“Isn’t that why people talk to other people in a club? To get laid?”

“Think she wanted more than a hook up,” Rafe replied, lifting a piece of paper between his finger tips. You could only make out a row of digits before your eyes flitted to Rafe’s.

“You took her number?”

“She gave it to me.”

Scoffing, you drank the last of your cocktail, pushing the empty glass away from you, which Rafe eyed cautiously.

“You tossed that back in record time, precious, are you okay?” he asked, rubbing your back. You knew he meant well, he always did. But his gesture made you feel like a fucking kid, so you shrugged his hand off.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, annoyed. And because you couldn’t let it go, you asked: “Since when are you interested in anything else but a hook up?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a step away from you, reaching for his beer. “I don’t know. Guess I can see now what’s so apppealing about it.”

“Sometimes a risk is worth the reward, Precious.”

His eyes seemed to bore into yours, so you turned away, staring at the wall behind the bar.

“Just… whatever.”

You just had to ask, didn’t you?

You gripped the counter, your hands starting to shake. To your horror, you could feel tears welling up and you quickly dipped your head, in an attempt to hide your face. Really, here? Just because this girl seemed to have left such an impression on Rafe that he could imagine being in a relationship? With her? While all you, his best friend, were good for was a good fuck?

Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Rafe shoving his beer on the counter, his hand coming up on your waist.

“Precious-”

Nope.

“Sorry, bathroom,” you pressed out, pushing away from the bar to flee towards the bathroom. The door hit the wall, since you basically kicked it open, nearly scaring the girl inside half to death, but you didn’t care. You pressed yourself against the wall, forehad resting against the cold tiles of the bathroom, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

How could you be so stupid? Here you were, having sex with your best friend because you told yourself, this. This was the only way you could have him, a relationship was never in the cards, because he just didn’t do them. Well, turned out he did. Just not with you.

You couldn’t believe you let a stranger’s words affect you like that, make yourself hope, that you could ever be more than just his best friend.

The girl came up behind you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You good girl?”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head.

“No. No I’m not.”

Someone crown you the biggest fucking idiot on the island.

The next day, you still felt like an idiot. If it were up to you, you’d be on the next flight home, but how would you explain that to your friends? It was just one more day, before you’d go home. You could last a day.

Luckily, Rafe seemed to think your behavior was due to the cocktail you had just poured back. He was waiting in front of the bathroom when you had come out, thinking you had thrown up.

If only he knew.

“You sure you can do boats right now?” Rafe asked, peering at you over his sun glasses. You were tempted to say no. “We could just go do something else, you and me.”

Yeah, that was not gonna happen.

“I’m fine, Rafe,” you sighed, leaning back against the cushioned seat, your blue dress flaring out.

“You know, I get Precious getting to sit back and look pretty, but why are you not helping us?” Kelce asked, shoving the cooler on the floor. He and Topper had been walking back and forth on the marina, carrying food and drinks onto the boat.

Rafe shrugged, reaching for a beer in the cooler. “Well, how about the fact that this is my boat?”

“Told you not to bring it up,” Topper huffed, putting the two bags full of food on the table. “I knew he’d come up with some excuse.”

“Whatever,” Kelce grumbled, snatching the beer right out of Rafe’s hand before he could even get a drop.

Topper plopped down on the seat next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “How’re you Precious?”

You threw a look at him. Out of the three boys, you knew Topper didn’t quite buy the whole “I drank too much” act.

“Fine,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, clearly not in the mood to elaborate. Rafe picked up on your tone, turning around to slap Topper on his cap.

“Hey, leave her alone.”

Topper pulled a face at him, but Rafe didn’t notice as he already turned away to start the engine, taking the boat out of the marina into the sea.

Despite your realizations from the previous night, you had a great time. You mostly pushed those thoughts away, trying to spend time with your best friends, because that was what they were, right? That was what Rafe was, first and foremost.

The sun had already started to set by the time you got back to the marina, the street lights flickering on.

“I’m gonna go pick up some food asap,” Kelce said, immediately getting off the boat. “I am starving.”

“I’ll get rid of the trash,” Topper said, yawning into his shoulder as he picked up the food wrappers, empty bottles and cans, collecting them in a bag, disappearing onto the pier as well.

You helped Rafe tie the boat, taking everything down, as it was gonna be a while again before someone used it.

“Think that’s it,” he said, throwing a look over the boat, and you gave him a thumbs up, ready to get back on land.

Suddenly his phone went off a couple of times, screen down on the console. It had been going off a lot today, you had noticed him on his phone a few times, but never really questioned it. At least you tried not to.

“Someone’s popular today,” you teased. “Who is it?”

Rafe shrugged, turning off the engine of the boat, ignoring his phone as it pinged once again.

“Oh come on,” you whined, reaching for his phone. “The least you can do is-“

Kaylas’s name flashed across the screen multiple times.

“-text back.”

You swallowed thickly, before you dangled his phone in front of him. “You texted her already?”

“I was bored.”

Rafe grabbed his phone from you, slipping it into his pocket, you barely put up a fight. Even though you had seen this coming a mile away, it still hurt.

“So you’re really serious about this wanting a relationship thing, huh?” you asked and Rafe lifted his head, looking at you.

“Yeah.”

You cleared your throat, nodding your head quickly. This was your own fault. You wanted too much, putting yourself in a position where you knew you’d get hurt.

Was it over then?

“Is it over now?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you nodded, forcing a snort. “If you wanna get to know her for real, you shouldn’t be messing around with your best friend.”

“Right.”

Rafe’s voice was curt and you gave him a smile. “Let me know how that thing with Kayla goes,” you said, squeezing his arm before you turned your back to him, getting off the boat.

As your foot stepped onto the pier, your heart felt a little tight, as if someone had their fist around it. But the further you walked away from the boat, the freer you felt.

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author's note: feel free (like Precious LOL too early?) to come into my inbox hehehe I wanna know how you feel

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe Cameron fanfiction #rafe Cameron fanfic #rafe Cameron fic #drew starkey #obx

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thewitchandtheassassin · 7 months ago

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Honest (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: “Lady, I’m the manager and the only employee today. Get the hell out of my store.”

Words: 1070

Warnings: Language, suggestiveness??

A/N: I hate that lady and wish Rio had punted her into the sun. That's all.

-X-

From the moment you noticed the white-haired woman storming towards your counter, you knew you were in for a horrible interaction. Plastering a fake, cheerful smile, you greeted her.

“Good afternoon! Did you -”

“This place is a dump,” she hissed, slamming her goods onto the counter. “If my daughter was working in this place at your age, I would disown her. Are your parents proud of you?”

Blinking at her owlishly, you bristled with choked back fury. Truthfully, this wasn’t your normal job - nor was this your only job - but you were covering a shift for your mother, who’d taken your father to the hospital but couldn’t afford to close the small “mom and pop” shop. Being here was a favor, not your career, but some old, miserable bitch didn’t deserve your explanations and you weren’t going to dictate a dissertation of your life to a complete stranger.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked brusquely, scanning the few items before placing them in paper bags.

“Oh god, are you one of those hippies who forces paper over plastic? Get over it. Give me something that isn’t going to rip!” she hissed, digging out her wallet before her eyes go wide at the total. “With such horrible service, you’re still going to charge me that without some sort of compensation for my treatment? I’m certain you have some coupons or sale codes back there that you can use to fix your terrible mistakes. My god, do you need a roadmap?”

“H-horrible service? Ma’am, I…” you paused, looking at the stuff tucked into bags before shaking your head. You’d rather offer your parents money than accept this woman’s cash. “Get out.”

“I beg your pardon?” she sputtered, eyes narrowing in a manner you were certain she used to intimidate teenagers at the supermarket. “You can’t speak to me like this! I want your manager.”

Sliding the bags out of reach, you glared at her with unbridled disdain. “Lady, I’m the manager and the only employee today. Get the hell out of my store.”

“How dare you! I’ve been coming here for years! I’m good friends with the owner and when he hears about this…”

Your snort cut through her ramblings. “Oh, you know him, huh? Well, I’ll be sure to let my mother know her ‘good friend’ came in here acting like a rude, entitled, demented demon from the pits of hell instead of a civilized human being so that she knows to bar you from the shop. Anything else I can do for you before I call the sheriff - an actual good friend - to come escort you off the property?”

Mouth agape, you’d never seen a grown woman look so aghast before and truthfully, you didn’t give a shit. You weren’t some fresh-faced eighteen year old she could push around and bully.

Someone needed to tell her a thing or two and good news, you had the time and the attitude to do just that.

“I need those -“

Slamming your hand onto the counter, your smile grew unsettlingly wide. “Well, bless your heart, guess you better go find somewhere else to get ‘em, huh?”

-X-

After your interaction with the woman the day before, you had little interest in keeping the shop open for your mother another day, but as she tearfully explained she couldn’t return until the next morning, you swallowed your distaste and did as she asked.

“It’s one more day,” you mumbled to yourself, forehead resting in your hand as you sat on the lone stool. “Just one more day.”

You had nearly dozed off when the bell above the door signaled the arrival of your only patron so far. Glancing up, you greeted the dark-haired woman with a faint smile and wave.

“Howdy, how can I help you?”

The woman slid her sunglasses up to the top of her head, pursing her lips in an odd way that had you singling in on the softest looking mouth you’d ever seen. She was beautiful and mysterious and goddammit, you were so gay.

“Do you happen to know who was working yesterday?” she inquired, earning a slow brow arch.

“Yeah…” you drawled out slowly, carefully. “It was me.”

“Oh thank god, I’m glad you’re not some sad teenager who cried after she left,” she muttered, eyes locking on yours. “You had the unfortunate displeasure of speaking with my mother yesterday and I came to apologize. Not so much for her sake, but for my own because your shop sells fabulous face care products I can’t get anywhere else in this godforsaken town and I do not want to end up banned from here.”

Blinking slowly, you nodded after a moment. “Uh, yeah, no, you’re fine. I never woulda guessed she was your mother. She always like that?”

“Cantankerous and miserable? Yes. Has been my whole life.”

“Christ, I feel bad for you,” you blurted, eyes widening instantly as she began to cackle. “Uh, sorry, that was supposed to stay in my head.”

Her lips curled into a wicked smile and it left your insides full of butterflies.

“I like a girl who’s honest,” she teased, offering a hand. “Agatha Harkness.”

You shook her hand, marveling in the smooth skin as you absently gave your name in return. You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted to her lips before fluttering back up to her gaze.

“I saw that little glance - you’re not as sneaky as you think,” Agatha purred, delighting in the warmth that flooded your cheeks. “What time do you get off… work?”

Glancing at the clock, 5:23 stared back at you tauntingly. The place had been dead all day and at this point, you were just wasting electricity.

Throwing caution to the wind, you shrugged, smirking at Agatha conspiratorially. “Right now if someone gives me a good enough reason.”

“How about you buy me a drink as an apology for my horrible childhood and if it goes well, maybe I’ll find a way to thoroughly apologize for all the trouble you went through yesterday?”

The sparkle in her eye and the way she stared at your lips pointedly for a moment left your heart racing, beating like horse hooves against your ribs. You were nodding before you even realized it, running through your mental checklist for closing the store.

“Give me ten minutes.”

-X-

You closed it in six.

#agatha harkness imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #mcu imagine #marvel imagine

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gurugirl · 1 year ago

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The Ranch Hand | cowboy!harry - Patreon One Shot

2.5k word preview below the cut

Your boyfriend, Jessie, sat down a bucket of beer on the table you were sitting at and pulled his stool up as you grabbed a cold one for yourself and twisted the cap off.

You didn’t know the band that was playing but they sounded pretty good, especially for a Friday night with a cold beer in your favorite little rowdy country bar.

Jessie hated the bar. He was more into cocktail joints with white tablecloths and live classical piano. The kind of place you had to dress up to go into. You didn’t blame him. He didn’t come from where you came from. You two had only a couple of things in common.

The first was that you were both from wealthy families. Your dad was a rancher and he owned half the county. You’d never hurt for anything. Jessie’s family ran the county and were all involved in politics. He went to some fancy school in a different state and only came back because his father wanted him to step into the role of prosecuting attorney.

The second thing you had in common was that you lived in the same town.

That was probably where your similarities ended. You liked Jessie. Mostly. He was usually pretty nice, if not boring, and your parents liked him so that was a plus. In fact, they set up your first date with him and it was easier to just keep things going to make your mom and dad happy.

“You look uncomfortable,” you spoke as you kept your eyes on the band and Jessie struggled to pull the metal cap from his bottle.

“I’m just… there’s peanut shells all over the floor and everyone’s staring at us.”

You laughed and shook your head. You were gonna have to break up with the guy. He couldn’t handle you and you knew that was the truth. He hated getting his hands dirty and even though he looked like he should be able to remove a bottle cap, it wasn’t the first time you had to do it for him.

Taking his beer you looked directly at him and twisted the cap off, dropping it to the floor before handing it back to him.

“I never drink beer. Not used to taking caps off…” he spoke as he took a sip. Shitty excuse.

You noticed that some of the workers from your dad’s ranch were in the bar. Probably causing trouble. The guys who worked for your dad could be rough around the edges but they were always nice to you. Just a bunch of cowboys looking to make ends meet. They all had a place to stay on the ranch at the bunkhouse provided and they were also paid pretty well. So on almost any given Friday and Saturday night, you could find some of them at the bar picking up local women, dancing, fighting, drinking…

This was your scene. This was what you enjoyed most. The rough and gritty. Salt of the earth. Phonies were quickly sniffed out in a place like this. It was why people were staring at Jessie.

You took another gulp of your beer and then you caught sight of one of the ranch hands already looking at you from across the room. Harry. He was very easy on the eyes. He’d been working at your dad’s ranch since he was 19. He’d earned a spot of trust with your father after all his years of hard work and now he had quite a lot of responsibility given to him. He had his own small cabin out of the way of the bunkhouse. He made a lot of financial decisions for your father as well. Negotiated prices for cattle sales, went to auctions to buy large equipment, handled the daily goings on of the newbie ranch hands, and did all the hiring and firing. But he also still worked his ass off. He’d pick up slack when the other workers needed help or couldn’t do the job. You imagined he was at the bar to keep the guys in line and make sure they didn’t land themselves in jail.

You and Harry were close from the beginning. You always went out of your way to meet every new worker that came on but Harry was a little different because he’d been around for almost ten years. You certainly favored him over all the others.

“Why’s he coming over here?” Jessie whined as Harry walked through the crowd with his eyes on you and a mischievous grin on his face. You just knew he was bout to do something to piss Jessie off, which was easy to do.

“Cause he’s comin’ to say hello.” You smiled at Harry as he tipped his cowboy hat to you, stepping between you and Jessie, and reaching in to grab a bottle of beer from the bucket your boyfriend bought.

“Uh, that’s ours,” Jessie sat up straight in his stool as he watched Harry uncap the bottle and take a swig, ignoring him completely, jade eyes still on yours.

Harry placed his elbow on the table and leaned in close to you, those handsome green eyes running over the features on your face, “Hi.”

You felt yourself heat up and kept your eyes on his, “Hi.”

You would have forgotten all about Jessie but then…

“Excuse me. Is this for real? That’s our beer,” Jessie reminded the cowboy.

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up with his hand on your shoulder, softly squeezing before he looked at your boyfriend, “Sorry about that bud,” and then he looked back down at you, “Okay if I have this, sweetheart?” He lifted the bottle of beer upward.

You nodded, “Of course you can have it, Harry.”

Harry’s grin widened as he took another drink and Jessie stood up to move in front of Harry. Maybe in an attempt to intimidate him? You weren’t sure exactly. But one thing you knew was that Harry would put Jessie down in the blink of an eye. Jessie wasn’t a small man but Harry was scrappy and liked to get dirty. Didn’t mind a scuffle when the moment called for it either. You’d seen him put a lot of men in their place.

“Next time you ask before you take.” Jessie pointed. You snickered to yourself. It was a good attempt at least.

Harry laughed and dragged his eyes down your body before he tipped his hat again and walked right into Jessie’s shoulder, making him stumble into the table. Harry looked back in faux surprise at Jessie and then at you with a wink before he went back to where he’d been before with the other guys.

Okay, so maybe Harry was a bit of a dick. But he’d never been rude to you. And you liked him, unfortunately for Jessie. Harry was not a fan of your boyfriends. He’d made that clear since Jessie started coming around four months ago.

“You just let him take a beer like that?” Jessie gestured toward where Harry had gone.

“I did. What’s the problem? I know this bucket wasn’t expensive so you’re not hurtin’ for the money.”

He took a deep breath and looked off toward where the cowboys were drinking, “Do you like him, Y/n?”

You pursed your lips to the side in thought as you watched people line dancing and stomping on the peanut-covered wood floors in their cowboy boots. Now you didn’t really need to think much about that question. Because you did like Harry, and he liked you the same. All the stolen kisses and sneaky moments you two had… it’s just that that could never happen out in the open. Your dad would never go for it and Harry might lose his job if your parents ever caught wind of anything happening between you two. So you’d always kept your distance because that was the most practical option.

But you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t like the man. Anyone with two eyes could see how handsome he was.

“Sure,” you shrugged and looked at Jessie.

“Like him, like him?” Jessie looked back toward you across the table.

“Why are you worried about it, Jes? Even if I did, it’s not a good match. My dad would kill him.”

He shook his head and watched the people on the floor dancing with their big, shiny belt buckles glistening under the shoddy lights, the strum of guitars, and a twangy voice singing an old Garth Brooks song.

You got up and waved when you saw your friend Chelle. She was among those dancing and you weren’t going to miss it, “You coming with me or not?” You looked back at the dud sitting on his stool with a scowl.

“Go on ahead. I’ll be right here.”

You rolled your eyes. There was only so much more you could take of Jessie. If he had even shown an ounce of something that looked like fun you might want to stick around longer. Hell, if he even would have just stood up to Harry about the way he had been very clearly flirting with you in front of him (rather than get so worked up over the beer Harry took) that could even be something for you to think about. But the man wouldn’t dance with you, he wouldn’t ride horses on the ranch, he wouldn’t go to rodeos, and he most certainly didn’t want to do anything that could sully up his nice clothes once in a while. Stepping over peanut shells was his limit. If it weren’t for your parents you’d never have considered him in the first place.

“Y/n!” Chelle pulled you in next to her and you began moving yourself in line in a weave; right, back, front… You always felt like an idiot when you joined in on line dancing but that was part of the fun. Everyone looked like hillbillies and idiots out there and it was a blast.

The music, the atmosphere, the raucous noise from everyone laughing, singing, shouting, stomping… your country girl roots were in full bloom that night. And beer after beer then a couple shots of whisky probably did you no good but you were going to enjoy your night with or without your boyfriend who did not move from the spot where you left him. Part of you, at one point, hoped he’d just go. He was uncomfortable and not having fun. You knew the only reason he was there was to keep an eye on you to make sure you didn’t do anything dumb.

And the later it got the more wild the bar became. More people filled in the small space, the music was louder, some of the lights at the edge of the room were dimmed, and the line for the bathroom grew longer.

“He gonna sit over there watching me all night?” You heard Harry from behind you as he moved in step, a bottle of beer in his big hand you noted as you turned to look up at him.

You laughed, “Probably. He’s jealous.”

Harry licked his pink lips and tampered what you knew was a big grin, “Oh yeah? Why’s he jealous?”

You both did a clumsy pivot turn together and you just smiled up at the handsome cowboy and shook your head.

There was no need to answer Harry. He knew what was going on. He knew you liked him just the same as he liked you. It had always been something secret between you two but it was obvious to almost everyone around. Except for your father. That was one time when you were both on your best behavior.

“Surprised you’re still here. Don’t you have an early morning tomorrow?” You asked.

He nodded, “Sure do. Just keeping an eye on everything going on here is all. I’ve got a responsibility for most of the people in this bar right now.”

“Oh yeah? All the guys seem to be doing okay. No one’s getting too crazy tonight it seems,” you looked around at the other workers, and most of them were two sheets to the wind but they were tame and having fun.

“Still my responsibility. Plus you’re still here.”

You grinned, “That I am. Figured I’d close the place down tonight.”

Harry laughed, “You usually do anyway. Always have been like one of the boys. Just as rowdy as the rest of us.”

You loved it when you got to talk to Harry. Loved how he looked at you and how he’d say your name. Loved how so many times you’d done just this and it felt exactly like what you wanted.

Another shot of whisky at the bar with Harry and you started to feel woozy. Your world was spinning but you were still having too much fun to call it a night.

“I should take you home,” Jessie appeared, taking you by your shoulders and pulling you away from Harry. For a short time, you’d forgotten he was still there.

“No, I think Harry’s gonna take me home.” You looked up at Harry.

“That’s right. Was just about to take her home.” Harry spoke as he stepped in closer to Jessie.

Jessie laughed and you felt his firm grip moving you away but you were too drunk to really put up any kind of fight.

“Nah, just stay here with the rest of the drunk cowboys. I got her.”

Harry followed you and Jessie out the front of the bar as Jessie opened up the passenger door of his nice car.

“You gonna be all right sweetheart?” Harry ducked down to ask you before Jessie could close the door – Harry blocking the space so he could look at you as he reached up for your face and softly turned your head to look at him.

You nodded, “It’s fine. I just need to go to bed.”

“That’s enough. She’s fine,” Jessie closed the door.

Your memory was only clear in bits and pieces as Jessie drove you home. You remembered him berating you for acting like a clown and then when he brought you to your room the memory of him kissing you and taking your hand to cup over his crotch was vivid. You remember telling him you had to go to sleep but he was angry at you. You could feel that too. You remembered his anger and how he shoved you down into your bed before he was hovered over you.

But then you remembered being on your knees in front of your toilet and expelling the contents of your stomach furiously. Jessie’s words rang in your ears about how you were gross and just as nasty as all the cowboys on the ranch. How he didn’t want to fuck you anyway when you were drunk.

You woke up on your bathroom floor and Jessie was long gone.

NOTE: This is a 15k+ Patreon-only one shot. If you'd like to read more consider signing up!

xoxo

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 1 year ago

Text

Long Lonely Layover (Nanami Kento x Reader)

Sitting at a bar in the Paris airport you’re approached by a handsome stranger on a similarly long layover.

warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ Only. kissing, sexy, doggy, oral, getting right nasty up in the bathroom, public sex, standing sex, standing oral, talk of contreception (keep it safe yall), emotions after sex

6.7k words. Ao3 I really hope you enjoy this one, I hope was super happy to write for this big beautiful man once again. Kind of plus size coded reader(all my readers are pretty mid/plus sized coded.) you can buy me a Ko.fi here, if you like!

Your eyes flicked up to the bottom right corner of the news broadcast in front of you. There was a little animation card that showed the weather, the date, and the local time.

Charles de Gaulle Aéroport, Paris. 12:22 pm

The broadcast changed to a commercial, some beautiful woman biking through a sunlit trail, a glass bottle of wine in a stylish backpack that was apparently the product for sale. How you craved to be that woman, you wanted to feel the sun instead of these harsh, artificial lights above you. You wanted to open a bottle of wine in some gorgeous Parisian park, not pay a massive up charge for each pour, as you were now. Your last flight had brought you here nearly an hour ago, you didn’t board your next flight for another two and a half. A four hour, cumulative, layover. Just enough time to drag, but not enough to fully leave the airport, stretch your legs, and enjoy some local sights. Especially with how long customs could take. You sighed, daring to check the clock display once again.

12:23pm

Fuck.

The airport bartender hovered the bottle of white wine above your glass, you nodded, and he emptied its contents. In your defense, the bottle had already been opened by another patron before you sat down, you just drank the remaining two glasses worth. Taking a small sip, deciding it may be better to start savoring these— you have a long afternoon ahead of you, you scanned the airport terminal for a duty free store that may sell books. You could pick up a saucy paperback or a mystery thriller and breeze through the next few hours. No luck, you would have to close out and wander through the various hallways and levels in search of one. You took a larger sip of your wine, feeling confident in your next plan. Before you could catch the bartender's attention, a voice came from your side. It sounded like French, someone was speaking to you in French— in the Paris airport, a likely place for that to happen. But the tonality held something else, something richer and augmented. You turned toward the voice and found an apologetic looking blonde man. He was tall, even from your place on the barstool you could tell, and he was, broad shoulders, the black and burgundy pinstripe blazer that housed them looking like dark brick you’d find in one of Paris' many gothic style buildings. Catching yourself, you looked up at his eyes and saw him gesture his head toward the stool next to you.

“Puis-he m’asseoir ici?” He asked, presumably again as you had completely missed what he said earlier.

“The seat? Oh! No- yes! Wait no, no one is sitting there, yes you can sit here.” You didn’t know a lot of French, but this was a common enough phrase that after some embarrassing mental flip flopping you were able to answer.

He softens, and pulls the suitcase slung over his shoulder and sets it down next to the stool,

“Merci.”, he smiles softly, “or—I suppose—Thank You would be better, here.”

You smiled in awe, “English and French. Very impressive.”

Nanami blushes at your voice, or maybe it was your smile, pretty, perfect teeth shining at him, your cheeks curling upward, he thought he felt his heart leap. He shrugs a bit, an attempt to downplay your compliment.

“My French isn’t very good. Mostly yes, no, is that seat taken? Can I get that coffee or that pastry? ” He adds, pointing to the imaginary bakery case before him, “The English is okay, I do a lot of business over the phone so I get more practice.”

“Better than mine! French slipped through my education totally. Spanish a bit, but mostly just English.” You shrug, eyeing him carefully as he slid into the bar stool next to you, making himself comfortable.

He was brutally handsome, a long, sloped nose stopped just before a pert Cupid’s bow, tan rose colored lips stayed slightly parted as he listened to you. But his eyes, amber and honey, outer irises deepening to an oaken, whiskey brown, they took your breath away. You couldn’t look at them very long, finding yourself unable to form thought, and quickly blinking away. Small scatterings of freckles lined the tops of his hollowed cheeks, and the line of his nose, such a lovely detail on an even lovelier man. His hair was clearly styled at some point, but was quickly losing its hold, sandy blonde strands falling in front of his eyes as he read the menu in front of him.

Nanami could feel you looking at him, the skin of his neck was heating up, he wanted to take off his jacket, but that would be too obvious. He hadn’t noticed you when he approached the bar, he truly needed a drink after the turbulence on his flight in from Tokyo, 14 hours of travel so far, 8 more to go. But when you turned your face, observing the terminal around you, he stopped in his tracks. You were gorgeous, truly gorgeous, the details of your face reminded him of an oil painting, all soft lines and creamy textures. There was one seat open on the bartop, directly next to you. Maybe he should have been embarrassed how quickly he had rushed over to you, but you didn’t seem to notice him catch his breath, or his hurried approach when you spoke to him. And now he could feel his heart drumming in his chest as he struggled to read the menu in front of him. His French was fine, he had to use it more often than he expected when he joined the French club in university. The bartender approached tentatively, you assumed he was also a bit intimidated by the Adonis that had joined the bartop. Nanami assumed it was because he could see him sweating already, confirmed by being served a glass of water nearly instantly.

Nanami scans the menu quickly before he darts his eyes over to your half full wine glass,he turns to you.

“Sorry,” he starts, god this is embarrassing, “which wine is that?”

“It’s the Amici Olema. Do you want to try it?” You were taking a chance here, sliding your glass towards him.

This could be taken as a moment of generosity from a kind stranger, a massively inappropriate imposition, or as flirtation. You weren’t even totally sure which one you intended it to be, yet.

His blush darkened, and his breath hitched. Nanami tried to control his trembling hand as he graciously accepted your offer. The glass was sweating a bit from the chilled wine condensating. He could see where your fingers had been before, there was the slightest sheen on one lip of the glass, where your lips had been. He restrained himself from putting his mouth in the same spot, opting to taste from the opposite edge instead. The wine was delightful, tart and cool, there was a subtle peach note on the back. Nanami hums happily, his eyes closing blissfully, allowing it to linger in his tongue before returning your glass. He nodded toward the bartender asking for a pour of his own. You looked down at the glass in front of you, one shared between yourself and this handsome stranger. His pretty pink lips against the same glass as yours, a small smudge showing you exactly where he had sipped. The popping of the fresh wine bottle woke you from your lingering fantasy.

“Thank you for the recommendation.” He raised his glass to you.

You tap your glass against his, “I’m glad you like it….”

You raise your eyebrows indicating you were wanting to add his name.

“Kento Nanami.” He replied offering you a wide closed lip smile.

You told him your name in return. Sipping your glasses in sync. There was something exciting about knowing you were tasting the same thing. The same tartness that slid over your tongue, was coating his as well. The thought made you cross one leg over the other. You pray you were being subtle enough.

A thick silence blanketed the two of you. The noise of the airport hummed and buzzed around you. Boarding calls and codes run out from the loudspeakers in various languages, often repeated one or two times. Your fingers slid over the menu, you were starting to feel the effects of four glasses of wine, you should probably eat something. The bar menu wasn’t expansive, mostly appetizers, a few salads, a few questionable sounding sandwiches. Nothing was making your mouth water but you could already feel your stomach growling.

“Are you hungry?” You to your left again facing Nanami who had now adorned the cutest pair of reading glasses fuck he was too much , “I’m hungry but I’m not starving and these flatbreads look pretty big. Would you want to split one?”

“Only if you let me put it on my tab.”

You started to protest but he raised his hand.

“For the great wine recommendation.” He finished, those honey eyes catching yours and making you swoon.

You sighed out, barely containing your smile, “well if you insist, how can I say no.”

He ordered with the bartender, and you dipped your wine positively smitten, his French was clean and lilting. The smallest hint of his home accent lingered, his pronunciation of the swirling language was nearly perfect. Under different circumstances this would be a very good date. You chastise yourself in reminder that this is not a date, this is just benign, unintentioned human kindness that bears no flirtation and you should be sick with yourself for even entertaining the idea.

That is, until he removed his jacket. He leaned back in his stool, pulling the blazer away from his body. Giant, ropey biceps in a barely fitting black sweater. This guy was trying to kill you. He hung his blazer in the back of his chair, back muscles stretching the fabric even further. Thankfully, his turned body gave you solace to chug your ice water, knowing it wouldn’t satiate the thirst you were feeling.

Nanami seemed to be unaffected by your gawking, adjusting his glasses and checking his watch, sighing at the slowly ticking time.

You needed a second to gather your voice back, “long layover?”

“About two and a half hours.” He removed his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

You nodded, “mine too. It’s a beautiful airport to be stuck in, but…it’s still an airport.”

He let out a laugh, his smile showed two small dimples on either side of his lower lip.

“Do you travel often?” He asked, taking another sip of his wine.

“For work, yes. I’d like to do some more traveling on my own. But this works for now.” You shrugged.

He nodded, knowingly, “what do you do?”

You told him. Your job was a little complex to explain but he listened closely and seemed to relate. You two began talking about your respective careers. You learned he worked for a Japanese finance company that had a few international offices in the United States, Denmark, Argentina, and the UK. This was his first time traveling internationally for this job, being sent out to settle the last few details of a contract. He asked good questions, he listened closely to your answers. Minutes ticked by, the food arrived, more glasses of wine being poured, the stories shared became more intimate and detailed as you two grew closer both emotionally and physically. Soon you two were nearly interlocking your knees, the flatbread completed, a new bottle of wine nearly half drunk, your cheeks flushed, his glasses discarded, folded on the table.

You slipped your cardigan off your shoulders, leaving your arms and collarbones exposed to him. The wine had heated your skin, Nanami’s eyes flicked over your form quickly before returning to his wine glass.

“So your wife must hate being apart now that you’re traveling more.” You baited him. It was an obvious ploy on your part, the wine had numbed some of your finesse.

Nanami smirked, immediately catching you out, “I’m not married but that was very clever. Very subtle move.”

You laughed with him, his mix of teasing and praise sent your head fluttering. He continued,

“I do prefer my move of not-so-subtly checking if you were wearing a ring, which I did earlier when I asked about the wine.”he sipped the shallow pour still in his own glass, “you don’t wear a ring. But plenty of people don’t, are you with someone?”

He had begun to lean in conspiratorially, as though your relationship status and your sharing of it were top secret information. But you could see the small flecks of gold in his irises now, the small beginnings of lines around his eyes, the pores along his nose and cheeks. You shook your head, catching his eyes directly. You both lingered in this moment; neither of you were beholden to someone else, the acknowledgement of shared chemistry hung between the two of you, the ticking clock of your coming departures ticked away in the back of both of your minds. Nanami watched you closely, your lips parted slightly, eyes drinking him. He would normally feel anxious being observed so closely, but your gaze was so warm, so inviting, he felt nothing but total elation.

His gaze was so intense, you felt so seen by him. Maybe it was the wine, more than likely it was the company. The serendipity of this moment. You weren’t one to believe easily in fate, but you were inclined to believe something beyond had brought this man to you. One as beautiful, as charming, as engaging as Kento. You checked the television’s clock briefly. Only one hour left until your flight starts to board. Only one hour left before you never saw him again. Only one hour.

“Can I ask you something, kind of crazy?” The words slipped from you before you could think rationally.

Kento had noticed the time as well, counting down the remaining fifty-nine minutes until your separation. He had donned his wire framed glasses again, wanting to memorize every inch of you in perfect clarity. He raises his eyebrows at your question, heart pounding in private hope. Could you? Would you?

“Please.” He answered, leaning closer, his knee sliding against yours, “ask me anything.”

You flicked your eyes down to where his body touched yours, you hadn’t yet felt him touch you, but even the brush of his clothed leg against yours had your throat tightening.

“I’m not one to…ask this sort of thing, but since I’ll probably never see you again after this, I won’t have to bear the shame.” You swallowed hard, begging your courage to stay with you, “you’re…incredible. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re smart and funny and so charming and you’re…fucking stunning. I would be so remiss if I didn’t ask…”

Your words were failing you, your heart racing, you scanned his face for any sign of coming rejection and your throat caught, closing it off from more words.

Fuck. You were caving in. This was so embarrassing, so presumptuous. You had ruined what could have been a good memory.

Fuck

Kento gave you another moment to see if you would finish your question. When it was clear you were psyching yourself out, he watched as you sighed frustratedly. How sweet.

Nanami put the toe of his shoe under the foot rest bar of your barstool and pulled your seat closer to him. Your eyes shot open, embarrassment quickly turning to confusion. Nanami put his arm around the backrest, just barely brushing over your back as he did. Bringing you back to look at him, he smiled wider at your sweet, blushing face. He moved a piece of hair out of your face, fingers lingering on your soft skin. His touch was electric, enticing, you wanted those fingers in your mouth, on your body, anywhere, everywhere.

“I would be honored to find somewhere private where we can pass the rest of this layover.” Nanami’s eyes had grown darker, full pupils and focused, “if you’ll indulge me.”

In a flash the tabs were paid, both by him, drinks were finished, bags were grabbed, and you had quickly located the closest empty room with a locking door to you. Nanami’s hand on your lower back ushered you inside quickly before shutting and locking the door behind him, pulling on it once to guarantee you wouldn’t be interrupted. You set your bag on the ground, next to his own carry on, and stood back up. Facing him directly, now in total privacy, in the motion activated light of this family restroom the ticking clock faded, the crowd of the airport was forgotten, it was only him and you. Nanami looked at you, head to toe, before taking a few careful steps toward you, as one would approach a centerpiece in a well curated museum. Thoughtful and admiring. He stood chest to chest with you, although as a tall man he stood quite a bit above you. He hadn’t yet removed his glasses, they sat perched in his nose, intending the skin on either side. You could smell his cologne, something subtle and herbal. Bergamot and cedar. His large, warm hands came to cup your face, yours covered his.

“I’m usually much more of a romantic. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Kento leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours in apology before kissing you.

From the moment your lips touched, you were gone. He tasted like the wine you shared, his lips were soft and hungry. It took no time at all for your tongue to find its way past his lips. His hands flew from your face to your waist, up your back, down to squeeze your hips. Yours similarly wandered, across the downed of his back, up his arms, tugging at the cropped hair at the nape of his neck. The bathroom quickly filled with the wet, smacking sounds of your kisses. You removed his jacket, and your own. Soon your shirt was discarded on the floor. You didn’t even have time to lament not being able to wear something nice before he pulled your comfort focused sports bra over your head, your breasts falling freely. He watched them bounce freely before settling, his mouth watered. You covered yourself shyly.

“Don’t stare…” you weren’t sure where this bashful side of you had come from, surely he was pulling it out of you.

He moved your arms, baring your chest to him again, before moving onto his knees before you. His hands traveled up your body, pawing at your breasts, cupping and squeezing them.

“You’re right, we have so little time.” Nanami looked up at you wickedly, something devious and titillating behind his amber eyes, “and I have to get you ready.”

Before you could inquire further he began to pull your comfy travel pants off of you, untying the drawstring easily, stretching elastic, not your sexiest apparel but here he was down on his knees begging for you. You realized he hadn’t yet removed his sweater so you tugged at the back of the collar. He pulled the black knit over his head, in a second. You took the opportunity to slip off your sneakers and removed your pants fully. His body was just as incredible as it seemed, he truly was something out of myth. Gladiatorial build, masses of muscle cut lean under his fair, even skin. The freckles on his face littered his shoulders and the tops of his pecs, his abdominal muscles were further contoured by a tan colored happy trail leading into his still belted and buckled trousers. You moaned at the sight of him, making him smirk (and blush). He returned to his spot between your legs before looking back up at you.

“Do you trust me?” He spoke, voice rough with arousal.

You nodded desperately. You did. Anything he wanted from you, you would have given him at this moment. It wasn’t until he moved one of your thighs over his shoulder and snaked the paired hand up your back to support you, that you figured out why your trust was necessary. Immediately your blood ran cold, anxiety shadowing your arousal. He looked like a strong guy…but you were a fully grown woman: tummy, thighs, breasts, and arms to show as much. Never did you think someone would even attempt to support your full weight like he was implying.

“Kento…wait..I’m-“, you protested, trying to move to stand on your own legs.

His grip was iron as he kept your leg on his shoulder, he was at eye level with your pussy, hypnotized by the sight of you wet and waiting for him. He would not be denied.

“I regularly bench more than 180 kilos, you’re a warm up. Please trust me.”

His voice was so flippant, as though lifting your entire body over his shoulders was the most obvious feat in the world. Your reservations held strong until his pleading eyes looked up at you again, his mouth watering, hair disheveled, he looked so hungry. You couldn’t bear the thought of depriving him.

“Please.” He asked again, giving your leg on his shoulder a soft squeeze.

You nodded again, and he slung your other leg over his shoulder in one perfect lift. You now sat on his shoulders with your back against the wall, his hands holding your waist and hips. Finally, after three excruciating hours of build up, Nanami finally tasted you. If he weren’t already on his knees they would have buckled. You tasted better than he had imagined, so wet for him already, your pretty moans still reaching his ears even through your legs against his head. Your hands found his hair, gripping onto him for stability, taking your nail across his scalp as he lapped feverishly at your cunt. He didn’t realize he was making deliciously primal grunting sounds as he gorged himself on you. His moans sent vibrations into your core and up through your body. You rushed to cover your mouth as he shook his head side to side, tongue flicking perfectly at your swollen, throbbing clitoris.

“Fuck!” You panted, not caring how hard the back of your head hit the bathroom wall, “you’re so good at that, fuck, Kento—ah!”

Nanami smiled, drunk of your taste, your sounds, the feeling of your body on his shoulders. He was losing himself completely, he could have stayed like this for eternity. Pleasuring you could become his life’s purpose, his calling, he could be the devotee at the altar of your sexuality and die a happy man. But he was all too aware of the ticking clock that would rip you away from him. Luckily, he was a man who thrived under a deadline.

Nanami sucked hard at your clit, alternating between pushing his tongue deep into your hole, and circling it around your clit. You couldn’t believe how good it felt, in just a few minutes he had solidified himself as the best loved you had ever had, and it wasn’t even close.

But you were, you could feel your impending orgasm rushing toward you like a speed train. You whimpered into your palm, trying to warn him, (or warn yourself?) about what was to come, but he could already feel it. Your hips were shaking against his face, legs clamping down against his ears. Like a true expert, he didn't change a thing, his patterns and devotion bringing your orgasm crashing down around you in seconds.

You cried out into your palm, the other hand gripping the back of Kento’s neck to hold him in place. He was happy to relish in your climax, sucking in everything you released onto his eager mouth. When you couldn’t take anymore, you pushed at his forehead, whimpering.

“No more, no more. Please.”

When his mouth was no longer attached to you he sucked in a breath, coming back to himself. He squeezed the flesh at the top of your thighs, right where they met your hips and tummy, coming down from his own haze he pressed soft, intentioned kisses to the insides of your legs. He turned his eyes back upward, his pleasure drunk eyes and dripping mouth making you swoon. Nanami eased you off his shoulders carefully before lunging to kiss you again, it was so dirty to taste yourself on his tongue.

“You taste like heaven. I don’t know how I’ll go without now that I’ve had you.” He uttered against your lips, tongue still charging forward against your own.

You mewled at his praises, “you’re so good. Too good. You do this a lot?”

Hot kisses fill the gaps between words as you bring your hands to his belt, unbuckling and pulling at the waistband of his pants. Kento shakes his head, pulling off from the kiss to look you in the eye.

“I’ve never done anything like this before.” He was as shocked as you were.

He wasn’t usually social, let alone pulling people who were essentially strangers into private corners to have sex with. You had brought something out of him he hadn’t even known existed. Something primal and desperate, something passionate and consuming. You were touched at his admission, and awestruck by his natural skill and the situation you were in. You kissed him again, finishing the removal of his belt. His hands trembled with enthusiasm as he helped you remove his pants. You couldn’t help yourself, you reached past the fly and palmed him through his briefs. Fuck.

He was big, thick and full and so hard it was a miracle he wasn’t in tears. You moaned at the heft of it in your hand, which only caused the caged erection to pulse more. You wanted to taste him,to feel the weight of it in your mouth, to know every inch of this man before he was gone from you. Kento groans at your hand stroking him through the fabric, indulging briefly before putting his hand over yours, training his eyes back to you. He looked disheveled and desperate, hot mouth hanging open to catch his breath, eyes hazy and drooping.

“We don’t have enough time….” He mumbled, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes screwed shut he huffs out as you squeeze him, “I don’t have a condom…I’m sorry.”

“IUD.” You assure him, desperate to feel him raw inside of you, to feel him pulse and grow and cum.

He grips you harder, eyes opening wide, “Are you sure?”

You nod, practically lapping into his mouth for another sloppy kiss. He removed his cock from his briefs, not pulling his pants down or away and stroked himself a few times, each one eliciting another moan into your open mouth. Holding you close against him, Nanami allowed himself to luxuriate in the feeling of your body pressed against him. Trying to remember the heat, the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your perfume, the way your hair felt in between his fingers. He ignored the ache in his heart as he struggled to imagine how he would be able to let you go now that he held you. He couldn’t bear to think about that yet. Not while he could have you now.

“Brace your hands against the door, please.” He ordered against your lips.

You nodded before turning and placing your hands in the form of a standing push up against the locked, all too thin door of the restroom. You shivered as you felt Kento’s hands outline the form of your body, nearly crumbling entirely when you felt the tip of his cock brush against your ass. He leaned in close to your ear, moving your hair to one side, one of his hands interlocking with yours against the door. His chest pressed against your back, radiating heat. His breath tickled the tiny hairs on the shell of your ear.

“I’m sorry this isn’t more romantic. You deserve to be worshiped and spoiled properly, I’m sorry I can’t give that to you now.” Kento’s tongue trailed up the side of your neck as his unentangled hand aligned himself with your sex.

When Kento Nanami finally entered you, it was inhuman the speed at which he rushed to cover your mouth, stifling the cry that came from you.

He shushed you hurriedly, “You sound so beautiful but I can’t have us interrupted. Bite my hand if you need to.”

He filled you so completely, thick and deep. He was so big, you felt your velvet walls throbbing around him already, beating in time with your frantic heart. His hand kept yours locked against the door, fingers interlocked sweetly, despite the firm grip. His other hand held your hip in place, he pulled out nearly to the tip before filling you completely again, somehow deeper than the previous. His cock head pushed right up against your cervix making your eyes roll back and you whimper pathetically against his palm. After another thrust your arms started to shake, barely able to hold yourself up against the door. Nanami, of course, noticed.

“Here, hold your arms like this.” Still sheathed inside of you he moved your arms in front of you, folded together as though you were sleeping, and pressed you further against the door, body now flush against the cool metal and wood.

You buried your head in your arms, every thrust of his sending you further and further into total euphoria. You tried so hard to be quiet, keeping your mewls muffled against your arm, but it was so difficult when he really started to thrust, setting a delicious rhythm that even your best toy could never achieve.

Nanami’s teeth were threatening to pierce the skin of his lip, the groans and grunts he held back threatening to erupt. You were so tight around him, if he had had any thoughts left he would have worried his cock would snap off. He palmed the flesh of your ass, spreading you out to watch your walls stretch and cling to him as he thrust in and out. He nearly came right there, eyes rolling back, a throaty huff leaving him, he couldn’t watch anymore or he would lose himself completely. He found solace in pressing his forehead against the connection point of your neck and your shoulder, whispering to you in a long stream of praises and promises.

“You feel so good. You’re taking me so well. I would have taken you out first, if I could have. The nicest table at the best restaurant I know, you deserve it. Fuck. Fuck, anything you wanted. I should have had you in a beautiful bed, you’d look so gorgeous splayed out for me--agh, fuck you’re getting so tight. You’d like that, huh?” He shuddered as you clenched around him, body shaking, resolve crumbling.

His words were growing more and more nonsensical, sounds paving through thought to fill the small bathroom. Everything about him felt engineered to make you cum, and you were so fucking close, you could feel his cock twitching between thrusts, he was getting close too. You raised your head from your arms, he seized the chance to press his forehead against your cheek, his lips meeting your skin anywhere he could. Your ear, your cheek, your jaw. You felt spoiled, you felt ravished, you worried you may never be able to fuck another person. No one would have you again, no one could make you feel like this, only him. Only him. There was only him.

“I-I can’t last…I--” Nanami pleaded in your ear, his whisky voice dowsing you in pleasure, your eyes rolling back, mouth dropping open into a silent scream.

Your second orgasm was summoned in full force, tipping over the edge and arriving all around as Kento sounded the most delicious, salacious moan directly against the skin of your face. His hips jerking beyond his control, his own orgasm being pulled from him by you and your fluttering cunt. He pushed in as far as he could, tip pressing against your cervix. His hands held your hips so tight you knew he would leave bruises, you silently prayed that they would never leave you, that you had been marked by him forever. Your breath returned to you in choppy, pitched up gasps, he was quick to wrap his arms around your waist, catching you before your legs could fail underneath you. He was still filling you, spurt after spurt of white painting the inside of you as you trembled in his sturdy arms. Panting together, folded together, coming down from a simultaneous climax you and Nanami shared a moment of singularity, joined together completely, with no sense of time or place, nothing existed outside of the pair of you. And the pair itself held no boundary, no ego, no sense of self.

The bliss was quickly chased away by the remembrance that after this, you would never see him again. A dual continental moment of chance led you here. However distance, logic, and responsibility would rip you apart. Despite the ache in his heart, Kento was the one to break the embrace, kissing the bare flesh of your shoulder blade as he pulled out and slowly set you back onto your own feet. His hands didn't leave you until your colt legs had grown into a firmer foundation. At which point you felt a chill surrounding you, embarrassment, fear, but above all of that: a profound and perhaps overinflated sense of loss. Nanami shuffled behind you, the sound of a zipper, the retrieval of his discarded sweater. You couldn’t turn to face him yet, you didn't want to see the denouement, for it to truly be over.

Fabric brushed against your tricep, calling your attention back into the restroom.

“Your pants.” Nanami’s voice was gentle, so different from the raw honey depth you had just experienced, You turned on an inhale, accepting your clothing back.

He watched you start to redress, with every inch you pulled up your pants, covering your shapely naked legs, he sank further. He didn’t expect to feel so empty, truthfully he hadn't expected this at all, he meant it when he told you he hadn’t ever done anything like this before, he had the occasional one night stand but always in more formal, organized scenarios. He didn’t think himself capable of such raw passion, such chaotic intimacy. He wasn’t ready to forgo this new streak in himself.

He was dressed far before you, now focusing the entirety of his energy mourning the loss of the sight of you. You found your bra on the floor, and by donning it, sealed the sight of your round, smooth, perfect breasts away from him forever. Your shirt went over your head and covered the expanse of your bare stomach, the early stages of finger shaped bruises on your waist no longer for him to admire and take pride in. When you were dressed again you turned to face him, scared eyes softening at the sight of him.

“This was…” You started, unsure of how to finish.

Unexpected? Sudden? Life changing? Mind blowing? Emotionally irresponsible?

He nodded, knowing whatever you chose to fill that blank, he was feeling too. He took in a long breath before closing the distance and pulling you into a long, deep kiss. His arms wrapped around your back, one hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head. No clashing tongues, no biting lips, no frantic hands grabbing whatever they could. Just his swollen lips joined with yours. Your eyes were closed but you could feel the sting of tears starting to build. You fought them down and focused instead on memorizing the feeling of his kiss. When he finally pulled away he held your face in his hands, brushing one cheek affectionately with his thumb. Those golden brown eyes beheld you so kindly, so tenderly for a second or so…had it been eternity, it wouldn't have been long enough.

Nanami’s watch glinted under the overhead lighting, flashing lightly in his eye, alerting him to the time: 3:03pm, his flight had begun boarding. He sighed, looking back to you.

“Listen…”He started, eyes boring into you, “This was…incredible. You are incredible. I don’t want to go, my flight is boarding. Its the last one out tonight or else I would miss it, I promise.”

You laughed a bit, your smile returning. He separated from you to dig through his bag before pulling a business card out for you.

“I know this is unlikely but, if you’re ever in Japan, I would love to see you. Please, reach out.” He gazed at you hopefully, however not expecting an answer.

You nodded, watching as he picked up his bag and peered in the mirror, brushing the front part of his hair back in an attempt to look less like he had just fucked in the family bathroom of an airport terminal, it was not successful. He moved to the door, unlocking it carefully, before stopping himself. Kento turned back to you, chuckling in spite of himself.

“I don't want to go.” he repeated, just barely audible to you.

This time you traversed the gap between you, kissing him once again. He struggled to hold you again with one hand holding his bag, but he managed, indulging fully in your lips for the last time.

“Thank you for this, Kento. You are really something amazing.” You brushed some of his hair back from him after separating your lips, “If I am ever in Japan, you’re my first call.”

He smiled down at you, unable to resist pecking your lips one final time before opening the bathroom door and peeling away from you. When the door closed you took in a long breath. You were thankful for how it had ended, you were far more thankful that it had happened at all. He was already becoming a fond memory you would treasure forever. One day you would remember him as a testament to your youth, to being exciting and risky. But for now, the smell of his cologne still lingered in the room, the sound of his moans still rang in your ears.

You made your flight just before the gate closed, having taken too much time in the bathroom trying to cool your flushed face, smooth your mussed hair, rid yourself of the smell of sex that seemed to stick to you. You didn't miss how the flight attendant rolled her eyes at your approach, scanning your ticket and allowing you to enter the bridge. Luckily your employer had sprung for a first class seat, so you didn’t have to rush the length of the plane in order to find your row. You were grateful to find an empty spot in the overhead bin only a few rows ahead of where your seat should be, quickly stowing it away before moving between the aisle apologetically. You were thankful you had chosen an aisle seat so you wouldn't have to ask whatever poor sap was sat next to you to get up so you could sit down. Finally you arrived at the row and seat number that matched your ticket. Raising your head from your triple check of your seat number you saw your seatmate. A broad, beautifully built blonde man in a black knit sweater whose cum was still sticking to your legs. He gawked at you, you felt your mouth mirroring his in a surprised O.

“This is your seat?” Was the only thing you could think to ask.

Before he could stutter out an answer the flight attendant who you had already wronged interjected, “Ma’am, please find your seat and sit down.”

You nodded, still in disbelief staring at him as he stared back at you. You took your seat next to him, your shoulders touching. Such a small touch felt electric as though he hadn’t been inside of you just minutes earlier. Neither of you could say anything yet, stunned, elated silence settling in the inches between your seats. Without having to say a thing, Nanami reached across the arm rest and picked up your hand, closing it in his. You turned to meet his eyes, which were somehow more brilliant and inviting than they had been. It would take eight hours and some change before you reached New York City, eight more hours with him. Eight more hours.

ooooooooh! maybe a cheeky part 2? :P who knows!!! I really hope you guys enjoyed this one! Thank you so much for reading, and for all of your support with my writing, it makes me so happy. Love as always, --Doodle.

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idkelly · 2 years ago

Text

Painting

Travis bickle x reader

Summary: 3 encounters lead to 3 words on their minds.

Warnings: none; fluff

FIRST ENCOUNTER

Her knuckles were turning white.

Her grip didn’t soften as she pressed her notebook into her stomach. She stood on the edge of the sidewalk, shivering in her boots. She cursed herself for going out of her comfort zone that day. It was an important day on her calendar, yet at the end, she regretted her outfit. Upon moving here two months prior, she came to the realization that not many people had ‘style’. or at least a pop in what they choose to wear, everyone is so mundane in New York City that it clashes with what actually happens in the shadows.

As she stood there waiting, her mind wandered off to earlier that day. She had officially made it, and her agency is finally letting her step foot onto the field. Back in her hometown, she had worked tremendously for years on end on her craft; art wasn’t easy to master, or at least memorable art. Now that she's achieved what she’s been wanting, her work is recognized and in high demand.

But that was all on paper; she, on the other hand, wasn’t. She felt as if she were a ghost roaming around, creating what people thought were the most breathtaking paintings ever. At the back of her mind, an encounter a few months ago had stuck with her. She heard a higher-up phone call about the upcoming sales, and the topic switched to the products. Then he rambled on and on about how her paintings are basically Renaissance-made today. She was never much of a talker, yet she mustered up the courage to go up and talk to him, though his confused gaze threw her off.

"Uh, who are you exactly?"

It was fate; it had followed her everywhere. Sometimes she thinks that it’s because she was bland, basic, ordinary, and vanilla. But those thoughts left as soon as they came; she knew she wasn’t any of that. She was someone’s cup of tea for sure—not the vast majority thought so—and she was okay with it. Most of the time, she was alone, yet she never felt lonely.

Her cowboy boots were killer, red and bright, but so was the blood running down the back of her ankles; it was the first time she wore them. but she didn’t think it would mean a miserable way back home. Someone was supposed to pick her up, but guessing by the time they'd probably forgotten, she didn’t have anywhere near to go; her apartment was almost an hour away, and she hadn't seen a cab in a long while.

Behind her, illuminatingly, was a night café. Shaking her purse, she guessed she had enough money for some coffee and waffles.

She sat on the bar stool; she always liked it better than the regular seats; it was taller and bigger, almost like she was on top of the world. She liked the little stuff like this; it seemed silly to an outsider, but at least she’s having fun on her own, especially facing the window and looking at whoever walks by. A few minutes later, the waiter brought her food. She kicked off her boots to rest her feet a bit. It was going to be a long walk home.

She sat her bag on her lap and pulled out her small sketchbook. As if on cue, she noticed small rain drops clinging to the window before her; it added to the atmosphere, making her smile to herself. In her ear buds, killing me softly by fugees played, and her head swayed with the rhythm.

Half an hour passes as she’s lost in her sketchbook, her pencil dancing along the page, creating another beautiful portrait. That was her specialty. Her train of thought stops for a second when she notices someone sitting at the end of her row. Her head turns around, and she realizes that the place is basically full.

She glanced beside her at the figure; it was a guy in a green jacket and some jeans; he seemed to have ordered a coffee and some waffles; he had a mole on the side of his face. She didn’t spend much time staring at the man; it was rude. She just went back to drawing. but out of the corner of her eye, she saw what shoes he was wearing. cowboy boots.

"Cowboy boots!" It slipped out of her mouth before she could think.

The man looked startled. He looked at her, then turned his head behind him, making sure she was talking to him. His eyebrows rose as he looked at her confusedly. "Huh?"

She smiled, a bit embarrassed. I'm sorry, I meant—your boots! Cowboy boots, I like ‘em."

Her eyes never left his; they were dark, almost black, yet pretty. He hadn’t spoken a word yet, but he was smiling now.

"These are mine," she pointed to the pair that’s beneath her. I had to take them off because my feet were all bloody. She laughed, not taking it seriously at all. He looked at them and smiled, saying, "Hey, they’re just like mine, just in a different color."

She looked closer, and he could see her eyes light up at the realization. "we’re matching!"

"matching?"

"Yeah, matching"

A moment of silence passed, not an awkward one, though; they were both staring at each other, smiling a bit, her eyes drifting to his plate, then back to him.

"We don’t have matching taste buds, though; I hate waffles. This surprised him, making him chuckle and take a sip of his coffee. He wasn’t used to this; he didn’t know how to act when people approached him. Whenever he responds, he usually says the wrong thing, ruining the encounter. He didn’t respond to her; he simply didn’t know what to say. It felt like her eyes burned holes through his side, but soon enough she went back to her small book.

Her legs were crossed, and her black skirt hiked up to her mid-thigh because of her position. She wore a colorful dress shirt that was predominantly red, matching her boots. Her hair rested on her shoulder. A few pieces kept falling in front of her face, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Staring is rude, you know. "His head whipped straight back. She laughed; it was almost contagious, creeping on his lips. He mumbled an apology.

"What’re you writing?"

“I'm not writing, I'm drawing."

"oh"

She seemed focused now, unlike a few seconds ago, when she was pushing him to have a conversation. He felt a bit blue, but once he mustered up the courage to talk to her, she was over it. After the incident last year, Travis has been more weary of how he talks with other people, though that didn’t stop the screw-ups from time to time. He now understands how to read the room.

He was already done with his food; the coffee turned out to be bitter, so he barely touched it. As he got up and put on his jacket, he heard her.

"Wait, where’re you going?"

“Uh, I finished my food; I'm going home. Why?"

“Just," she started scribbling faster on her paper without looking at him, "sit down for a few more minutes, ‘kay?"

He stood still for a few seconds before agreeing to the request. He looked around the place; everyone had left by this point. Subconsciously, he yawns. He never feels sleepy, but he could feel his eyelids getting heavier by the second. She spares him a glance, smirking.

"Don’t fall asleep on me, alright? Here—ya go, take this." She handed him her right earbud between her slender fingers, and suddenly Travis took hold of it. They were sharing earbuds.

"Just two cowboys listening to music."

"You’re a cowgirl, not a cowboy."

"Saying cowboys is much easier than saying cow enthusiasts," they laughed.

She stayed quiet for a while, then suddenly stood up with her book in hand. The earbud fell out of her ear, and her face displayed an ear-to-ear smile. He had never seen someone smile this much in this city.

"It's done!" "Here you go. She ripped a piece of paper and handed it to him. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name."

"I'm Travis, he said, looking down at the paper in his hand, absolutely stunned. She could tell he almost lost control of his face as his mouth hung open.

"Well, Travis, you might want to close your mouth, or a fly might fly in there." She was getting her boots on with a bag over her shoulder with all of her belongings in it.

Travis was flabbergasted as he looked at the drawing of himself; it was almost like someone had taken a black and white photo of him, but she barely looked at him while drawing. How did she do this? She saw him. She’d seen him. The man’s hands started to shake a bit. He composed himself and looked up at her figure; she was smiling, as she always had. Words couldn’t leave his mouth once again. Don’t say the wrong thing. Don’t say the wrong thing. Don’t say the wrong thing.

"Well, if you didn’t like it, it's completely fine; don’t sweat it."

"No! No, I, uh, do like it; I'm just, uh, surprised, that’s all. Thank you." He didn’t catch her name, but she chuckled and told him. He made a mental note that she wasn’t from here; it was the first time he heard a name like

"Now it’s time for me to go, Travis. See you around, yeah?"

Yeah, he breathed.

As she walked towards the door, his eyes couldn’t stop following him, but he raised a brow once she stood dead in her tracks, turned around, and headed towards him again.

"Did you forget something?

She kissed his forehead and went away, like it was nothing. Travis wasn’t sleepy anymore; his mind was working full force, and he was only thinking of one thing: the way her lips felt on his skin.

#taxi driver #travis bickle #travis bickle x reader #x reader #travis bickle x fem!oc #robert de niro #robert de niro x reader #fanfiction

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betweenthetimeandsound · 1 month ago

Text

Jefferson, Leda, and an Angel

--prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial

Jefferson tabulated the club's profit, as if nothing ever happened. He dialed in the numbers as if he were slamming his fingers on a vintage typewriter, telling of a story kept in his heart for his own survival.

The emptiness didn't give him any solace; with its stools clumsily shoved onto its tables like cards without a box. Instead, they reminded him of a night gone astray, with a woman ordering too much champagne for the table, or a fight which almost led to one of his co-workers dying in front of him. It smelled of fried seafood and cigarette smoke, with traces of weed amongst them.

And then the angel arrived, with Leda at tow.

"Jeff!" Leda called out, trying to wrap the angel's arm around her without having his wing poke her again. "Could you do me a favor?"

Jefferson didn't initially notice Leda's widened eyes and her new friend; instead, he tapped a few more numbers and wrote down the results. A thousand euros were what remained, which made him grasp the calculator in dismay. What could he do if things go out of hand?

"Jeff!"

He turned his head at her and the angel, with his wire-bound wings and downcast face.

"I need your help."

"How about me? I have to help with the accounting and the sales and whatnot. Based on what we have right now, I'm not sure we could do it."

At that moment, the angel perked his eyes, analyzing the man. He turned his face to the right in turn, trying to analyze this creature's motives, or what is going to happen next. Leda crossed her hands as she moved herself further away from those wings, a jarring outlier to the refined bar. Both Jefferson and her looked at the angel with pitying eyes.

Leda broke the silence. "He needs a job."

"Where did you find him?"

"He was listening to one of my songs."

"Through busking?"

Leda nodded.

"You are mad," Jefferson said, slamming his hands onto the counter.

The angel faced Jefferson, and impulsively grabbed onto his hands. The sudden wave of strength caused Jefferson to flinch, and he tried to retreat back to his work. But the angel didn't relent.

"What could I do to help you?"

Jefferson bit his lip. The air remained stagnant, with the little traces of movement thanks to the fans far away. Leda brushed her hair to her ears before it blew into her eyes.

"I don't know; I'm just handling expenses right now."

"Can I work here with you?"

"Here?" Jefferson tried to move his hands, but the angel remained transigent with his grip. The papers started floating away in the empty space, getting lost amongst tiles and the dusty floor. The angel refused to pay notice towards the scene, instead noting how Jefferson's face moved. He nodded.

"I don't know what to do right now. Also, are you an angel? I don't think they exist here."

The few words triggered something in the angel, carnal and turbulent, as if it threatened to take him down in his mortality. Startled, he threw his his hand back and summoned the little power he had to conjure light. Jefferson, simultaneously shocked, rushed over to his phone to call a number.

"What are you doing?" Leda asked. "He doesn't want to hurt you!"

"What makes you think he's an angel?"

#flash fiction #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing #midnight angel #jefferson the virgin #speculative fiction

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days-until-burnout · 5 months ago

Note

May I request a Joel smallishbeans && a skizzleman.. Perhaps... I'm desperate 🦭 ough... Not force tho! :3

desperate? arent we all </3 fun fact, my laptop died literally as i finished writing it lol _____

📧 Day 113 (b) -

Characters - Skizz/Joel Words - 674 Time - 30 mins Content - Modern AU

Skizz exhales until his shoulders drop, tugging his tie loose as he takes a seat in a high stool. The bar is mostly empty, but for once, he is glad for the quieter atmosphere. He places his phone face down on the counter, eyes drawn to the incoming reflection. The lights are blocked by a silhouette, blurry outline but the familiar uniform eases his mind.

He looks up, blinking quickly, taken aback by the new face.

The bartender smiles with a raised brow, eyeing him up and down. “What can I getcha? I can get you another server too.”

He huffs a laugh, “Nah, brother, just get me a beer.”

“A beer?” The bartender looks back to the bar, then back, scoffing. “I’m gonna poison it, just so you know.”

Skizz is taken aback, blinking perplexed. He watches him walk away, grabbing a beer mug to fill it. The foam reaches the top and spills, and Skizz cannot draw his eyes away from the hand on the handle.

When the bartender comes back, placing the mug in between them, Skizz looks at him straight. He is cute, very expressive as his neutral expression shifts to a curious one. His arms casually rest on the counter, inching forward to hold his gaze.

Suddenly, the tables turn and Skizz loses his ground.

He smiles, though, already victorious. “I was joking about the poison, you know. Drink you, big guy. No one likes warm beer, and no one likes someone who drinks their beer warm.”

Skizz chuckles. His smile widens, more points for him.

Leisurely, he takes the mug, sliding it closer but not quite going for a drink yet. “So, what’s your name?”

“You couldn’t afford me, either way.” He smirks, friendly but conceited. Skizz is not sure how to make heads or tails of him. “Not that I’m an option.”

“Humor me.”

He raises a brow, then tilts back his head slightly. He eyes the bar then he is back center of Skizz’s attention. He leans forward again, resting his chin on his perched right hand.

“Buy me a drink?”

Skizz scoffs, “Drinking on the job?”

“Humor me.”

Skizz’s mouth falls open with objection, wanting to wipe the smug smirk from his lips. But the longer he stares, the more he finds them appealing. He finds himself staring at every movement and curve, the subtle glistening of them and the plumpness.

Skizz does not think of his wallet, so he gestures to the bar with a nod.

The bartender walks away, pouring himself some whiskey on a glass with ice cubes, grabbing a coke on his way back. He lifts the tab, the fizzing filling the space around them. Skizz’s eyes flicker from his hand to his face, nearly jumping back to find him already staring back.

“I’m Joel,” he says as he pours the coke over the ice, staring at his drink with fondness. “Just started yesterday. Gem got me the job.”

“Gem? Where d’ya know her from?”

Joel gives him a funny look, then looks back at his glass, gently swirling to mix it. “Doesn’t matter, does it? I thought we were talking about me.”

“Sure, sure,” Skizz rolls his eyes, and finally takes the first sip of his beer. The chill lasts little on his tongue, but he bites a reaction back to not give him any satisfaction. “It’s all about you, Joel, sure, bud.”

“Well, then, what’s your name? You’re a regular, right? Oh, wait. You’re a sales guy, aren’t you? Are you Skizz, then? Gem’s talked about you.”

“Good things?” he asks on the edge of his glass.

“If that makes you sleep better at night.”

Joel takes a swing of his drink, and Skizz’s eyes draw to his Adam’s apple. Flicking up to catch Joel’s eyes again, the corners of his lips quirked into yet another smirk. At this rate, Joel is synonymous with smug, and Skizz finds that he does not mind it all too much.

Which is, obviously, bad.

Very bad.

And Joel knows it with certainty.

_____

SKIZZ DAY :D on other news, ive successfully acquired a mouse, so... yeah, transfer time. though im still posting on tumblr because yes. more work

[click for a random day]

#trafficshipping #hermitshipping #skizzlebeans #skizzleman #smallishbeans #day 113.b

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akwolfgrl · 1 year ago

Text

LFT PART 37

Sanji made his last round inside his galley, Mr. Noodles sat perched on a bar stool watching him. The roses that Zoro got him were still sitting in the jar where he left them. He needed to figure out what he wanted to do with them. Sanji slid some butter into his apron pocket to soften.

Sanji finished unloading everything he had bought at the market this morning. There were still a few cartes of things waiting for him to deconstruct. Sanji had scored a crate of fresh unwashed eggs. He would water glass them later tonight. He left out the stuff he needed to make a batch of kimchi and a new marinade for Luffy's jerky. The meat was in the freezer to firm up for easier slicing. He also left out the prime rib he got on sale for dinner tonight. He had the perfect seasoning for them.

Sanji cut the core of napa cabbages out, placing them into the bucket he was using for a compost pile, they used to have one on the Baratie they would give it to a local farmer who they worked with to get fresh produce. There were things that even he could not salvage and use, but the compost was a good compromise since it fertilized and grew more food. He split the leafy vegetable apart with his hands. It was hard to get used to such a quiet kitchen. He was used to the hustle and bustle of the Baratie. The chefs arguing, the waiters yelling out food orders. Everything about the kitchen was loud and controlled chaos. Well, Sanji did sort of miss having someone he could talk to.

“OK so I know you're a cat, and you don't understand what I'm saying, but I don't care. Right now, I'm making kimchi. It's spicy, sour, and so good. A chef who used to work at the Baratie before settling ashore and marrying a sweet woman showed me how to make it,” Sanji began to chop the pieces of cabbage up. “I'm doing the shortcut method. Usually, you don't chop it up, but I like it better this way,” Sanji put all the cabbage into the large bowl. “Then we just wash and salt the cabbage until it wilts and the water from the inside of the cabbage is drawn out by the salt,” Sanji would leave it overnight with something heavy on top.

Mr. Noodles had at some point hopped from his stool to wind his way around Sanji's legs purring. He was ecstatic to have something small and cute to care for. Clementine may have been Zeff’s cat but she did like him and barely tolerated the other chefs. It had been his job to brush her long silky golden fur. She had been a very pretty kitty, with one gold eye and one blue. Mr. Noodles was of course very handsome with his soft slick black fur.

“Zeff my old man, although I'd never call him that to his face, had a ship cat, her name was Clementine,” Sanji took out the bowl he used previously for the marinade. Mixing soy sauce, worcestershire, orange juice, and zest , he whisked in honey, brown sugar, grated ginger, and chopped garlic. He threw some habaneros into his mortar and grinded them down into a nice paste before adding them as well. “I remember the look on Zeff’s face after we got off the Rock. Clementine had gotten off their pirate ship shortly before they attacked the Orbit. It's said that cats can sense doom. Anyway, we stayed on an island while we recovered, and one day, she walked right up to Zeff as if she had only been out for a stroll. She died shortly before Luffy came crashing in. Zeff had been practically testy lately, so that didn't help him at all,” Sanji covered the marinade and placed it into the fridge.

“I think after I'm done with my prep, I'll head back out for some personal shopping and check out the fish market. Maybe I'll be nice to our sentient plant life and pick up a sword cleaning kit. He doesn't have much money and would be more focused on buying swords. Why he needs three? I'm not sure, but that's his thing, I suppose,” Sanji took a paper towel to dry the prime ribs, or else it would reject the butter. He stabbed holes into the top of the meat. While he did know how to trim meat, it had come pre-trimmed and on sale to good of a deal to pass up. “I haven't seen him use it at all while we've been on this ship and there's no way that his sword hasn't been well kept in the past,” He took the softened butter out of his pocket and upwarped it, placing it into a small bowl. “Maybe I'll grab some ink for Nami-swan! I can't get Marimo and not my sweet Nami,” Sanji tossed in chopped rosemary and thyme, salt, pepper, Dijon mustard, and a bit of worcestershire then he mixed it. “I should pick another notebook while I'm out, I might as well grab something for Luffy and Usopp while I'm at it. Just so I don't have to hear them whining.”

Sanji stabbed holes into the fatty part of the meat and used butter to lube up the sliced garlic and rosemary, slipping them into the holes. He coated the prime ribs in the rest of the butter before placing them in the fridge. After a quick clean-up, Sanji was ready to head out. With a goodbye scratch to Mr. Noodles Sanji left the Going Merry

#one piece #fanfic #lust filled thoughts #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #mr. noodles #cooking

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abyssal-ali · 1 year ago

Text

She's A Knockout

Pairing: Jason Todd x Stephanie Brown, minor Bill the Henchman x Goon Named Jeff

Rating: T

WC: 2.7k Ao3 Masterlist

A/N: Inspired by this reel. Beta'd by Bambi<3

Steph blinked in confusion as the waiter appeared beside her with a pair of boxing gloves and what looked like a ring girl.

All she’d asked for was a box for her leftover chicken and waffles.

“Alright folks! This lovely lady right here will be squaring off against the reigning champion, Bill the Brute! I’m Jeff, your announcer for this fight. Round one!”

Steph slipped off her bar stool, the gloves an appropriate tightness and her hair swept back in a hasty ponytail by the helpful ring girl.

She wasn’t going to let anything get between her and her waffles. If that meant fighting a random Gothamite who thought it would be funny to let her waffles sog, so be it.

Feigning reluctance, she let Jeff guide her hands into a protective guard for her face as she swayed nervously on her feet.

“I’m not gonna punch him!” she protested, sizing up Bill the Brute. He was fairly lean, dressed only in shorts and a black pair of gloves to match her white ones.

“Stick to your jab,” Jeff encouraged her, dropping his hand. “Fight!”

“I’m not gonna punch him!” she repeated, stepping marginally closer.

Steph gingerly landed a left hook, eyeing up his reflexes and how serious this situation (which she assumed to be a prank, considering the laughter and cheers of the other patrons) was.

“Harder!” boomed Jeff. “Knock him out! Hit ‘im in the head!”

“No! That’s mean!” she cried, bouncing a little closer, pretending to ham up the fight for the audience.

“Do it!” they began cheering, along with Jeff.

Bill the Brute ducked the first slow jab, but he missed her surprise right hook, collapsing at Jeff’s feet dramatically.

Steph’s mouth dropped in horror, thinking his decent boxing skills would have protected him from the full force of her blow.

The server behind Jeff banged his fork against his skillet, signalling the entire fight was over.

Jeff seemed to think Bill was hamming it up for the show, raising her hand in victory as the ring girl wrapped the fake championship belt around her torso.

“And after one hard round, we have the winner by TKO, the new champion of the Hood and Dagger Pub!” Jeff and the patrons cheered.

Steph frantically piled her waffles and chicken into the box that the girl behind the bar had provided while she fought Bill the Brute, ducked her head, and fled the pub, ignoring his sales pitch for a boxing gym(?).

Steph mourned the loss of her new favourite pub as she ran down the street, waffle box tucked under her arm to help her aerodynamics.

They’d always had good food when she went, usually at the weirdest hours (which was strange that the pub was open that late–or early, if you preferred–but she didn’t dare go digging into its ownership or management lest she be conscience-bound to shut down her new haven).

Her musings were cut short by the sound of someone pursuing her. She glanced back, seeing Jeff running behind her.

Dang, what did he want? She’d paid before she requested the box. Had he found out she’d knocked out Jeff for reals and it wasn’t for show?

“Miss!”

It was noon, and there were several other people out and about on the fairly well-travelled street, so Steph made the executive decision to confront him here, and not accidentally acquire a stalker and expose her new Batgirl-haven.

“Yeah?” she twirled her ponytail.

Jeff bent over a decent distance away. “You’re almost as fast as Boss,” he gasped. “That was amazing!”

Steph blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Your moves, miss,” Jeff panted out an explanation. “Boss saw you and wants to talk to you. You wouldn’t be needing a job, would you?”

“Excuse me?” she repeated, shriller this time.

Steph reluctantly entered the back room of the Hood and Dagger. It was a lot different from most back rooms she’d been in, and that wasn’t even counting the daytime and front door entrance she was unaccustomed to.

Jeff cleared his throat. “Boss, I got the lady!” he said proudly.

“Thanks, Jeff. I do hope you didn’t use your uh…work…tactics?”

The only thing she could see was the black-and-white hair of a man behind a computer setup so large Babs would be jealous, but just his voice sounded nice.

“Of course not, Boss! I can be subtle!”

Aw, poor Jeff sounded genuinely hurt.

Mentally preparing herself for another middle-age, morally dubious at best, sleazebag, Steph was entirely unprepared for the Boss who actually stood up, arm outstretched for her to shake.

He was young, though the jury was still out on his morals, but was inclined to acquit him on account of his face, which was handsome and graced with a gorgeous smile and– he had dimples?!

Steph had clearly been knocked out by Bill the Beast and this was what her concussion-wracked brain had conjured while she was unconscious.

“Uh, hi. Um. Steph.” She shook his hand, which was large, warm but not sweaty, and had neatly trimmed nails. Steph was a sucker for nice hands.

He withdrew his hand after the shake, twisting it in a way that meant his veins were highlighted for her to drool over.

“Jason. Hi, I’m the owner of Hood and Dagger Pub. I apologize if Bill and Jeff’s little promotional stunt scared you off,” he smiled warmly, teal eyes meeting hers familiarly. “They’re a bit passionate about the boxing and all-round gym opening a couple blocks over, and when I gave them the greenlight to promote it, I didn’t quite expect such…creativity in the way they went about it.”

“Better creative and original than dull and mainstream, right?” laughed Steph. “It was fine. I thought I actually knocked Bill out.”

“His skull’s taken worse, I assure you,” chuckled Jason. “He likes to ham up his performance when pretty ladies are around…even if he’s happily in a relationship with Jeff,” he shook his head at the duo’s antics. Jeff had left to gossip with inform the other employees about the potential interview taking place, so he wasn’t there to defend himself from his boss’s slandering.

“I’m just relieved I can show my face here again,” Steph smiled. “I was so sad at the thought that I’d be banned for knocking out one of your employees, just when it’s become my new favourite restaurant and haven. The hours are a godsend for someone with weird hours like me.”

Jason inclined his head, silently requesting she continue her hot-guy-induced ramblings.

Steph would just like to state for the record that it wasn’t her fault he was almost as hot as she imagined Red Hood was behind the mask. He was her celebrity crush; sue her. She’d seen girls thirsting over Ghostface; this wasn’t any stranger.

“Yeah? What draws you to the Hood and Dagger, if I may ask?”

“The food is amazing; I love the privacy between the booths, so I can study in relative peace even at the height of the rush; it’s seemingly open 24/7, so I can get food when I’m too tired to cook, and I’ve even been able to have a nap after I stumbled in here for breakfast after pulling an all-nighter–in short, have you considered renaming this Steph’s Heaven?” she joked.

Jason grinned at her. “I will now. I’m glad you’re so pleased with my establishment. It’s my goal to have it open as much as I can, so people have a safe space to rest, study, sleep, just like you said. It’s a pub, but it’s not just for food and drink. I want to make this a safe haven for everyone as long as I can.”

“That’s really commendable,” Steph nodded. Her curiosity about Jason was urging her Bat-research (aka stalking) skills on, but now she really didn’t want to ruin this illusion he’d woven around her. He was the perfect guy, she could overlook some tax evasion or him secretly being Kite-Man.

“You look really familiar, though. Have we met somewhere before?”

“I…don’t think so? I’m fairly sure I’d remember a face like yours.”

He raised an eyebrow at her comment.

“I’m usually in the back cooking when I’m working here, so I wouldn’t have seen you here before as a patron,” he mused. “You’re at Gotham Gen?” he waved a hand at the hospital intern badge hanging off her shirt.

She nodded.

He frowned. “I haven’t been there in ages. Probably not. Hm, maybe I just need some sleep.”

“Long night? I can go,” Steph took a half-step towards the door.

“No, please stay. I asked Jeff to bring you here so I could meet you. I was going to ask you if you needed or wanted a job.”

“A job?” She raised her eyebrow. So far Jason had been quite decent, but if he suggested-

“At my new boxing gym. You look like you know how to fight–that’s a compliment, I assure you. I think a female employee would really help draw more female clientele.”

“A boxing gym and a restaurant? Wow, Jason, you’re sure not one-dimensional.”

He shrugged, dropping his head in a pitiful attempt to hide his grin. “I’m a well-rounded guy, or so my mom says when she tries to marry me off.”

Steph snorted. “What type of job were you thinking about at your gym? ‘Cause depending on how well you sell this, I just may quit the scourge of med school.”

“And the pressure is on,” laughed Jason. “Do you have formal training in any martial art or physical activity?”

Steph considered her Cass-mandated and Bat-supervised training. “Yep, although I don’t have any certificate to show for it.”

“Would you say good enough to be a trainer or coach?”

“Yep.”

“Confidence, I like that. Barely took you a second to reply. Thoughts on Red Hood?”

Steph blinked at the non sequitur. “Smash?”

Jason choked. “Sorry?”

“Uh…morally I don’t support him, but as a Gothamite?” Steph glanced around, leaning in. “And as someone attracted to men? Absolutely.”

Jason blinked again. “I…see. Well, if you want a job at Jill’s Gym, just talk to Jeff or Bill. And yes, they’re the ‘Jill’ in ‘Jill’s Gym’.”

Steph snickered. “That’s a clever name.”

“It’s apparently their ‘ship name’ or whatever,” Jason air quoted.

At that, Steph outright guffawed, tears running down her cheeks while Jason eyed her stiffly. “You’re such a grandpa! ‘What’s a ship name? Kids these days and their newfangled names for each other’.”

Jason opened his mouth, but he didn’t retort Steph’s teasing, much to her surprise. What came out was much worse.

“Batgirl?”

Shit.

“Uh. No? I’m Steph.”

And why hadn’t she used an alias, maybe Minnie Malone, she bemoaned with all the clarity of hindsight.

“Yeah, but you’re also Batgirl, aren’t you? I’d know that mocking laugh anywhere,” Jason said. “It’s okay, I’m Red Hood.”

Heck!!!

She’d just thirsted over the guy to his face! About his alter ego! Steph debated just making another mad dash from the Hood and Dagger–wow, what a subtle name. Well, he literally wore bright red over his head and heart; she supposed that was on her for expecting subtlety from the man, who’d clearly never heard the word.

“Please tell me you’re lying, not the least of which because I just told you I’d smash your alter ego to your face,” she gritted past her hands covering her face in shameful horror.

Jason snickered. “No can do, BG. If it’s any consolation, I’d say the newest Batgirl is pretty smash-worthy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His teal eyes were right in front of hers. Was it hot in here? It was hot in here.

“Can I maybe get your number?”

Steph looked up at him, worrying her lip between her teeth. “Sure, as long as you don’t give me one of your burner numbers.”

“Deal.” Jason fished his phone out of his back pocket.

Steph typed in her contact information and texted herself, then handed it back to him.

“Best Gotham Blonde Girl <3?” Jason read off her self-appointed contact name and laughed. “Cute.”

“I am,” she batted her lashes at him. “So, I hear you know the owner of this really great restaurant?”

“I’m not taking you to my own restaurant for our first date, Steph. Give Alfred’s teachings a little more credit, please.”

“First date?” Steph asked. “Sounds good. In that case, I enjoy the Italian restaurant opposite Wayne Enterprises, the churro truck by Amusement Mile, and the diner in Robinson Park.”

“I’m aware,” Jason said dryly. “I've seen you demolishing a stack of waffles after patrol several times.”

Steph flushed. “Yeah, well, you stay up way too late reading on the gargoyle overlooking the Harbour!”

Jason’s hand gently settled on her cheek. “Been stalking me, have you?”

“I see you on my way to my much-too-early classes at Gotham U,” she retorted, leaning into his touch. “Kiss me.”

“Whatever the lady says.”

Steph’s arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her sweetly, drawing him in and deepening the kiss.

His free hand ran up and down her side before settling on her hip and pulling her flush with him.

They broke apart at the knock on his door, where Jeff stood.

“Uh, I’ll come back later. Congrats, Boss!”

Bonus:

“Boss?”

Jason looked up, waving Jeff and Bill into his office.”’Sup?”

“Uh, we’re really happy you’ve found this girl, but…we thought you liked the new Batgirl?” Bill was brave enough to say what the whole Goonion had been wondering since Jeff breathlessly updated them on Boss’s love life an hour ago.

Jason considered them. “I do. She kind of looks like Batgirl, though, don’t you think?”

Bill and Jeff exchanged looks.

“They’re both…blonde…”

“As long as you’re happy, Boss,” they assured him. “Does she know about Red Hood?” “Yep, she’s cool with it.”

“Okay, thanks for telling us, Boss.”

Jeff and Bill left to update the Goonion. “She knows he’s Hood and she’s cool with it, and he still likes BG but he’s dating her because she reminds him of the girl he can’t get.”

Bill blinked the moistness in his eyes away. “I hope she doesn’t break Boss’s heart.”

Bonus Bonus:

“Move over, I can’t see,” hissed Jeff, nudging Gary with his bony elbow until he could peer through the window at Boss’s date with Steph.

They seemed to be having a good time, laughing and chatting, but the Goonion still secretly rooted for their OTP, RedGirl (unfortunately, the two vigilantes’ names weren’t the most conducive to ship names). Steph wasn’t bad as a second-place contender for Boss’s heart, though, and they’d rather see him happy than with a vigilante who didn’t see their Boss for the good man that he was (duffle bags with dubious contents notwithstanding).

Boss and Ms Boss stood to leave the restaurant, and the Goonion started their car to be ready to follow the couple to their next destination.

Interestingly, Boss took Ms Boss to his warehouse headquarters. They were sure moving fast, but if Boss trusted her, so did they.

“It’s usually a lot busier at this time,” Boss was telling Ms Boss when the Goonion entered the building through the back entrance, pretending they’d been out on a mission.

“Oh, there you are. I’d like to introduce you to Steph.”

The Goonion shook her hand and introduced themselves, taking her measure personally and agreeing that she seemed to fit Boss well.

They nodded at him approvingly before they tactfully peeled themselves away to their respective tasks, where they could more surreptitiously keep an eye on the couple, who were chuckling about something as they continued the tour.

They disappeared into Boss’s office and the Goonion winked at each other, preparing to give Boss some privacy, when the door swung open and out walked Boss in his work uniform…hand in hand with Batgirl.

Well, that explained some things.

Jeff pulled out his phone to gather evidence for the other lieutenants. Too bad they were out on patrols and couldn’t see this for themselves. Dennis and Alicia weren’t going to believe this without his proof!

Now seemed like a good time to revive the Boss Dating bets they’d had running…

#jaysteph #fic #ali writes #jaysteph fic

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