#Order it anywhere else and it's blue

[bi-writes]

MOB who has to stay with Johnny at his house while Simon is away on a solo mission? Like as a preventive measure, Simon has them both together in case soemthing happens to him while he’s away?

mail-order bride

"i...simon, i just don't--"

"just do it," simon murmurs. you quiet immediately, a little caught off-guard. simon has never interrupted you; even when you're a babbling mess, simon lets you finish your garbled sentences. he waits until your voice quiets, until your mouth closes, before he ever speaks to you, but this time, his tone is firm, and there is no room for interpretation. when you meet his eyes, simon is more than serious. "i don't ask ya for anythin', swee'eart. but this..." he reaches out for you, and you step closer instinctively, and when he cups your face in both hands, you can't help but melt. he leans his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes when you see the very subtle tremble of his lips. "do this fer me. only thing i'll ever ask of ya. i swear it."

you take a deep breath to center yourself. one of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you just that much closer, and you wait until your lips brush against his before you answer him.

"i...i have to go?"

"few days. tha's it."

"well, i...well, okay."

it's quiet up north. the weather dampens the entire coastline, what you can see of it, and the air tastes like salt. it was in your mouth as soon as you stepped off the train, and it only got stronger the closer you got to the cottage.

as soon as you step out of the car, you're greeted by the most quaint little house on a hill. there's vines climbing up the sides of it, wrapping around wooden structures and carving out a perfectly quaint home tucked amongst scottish greenery. it's breathtaking here; it's so quiet, and the way that you're allowed to breathe up here is unlike anywhere else you've ever been.

the meows coming from your backpack are the only thing that bring you back to earth.

"just inside, lass," a low voice calls behind you. "supper's 'bout ready now."

when johnny closes the door behind you, you're mesmerized by the coziness inside. his house is filled with warmth. there's plaid curtains pulled back from a stained-glass window, allowing in soft colors of light. the couches in his living room have throw pillows and blankets of mismatched linen and velvet, and his walls are filled with pictures and hanging green plants. there's candles burning, and the television is still playing some reruns of old rugby games.

the wood detail is exquisite. the staircase has little carvings of scottish motifs and flowers, winding up another wall of photos. the pictures are old and new, all of laughing people with johnny's big smile or his bright blue eyes or wearing the same plaid pattern as the fabric that you saw hanging in the closet.

a green kettle. a cross above the mantle with a psalm printed on it. a sketch on the coffee table (a skull, with a stub of a charcoal pencil still laying over it). rosaries hanging over a wedding photo with johnny in the background, holding up bunny ears. a wooden bowl of oranges (and oranges only).

"said ye'd be 'ere fer some time, tha' ye like ta bake. got some things fer ye at the shops."

you set your backpack down, opening the clear window of it, and two little cats hop out immediately. johnny raises a brow as he makes eye contact immediately with the orange tabby, a wicked grin coming over his face.

"i remember ye, ye little shite."

"what?" you laugh, and johnny shakes his head.

"nothin'."

it's late when he notices you looking out the window. the cats are curled up on opposite ends of the couch, in deep sleep after johnny gave them each a salmon dinner (and you pretended not to notice seeing the extensive recipe sheet that only your husband could have made on his phone). your eyes are on the sky; you can see so much of it here, twinkly stars and all.

"'m sorry ye have ta be here," johnny says lowly, soft enough that you aren't startled. you don't look away from the window, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch as you wonder if simon is looking at the same star you can't seem to lose. it's brighter than the rest, and it flickers to a rhythm that feels oddly comforting.

"it's not your fault, johnny," you assure him softly, and you turn away from the window finally to find him seated on the carpet, scratching the orange cat behind the ears. "he wouldn't...he wouldn't take no for an answer. not...not this time."

you frown a little, smoothing your right hand over your left, and your heart drops a little in your chest when the sparkle of your wedding ring matches the sparkle of your star.

"i've been staying home alone all this time," you continue, shaking your head. "and all of the sudden...a-all of the sudden he doesn't trust me?"

"oh, love..." johnny sighs, clicking his tongue. "tha' is...'s nae wot it is, i swear it."

"i...it's not...it's not me, right?" you ask in a whisper, meeting his eyes finally. "simon and i...w-we're doing so well..."

the expression that passes over his face is a sad one. it unnerves you to see it; johnny is someone that just isn't meant to be sad. his house is filled with so much love and so much life, and you swear you don't even recognize him anymore because he's void of a smile altogether.

"ye seen the pictures?"

you know immediately what johnny is talking about. you saw them the very first night you stayed in your shared home. across your house, there are a few picture frames covered with fabric or face-down on whichever surface they rest on. when you glimpsed at them, you peeked behind the curtain of a life that simon has that you don't know. even now, you have never felt strong enough to ask him about them.

it isn't because you think simon won't tell you; you're afraid to ask. you're afraid of who they are, what they are to him, and why he's never told you their names or introduced them to you. they exist in a separate place, and you don't know why, and when you saw him holding that baby--

you shake your head finally.

"i...i can't."

johnny hums low, looking down. he smooths his hands down his jeans.

"neither can he."

you close your eyes, but not fast enough. there's a few tears that fall down the curve of your cheek.

"when...when did--?"

"will be another year in a few days."

your lip shakes, and you take in a stuttered breath. you did not believe it possible to love simon any more than you already do, but it aches, that place in your chest that is reserved just for him. it hurts, in the worst and most incredible way, and you never want him to know another day without hearing you tell him how much you love him.

when simon comes to get you, just a week later, you're sitting under a sycamore tree at sunset. it's never been more quiet inside of your head, and when he takes a seat beside you, you say nothing for a few minutes.

simon thinks maybe you're angry for a moment, but then your hand reaches over to take his, and then you're scooting closer, until you drape yourself over his arm and bury your face into the side of his neck.

"i'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and simon turns his head slightly.

"wot's tha', love?"

"i'm not going anywhere, simon," you say again, and when he looks at you finally, you squeeze his hand. "wherever...wherever you want me to go...i'll go. wherever you want me to stay, i-i'll stay there."

when he kisses you, it's soft, and it's slow, and he feels faraway and so close all at once. you put your hands around his neck, along the back of his head, anything to get him closer, to feel more of him, but it isn't enough.

it won't be enough. not until simon devours you whole. not until you bite into him and never let go. not until beginning of you and the end of him are indistinguishable.

not until i make the time before us obsolete and the time after us endless.

when you are home, simon watches from the hallway as you pick up a picture frame on the dresser. it's been facedown there since he moved in, and touching it has always felt like it burns him. he's frozen as you flip it face-up, standing it back up. when he sees himself, many years younger, smiling, happy, holding a chubby baby with bright eyes and blonde hair, he's surprised his insides don't burst immediately.

he never thought he would be able to look at them again. he never thought he'd be able to see their faces without seeing the warped versions of them, the mirrors of them that he never believed could be real. he always thought if he looked at them again, he'd go blind--that he'd carve out his own eyes just to forget what was left of them.

but nothing remains. they're memories, beautiful ones, and he'd forgotten that his nephew even had dimples.

the photos get lost amongst the rest. they blend in, like they were meant to be, tucked between the warm ones of your smile and the orange cat standing on simon's shoulders.

there is nothing more intoxicating than the woman that simon has chosen to love. you make the worst of his mind feel afraid; the thoughts that threaten to upend him, they are retreating, withering away from the things that he thinks about now that you remain. the tendrils of you are everywhere; you have latched onto him like nothing ever has, and he will never be rid of this feeling. of you.

simon will not fight reality any longer. he won't tell himself fate is nothing but proof that god is unforgiving. god isn't real, you are, and whatever came before you was the road he had to follow to get to you.

and simon didn't just follow; he fucking crawled. he dug his hands into the stone, bleeding fingernails and all, and he kept going even when his legs didn't work and his mind told him there was nothing there ahead of him. it was not resilience. it was not a man made of metal or steel or something heroic or a miracle.

simon is just a man, and he is weak, but as he comes up behind you and breathes you in, he realizes now that he has known you his entire life. you are tethered by something that he can't see. you are connected by something invisible.

when you tuck yourself into bed that night, the pictures are still upright, the ones on the wall still uncovered. you fall asleep before him, like always, and simon cradles your head to his chest as his eyes find the window.

a star sparkles. it's the last thing he sees before he falls asleep beside you.

[eightstarr]

pacify — sevika.

summary: is it possible to miss a stranger, or does one thing negate the other? maybe you miss sevika because she isn't a stranger, because she stuck her claws far too deep in you and never let go— or just because she looks really fucking good sitting there, looking at you like she's waiting for you to say "hello again".

warnings: mild descriptions of violence, smut (mdni!), pre time jump sevika!

notes: my thesis with this one is that eating out a woman you love will revolutionize you in a way nothing else can and i'm joking but also dead serious. also dear god please me and who… okay bye i love you

・。.・゜✧・. ────

“You know, I’ve always liked this place the best.”

It’s the first thing you remember him saying, blue uniform to match his now slightly reddened eyes, vile alcohol in his breath. You’re at a different bar, not Vander's, the first actual job you ever had if you don't count what came before— the shiny rock of a stranger’s ring in your pocket, another’s gold coins in your bag, all from the quick trips to the city above with your father. “It’s not difficult to steal from a Piltovan,” he’d say, squinting at the engraving on the inside of a sparkly bracelet, a small bounty spread over the kitchen table, “they’re all show, all ego.”

Now watching the smirk on the Enforcer’s face after he downs his fourth glass without taking a breath, a laughable skill for an audience of no one, you find it hard to disagree with your father’s assessment. The well nurtured instinct to wonder what you’d get if you slipped your fingers inside the pockets of his tailored jacket grows loud and tempting in your head, but you shove it away and keep your eyes on the dusty floor you’re meant to sweep, determined to keep this job.

“The drinks are better than up there, I’ll give you that,” the drunk man continued, half empty fifth glass tipped dangerously towards the brooding barman, your only coworker tonight. There’s barely anyone left in the bar at all except a couple regulars. Tension has been brewing through the entirety of your shift, an argument in one of the booths during your first hour, a drink on someone’s face by the third, a wave of tired scoffs when the man in uniform walked in near the end of the night; the last nail on the coffin. In your head, you’ve listed all the possible exits you could use to escape enough times to memorize them.

The man takes a surprisingly controlled sip, thin lips furrowed in a grimace. “Wish it was enough to make up for that fucking stench.”

The air in Zaun is different to foreigners. You’ve never minded it the way they do. It's your air, the first to ever fill your lungs, the one you’re so used to that you can feel the way it shifts— the way it becomes a stench, as he called it, when blood is about to be spilt.

The barman does, to his credit, offer you the chance to leave. Or orders it, morelike, his sharp eyes meeting yours and then a tilt of his head towards the door. Maybe he pities you for the nerves splashed all over your face, or maybe he’d just find it a shame to lose an employee he hired barely a month ago. “You. Out.”

“Out?” the Piltovan repeats, turning his head, his voice grossly high pitched. “Why? What's gonna happen now?” he’s drunk enough that you notice the seconds that pass before his eyes properly focus. You remember the exact way his smirk faded, the deep-set wrinkles between his eyebrows when he recognized your face, a nauseating anger. “No. No, you don't move.”

Enforcers never go anywhere alone. Maybe the man had just remembered this, just now realized the true risk of his cockiness when it's not backed up by two or three of his colleagues. Maybe that's why he finds it easy to target you rather than the angry figures lurking in the tables behind him. Maybe that's why he draws his gun so fast.

“I know you, little thief—”

A woman approaches at the same time he does, and you don't know why exactly you decide to focus on her instead. A plea, maybe. You remember the dull gray of the brass knuckles on her fingers, the thick leather belt hung around her lower waist, the thump of her boots against the old floorboards. You've never noticed her before. How ridiculous it feels to think that she was there all night. How lovely that she could be the last thing you see. There's comfort in her being there, a morbid, sad thing that feels almost like company. At least you’re not alone in the room with the monster, at least there's someone to watch you die. 

Her hand falls on the Enforcer’s shoulder and she pushes him back with little effort, the quickest movement, almost without thought. The man stumbles (blame the well praised alcohol or Sevika’s strength), and the glass that had stayed in his hand shatters against the edge of the bar at the same time his gun fires a loose shot to the wall behind you.

Next comes a blur, a vague memory of hearing the Enforcer hiss in pain, a thread of red spilling down the open palm of his hand.

“You got somewhere to go?”

Her voice is the first and only thing that brings you back, the only sound louder than the heartbeat pounding in your ears. She sounds smooth, clear-headed, not like a woman who just stepped in the middle of the fastest paced violence you’ve ever encountered. Gray eyes move across your face, then the rest of you, and you quickly look down at yourself as if to check along with her that you’re actually unharmed.

Your lips feel awfully dry when your tongue brushes against them, enough air passing through to let you breathe, but not quite talk. You nod your head and remember in a rushed, distorted thought— somewhere to go, yes, home, now.

Sevika returns your nod, small praise, an odd way of saying something like good job. Less odd than the quiet satisfaction you feel for having earned it. She tilts her head towards the door, short black hair brushing her shoulder, her voice the kindest you’ve ever heard to this very day. Perhaps the thing you remember most. “Go on, love.”

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Years pass, deaths and joys and new odd jobs, and you still think about it. She sits at the back of your head like a softly worded reminder. And then one day, as things go, you find her again. Her making a deal at the back of The Last Drop, you behind the bar serving drinks.

There's a chance she doesn't remember it. What are the odds that she thought about you at all after the incident? You were just a stranger on a random night. It's not often that people fully understand the weight of what they did for someone, the trickle down of an action, of a kindness. There's a chance for you to go home, alone and unchanged. Instead (and not for the first time) you work for an hour longer, unpaid labor for a chance to serve her a drink.

Sevika doesn't come every night. You see her maybe once a week, talk to her maybe once a month. You don't expect tonight to be any different, but—

“You gonna watch me all night?” she mutters it into her glass, swallows the last sip before she looks at you. The are tiny wrinkles beginning to form on the corners of her eyes now, along each side of her lips from her smiles. Watching her is entrancing, the easiest thing you do, as natural as drawing a breath. “What are you still doing here?”

You blink downwards at the washed glass in your hand, continue to dry it like it could ever be half as interesting as being under her spell. “Working overtime.”

“Vander can't afford to pay you overtime,” Sevika scoffs, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk. 

You frown, maybe a little flustered. “He—”

“She's right. Why are you still here?”

The man himself stands tall to your left, glaring at this one permanently stained spot on the bar, working at it with a rag like he hasn't tried the same thing a hundred times before. There are dark shadows under his eyes, a purple hair tie on his wrist— Powder’s, if you were to guess. You’ve grown close to Vander since you met him, even closer when he hired you to work here. “‘S not a favor,” he’d said, quickly catching the suspicion on your face. “Just a gesture to him.” Turns out a lot more people knew your father than you thought; Vander isn’t old enough to have grown up with him, but they still found ways to end up at the same places. If he hadn’t been so secretive about who he was beyond the man who raised you, maybe you would’ve met Vander years ago, became friends at some bar in your teen years instead of at a diner a few days after your father’s funeral. But gaining a friend is a timeless thing, it obeys luck, not sensitivities. One day he wasn’t there, and then the next he was.

You spray some cleaning liquid over the spot on the table, roll your eyes as he leans closer to wonder at how the stain begins to slowly fade. “I’m working,” you repeat.

He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, one eyebrow raised. “I ain’t paying you.”

“I know, okay? It's fine,” you cross your arms over your chest, embarrassed to have been caught even though neither Vander nor Sevika seem to know what the real reason behind you staying late is. “It's a busy night, take it as a favor.”

“I can't afford favors.”

“Good thing they’re free, then,” you deadpan.

Sevika chuckles at the banter, forever amused at your unreserve, how simple you make things. It makes no sense to her to be that generous, that open, but it makes even less sense to think that you’d be any other way. Sevika isn’t particularly trusting, but she is loyal— the more you talk, the more watching you becomes addicting, her thing. She fixates on learning new things about you, clings to your words like a cat to its owner’s scent and wonders, over and over and over, if you remember her. From all those years ago. From last week. With you, she’d take anything.

And when she does finally see you up close, finds a good enough excuse in asking you for fire or a refill, there's little you could ask that she would say no to. It's senseless and thrilling and above all, it's true. She feels it down to her bones, painfully clear, like it's written all over her face.

“What do you do, Sevika?”

Sit and wait for you, she thinks, and instead replies, “What?”

“For work,” you clarify, your hand against the bar, leaning slightly forward. “I see you every week and I still don't know.”

You do know what she does, at least as much as anyone else does— too little to run your mouth, enough to stay away. And if you didn't know, you know her enough to be certain that she wouldn't tell you. It's a pointless question. Unless, of course, you’re as infatuated as you are.

Sevika takes another gulp of her drink, her eyes tracing over the line on your waist where the apron ties behind your back, the soft curve that the pull of it forms. She needs a smoke. “Same shit as everyone else,” she answers, and palms her pockets for a cigarette case. “What do you do? Other than this.”

“This is it,” you watch her flick open the case and shrug. You don’t sound particularly sad or frustrated, just plainly aware. “I pour drinks for people who all seem to do the same shit.”

Sevika hums, sets the case down, a click of metal against well worn wood. An unlit cigarette sits between her index and middle finger. “Be honest,” she starts, and it's the same voice that's been talking to you this whole time, but the gruffness still manages to catch you off guard. “Am I just as bad?”

You chuckle, the same addicting shimmer of genuineness in your eyes that she chases everytime you speak. “Just as bad as what?”

Her eyes follow your hands where they go to pull a lighter from the chest pocket of your apron. “The drunks that flirt with you while you do your job,” she lets the cigarette hang from her lips and leans forward.

“Hm,” you hum. The reflection of the flame sparkles in her eyes before you pull it away, orange against gray, odd and pretty. “I don't know.”

You’re not sure if she looks amused or slightly offended. It's a nice view regardless, the way her eyebrows lift and her lips curve downwards for a second before she breathes out, spilling smoke from her mouth as she talks, “You don't know.”

“I guess I didn't realize you were flirting with me.”

Sevika chuckles, a tiny half moon of a smile line on her cheek when she smirks, smugly aware of the way your eyes are looking at her. “You’re funny.”

Sevika is loyal. It would be easy to say that she doesn’t get what this feeling is, that it’s meaningless, that she doesn’t understand it— but she knows. She knows what it is even if it goes unnamed, because she’s the one deciding to keep it, stubborn and tight gripped, close to her heart. It’s in her dreams, in her first thought of the morning, in the disappointment that sours her mouth when she doesn’t find you at the bar. It’s in her stomach, tugging with need, when she looks at your face and realizes that if she asks if you wanna go home with her tonight, you will say yes.

She takes the leap. Parts her lips, names herself yours. “You wanna get out of here?”

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

You rarely pour your own drinks anymore. It’s a funny thing— Sevika doesn’t ask about your preference, which liquor is your favorite, if you’d like for her to do it for you. She figures it out like she does most things, making a study out of it, watching you enough. Maybe a little extra, too. The cork slides up with a pop!, her fingers around the neck of the bottle. The warmth of her still lingers on your thighs, your own fingers sitting restless over your lap now that her hair is not close enough to play with.

It’s been months since the first night she came home with you. You wouldn’t yet say that the newness is gone, or that you’re as quick of a student as she is, but there are things you know about Sevika already. Vivid truths, bright like the visions of her in the sunlight that you dream about sometimes. Reassurance is one of the first languages you learn from each other.

For Sevika, it's almost always about touch— you notice it immediately at the core of most of her silences, the way closeness makes her demeanor shift to something calmer, more true to herself. Slide closer to her on the couch and her arm will find itself around your shoulders immediately. Pat the empty spot next to you on the bed and she’ll let out a heavy sigh of relief, join you in sleep instead of torturing herself about tomorrow’s line of business. Part your lips when she's kissing you late at night with no goal other than to kiss you and she’ll let out a sound that vibrates through you and changes her mind on what was once an innocent gesture; she’ll tug your shirt off instead. Brush your hand over her shoulder when she's resting her head on your lap and she’ll guide it to her face instead, a lazy hold on your wrist while your thumb brushes her cheek. Coming to love her is the warmest science. But it’s not always exact.

You watch her pour you a drink at the bar table that sits in front of your bed— watch the dark hair that sits against the nape of her neck, messy and loose, watch the waistline of her pants sitting low on her waist, watch the bareness of her back. If there’s a reason why you decide to say it now, you don’t yet realize it. The words just spill out of you before you have a chance to stop them. “I remember you, you know."

Sevika’s hand hovers over the whiskey glass before she hums, resuming the movement and bringing it to her lips. "You didn't say."

“You didn’t ask,” you rest your back against the bed frame, watch her carefully.

The air sits still and you see her shoulders lift, muscles shifting as she shrugs, a big gulp of golden liquor sliding down her throat. Her voice comes in a mutter, low and almost shy, "Thought I might scare you off.”

The idea is so ridiculous that it's almost laughable. A startled chuckle dies in your chest and leaves room for aching sadness, your back leaving the frame as you lean forward and pray for her to turn around. "He was going to shoot me. Nobody moved a finger but you, Sev," you shake your head, try to manage your expression from saying too much, from confessing to something that’s been inside of you for years. At the tip of your tongue sits a raw desperation for this exact unraveling, for her. "How could you scare me?"

Another moment passes before Sevika turns to face you, lower back against the edge of the table, holding her drink down by her side. She won't look at your eyes— can't, maybe. You wonder if she's considering leaving, if she's already decided that she will, as soon as this is over. A part of you, small but dramatic and loudly pessimistic, is surprised that she’s entertained you this long. Even more surprised when she asks, "Is that what this is?" a turn of her head and the gray in her eyes finds you in a second, mechanical and unforgiving, the snap of a bear trap. You don't think you could look away if you tried. "Are you here because you think you owe me something?"

Your reaction is something close to a flinch, your frown deepening, feet firm on the floor instantly. "You can't seriously think that."

Sevika feels the regret come instantly. It splatters on her face, the pads of her fingers rough when they're brushed over her cheek to wipe herself clean of it like she does blood, gunpowder, fear. She watches out of the corner of her eye the way you part your pretty lips and can hear it in her head, imagine it so clearly, you asking her to leave. 

She's already reaching for her coat to make quick work of obeying your wishes when, instead of that, you ask, "You wanna know why I’m here?"

Sevika lowers her hand and the glass hits the table with a thud. Her head tilts to make the slightest nod— and that's as much of an answer as you'll get, you think.

“Look at me,” your finger sits under her chin, a touch barely there, the rise of her head more her choice than your doing. “You’re good, Sevika,” she grimaces, feels like she's swimming in gross viscous shame older than herself and barely surviving it. You press your thumb into her cheek, firm but kind, and keep her from being swept away by it. If she used to find your openness sweet, right now she finds it fucking miraculous. How can you call her good and mean it, how can someone else know so deeply that she could be, that she will be, when most days she doesn’t even know it herself? How can she look you in the eyes and deny you that truth? Her face relaxes, grimace replaced by an aching need as she listens to you. “I see it better than most, but they all catch up eventually. Whatever you put your mind to, you’re fucking good at it,” you pause, try to read her expression and find yourself unsure, but calm. How lovely to think that there's still so much to learn. “You don't owe me and I’m not trying to change you… you don't need—”

Sevika rests her hand over your cheek, a warm hum from her throat to acknowledge what you're saying, a desperate shake of her head to say but I do. “I need you,” her forehead falls against your own, in her brain a chant of please.

You look at her through your lashes, nod your head and feel warm, warm, warm. Her hand guides your face closer, a needy pull of her fingers where they press against the back of your neck, your whisper of “me too” spilled into her mouth. Sevika kisses like there's nothing in the whole fucking world she’d rather be doing, nothing that could possibly distract her. She has kissed you in nightclub bathrooms even with someone's knocks shaking the flimsy door, in alleys with her knuckles still bloody from a fight, dangerously close to opening hours with your back against the very bar where she rests her drinks every night. She's hungry, insatiable, and every time you can't wait to part your lips and let her in.

It takes godlike strength to hold on for as long as you do, but there's power in making her wait too, a satisfaction that feels drunk and just as divine as it makes its way down your spine. A few more chaste kisses take seconds or a century, and Sevika indulges them for as long as she can before she breaks, falls to her knees at your altar and breathes, “Please.”

There's nothing you like more than hearing her beg, except maybe what happens after you give in— the relief, the sigh against your mouth, the wet warmth of her tongue and the desperation in the way she pushes her body against you like she hadn't til then realized just how famished she’d been. Her hands wrap around your waist meanly, pressing indents, and you're too busy soothing your own hunger on her lips to realize that she's switched your positions.

You feel the harshness of the table against your back and pull away to look down, catch up, your daze maybe a little too obvious judging by the curl of her mouth. She's panting as much as you are, though, tongue peeking out barely to brush over her lips, tingly and wet from your kisses. “Up,” she says with a tilt of her head, more a warning than a command, her hands already down on your hips to get you sitting over the wood.

Sevika is a sight, pretty and inviting and overwhelming— you reach for her waist and pull, entranced by the way she follows, the way your legs interlock. A thin layer of sweat glimmers over her chest and you've never found so much beauty in the undercity’s humidity, never felt yourself get wet as easily as she makes it, never been so desperate to find some relief from the aching between your legs. Your thighs squeeze into Sevika’s and looking up to meet her eyes feels like a punch, like the sweetest blood, a sea of glazed-over gray barely visible against the black of her pupils. A mirror of your wanting; how the hunger grows when it meets reciprocation this delicious. You lean forward to taste it from her lips and she meets you halfway, a hand traveling up your spine and ending at your neck.

You don't know when you started grinding against her, but you know you want more. And you know Sevika’s holding back, savoring the same power you’d tried before, a smirk against your lips when she feels you speed up, hears you moan from somewhere deep in your throat. It suits her, the way she holds control. Sevika likes to wonder if she’d ever hold on longer, make you really wait. Sometimes she thinks she might, and then (like now) your voice fills her ears and clouds every thought that says anything other than please, god, fuck, let me make you feel good. “Don’t be mean,” you say this time, breathy and achingly sweet. “Please, Sevika.”

The first grind of her thigh against your pussy makes you end a kiss with your teeth biting into the meat of her lower lip, rougher than you intended. “Fuck, Sev—” you say, cut yourself off with a gasp when she does it again. Sevika figures out the angle unsurprisingly quickly, a hand on your hip and another on your ass to guide you back and forth at a rhythm that matches the movement of her own hips, enough fervency behind it that you know she needed this as much as you did. Maybe more, judging by the groans she spills on your neck every time you press up into her.

Full lips kiss at your pulse, open mouthed, her breath cool against your skin when it meets the wetness she left there. Your nails rake over her shoulder, over her scalp where your fingers are buried in between strands of dark hair— and when Sevika groans it sounds raw, a broken noise, her hips moving desperately faster. You can feel her warmth on your thigh and you've never wanted so badly to have her undressed, laid out, rubbing her pussy against you, leaving a mess on skin rather than the fabric of your pants. She's getting carried away, you know it, chasing her high and barely giving you a chance to catch up. You've never wanted anything more than to let her use you.

“You feel so fucking good,” she grunts, wrecked with need for you to pacify when she lifts her head from your neck, her eyebrows furrowed. You watch her get lost on your lips and you can imagine what they look like, how plump she left them, how the pride of that must simmer in her lower abdomen. Her thumb brushes over them once, then again, and you barely register that she's asking for permission before your mouth moves on its own accord to let her index and middle finger inside. It's filling, just what you needed; how beautifully unsurprising that she knew it more than you did, or that she needed it just the same.

You're fully caged in now, your back pressed against the wall, Sevika’s free hand on your waist still steering you back and forth on her thigh. “Too— hm, fuck,” her fingers slide out of your mouth and press wet indents into your cheek as she holds your jaw, traps you in her eyes. She’s far too gone to warn you but she doesn't have to, it's so painfully clear. Her eyes two dark pits to swallow you whole, lips parted, the grinding brutal and so fucking good— she says it until she can't form the words anymore, her head tilted back, thighs stuttering and tightening around your leg as she comes.

Your tongue tastes the skin of her bared neck and you feel yourself get closer and closer, fed by the feeling of her nipple under the pad of your thumb, by the shaking moans she spills into your ears as you keep grinding against her. Sevika must feel it too, in the same way you did, notice the change in your breath or the speed of your hips— because she pulls away and knows to soothe the needy desperation on your face with a messy kiss before she gets down on her knees.

“Shh,” her shushing comes soft and agonizingly kind, your whines barely contained as she presses kisses to the inside of your thighs. “What happened to my patient girl?” she asks, a tilt of her head and a smirk, the meanest angel.

Your palms press onto the table to lift yourself up enough to let her slide your pants and underwear off in one motion. “Spoiled me too much,” you answer, your mind foggy, drunk on the sight of her kneeling in front of you.

It takes Sevika a moment to reply, the pads of her finger pressing into your thighs. Her eyes meet yours and she wants to tell you, how could I not? You’re not trying to change her, you’d said, but you do. These days, she doesn't think about anything else like she used to— I love you prefaces everything. I love you, so I’m winning this stupid fight and making some money. I love you, so I gotta get home alive. I love you, so I think we could change this city. I love you, you should have every-fucking-thing. But Sevika's not really a woman of many words, especially not when you're looking at her like this, especially not when she's this hungry, so she shrugs her shoulders and says (like it explains everything, and maybe it does), "Look at you.”

The intensity of her makes your legs squeeze together, but you barely make it an inch before she’s pulling them apart and hooking them over her shoulders exactly how she likes.

Your face feels like it's burning, heat crawling up your neck, your grip on the table tight. “Please.”

Sevika barely manages to pry her eyes away from where you're open and glimmering, soaking her fingers after just one brush of them against your lips. Her voice comes out strained, drowned in hunger. “Please what?” 

You must sound worse, but the thought barely registers, hardly matters. “Please, Sevika, make me come.”

And she does— pretty nose bumping perfectly against your clit whenever her tongue is too busy inside you, her lips shiny and wet and relentless. Like everything else, she's fucking good at it.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Black, Purple, and Blue

AN: fluffy goodness 😘💕

Synopsis: The amount of times your husband gets hit during the Ravens game quickly has you concerned, but he tries to reassure you that there is nothing to worry about

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a beautiful anon 😍

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Hit after hit after hit

You watched your husband get pummeled to the ground multiple times against the Ravens from the comfort of your bed at your home in Cincinnati and it seemed as if there was no end in sight. Multiple people had asked if you wanted to watch the game with them, but you quickly decided against it. You would rather be at home by yourself and not be at some random bar hearing people drunk off their asses talking about your husband if he were to lose.

A fight almost ensued between you and another fan during Joe’s second season with the Bengals and from that point on, you knew it wasn’t even worth your time. You knew Joe was an amazing quarterback and his stats proved it despite what people may say about him.

The game was not moving in the direction that you originally thought, but despite this you still held onto hope since the score was so close.

Joe had confessed to you earlier in the week how anxious and nervous he was for this game and it was to be expected. They were playing in Baltimore on their turf, but seeing how the Ravens caused them an upset at home, it would only be right if the Bengals did the same thing.

Joe was always focused during the season, but it went to a different level when he was playing any team within the same division as the Bengals were.

When the Ravens had gotten the ball back, the camera suddenly cut to the Bengals sideline and you could see Joe wincing in pain as he was holding the left side of his body, Silently cursing to yourself before letting out a sigh, the wheels in your head began to turn and immediately thought the worst.

This time last year as he was playing the Ravens, he sustained his wrist injury that put him out for the rest of the season and the last thing you wanted was for him to go through that all over again. You saw the way it bothered him deep down, even though he thought he was being good at putting up a front for you.

Being married for a total of four years, you could see right through his bullshit and could immediately tell when something was off with him.

You took a sip of your strawberry flavored Truly as you saw Joe throw to Ja’Marr and end up with a touchdown and quickly placed it back down on the table in order to celebrate.

But now, it was time for your nerves to be turned up to another level because you saw them wanting to go for a two point conversion.

“You cannot be fucking serious right now.” You quietly said out loud, even though there was no one in the room but you.

During the play, someone on the Ravens defense had pulled Joe’s face mask and you were yelling at the television seeing as how they never even called it.

Suddenly, your phone rang next to you and you debated on whether you should answer it until you saw that it was your cousin Yalisa. Clicking accept, the first thing you heard was her yelling.

“Y/N! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON IN THIS GAME?! DO YOU SEE HOW MANY CALLS THEY MISSED?! And not them beating your husband like he stole something.”

“I’m so over this, I don’t even know anymore. It seems like they are personally working against them. Did you see him grab Joe’s face mask?”

“Yes! And that’s why I called you! Are the refs blind?!”

“Um, the only names I’ve heard all night are Joe and Ja’marr. It doesn’t seem like anyone else showed up to play today.”

“See? That’s why Joe is as ripped as he is now because he’s carrying this team on his fucking back!”

“And he keeps wincing, so I’m concerned because he has yet to seek medical attention. He just keeps going back in and I can tell that something is wrong with him.” You quietly said and tried to take a deep breath to help ground you from the uneasy feeling that was creeping in.

“I guess he sees it as he has to go back in because who the fuck else is going to? They are seriously pissing me off. Is this the week that Zac gets fired?” She asked and you immediately stifled a laugh.

“As much as I would like that to become a reality, a lot more things need to change beside that one.”

It was one in the morning when your phone rang alerting you that you had a facetime call from your husband and you immediately answered.

The two of you stared at each other as you noticed Joe was laying down. In order to get more comfortable, he adjusted himself and you once again saw him wince. But before you could say anything about it, you heard his voice.

“I didn’t wake you up did I?” He asked and you simply shook your head no.

“No, and you know I always wait for you to call me before I go to sleep. I have to hear your voice one way or another.”

“And hearing your voice has to be my favorite thing in the world. I just can’t wait until tomorrow when I actually get to hold you.”

“I can’t wait for that either and I am going to fix all your favorite comfort foods and we’ll eat ourselves into a food coma to get through this.” You replied as you brought the comforter higher up your body since you were getting cold.

“While watching rom coms of course.”

“A man that knows a way to my heart.” You told him and he gave you a small smile.

It was quiet for a few seconds and then you spoke up again.

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

“I saw you wincing during the game. I don’t like when you wince.”

“I’m okay, really. It’s not a big deal.”

“Joey, don’t give me that. You got hit multiple times. If something happened then…”

“I promise that I’m okay, just a little sore. I already took the motrin that you slipped in my bag for me earlier.”

“Well someone has to do it seeing as you always forget.”

“True, and I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Stop! Stop being so cute when you’re so far away and I can’t kiss you until you get back, it’s not fair.” You whined and Joe let out a small laugh.

“You can have all the kisses you want once you see me. Promise.”

“Joey? How are you and do not under any circumstances bullshit me right now because I will be on the first flight to Baltimore if you do.”

The deep sigh he let out before giving you a verbal answer was telling.

“Frustrated.”

“Go on.”

“It seems like there is a disconnect somewhere and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Cough your coach Zac Taylor cough.”

“Well, that and there is something else. Just haven’t quite figured it out yet.”

“Can I be honest? You are amazing in your own right and even though I know that you already know this, Joey the last thing I ever want to happen is for you to in lack of better words waste your career for an organization that doesn’t quite seem like they value or care about you. Like, my husband is the shit and I’m not being biased. You are one of the best, if not the best, okay now I’m being biased. But, you’re amazing and I just want so much better for you. Do you know how much it hurts to see you so upset every week that you lose knowing that you show up every time for your team and give 100% while others don’t?”

—

Hearing the front door open from you and Joe’s shared office as you were working on your laptop, you immediately hopped up and ran to the foyer to greet him.

As soon as he spotted you, his bag was thrown to the side as he opened up his arms to embrace you as he placed several kisses on your lips.

When you did bring him in for a hug, once again you saw him wince.

“Joseph….”

“No, stop. I’m fine.”

“Hmm, pull up your shirt.”

“Damn, you want me to fuck you already? I was thinking…” Joe started to say, but you cut him off.

“No! Well yes, but not yet! Lift it.”

“But…”

“NOW.”

Once he did, you saw a black, purple, and blue bruise in the area where his ribs were on the left side and immediately gasped.

“BABY!”

“I’m fine, just a little bruised. I don’t want you to worry yourself.” He told you as he put his shirt back down and grabbed your hand as he kissed the back of it.

“A LITTLE bruise? It literally takes up a very good portion of your torso. And how can I not worry? My husband is a professional football player. Worrying is ingrained in my brain now. It got ingrained when I met you at LSU so stop.”

“Would it make you feel better that I got checked out before we got on our flight to come back home because it was bothering me when I woke up?”

“Yes. Kind of. But still!"

“And I’m fine. I promise like I said, and you're so cute when you worry about me."

"Not cute, I get flustered and pray nothing bad happens to you."

Crossing your arms, you nodded your head as Joe uncrossed them and leaned down to kiss you.

"Nothing is going to happen, and I'm going to need you to relax for me. Now that we got that out of the way, I’m also going to need my wife to lose her clothes.”

[whateveriwant]

Hello, i hope you dont mind if i request agian! Could I get TF141 with an S/O who are just super prone to panic attack?

These are not meant to be taken as mental health advice. I'm just playing around here <3

Soap

The first time it happened, he didn't know what was going on. The sudden heavy breathing, the tremors, the loss of speech; he thought you were dying, honestly

It nearly sent him into a panic as he tried to figure out what he could do to help. Should you stay put or should you be taken to hospital? He just didn't know

However, once it had passed and you were able to better explain the situation, Soap was pulling you into a hug, the biggest breath of relief escaping him knowing you were going to be alright

He wasn't “happy” per se to learn this is something you struggle with regularly, but knowing there's at least something he could do to help in the future put his mind at ease

Nowadays he's got the drill down pat, so when he sees the signs an attack is incoming, he's whisking you to a safe environment where you can attempt to de-stress

Oftentimes it leads to him sitting beside you out on a curb somewhere, his warm hand rubbing soft circles into your back as he comforts you through it

Gaz

From the second he notices you start to pull away from him, Gaz is immediately on top of it, deploying a technique he's quite familiar with

“Tell me five things you can see,” he says, unbothered by having to repeat himself when you don't respond because he did not seriously just ask you that right now

But after enough prompting by him, you shakily list out five items, wet eyes darting around the room as you try to take stock of your surroundings

Once you do as bid, he'll continue, “Now four things you can hear.” And now you're starting to think you see where he's going with this

He'll work his way through all five senses, counting down to one, and once he reaches the final, you find that your pulse has slowed tremendously and your tremor has stopped entirely

Afterwards, you give him a shy thanks, asking how he knew that would work. “Simple,” he tells you. “Used to do it with my sister when we were young. It helped her then, so I thought it might help you now.”

Price

He takes the most heavy handed approach when trying to bring you down from such a rocky high. And while some people might find it smothering, you just see it as grounding

“Hey. Look at me,” his order is firm though his voice remains purposefully gentle. “Don't look anywhere else, just look at me. That's it. Just focus on me.”

If he has to, he'll even push a finger against your chin until you're meeting his eye and holding it, trying to focus on his soothing words instead of the anxious thoughts racing through your head

Slowly and deliberately, he'll breathe in through his nose then out through his mouth, guiding you to follow along with his measured pattern

If that's still not enough, he'll then take your hand beneath his and hold it over his heart, letting its strong, steady rhythm lull you back to a calmer state

“You alright?” he questions once you've settled down again. When you nod and assure him you are, he'll kiss your temple, promising, “I've got you, dear. Always.”

Ghost

When he realized what was happening with you, he quickly jumped into action, but in a way that was completely unexpected

“Remember when you first took me out for sushi and I didn't know wasabi was hot?” he asks you seemingly out of the blue. “Ate a whole spoonful before I realized. Burned like hell going down. But that was nothin’ compared to when it came out again later.”

The memory of that night stirs to life in your mind, and through your rapid breaths and trembling lips, you're able to crack the barest of smiles

He continues, “Or remember when I got sprayed by that skunk in the garden? You made me sleep on the couch for three days. Said I smelled like a garbage bin’s arsehole.”

That memory has you huffing out a short, low chuckle, and though you don't notice it, your pulse begins to hammer a little slower

And so he keeps going, distracting you with funny memories and personal anecdotes until all you're doing is smiling and laughing brightly, totally forgetting what had made you panic in the first place

[xo-codbby]

blue-collar!141 x reader

got brainrot 😵‍💫 continued from here

"maintenance" a rough voice calls out as they knock thrice, waiting out on the door step. it was a rare thing they would do check ups, even more rare that they would go out their way to check up on a customer. but you were different, they'd taken an immediate liking. plus they had just renovated your home, they had to make sure everything was in working order. all sorts of trouble could arise with a new home and their loyal customer deserved the very best

"c'mon pretty, we're roasting out here" price wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, blowing out some air as he squints back at your front door still unlocked

you were not aware of this however, it seemed to be a surprise check and you could not be more inconvienced. you had been in the middle of assembling some new furniture, quickly heading to the mirror to make yourself a little more presentable

the check up had been weird, they didn't usually do it to anyone else. completing their service and then disappearing, only being called back when they were required. hardly coming on their own will with the whole team, no less. your heart hammered in your chest, looking at them through the covered window. they looked casual, relaxed as they spoke between themselves and then glancing back at the door. price and ghost leaning against the fence while gaz toyed with the handle. soap trying to peek in the window, casually obviously, he had some class

"just a sec" you called out, grimacing slightly as you quickly sort everything out. the drills lay on the tiles, the wood still needing to be fixed together with the screws rolling everywhere and the instructions lost somewhere in the box. but you didn't have much time to fix that, trying to brush yourself down. finding it a little odd how they picked a time you'd be home, almost calculated but you didn't dwell on it too long before you reached for the front door

the sight of them still made you breathe in shakily, first greeted by gaz and soap, then ghost and price standing behind. all eight eyes staring at you intently, lips pulled in a half smile. their presence was huge, figures bigger than usual men you've seen before. barely waiting for your word, walking inside. they were dressed in causal clothing, belts around their waist donning their tools and muscles straining from the heat and the work they had done before they came over

"well, what do we have 'ere?" ghost tilting his head ever so slightly, half amused as he looks down at you and then the cupboard you were currently trying to fix. his balaclava obscured his features, aside from his eyes but you've seen his face before. the image of him leaving the shower had burned into your mind, being able to wish to trace every feature so tenderly with a finger and wonder how he'd taste. from his cologne, his heady musk and the slightest hints from the earthy scent he usually was surrounded by

"you're constructing this all by yourself?" gaz gently moves the planks of wood out of the way, half chuckling as he narrows his eyes at you. leaning against the counter, adjusting his cap his shoulder bumping into yours

"aye sweetheart, don't ye have a man to help around?" soap hummed knowingly, taking the hammer from your hands as he holds it in his palm setting it down. his comment holds teasing, you're aware of that much but you wonder if there's a hidden meaning when he glances at the others and then back at you. surely not

"no, it's... just me" you nodded back, looking at the mess on the floor and then back up at the team. they seemed to glance at each other relatively quickly, looking at you with amusement and slight nods

"well we'll take that from you, darling. can't have a pretty thing like you gettin 'er hands dirty" price hums, gently taking you by your arm to stand between them. the four men already making themselves home but you pretty sure this service wasn't listed anywhere on their website, nor had any customers had spoken up about it.

"what are you guys doing here?" you asked raising your brow looking at them as ghost shrugs nonchalantly looking around your home, picking up the screws from the floor as he twirls them between his fingers

"jus' being thorough love. checking over quality assurance, any hidden problems, warranty protection. and y'know, for your peace of mind. can't have you questioning our craft now, can we?" his brown eyes darkened for a moment, connecting with yours and it takes you everything not to shake. somehow he had this piercing glance, as if he could see in the very depths of your beings. as if you could spill your deepest darkest secrets to him and he would barely flinch. oddly enough, it wasn't a look that made you recoil or cower. you wanted to tell him everything, wanted to spill your secrets to him. to them all

price holds your hands, his thumb stroking your knuckle for a moment while gaz and soap assemble the furniture with ghost. you're delicately placed between all four, offering snacks and drinks but they seemed more content to have you like this instead. poor johnny hurt his arm so you tend to his wounds, no matter how little while he grins shooting looks at his team you're sure has nothing to do with you. the glare he got from simon, the scoff from kyle or the eye roll from price had nothing to do with you

and it was professional, of course it was. the brush of price's lips against your forehead, the tender touch of ghost, the caress from gaz and the nuzzle from soap was all in your head.

they wouldn't dare to cross that line, of course they wouldn't

[sanjisboyfie]

basketball player ! gojo satoru headcanons

gojo satoru x male reader

warning: short dialogue of homophobia (satoru deals with it swiftly though)

-> HE'S SO BABYGIRL IN THIS PHOTO.

basketball player ! satoru . . . who is even taller than canon because why would he be a professional basketball player and only 6'3 guys c'mon, bro has to be at least 6'6-6'8. but of course, he's not only gotten bigger, his ego did as well. add the fact that he's a good player...yeah, no one is safe from the cocky, lowkey-asshole basketball player gojo satoru. (except for you !!! because he acts like a complete and total sweetheart to you).

basketball player ! satoru . . . being so shamelessly and publically infatuated with you, his lovely, lovely, lovely boyfriend. he is always on top of you anywhere in public, makes sure you're always courtside, he needs to make sure his baby can see him.

during satoru's matches, he's always focused in. he doesn't really look at you that much and you do understand. he's trying to win, he hates losing. so he gives everything for his team to be the ones on top.

his tall figure moves cleanly across the court, making his team win more than 50% of the time. and when he scores that winning shot, he's running over to you first.

he's bulldozing through the people that are running to him because he can give less of a shit about them. his piercing blue eyes are focused in on you and only you. how your eyes are teary from how proud you are of him for making the winning shot, how high your cheeks are from that charming smile, and how your arms are already open and expectingly waiting for him.

he powers through the crowd and takes you into his arms, grinning into the skin of your neck before pulling away and proudly kissing you in front of everything and all the cameras.

the crowd loves it, the deafening screams from the stands are enough to show for that. they love how openly in love satoru is with you, how completely smitten he is.

his arms are bound around your waist and he's easily hold you up in his arms as he spins the two of you around. you're in your own world as you laugh at his antics and hold on tight to his sweaty torso to not lose balance.

"i love you, sweet boy," he whispers into your ear, looking at the cameras that are all around him with nothing but pure euphoria in his eyes. "i love you so much, couldn't have done it without you. it's all for you, all of it,"

the world can't hear him, but they can read his lips. and twitter falls in love with that moment and use it to set their expectations and standards even higher than they already were.

shoutout gojo satoru for being so obviously in love with you.

basketball player ! satoru . . . who is always photographed beside you. if this man ever comes out of his home, it's only because you're also leaving your shared home and he cannot be alone for the life of him (plus, he just wants to be near his boyfriend all the time). the fans love you guys so much because of how lovey-dovey satoru gets with you, and only you. they've never seen him be so soft for anyone else.

satoru was draped over your back, craning his head down so that his face near yours. with your drastic height difference, it definitely made some passerbys look at you two with wide eyes.

an abnormally tall man trying to shrink himself down to the height of his boyfriend. satoru's arms were hanging in front of your torso, holding your shopping bags in his slender fingers with ease.

he was giggling in your ear, watching the tiktok that was playing from your phone. it was a silly comedy video, pressing his finger to the screen to open up the comments.

and then when it was finally your turn to order your drink at the cafe, he took the phone from you and continued on watching as you ordered. you rolled your eyes at his antics, muttering under your breath about how he was just a big, ipad man-baby.

the woman at the counter took your order as calmly as she could, recognizing you and the towering figure behind you. after ordering, you wordlessly took satoru's wallet out from the bag he was holding and dropped a hefty tip into the tip jar.

after pocketing his wallet back into your pocket, you had to physically drag him from where he was standing because he was so immersed in the tiktoks on your fyp that he didn't realize that you were done ordering.

as you waited by the counter, you took note of how there was now a swarm of papparazzi crowding around the exit of the humble cafe you two were in.

taking note of the mass amounts of people, satoru looked at you with a softness he only uses with you, "do you want me to call the guys? they can clear them up for us before we leave,"

you hummed, thinking about it before nodding, "yeah, these people didn't ask for those annoying cameras to be flashing through the window like that. it's so fucking rude," satoru nodded in agreement, taking out his own phone (which looked like a toy in his huge hands) and exchanged some words with his own team of security.

by the time your coffee was finished brewing and served to you, the papparazzi were being held off by a chain of bodyguards and being held at bay so that you two could peacefully leave the cafe.

the next day, pictures of you two leaving were trending on all social media. satoru's hand was around your shoulders in all of the photos, his hand around your shoulder was protectively blocking the side of your face that was being bombarded by the blinding flashes. a scowl was on his face as he walked through the crowd to your car. he opened the door for you first, walking around the front of the expensive vehicle and flipping the cameras off one last time before getting into the driver's side and speeding off.

"i was in the cafe, trying not to freakk out beacuse oh my god gojo satoru and [name] [last name] were right in front of me. and i swear the moment gojo noticed that he was uncomfortable with the people, he called his team or whatever to get all the paps out!!"

"they're so cute, do you see how gojo is holding him so close??? ughh literally goals!"

"seeing what gojo is like on and off court is crazy, thanks [name] for showing us his soft side <3"

basketball player ! satoru . . . uses every chance he gets to talk about you when he does press conferences or interviews. lovingly calls you his "baby," "hubby," or, "handsome boy."

basketball player ! satoru . . . god forbid someone say some sneaky shit to him about his relationship with you aka his sexuality. if someone tries anything with a backhanded comment about satoru's relationship with you, they will be dealt with swiftly and colorfully (as in, he will be cursing them out with zero remorse and no hesitation). because foh with that homophobic shit, satoru has no patience for that.

"so how have you and the mister been doing, gojo? you're nearly hitting the three year mark!" a very enthusiastic reporter asked, a wide grin on their face.

and satoru felt his lips tug up in a grin at the mention of you, holding the mic carefully as he spoke, "we're doing great, yeah, uhm, we got another cat - even though i told him i wanted a dog. it's a cute addition to our little family."

his response made the reporter only more giddy, going on to ask another question regarding your homey life together, before they were cut off by a rude person in the crowd shouting, "how does it feel to be acting like a fucking bitch dating another dude?! top paid player gojo satoru takes it up the ass!? you're fucking disgusting!"

satoru's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the audacity of the person, his blue eyes scanning the crowd for who was responsible for screaming that.

"sorry, whoever that was, could you just stand up?" he asked into the mic, his once cheerful and laid back tone turning into an intimidating rumble, "c'mon, don't be a pussy, where the fuck are you?"

the security grabbed ahold of the guy and satoru visibly blanched at the sight of him.

"say that shit again to my face, let's hear it," satoru goaded the man, who was now sweating bullets. "oh, don't give me that look! do you really think i'd let you say that shit without any consequences?" a sarcastic laugh left satoru's lips, "look into all these cameras, man, you're fucking ruined. no one wants a homophobic, ugly dude representing them and their company. no, because did you really think i'd let you disrespect my man like that?"

there was a hanging silence in the room as satoru glared at the man.

"don't even think about speaking about my relationship with [name] ever again. or else, you're really fucking dead. it's not a threat, it's a promise. i'll bash your head in," satoru said, slamming the mic onto the table and walking out of the grand conference room. he didn't even flinch at the flashes of the cameras, calmly putting his signature sunglasses down to block out the blinding lights.

that day, the only thing that calmed him down was holding you in his arms. his manager had called you to the greenroom since he was giving everyone a bad attitude, unintentionally, and borderline throwing a tantrum.

when he finally got you in his hold again, he apologized for his behavior earlier.

"don't apologize to me, apologize to your team who had to deal with your bullshit before i came," you lightly scolded him, running your hand through his soft locks. "are you feeling better, though?"

"better now that you're here," he squeezed around your waist, burying his head into your neck, "much better, thank you, baby,"

basketball player ! satoru . . . has his entire social media feed just be pictures of you and what you two do together. whether it's your latest, impromptu trip to hawaii or just a picture of you two cuddling in bed, you're all over his feed. his social media just screams how in love with you he is. his fucking profile picture is of you two cuddling in bed with his jersey very subtly seen as the only thing you're wearing. before that, it was just a picture of him and you kissing that he took when you went on your anniversary trip last year. his bio is the team he plays for, his jersey number, and then a white heart next to your username as he blatantly tags you in his bio. underneath that there might be a, "happily married" with the ring emoji next to it even though you two aren't even married yet.

basketball player ! satoru . . . who would spoil you rotten with everything you ever want. why would he have all this money if not to spoil you??? he just wants to make you happy with anything he can provide, and if part of that is him dropping bands on top of bands on whatever it is you want, then so be it. he doesn't care. he's willing to spend however much he needs to keep you happy and content.

satoru's win had encouraged him to treat YOU out to a mall trip .... even though he was the one who should have been celebrated and treated out since he was the winner.

he cheesily denies that offer by saying, "i'm only a winner because i have you, baby boy, c'mon let me treat you," and then he playfully bites the lobe of your ear to distract you from teh mass amounts of money he is going to spend on you.

that day, you walk out of the mall with a whole bunch of bags (gucci, burberry, dior, prada, etc.etc.) that he's easily holding in his large hands. people notice that there is a new chain around your neck with a cute "g" and "s" charm hanging from it, refracting every bit of light that gets caught in its surface with how blinding the diamonds are. he has a matching one as well, with your initials, which he proudly shows the cameras of the papparazzi as they soon swarm you guys. then he's flipping them off again.

-

you and basketball player ! satoru are a power couple that the media and fans love. any homophobic comment that reaches satoru's ears are called out and dealt with by his sharp tongue and scary, blue eyes glaring at whoever was dishing out those comments. he's a complete softy for you too and he is NOT one to shy away from that, loves showing off how happy he is with you and ONLY you.

also last bit before i go: he definitely has two photos of you in his wallet. one of them is a cute polaroid you guys took at his family's house for xmas the other is..............promiscuious.

-> next, drabble <3

[heartfullofleeches]

What if darling orders from a different restaurant and brie coincidentally arrives right when the actual delivery person does? I feel like he'd be jealous af

Yan "Pizza Boy" + Reader

-

Who is that-

Arriving at your street, tires screech to a hault as your home rolls into view. The driver takes a second look. Then a third - knuckles white as fingers clench around the steering wheel.

A car he's never seen before sits in the little parking spot outside your house. His parking spot. Some old, beat up hatchback painted the ugliest shade of blue he'd ever seen - tape covering its left tail light and bumper held on by zip ties. By now, the delivery boy has made enough visits to your home to recognize cars of your friends and loved ones. Who is this? The flickering sign atop the rusting hunk of metal lifted some of the weight from his shoulders - only to crush him with a new fear as the other driver casual steps out of his vehicle, carrying bag strapped to his shoulder.

"Oh, hell no-"

Brie curses under his breath - pulling into your neighbor's driveway with one hand on the wheel as he reaches into the passenger seat with the other. He quickly gathers his things, kicking the driver's side door open as he goes to exit - hissing in frustration as his seat belt digs into the flesh of his neck. He unbuckles himself, shutting the door behind him with the heel of his sneaker as he races across your neighbor's yard. He slows down to carefully step over their hedges right as the other delivery person reaches your porch. Brie curses again-

"Oh my God! There's someone hiding in the back of that blue car with the dirty windows!"

The delivery person runs off back to their car. With little time to celebrate his victory, Brie marches up to your front door and rings the doorbell. You looked surprised - yet oddly happy to see him. His heart flutters.

"You?"

Brie beans from ear to ear "Yup! It's me! Got another pizza for you here. Same as the last."

"Thank you, but I already ordered from someplace else. Couldn't find anywhere nearby with alfredo sauce pizza so I had to settle for the usual."

You were looking for him?.... The place he works for that is. Brie shoves the box against your chest, biting down the scream ready to escape. "Don't worry, this one's on the house too. We're still experimenting with the recipe so it isn't available on our menu yet. I'm sure my boss will be happy to hear you enjoyed it."

"Well... Since it's free I guess it wouldn't hurt to take it off your hands. Won't have to order out for a week at this rate. Do you have a number I can reach you at?"

Multiple issues could arise from giving you his personal number - Brie was too excited to dwell on future problems when he had your attention now.

"Sure! Do you have a pen and paper?"

In the time it takes you to retrieve said items the other delivery person returns. He looks at Brie, a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he inspects his face.

"Hey... Aren't you-"

"Their boyfriend attacked a guy once."

The delivery driver looks taken aback. "What did you say?"

"I had a friend who worked at this one other pizza place. He had a black eye the last time we met. Said the person with the exact address had a scary looking boyfriend who thought he was flirting with them. He moved last we and I think I know why."

Brie's smile widen as the wobble in the other man's voice. "Hey, man... It's not cool to joke like that. If you're trying to scare me off you'll have to try harder than that."

"If that's what you want-"

Brie drops the conversation there. No point in wasting any more of his precious time - not with you standing there, pen and a small notepad in hand.

"Thank you~" Brie scribbles down his number, tearing off a page of paper beneath the one he wrote on as he hands the notepad back to you - pen still in his possession. With other matters to attend to, asking for it back was the last thing on your mind as you then turn to properly greet the other driver. Brie turns on his heels and makes his way down your driveway, checking over his shoulder as he drops the pen off the sidewalk - watching it roll by the rear bumper of the car.

"Whoops- Looks l dropped my pen."

Brie crotches down to grab the pen, eyes scanning the dented license plate as his fingers graze the pen. He picks it up, jotting down the license plate on the scrap of paper as he stands and walks off in the direction of his car.

One light broken is bad enough. He wonders how that other driver's boss would feel with all four smashed.

[yumeboshi]

Mmmm, may I order myself a bloody pomegranate sundae? Looks quite delectable! ♥️

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @yandere-romanticaa .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡

𐙚BLOODY POMEGRANATE SUNDAE：disturbingly red but it smells good at least．．

𐙚 dish desc。．yandere hsr men’s reactions to getting caught in the middle of one of their messy crimes.

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。general yandere themes, mentions of gore and violence, manipulation, filthy, light minors dni warning

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。aven, sunday

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ “so what if i’m crazy? the best people are”

。no literally 。this man has no shame at all. he’d give you the widest smirk in the world, staring at you straight in the eyes with those intimidating eyes of his while carelessly wiping off some blood from his expensive attire. 。“oops, you caught me.” 。it would be rather unsettling about how unfazed he is. when you call him a murderer and all sort of insults you can think of, he’d just laugh and tell you it’s all part of the ‘game’ you two were in. 。he’d love the horrified look on your face, though, so do be prepared for now intentional bloody corpses anywhere you go. 。aventurine himself knows what he’s doing is wrong. unlike a certain someone but he will submerge the voice of reason inside him if it means that it’s needed for his ‘end goal’ — which is securing you all to himself. he knows you’re breaking him apart, ruining his mind with your thoughts that gnaw on his morals like parasites, but at some point he had just decided to succumb to it. after all, he does not have anything left to yearn for if you’re gone. 。it is almost like he clings to you for his own sanity, ironically enough. you are the cause of him breaking down and yet you are also the one who lets him know why he’s still alive, so for him, killing someone is equal to reminding himself about what he’s living for. 。this gambler won’t know when to stop— he relishes in the thrill of it, he even likes getting caught by you. his sick mind thinks it’s hilarious.

“YOU DON’T have to stare at me that much,” aventurine chuckles.

how could you not, with the obvious residue of blood splattered all over him, he doesn’t even bother wiping it off. the dim candlelights flicker to illuminate your mortified face, because the seat that was occupied moments ago before you excused yourself to get something, was now empty. your dinner date with your friend was cancelled by force.

the man in front of you carelessly slides the scarlet chair out to sit in the formerly occupied place, the chair making an ugly creak as he does, crossing his legs- leaning back leisurely as he smiles at you through despicable eyes.

“i know my attire is ravishing tonight, but please, feel free to order anything else.” he gestures to the spread menu. you can’t even touch it with the substance that contaminated it, no, contaminated the whole table you were sitting in— the angelic white rose jar decoration is broken and red is bleeding into their fragile petals, the ravishing steak is inedible, broken utensils are scattered everywhere on the luxurious tiles of the restaurant, and it’s eerily quiet except for the soft romantic jazz that echoes creepily across the silence.

when you try to leave- to get away from this insane monster that is him, he stops you and pouts, telling you he’s waited for so long, surely they could have an impromptu date. you were his fiancé, it was natural for him to want to treat you to dinners alone- he’d say with a chuckle.

“dates out of the blue are always fun, don’t you think?” he would say with a smile as he eats the steak without caring much about the taste- he has his pretty princess all to him, that’s what matters more. that should be the only thing that matters.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ justifies himself

。this paranoid and obsessive man will have the most difficulty suppressing his desire to make a complete massacre 。he just can’t stand seeing someone even close to you. but as the head of the oak family, he’s also the most reputable person so he cannot risk that to succumb to his needs. 。he still will though, just not obviously. his murders are calculated and too well-woven to be suspicious of from the public eye, he knows how to pin crimes on someone else and it’s certainly not his first time doing this. 。when you raise eyebrows- he’d smile and laugh about how you’d think such lowly of him. he was your sweetheart, so you didn’t think much of it either. 。“please, love. now im quite offended.” 。he was definitely pondering over how you caught up though, so he’s going to put in extra effort to cover his tracks. 。but there’s times he loses his composure and doesn’t bother to cover up his crimes. he snaps, letting go of the thin string of sanity that held him together- and when you see that, he’d suddenly go all sweet, cooing to you that this was all for your own good. 。“they were hurting you, angel. hurting you. you’ll never be heartbroken again, not in my arms.” 。sunday is a master manipulator. human emotions are something he has dealt with tons of times. he will know what to say and what to do to pull on your cogs as if he’s performing clockwork. 。when even his reasoning and silver tongue doesn’t work on you- he would hate to do it, he doesn’t want to artificially make his darling, but for the greater good, he would, brainwash you. like mentioned, he’s a firm believer of the end justifies the means.

STANDING upon you is a fallen angel with his attire drenched with blood that isn’t his. you can tell with the way his pristine gloves are stained to oblivion.

you see his business smile crack slightly when he sees you standing in the doorway, horrified. “apologies,” sunday says with a smooth voice, but his eyes waver a little, but soon harden- as if there’s a completely rational reason why he has done whatever he did to your poor friend that was waiting for you in your room.

“what…?”

his cold eyes suddenly melt at your mortified look- he sighs with condescension, as if somehow you’re the one in the wrong. “it’s my sincere apologies i intruded your room without warning, but I must say, the situation was rather… suspicious, hm?” he slowly walks towards you- every step pronounced and clicking against the tiles as if death is knocking on your door.

“another man sitting in the bed we share? I don’t think that’s appropriate, don’t you think?” he’s close enough to push you onto the wall- blocking your escape route. “isn’t he the same person who forgot to send you presents on your birthday?”

sunday doesn’t actually care about the presents part- he was the one who discarded his gift before you could get it, anyway. he’s using it as an excuse to reprimand you.

“y-yes, but that’s not an excuse to—“

“ah ah, I don’t think there’s much of an excuse to make here. you’re dodging the point. tell me, am i not enough for you?” his sickly sweet voice isn’t paired with the sweetest gesture- in fact, you can feel his stained hands press your neck ever so slightly.

you have no other choice but to say you’re sorry- begging him that you really weren’t cheating on him; and it was just an unfortunate coincidence your friend was on the bed. every time you pleaded, he’d sigh and shake his head as if he’s giving in to your desperate begging to not leave you here alone, but inside, his heart pounds with delight seeing you break down and lose your reason.

“oh, you pathetic little dove. always needing someone to protect her from evil.” his hands caress your head, leaning into you to envelop you in a tight embrace he doesn’t plan to let go of. “you keep trying to fly away, yet you know nothing about the world around you.”

your pleas echo louder as his fingers touch your lips, stinging your nose with the metallic smell on them, and he pulls you in for a kiss that makes you choke, his tongue intruding your mouth that spills out drops of saliva from the lack of breath.

“—so I’ll make you a lovely cage, sweetheart.” he whispers against your lips, smiling through his devilishly handsome gaze before devouring them once more.

[adkawariatka]

Hi, it turns out that fanfiction is really addictive and I still cant move past any recomendations without checking it out. So I have another idea for a dcxdp crossover….

Danny is living on Gotham streets for 4 months. Its perfect hiding place becouse of its aura. Many tradic deaths and general danger on every corner creats ideal barier for all sorts of ghost hunting equipment. Danny wos relucant about Gotham at first but after few failed attempts at finding hiding space, he decided that to hell with that and he will at least try. And thank the ancients that he did because its perfect. No one pays him any attention there is too much homless out there. Even if most kids are staying at Crime Alley seeking Red hood protection. thats one of the reasons why he hestitated at coming to ghotam: vigilinates. They are dangerous, becouse of partnership with goverment…. Who according to Anti-Ecto laws considers him non-sentient and in need of contamination or more often elimination. So yes Danny wos relucant but it turned out fine….. for now. No ghost or human gosthunter found him yet so he counts it as a success. Any other city, forest, mountains or everything else he tried didn’t last longer that a month. He might not be proud of his surviving technics like stealing, laying and dumpster diving but its not like he has a choice…. He is too much alive to be accepted in to infinite relams for good which is dumb if you ask Danny becouse he is at the same time its Crown Prince. But maybe Danny is just too naive or something. He does not care. On the other hand he is too dead to be accepted by humans so he kind of floats in between never to fit properly anywhere. He is surviving, and for about a year he wos completly alone until that one day…

Danny wos sitting on the bench in his favourite park close to lovely Café that had really beatifull cupcakes with blue whipped cream. He liked to pretend that he is a customer there and just waits for his order….that wos never placed…. Well who is he kidding he is just creepy homless kid that stares at people eating sweets from across the street. Pretty pathetic IF you ask Danny but he prefers not to dwell on his mental health thank you very much. So he is staring when a group of kids takes one of the outside tables. And like a serious creep listens in to their conversation. Well its not like he can swich off his super hearing.

The boys are talking about some homework from school. Danny assumes they are classmates becouse of their maching clothes. When to their table comes another one with darker skin and black hairs. The occupants share meanigfull glances and let the newcommer sit. Danny knows that look. It does not indicates anything good. Its the expression that Dash would make whenever he wos about to do something awful to him. Then the guy with blonde hair says

- Damian why don’ t you eat with us?

And then procedes to push the plate with cookies closer to the boy

- I thought I informed you Winser that I do not eat anything made of milk or other animals products. I am vegan.

Answered Damian with monotone voice. He sat incredybly straight and wos so stiff that Danny thought that must hurt.

- But its so good. beside I offered it. wouldnt it be polite of you to at least try?

Wisner insisted. Sly grin on his lips.

- Leave him be Mike he probably has problems with digesting such hard avaible products.

Said boy to the left with massive collection of pimples on his Chin. Danny named him spotty.

- I do not have any „digestive problems” as you put it Jenkin. I simply choose not to.

- of course pardon our lack of knowledge. Its just we worry that your… original diet wos a little lacking… or maybe you ate a little too much chocholate when you where younger. Thats all

And all of the group snickers to spotty „jokes”. Danny Thinks its primitive and disgusting. Racizm is low blow specially after Damians next words:

- I do not understand

And they laught even more. Damian just sits there confused and oblivious to insults vowen in to conversation. And Danny listens and decides that he must tell that boy the truth. He cant turn blind eye to that. He may no longer be a hero but that? He can help with that. Soon bullies get bored of throwing hidden insults at Damian and go away. Damian sits at their table alone staring at the crumbs of cookies. He looks lonely. Danny standard and walks over to him. But before he reaches the table his occupant whirles to face him. His eyes are very green. Not like ectoplasm but close. They are pretty expresive. Danny can see frustration and confusion in them.

-hi there!

Geats cheerfully.

- I don’t have any cash on me right now

Its the first thing Damian says to him. Rude Danny thinks even if he does looks like a beggar with his thorn jeans and dirty jumper, but he has a mission. And he does the one thing that helps him in stressfull, akward or life treathening situations: he turns it into a joke

- Shame but I will make an exeption for you and give you my services for free

- I am not interested

Damian seems irritated now. Danny procedes to ignore him and sits at the table.

- Well as an expert in friendship I can tell you that those guys weren’t your friends. Better keep away from them

- Thats none of your business. Go away

- well maybe not but you should know what they were saying to you….

And then Danny proceded to inform Damian about the hidden insults and racizem comments. Damian tried to say something and even walk away but Danny wos presistent. When he finaly finished Damian exploded

- Leave me you insolent lowborn go find yourself another imbecyle to milk for money! Or I will stab you!

- Wow that same fancy insults there. I havent Heard lowborn yet. Anyway have a good day!

And Danny proceded to turn on his heel and walk away. He left Damian dumbfoned staring at his back. if the boy decided to do something about this then good if not then Danny at least feels like he did everything he could in this situation.

-

Damian wos confused. That homless lowborn wos strange. He wos not familiar with Damian nor his family. But. Damian couldnt stop thinking about what he told him. About his classmates their words and hidden meanings. Damian wos not hier to Demons head and son of Batman without a reason. He had skills, keen mind and wos curious. So he checked, he spent almost all night reading different forums and sites about bulling and racizem. He tried not Think about how much he resembled Drake in the morning. What he found wos…. Not plesant. It turned out he missed a lot of signs of his position at school. It wos unbeconing of someone of his class. He wos glad to be aware of that problem but now he did not know what to do with it. Father and Grayson expected him to make „friends” and up until yesterday he thought he fullfiled their orders thru his classmates but now he realised it wos failure. He did not want father to Discover his mistake. So now he has different problem he does not know exacly what that „friendship” wos supposed to be. Internet wos not really helpfull, there were so many diversive definitions that he wos confused about what wos true. He wos not going to admit to father or Grayson his incompetence. He will find solution himself. He has one idea that just might work. The lowborn named himself expert in friendship. Damian just has to find him and ask. He seemed willing to sell his knowledge.

-

Danny wos a little confused and suprised to see angry boy from two days before him. In his defense Danny did not start this conversation. It wos Damian who came to his bench across the café and demanded his services. Which wos weird in itself even before he asked about the price. But he did remember that he made a joke about services so that checks.

- look I am not…

Started Danny but Damian cut him off.

- you introduced yourself as an expert in friendship so I require your services. I will pay generously.

God now Danny wos going to be arrested for child manipulation and thieft. No that can’t happen. He already is hunted for his halfa status that’s enough.

- Listen I don’t want any money. I joked that day. I saw a kid being bullied and stepped in. Further events does not concern me.

Danny tried to leave but the kid wos presistent.

- Well your knowledge proved usefull. I want more

-kid, Damian I don’t want to get in trouble by using you or something. I am pretty sure there is some paragraph for that. Ask Google, it’s better option. And without me involved

- you think I didn’t do it already?! I am not stupid, but the information there are contradicting itself and I can’t distinguish what is true and what is not!!!!

Danny looks at Damian. He is shaking a little, and his words are colored by desperation. Ancients this is trouble… but he wos in this situation before wosnt he? A boy who does not know basic social skills in foreign dimension…alone and lost. Fuck he can’t leave Damian hanging. He can feel his fear in the air. Damn ghost abilities.

- Fine what’s your problem?

-

Danny has been meeting with Damian for over 2 months now. the kid wos socially awkward but quick witted and genarlly nice company. Well Danny wos alone for so long that his judgement may be clouded by he does not dwell on that. It’s nice having someone around. And Damian talks to him. He missed that. First few meeting wos a little awkward but it got better. Danny tried to be helpful,?first they talked about the school interactions, who even wos a friend. But then they got deeper, it turned out that Damian knew about social interactions little to nothing. They talked about family how it works, what it should be like. It wos ironic considering Danny neglectful parents and dangerous home. But he knew how it should look like. Jazz make sure of that when she wos alive. Then Damian started to open up about his origin. Trainings, mother and weird hierarchy. Well Danny saw a lot wilder shit in the zone. A kid from assassin cult wosnt the most shocking but still fucked up. He thinks that Damian might be even winning his little competition: „who had more screwed childhood” He thinks that his calmness helped Damian to share. Ancients he feels like Jazz…. It is not that bad. Damian brings him snacks, becouse Danny refused any money. And Danny talks to him too. Tells him about the stars, laughs about stories of Sam and Tucker Damian will never know who is he talking about so there is no harm. First time from death of everyone loved he does not feel alone.

-

Damian didnt plan to get close to Danny. It wosnt the plan. But he wos such good listener. Danny wos systematic in his explanation of reactions and habits that are „normal” in society. He wosnt showing horror or acted surprised when he told him about discipline in league or it’s hierarchy. He didn’t even flinch when he conveyed stories of trying to establish his position in manor by attempting to murder Drake. He listened then pointed out how different manor and league functioned and then calmly suggested that he should talk to Timothy. Just like that no screaming or anger. Now he knows why father wos so frustrated with him. According to Danny family doesn’t have strict hierarchy or rules punishable by death. It wos strange to have everything finally explained. He understands so much more. He sees that Grayson tried to explain it to him before. But as much as he is fond of the man he wos unsuccessful in his attempts. But he still has one problem… father told him to make friends. It’s a mission that he is failing right now. And if he is being honest he is not talented in this department. Not that he will admit it to anyone… well apart from Danny. When he asked him what else he should do to accomplish this mission he got quiet and fidgeted for a while and then offered

- well if you want I can be your friend

Damian stopped his walk and stared at him. Did Danny filled all the requirements? He did helped Damian not expecting anything in return which friends are supposed to do according to Danny himself, his presence wos entertaining. They understood each other. Both suspicious of their surroundings and cautious in every situation. They know about each other a lot of useless information like favourite food (Danny loved burgers), colors, hobbies or general interests.

-yes that would be acceptable

Damian saw the happy glint in Danny’s eyes and the way he relaxed. They started to walk again as if it wosnt admission of most importance.

So I may post a little follow up about how Tim reacted to Damian apology? I will see. As you can see my writing isn’t the best sorry😅. So in here Danny’s family and friends from Amity are dead and he is 16-isch Damian is fresh from the league and is obviously confused.

[cressidagrey]

Unafraid - The Unexpected Series

Summary:

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

What if… Azriel actually takes Rhys at his word? And does exactly what his High Lord ordered? With unexpected consequences.

This is Azriel following his High Lord's order to the fucking letter (well, kinda.)

Warnings:

Mention of Sex Work, Mention of Faerie Genocide, Sex Work, Bathing

Note:

This was a thought experiment that kinda started to grow a life on its own.

(super pretty divider by @saradika-graphics)

Azriel was having a bad day. 

In a string of bad days. A string of horrible days. 

He knew that he wasn’t in the right headspace for this. He knew that he had no business to be here. 

And still, he was. 

It was the only place where even a monster like him could get something that resembled love, after all. 

It wasn’t like anybody else wanted him. Wasn’t like anybody else was interested in him in any other way than…It wasn’t like he deserved better than this. 

This was all he deserved and he should just accept it. Accept it and move on and figure out that whenever he had any sort of physical wants…this was where he should go. 

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

So there he was. Walking down the street to this pleasure hall and…every step was trudging. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. Why… Why he didn’t just go home…go to the House of Wind and try to sleep once more…why he didn’t just…

Because he didn’t want to lay down in his empty bed, alone, and close his eyes, and be alone and…

He wished for somebody to touch him like…like he mattered. Like his feelings mattered. Like his feelings were something other than simply an inconvenience for the Court. 

He was just supposed to flip the switch and turn them off, right? Elain had chosen Lucien so Azriel should just get over her. He should just move on. And be done. 

And he couldn’t. He couldn’t. 

He wished he could, but he couldn’t. 

And so there he was. 

He poured a handful of gold coins on the desk in the front…enough for a whole night. Even if he just stayed an hour, he thought that one of the long-suffering females deserved it for putting up with him. 

For letting him put his ruined hands anywhere near her and pretend that she wanted this. 

Why was he even doing this again? 

Azriel didn’t even know himself anymore. 

Still, he followed behind the voluptuous proprietress, a red-headed High Fae named Marge, into the courtyard, filled with all the females that worked there. “Are you searching for anything in particular or…?” she trailed off, asking Azriel as she mustered him. 

Searching for his will to live. Though that was probably not the answer she was looking for. 

And no, there was no particular sexual act that he wanted, that he was in the mood for. Absolutely nothing that…immediately struck his fancy. 

Nothing that…He didn’t even really want sex. 

He wanted…

“Any female that’s not afraid of me,” he forced out, his voice like gravel. Companionship. Understanding. Something as close to willing as he could get. 

Marge’s dark eyes widened as she took in that particular request. He half expected her to laugh him out of her establishment. If she did, he couldn’t even fault her for that. The coin was worth a try. 

And then, to the wordless shock of him…“I’ll take him,” came a quiet voice. His head swivelled around, just as a soft, small hand claimed his. 

Blonde, blue-eyed. Beautiful. Gorgeous in fact. Full lips pulled into a bright smile. 

“Would you like to come with me, Sweetheart?” she cooed and he managed a shaky nod. 

She didn’t even seem to notice the scars that covered his hands. She didn’t seem to care. Everybody noticed. Everybody cared. 

But she just…didn’t. 

And her smell…it was clear of fear. Utterly unafraid. 

Roses. Nothing else. 

“You aren’t afraid,” he choked out as he followed behind her, up the stairs, to a room, that was clearly hers. Soft and cream coloured with heavy drapes and she closed the door behind them with a soft snick. 

“Should I be?” she asked him lightly. “You have given me no reason to be afraid of you.”

No. He just existed. Existed with scarred hands and ferocious wings and the shadows that he had sent away for the night and still lurked around…he scared everybody.

“You have done nothing to me that would make me fear you,” she told him calmly, walking over to a commode, filling a glass with the amber liquid from a bottle on top of it and then bringing it to him. 

“You may call me Blossom,” she told him. Smart. Not that it was her name…but that he may call her that. “What is your name?”

“Azriel,” he answered. For some cauldron-forsaken reason, he gave her his real name, just as she pushed the glass in his hand and him down onto the edge of her bed so that she could straddle him. 

He let her do with him as she wished. 

Something about Blossom…something about her made her putty in her hands. Whatever she wanted from him he would probably do it…let himself sink into the pleasure of just this…just the smell of roses and her eyes gently watching him…just this. 

“Now, there is a secret you should know about me,” Blossom told him, her voice sweet and soft. He just stared at her, as she shrugged out of the silky dressing gown she wore, leaving her utterly bare to his gaze. 

There was no piece of her that wasn’t beautiful. From the upturned tip of her nose to the full swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the lush fullness of her hips…

And then suddenly between one blink and the next…she changed.

Not her body. That stayed the same. 

An iridescent pair of pink wings sprouted from her back and stretched wide…her hair stopped being ordinarily blonde and turned blush pink…and her ocean blue eyes turned into a colour that he could spend hours describing and still fail horribly. 

She had been beautiful before. With that glamour. 

But without it…without it…she was breathtaking. So beautiful that she put him on his knees. He could just stare at her, drink her in, his mouth slightly open. 

“I have wings just like you,” she told him, a smile on her face and he swallowed. 

There was only one type of faerie that had wings like that…A very rare type. 

“You’re…a Floresco Faerie?” he asked her, his voice hoarse. 

Hunted to near extinction by the Spring Court centuries ago. 

And one had seemingly escaped to Velaris. 

Her full lips pulled into a smile. 

“Guilty as charged,” Blossom answered, lifting his hand that still kept a loose hold of that amber liquid to her lips and took a drink before she lifted it to his own lips. 

He took a sip, his eyes still fixed on these beautiful, fluttering wings. So rare. So beautiful. 

“Now, Azriel. Why don’t you tell me what you would like tonight and I’ll…” she trailed off as she saw his expression, mustering him for a moment. He would spend the rest of his life wondering what exactly she saw in his eyes that made her take the glass from him, put it on her bedside table and then suggest: “How about a bath?”

Somehow that was the best suggestion he had heard in decades. 

Her bathtub was right there, connected to her bedroom, a massive thing that was pure indulgence. Of course, it was. They were in a pleasure hall after all…

She stripped him out of his clothing slowly and then led him into that massive bathtub…the water blood hot and smelled like roses, with plenty of bubbles to go around.

He had never bothered with bubble baths before.

Clearly an oversight. 

Just as it was an oversight to have her small, soft hands all over him as she spread soap over his skin. 

She didn’t ask, didn’t give him an opportunity to turn her down. Blossom touched him gently with no hesitation. Not even thinking twice about it.

He could have wept with gratitude. Her scent never turned into fear. It stayed the soft scent of roses clinging to every inch of her. Not once did she hesitate to touch his skin, or his scars, or the dark illyrian markings over his arms and chest. 

Every muscle of his body grew lax in response, until he was a puddle underneath her touch, just watching her. 

Watching this beautiful female and her soft smile. 

Blossom washed his hair, fingernails gently scrubbing her scalp and he could have started purring.

Something inside him relaxed. He wasn’t even sure what. But just the feeling of another warm body next to him…of her touch to his body, without hesitation, without fear, without anything…simple touch…

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had that. 

Maybe Azriel should have expected it, but still, the moment her hand snaked down his stomach, lower, it took him by surprise. 

He caught her hand in his, hand shooting out to wrap around one fragile wrist like a snake. 

At least now, her scent should sour into fear. She just held still. 

“You don’t want me to touch you?” she asked him, one eyebrow raised. 

He really didn’t. Not like this. Not…

“Not like this,” he admitted weakly and her eyes widened. 

“Would you like to touch me?” she asked him, cocking her head to the side and he let go of her wrist. When she arched her back just like that, she made the best of every single one of her assets. 

And she was beautiful. But Azriel didn’t want that. Not truly. 

“No,” he said quietly. “Not like this.”  

He just wanted…

Something inside Blossom’s expression seemed to shift to understanding. She didn’t ask, she didn’t push…didn’t try to touch him like that anymore. Instead, her hands shifted to slow languid strokes…gently and…nearly reverently along his chest and arms. 

“Would you like a kiss instead?” She asked him softly, soft lips dusting over the shell of his ear. 

He hesitated. 

That was seemingly all the agreement she needed. Little butterfly kisses were pressed all over his face, against his temple and forehead and the tip of his nose and Azriel trembled underneath her at this. 

Kiss after Kiss, her sweet breath and the plush softness of her lips…they pressed to his skin without hesitation, without fear. Like he wasn’t a monster to fear. Like he was just a male in need of comfort. 

 It was more than he had ever thought he would be able to get that night. Or ever. 

Comfort that he didn’t think he deserved and still clung to like a drowning male, because this was all he could have…This was all he was allowed to have. 

He lost track of how long she did that…until the water turned cold and both their skin had shrivelled up…until she got him out of that water. 

The spell she had seemingly cast over him broke. 

This was all he was willing to take from her. All Azriel deserved. 

So he got redressed and Blossom watched him, infinite softness in her gaze. 

“You know…not a lot of males would pay the amount you do, just for this,” she told him carefully, as he had the doorknob in his hands. 

“Not a lot of females are willing to take me on,” he countered quietly, before he opened the door and disappeared through it. Forever. It would be nothing but a stolen interlude. 

Or would it? 

[dreamescapeswriting]

Whispers Of Belonging ~ KSM [MATURE WARNING]

CONTINUATION OF THIS PIECE

WORD COUNT: 4.6K

GENRE: mafia AU, cinderella(ish), feelings of not belonging, people speaking down to the reader, Seungmin being the soft boy he is meant to be and making her feel welcome,SMUT MINORS DNI, protected sex, above a crowd, seungmin making the reader feel wanted and special,

PAIRING: Seungmin X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

As the two of you stepped out of the boutique, Seungmin watched you closely, your hands clutching the bags of clothes he had just purchased for you, not a single thing even breaking his card limit and nothing felt enough for you.

Seungmin felt guilt weighing down on him after one of his men tried to kick you out of the changing room in your underwear and he was determined to make up to you even if it was the last thing he did.

"I'm sorry about Bailey again, he can be overzealous at times," Seungmin added as he shot his guard a glance who was looking anywhere but at the two of you.

"No harm, no foul." You laughed nervously not wanting to make it into a bigger deal than it was. Seungmin had already bought you so much that he didn't need to continue to be sorry.

"Will you still save me a dance?" He arched his brow at you, extending his hand as he carefully lifted it to his lips and kissed your skin softly.

"It would be an honour to dance with you," He added, your heart fluttering as you stared at him. You'd heard stories of the man but you'd never come face to face with him until now. 

"I will try, I'm working at the event as well as attending so it might be a little hard," You admit shyly. You weren't ashamed to admit you'd be working the event, everyone needed to work after all, but you weren't sure you'd even have time to grab a glass of water never mind dance with someone.

"I'm sure we can arrange something with your boss," Seungmin countered as you nodded a little, smiling at him before heading in the direction of your car. 

Seungmin watched you the whole time, biting back a smirk as he felt a flutter in his chest. Bailey watched his boss, it was a rare display of kindness that he was showing to you and he didn't know if he liked his boss this way or not.

"Back inside, I need a suit and I want the staff to find everything that will fit Miss YLN's style and that is in her size sent to her place." He ordered, turning back to the cold boss that everyone knew him as.

Packages had been arriving all week long, at the work office and it was a little overwhelming. Everything from clothes to accessories were inside of the boxes and it was starting to make you a little uneasy. What if Seungmin was expecting something more than just a dance in return for the items? 

"Do you remember the plan?" Your best friend - Chloe - asked you as she walked with you toward the back entrance of the event hall where tonight's ball was being held in. The further you walked inside the more out of place you began to feel in the dress he'd purchased for you. It was a masterpiece creation, crafted from the finest of silk, a midnight blue colour that shimmered every time you moved making it look like it was lit by a thousand stars. It hugged your frame perfectly, accentuating every curve with elegance and grace, dipping with a modest neckline teasing just a little of your breasts. 

"Just one dance, give him some excuse about needing to be somewhere else and then I'll go back to the kitchens, change into my outfit and finish working," You assured her, smiling a little as she smirked at you. The whole week leading up to the ball Chloe had been encouraging you to go through with it, that it would be a once-in-a-lifetime thing but you felt so out of place and the silver tiara that Seungmin had sent for you to wear wasn't helping that situation.

"You look hot," Chloe promises, holding you tightly before smirking at you, straightening out your hair one last time and admiring the makeup she'd done for you tonight before letting you go.

Out of the fishbowl and into the ocean, you stared around at all the people who were inside the ball unease washed over you like a chilling breeze and you realised how out of depth you truly were. 

Every eye in the room felt like a spotlight, casting judgment on you as you made your way through the other elegantly dressed guests trying to find Seungmin.

Whispers started to follow your every move, their hushed tones feeling like a dagger digging into your back leaving you feeling more exposed and vulnerable to the world. 

"Come on," You whispered to yourself, your eyes darting from one corner of the room to the next, desperately searching for any sign of Seungmin.

"I'm sure she served me at an event once," A voice giggled making your heart sink and your hands begin to tremble, you should never have agreed to this. You were out of depth in this place, everyone here had no doubt seen you and it would get back to Seungmin that you were a waitress. An imposter at his ball and he'd probably hate you for it.

As you continued to wander aimlessly through the ballroom, the comments about you working other events grew louder and your sense of isolation deepened with each passing second until you decided to make your way back to the exit. You were almost there when you felt a hand gently touch your shoulder,

"There you are sweetheart, I'm sorry I'm late, I've been looking everywhere for you." You stared up at Seungmin, his eyes warm as he stared down at you with a smile on his face. 

"It's okay," You breathed out, his being near you was like a sense of belonging washed over you and he smiled taking your hand in his and gently placing a kiss on the top of your hand.

"Does he know he's dating the help?" Someone laughed loudly from your left, but Seungmin either chose to ignore them or simply hadn't heard them as he began to walk you through the hall again.

"How about we dance in a little while, I thought I might introduce you to some friends of mine," Seungmin suggested as he linked your arm with his, unease filling you once again as he led you toward a group of men. You were only supposed to be here for a dance, if you were too long Chloe wouldn't be able to cover too much and you'd no doubt get fired.

"Changbin, enough details about your latest heists, I'd like you all to meet someone," Seungmin called out as seven men turned to look at you, your whole body burnt at the sudden attention you were getting from all of them.

"Lovely to meet you, Seungmin's never brought along a date before." The one known as Changbin said making Seungmin's cheeks flush and your whole body tingle.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," You said, your voice betraying you by giving off a hint of nervousness.

"No need to be nervous, sweetheart. They don't bite," Suengmin whispered in your ear, his hand gently rubbing circles on your lower back, the small action sending shockwaves through your body and yet relaxing you at the same time. For some reason you believed him, you felt safe with him and that no one would hurt you while he was around.

As time grew on you found yourself drawn into Seungmin's world, forgetting all about work and getting swept up in the whirlwind of laughter and conversations shared between all of the men. The more you stood there the more you realised that all of them were more than just members of a criminal organisation, but they were a family, bound by loyalty and mutual respect for one another. Standing there, you found yourself feeling a sense of purpose that you'd been searching for your entire life, a sense of belonging that was filling the void inside of you.

"Welcome to the family," One of the men, Chan, whispered as they finally began to leave you and Seungmin alone once again. 

"Now, can I get my dance?" Seungmin winks at you, your hand placed in his as he leads you toward the dance floor. 

Seungmin led you onto the dance floor, his movements graceful yet commanding. As the two of you swayed to the music, you couldn't help but marvel at the effortless charm and sophistication he exuded. The sense of belonging washed over you as you danced in his arms, the two of you enveloped in your private cocoon of warmth.

Your steps were synchronized, a seamless dance of two souls drawn together by fate. Seungmin's eyes never left yours. In that moment, you glimpsed the man behind the legend, the layers of his persona peeled back to reveal a vulnerability you hadn't expected.

As the music swelled to a crescendo, Seungmin drew you closer, his touch sending shivers down your spine. 

"You're a natural," he murmured, his voice low and husky, as you felt your cheeks flushing with warmth and your heart pounding in your chest.

"Thank you," You whispered, your voice barely audible above the music. As the two of you continued to dance unease began to creep its way through the cracks of your facade. Whispers of guests around you grew louder, their words like poison arrows that pierced the fragile cacoon of happiness you had been in.

You tried your best to ignore them, to lose yourself in the safety of Seungmin's embrace but their voices continued to echo in your ears, mocking and taunting you with cruel words.

"Who does she think she is, waltzing in here as if she belongs?" Someone grumbled as Seungmin spun you around, bringing you back into his chest but you could no longer enjoy this. Their words grew louder to you as if they were all holding microphones and speaking to the whole room.

"I heard she's just using him to get what she wants in life." A female voice mumbled, your eyes shooting over to her to see her glaring in your direction.

"I bet she's fucking him for money, she could never afford that dress alone." Another voice ripped through you,

"Did you see the way she was with Changbin and Chan? She's probably trying to cosy up to the whole crew." Each word was a dagger to your heart until you were unable to bear the scrutiny any longer. You tore yourself away from Seungmin, your breaths becoming ragged gasps,

"Yn? What's wrong?" Seungmin's voice was filled with concern as he stared at you but it was as if you no longer saw him as tears pricked in the corners of your eyes. You stumbled toward the nearest exit, dropping the small clutch bag you had been carrying but no longer carrying as you sprinted out of the suffocating confines of the ballroom.

Seungmin called out to you, his voice once again filled with concern as he bent down to collect your bag, frowning as you disappeared through the crowds leaving him with nothing but a memory of your night together.

"I can help you forget her," Someone breathed out beside Seungmin but he merely snapped his fingers as Bailey appeared beside him, escorting the woman away leaving Seungmin thinking of ways to find you again since he would never be able to ignore the spark that had ignited inside of you both.

The bell above the entrance of the small cafe you'd started working in tinkled and you got ready to greet the next customer. Ever since your mishap at the ball, you'd quit the job you had in hopes it would stop Seungmin from searching for you. You'd never felt so embarrassed in your life and you hoped that the small dance with you was enough for him to leave you alone. Even if it did pain you to never see him again.

"Everyone out!" The voice you'd heard less than a week ago bellowed out, your head shot up to see Bailey standing there with his gun at the ready. People rushed out of the cafe and you stared at Bailey who had a slight smirk playing on his cheeks.

"Boss doesn't like it when people hide from him," He stated with a soft tone, putting his gun away as you stared at him. The bell above the door once again rang,

"I'm going to get fired for this, you know that right?" You cocked a brow at Seungmin, your heart going into overdrive as you saw him once again. You hated your heart for betraying you, he was in a different world to you, and the two of you would never work.

"You dropped this," He said as he held out the small clutch bag, your phone had been in that and you'd been terrified you'd never see it again.

"Thanks, I-I thought I'd lost this," You stammered, your voice tinged with gratitude as Seungmin offered you a faint smile, his gaze softening. 

"Bailey, out. Make sure we're not disturbed." He ordered in a cold tone, a completely different Seungmin to the one you knew.

As soon as the two of you were alone he held out a chair for you before taking a seat across from you.

"I made it my mission to find you...I couldn't bear the thought of...you losing something so precious," He saved himself from wanting to tell you he came for his own selfish reasons because he couldn't bear the thought of losing you. 

"Thanks," You whispered, your eyes staring down at the table not daring to look at Seungmin but he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours as he clasped your hand in his.

"I hadn't heard what was being said at the event," He admitted as he gently ran his fingers over your skin,

"Rest assured if I had, they wouldn't live to speak again," He grumbled a little, his eyes flicking with darkness making you bite your lip a little.

"It's nothing. They were right, I don't belong in that world...Your world. I'm not meant for it." You mumbled, trying to take your hands away from Seungmin but he gently squeezed yours softly.

"You belong at any dance I take you to, you belong anywhere I take you. YOU belong in my world." HJe told you, his voice commanding and yet reassuring,

"Anyone who dares to look down on you isn't worth the time of day. They're mere flakes of dirt on your shoe that aren't deserving to be in your presence." He assured you, your eyes brimming with tears as you felt your heart overflowing with gratitude from him.

"I-I don't know what to say," You admitted, your voice trembling a little. Seungmin squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Say you'll give me another chance," He implored, he'd been wanting to get you to come out with him again and this time he was going to show you how much you truly belonged by his side.

"Say you'll let me show you how special you are. How you belong in my world." You stared at him, biting on your bottom lip as you thought about it. Seungmin made you feel as though you could do anything and when you were together you felt as though you could rule the world so you nodded.

"I'd like that," Seungmin smiled leaning across and brushing a small kiss against your cheek. Seungmin smiled as he gently raised from the chair, determined to show everyone that they were wrong about you and that they should worship the ground you walk on.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow night at 7." He said, watching you as you nervously raised from your chair and nodded,

"Sure. I'll wear one of the many dresses you got for me," You teased softly as a blush began to creep its way onto Seungmin's cheeks and a smirk played on your lips. 

"I'll see you then," He whispered before placing yet another kiss on your cheek and leaving you alone, with a lot to explain to your new boss as to why his business was empty.

The night arrived and you were standing by the window of your apartment waiting for him, your heart fluttering with excitement about the night you were going to have. Seungmin had been non-stop texting you ever since the day before, fueling your crush on him even more. There was a knock on the door sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins as you rushed to the door, smoothing down the fabric of your gown.

When the door opened Seungmin's mouth dropped open at the sight of you, he was dressed in a tailored suit and holding a bouquet of red roses for you.

"You look stunning," He murmured, you felt your cheeks flush with warmth and your heart thumped harder against your chest.

"Thank you, you look very handsome," You replied, Seungmin held out the bouquet for you.

"For the most beautiful girl at the ball," He said with a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips, you giggled taking them into your apartment and placing them into a vase of water. 

"Shall we?" He smirked, taking your arm in his and making his way down the staircase with you close to him the whole time. 

"I got a limo for us, I wanted us to arrive in style," Seungmin smirked at you as you stepped toward the waiting car, your mouth dropping open in shock. 

"No back entrances for the belle of the ball," He whispers in your ear before opening the car door and helping you inside, your heart racing at the thought of what adventures awaited you tonight.

As it turned out the night had been filled with you and Seungmin dancing so much your feet were staring to kill you from being on the floor, people had stared a lot but not one had dared to say a word about you tonight. You didn't know if it was because Seungmin had threatened them beforehand or if they were a different crowd from the one from before. But you'd been left with a group of girls all gossiping about their dates, which you'd met at the last ball. 

"We will date dangerous men." You heard one of the women mention as you laughed a little, 

"My ears are burning," Changbin chuckled, snaking his arm around his date and smiling over at you.

"Nice to see you again, Yn," He tipped his head at you before taking his date out onto the dance floor, all of the men slowly coming back and taking their dates one by one until it was just you and Jisung's girl and Jisung who seemed to be talking amongst themselves.

A little worry began to wash over you as you felt alone again, the feeling of not belonging beginning to creep onto you until you felt a hand on your lower back.

"Sorry, I try not to discuss business when I'm in good company but sometimes they have to steal me away," Relief washed over you as Seungmin smiled down at you and you felt your heart stutter a little.

"Shall we go somewhere more private? I want to show you something." Seungmin smiles, taking hold of your elbow and nodding at Bailey to follow you both before he leads you to a staircase at the back of the room that was blocked by velvet ropes and a "closed sign." Seungmin lifts the ropes and walks up the stairs, leading you with Bailey trailing behind.

"Make sure nobody comes up," Seungmin ordered as Bailey stood at the base of the stairs and folded his arms across his chest.

"What are we doing?" You giggle a little as Seungmin winks at you, taking your hand and pulling you along the narrow hallway until you reach a balcony that overlooks the ballroom. Excitement washed over your body as you looked down a the people attending the ball.

"I wanted to show you the best view, to look over the people that had spoken down to you before." He smiled, standing behind you as you were pinned to the waist-high wall unable to move.

"Are we allowed to be up here?" You breathed out, your stomach clenching from just how close Seungmin was pressed against you.

"We're the biggest donors, we can do whatever the fuck we want." His breath caught on your ear making your whole body shiver and your thighs rub together. All night long you'd been needy for Seungmin and it was becoming slightly more unbearable as the night went on.

"I love being able to watch everyone." You admitted, looking down at everyone as Seungmin stared at you.

"How do you feel about them watching you?" His voice dropped an octave, shivers running down your spine as he ran his hands down your hips.

"W-Watching me?" You stuttered out as he pulled the layers of your gown up revealing your legs.

"Say the word and I'll stop...But I need you," He whispered as he dragged his teeth along the back of your neck, pulling your dress up higher exposing the tops of your thighs. You inhale sharply, your heart thumping harder than before, there must have been at least three hundred people down there.

"Do you want them to watch us?" You arched a brow.

"I want them to look up here and have no idea I'm fucking you...But I want you to come in front of all these people, sweetheart. To prove that you own them and that they should be the ones scared of you instead of you them," He whispered in your ear, his hands gliding over your hips and down between your thighs and you automatically spread your legs wider for him. Allowing him to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles.

"I'm going to slide my cock inside of you, fucking you until you come for me,"  He whispered, your hands flying behind him and undoing his belt as heat floods your entire body. You looked out at the sea of people below you, wondering if they had any idea what you were doing. If they were completely oblivious to what was happening up above them while they danced and drank their champagne, 

"You're so wet for me," He groans as he continues to rub your clit, your body shaking and he'd barely started. 

"I've wanted you all night," You admit, your hands gripping the small wall in front of you as you felt the tip of his cock pressing against your cunt.

"Hold onto the wall tightly," HGe orders as you brace yourself against the cool brick, your fingers gripping the edge tightly as he pushes his thick cok into you. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you tried not to cry out at the stretch,

"Fucking Christ, you're so wet for me." He groans loudly in your ear, his hips stilling as he fills you completely, rubbing your clit gently.

"You're made for me," He whispers in your ear as you press your lips together,

"You're made to rule over everyone," He told you as he slowly began to pull out of you, only to push back in making you squeeze around him, whimpering a little.

"Fuck," He moans out as you glance down to see if anyone had noticed but no one was paying you any attention and you allowed yourself to moan.

"Oh god," You whimper, your nails digging into the brick in front of you as you let your eyes roll back. Seungmin smirks as he begins to fuck into you ruthlessly, no longer caring if someone were to look right now and see. In fact, he wanted them to. He wanted them to see that you were his and any disrespect that they sent your way had a direct impact on him also.

"Fuck, Seungmin." You cry out as you felt him getting rougher with his movement, the tip of his cock hitting that one sensitive part that made it impossible to keep quiet.

Your legs were starting to shake as he pounded into you, the people below completely forgotten as you gave in to the pleasure.

"Cum for me baby, you're doing so fucking good." The praise sent shivers down your spine as you cry out his name, your head spinning while you squeeze around his cock. You felt nothing but the deep euphoria taking over you as you cum around him, your moans coming out strangled as your legs shake beneath you, buckling a little but Seungmin holds your waist up, bucking into you as he fills the condom he was wearing.

"Fuck," He whimpers, his hips bucking as you continued to clench around him, whimpering his name until the two of you slowly pulled apart from one another. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A year Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you sure I look okay? I don't want to ruin their day," You told Seungmin as you once again checked your outfit over, brushing your hands over the small bump that you'd skillfully hidden under the bridesmaid dress you'd been asked to wear by Jisung's wife to be.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart." He assured you, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"This is your fault," You scolded him, the two of you were more than happy to be starting a family, even if it was only a year since the two of you began a relationship, it felt like the right time and happy accidents happened all of the time.

"I told you I thought it would be fine in the pool." He chuckled as you smacked him with your clutch, making your way to the other girls and all their dates.

"Letting a girl beat you up?" Changbin arches a brow at Seungmin who quickly glares at him.

"Proposed to yours yet?" He teased knowing Changbin was scared to pop the question to his girlfriend yet and was lashing out at everyone else because of it. 

"What dress does she have?" Jisung pried, staring at you all but Hyunjin pulled him back away from his fiance.

"Leave my muse alone, you'll see your girl in less than 20 minutes relax." He chuckled making you all giggle and shake your heads at them, your eyes flicking over to Seungmin as you pictured what your wedding day was eventually going to look like. All you could picture was your little boy or girl walking down the aisle with you toward their dad as you started another chapter of your lives together and you couldn't think of anything more perfect.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303��@moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[littlelamy]

you lean back against rafe’s car, your breath catching as he steps out of the house, his eyes locking onto yours immediately. the smirk on his face is enough to make your knees feel weak, and you can already sense where the night is heading.

my boy’s a winner, he loves the game.

"been waiting on you," he murmurs, his voice low as he gets closer. his chain glints under the streetlight, and your lips part just slightly, catching the shine of his cross-gold chain as he closes the gap between you. "couldn't stay away, huh?"

"please," you roll your eyes, though your heart is pounding in your chest. "don’t flatter yourself."

my lips reflect off his cross-gold chain.

his fingers brush against your waist, then dip lower, grabbing a handful of your ripped blue jeans, tugging you closer. "don't play coy. you knew exactly what you were doing when you put these on." his voice is thick with hunger, and it takes everything in you not to lose control.

I like the way he's telling me my ass looks good in these ripped blue jeans.

"don’t act like you’re not into it," he whispers, his lips grazing your ear as his grip tightens. "i can see it all over your face."

you blush deeply, trying to look anywhere but his eyes. you hate how easily he gets under your skin, how he knows exactly what buttons to press.

my cheeks are red like cherries in the spring.

"you like me like this, don’t you?" he teases, his voice dipping lower, almost like a dare.

you swallow, trying to compose yourself, but he steps closer, so close that his body presses against yours, and suddenly the air feels thicker, hotter.

"admit it, you’re dying for me," he says, his lips brushing yours, his hands trailing down your body. "you’re a work of art, baby. no one else gets to see you like this. just me."

bodies a work of art you'd diet to see.

you inhale sharply as his lips finally meet yours, soft at first but quickly deepening, the taste of him clouding your senses. he pulls back just slightly, whispering against your lips, "untouched, huh?"

untouched, XO, young lust, let's—ah.

you don’t respond, letting the kiss say more than words ever could. it’s all heat, all hunger as his hands roam your body, fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you closer.

"get in," he orders, his voice breathless but firm. you obey, sliding into the passenger seat as he gets behind the wheel. the car roars to life, and you’re on the road before you even have time to think, your heart racing as he speeds down the empty streets.

when we drive in your car, i'm your baby (so sweet).

his hand moves to your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make you shiver. "you’ve been teasing me all night," he mutters, his grip tightening. "acting like you don’t want me just as bad as i want you."

losing all my innocence in the backseat.

"say it," he demands, glancing over at you with that same dark intensity that always makes your pulse quicken. "tell me you want this."

"i want it," you whisper, barely audible, but it's enough to make his smirk grow wider.

"not good enough, baby," he says, pulling over suddenly, the car jerking to a stop in an empty parking lot. "say you love me."

say you love, say you love, say you love me (love me).

he's already moving before you can respond, pulling you into the backseat with him, his lips crashing into yours like he’s been waiting all night for this moment. your body arches into his, the tension between you snapping like a rubber band.

"say it," he growls against your lips, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you into his lap. "say you love me."

losing all my innocence in the backseat.

you pull back, breathless, your lips swollen from his kisses. "you know i love you."

"yeah?" he smirks, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, pulling you closer. "then prove it."

he leans back, eyes dark and heavy with lust as you straddle him, feeling the heat between you. your lips find his neck, and you press kisses down to his chest, your lipstick leaving marks as you go.

break all the rules 'til we get caught, fog up the windows in the parking lot.

"you’re mine, rafe," you whisper, your fingers slipping under his shirt, feeling the hard muscles beneath. "all mine."

summer love (ah, ah), sexy, sitting on his lap, sippin' Diet Pepsi.

he groans as you write your name across his chest in red lipstick, the letters bold and unmistakable. "yeah, i am," he growls, grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you down for another searing kiss. "and don’t you ever forget it."

I write my name with lipstick on your chest, I leave a mark so you know I’m the best.

you feel the tension building again, that electric pull that has you both on edge. untouched, but not for long. his hands grip your hips, guiding you, showing you exactly what he wants without saying a word.

untouched (untouched), XO (XO), young lust, let's—ah (go).

"you don’t have to leave," he whispers against your lips, his voice almost desperate now, like he can't get enough of you. "stay. don’t go."

you don't have to leave, don't (leave me) have to leave (XO).

"i’m not going anywhere," you breathe, your hands tangled in his hair as he pulls you impossibly closer, his lips tracing a path down your neck. "i’m yours."

it's fine, you'll never leave, mine (baby), don't ever leave (XO, ah).

his fingers dig into your skin, like he’s holding onto you for dear life. every touch, every breath is a promise, a claim. you’re his, and there’s no escaping it.

when we drive in your car, i'm your baby (so sweet), losing all my innocence in the backseat (ah).

"say it again," he murmurs, his lips against your ear, his voice rough with need. "tell me you love me."

"i love you," you whisper, your lips finding his in a kiss that feels like it’s never going to end.

say you love, say you love, say you love me (love me).

"good," he smirks, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you even closer. "because you're never getting rid of me."

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 9

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: After your night with Tyler, you don't think anything could make this trip any more perfect. Then you are asked to become an honorary Wrangler. Word Count: 3068 TW: Fluff, Laying in Bed Naked Together, Kissing, Getting a Tattoo, Tattoo Related Pain, Mention of Reader Having Pierced Ears, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite, @mayhem24-7forever, and @green-socks for all the constant support and for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Later, you were lying naked on your stomach with half of your body sprawled across Tyler’s. Your head rested on his shoulder as one leg was thrown over his, the thin motel sheet haphazardly tossed across your lower halves. As Tyler’s fingers gently caressed the skin on your bare shoulder blade, you hummed softly. His touch had always made your heart skip a beat, but after what the two of you had just done, everything seemed heightened. 

Tyler was not the first man you had ever slept with, but he was the first man who had ever made you feel like a priority. It probably shouldn’t have surprised you that how he treated you throughout the day would carry into the bedroom. Though he never verbally asked if you were okay with what was happening after the first time when you replied by ordering him to take off his pants, you had felt completely safe with him and knew he would stop in an instant if you asked him to. And damn if that didn’t make you want him all the more.

Smiling to yourself, you traced the lines of the tattoo inked over his heart. You had been so focused on other things when he had first removed his shirt that you had barely registered it. But now that everything had calmed, you examined it closer in the dim light shining through the curtains. 

Unsurprisingly, it was a tornado. With its twisted funnel and swirling lines along the edges, it almost seemed as if it were in motion, traveling across the firm planes of his chest. You remember seeing a very similar tattoo on the back of Lily’s arm. However, there was one big difference. Jutting out the sides near the top of Tyler’s funnel were two large horns. The effect was a more artistic, stylized version of the Wrangler’s logo.

With your eyelids drooping slightly under their weight, you tapped once on the tattoo and murmured, “I didn’t know you had this. It looks kinda like Lily’s.”

Tyler shifted his head, leaning it against yours. “It should. We all have one. It’s the sign of a true Tornado Wrangler. Dexter designed it and drew the stencil then Lily tattooed everyone’s—except her own. They thought it would be funny to add the horns to mine without telling me.”

“I like it. It suits you.” You leaned forward and gently kissed the tip of one of the horns. Then, settling back, you asked, “So yours is here and Lily’s is on her arm…where is everyone else’s?”

“Dani’s is on her upper thigh, Dexter’s is on his ribs, and Boone’s is in a place I better not ever find out he’s shown you.”

Cocking your head with a wide grin, you snickered, “What are we talking about? Ass or…” You gestured down between his legs.

“Nah, even Boone’s not that crazy,” Tyler laughed. He ran his fingers lightly down your side until they rested on your hip, a trail of goosebumps blossoming beneath his touch. “What about you? I didn’t notice any ink anywhere but I was a little distracted to look too closely.”

“Not yet. I’ve thought about it and I want to someday, but I haven’t found the right design. I don’t want to get one just to get one, you know? I want it to mean something.”

“Makes sense,” he hummed in understanding. Then he shifted so he could stare into your eyes. “I don’t want you to end up doing something you regret later.”

The slightly hesitant, almost fearful edge in his voice was both sweet and a bit heartbreaking. You skimmed your fingers across his jaw, causing his eyes to flutter closed, and you whispered, “I have a lot of regrets, but you, Ty, will never be one of them. No matter what happens or how things might end between us when I leave, you will always be one of the best things that ever came into my life. And what we did tonight? Just like I told you after our first kiss, my only regret is we didn’t do this sooner.”

You felt the tension you hadn’t realized was there ease out of Tyler’s body with a sigh. “I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart. And no regrets from me either.” He kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arm tighter around your waist, causing more of your body to lay on top of him. In this position, you could no longer see his face but his smirk was obvious in his voice as he said, “In fact, I’m really hoping we might have a repeat performance sometime soon.” 

You snorted, sending a puff of air across his chest. “A repeat performance? Hell, I’m planning on telling Boone he better get used to sleeping alone. From now on, you’re bunking with me, cowboy.”

Tyler vibrated with laughter beneath you, and he muttered, “Yes, ma’am.”

Luckily, Tyler stepped up and had a talk with Boone the next morning about the new sleeping arrangements. You had really grown to like the cameraman but that didn’t mean you felt comfortable talking to him about fucking his best friend. And based on the deep red color you saw his face turn as you spied on their conversation, you were pretty sure Boone didn’t want to talk to you about that either.

So, for the next few days, everything followed the same routine the Wranglers had fallen into since you arrived. The only difference was that now when Tyler walked you to your room at night, he didn’t leave until he was walking you out the next morning. You expected a lot of teasing from the others, especially about you proving the story about letting a cowboy into your room was true, but no one said anything about it. You caught them exchanging a few looks when you and Tyler turned in for the night or when you came down in the morning, but that was it. However, you were fairly certain you saw Dani physically biting her tongue when you adjusted your shirt one day, revealing a huge hickey on your neck. 

While you wouldn’t have minded a little lighthearted teasing, it was nice they weren’t making a big deal of it. You had been a little afraid it would alienate you from the group or make them second guess your intentions with Tyler, so the fact they weren’t treating you any differently made you feel like they were okay with this new situation.

Yet more than the Wranglers silent approval, the thing you were most grateful for since you started sleeping with Tyler was the fact the Wranglers were still staying at a different motel from the other chasers each night. Scott had already accused you of rubbing Tyler in his face out of spite. What would he have thought if he saw Tyler come into your room and not leave until the morning? He all but implied he thought the two of you were already sleeping together the last time he confronted you (though you actually hadn’t been…at least not until later that night), but thinking something was happening and seeing the proof with your own eyes were two very different things. You weren’t sure you’d have the nerve to share a room with Tyler if you thought Scott might be around, so maybe he did you another favor pushing you to change motels after all.

The morning of your original departure date (fourteen days since you first arrived and five days since you had first slept with Tyler), you were cleaning up after breakfast. Since you still didn’t understand how most of the equipment the Wranglers used worked, you had volunteered to become the one who tidied up and packed things away as everyone else prepared for the day. Today was a little different though because according to Dexter’s forecasts, there was a very low chance of a storm forming anywhere in the area. Apparently, it was rare this time of year to not see any systems that even had the potential to form into a storm, but it did still happen. So, as the Wranglers discussed what else they could do for the day, you continued clearing the breakfast mess.

Realizing you were out of garbage bags in Dani and Dexter’s camper van, you hurried over to Lily’s blue van to get the extras she told you she stored over there. But when you checked where you thought they were, you realized you’d opened the wrong cabinet. Instead of garbage bags, you found a case with a clear top containing a metal tool with a needle sticking out of the end and a dozen or so small bottles filled with multi-colored liquid. You recognized the equipment from when you went with a friend when she got a tattoo.

“So, miss girly—” Lily’s voice directly behind you made you jump and you turned sheepishly to look at her, hoping she didn’t think you were snooping. But she had a smile on her face as she continued, nodding to the bag in front of you. “—when am I gonna get to brand you a true Wrangler?” 

“Oh!” You were taken aback by the question. Looking past her, you saw the rest of the Wranglers were turned, their faces curious as they waited for your answer. All but Tyler’s. The brim of his hat was pulled low on his face as he sat on the tailgate of his truck so you couldn’t read his expression. 

Looking back at Lily, you asked, “You don’t mean…like the tattoo you all have?” She nodded. “But I thought only the Wranglers had them.”

“Damn right,” Dani said, holding up her breakfast beer in a sort of cheers. “And you’ve been into a dozen storms by now. If that doesn’t make you an honorary Wrangler, I don’t know what does.”

You smiled as Boone and Dexter added their approval of the idea but you noticed Tyler had been silent on the matter. Swallowing, you asked, “Ty? What do you think? Should I do it?”

He sat quietly for a moment, then hopped off the back of his truck. Walking towards the front of Lily’s van, he motioned you to follow him, putting a little space between you and the others. You felt a pit forming in your stomach as you went after him. Maybe he didn’t agree you had earned your place with the Wranglers after all.

As he came to a stop and turned towards you, finally looking into your eyes, you quickly said, “If you don’t want me to get it—”

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. Of course I think you’ve earned it—”  His fingers lightly caressed your back, right along your shoulder blade, sending a chill of pleasure shooting through you as the pit in your stomach dissolved “—but don’t let these idiots talk you into something you don’t wanna do. There’s absolutely no pressure. You told me you only wanted to get a tattoo if it meant something to you and I don’t want you to—”

“But if I do want it?”  you asked, cutting him off. “What if it’s finally a design that means enough to me to get?”

A smile stretched across his face. “Then I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

Your own face brightened into a smile that matched his. “Then let’s do it!”

Tyler took your hand and walked you back over to the waiting crew. With his dimples on full display, he said, “Well, I think you’ve found what we’re gonna do today.”

The Wranglers all gave a whoop of excitement and Lily ducked into her van to grab her bag with the tattoo gun and ink. She patted one of the chairs set up in the back and Tyler helped you up into the van. 

As you sat down, you rubbed your hands over your thighs to wipe off the sweat that had started to form there. You still wanted to do this—there was absolutely no doubt in your mind you wanted the “Wrangler brand”—but you had a relatively low pain tolerance. You had been brought to tears when you got your ears pierced and it was the reason you had never gotten any other piercings even throughout your rebellious teenage phase (a fact you were extremely grateful for looking back). But as Tyler slid his hand into yours and linked fingers, you knew you could do this. 

Lily finished laying out everything and turned to you. “Where do you want it?”

You thought back to Tyler’s fingers stroking against your shoulder blade, how he often woke you up by pressing kisses to that spot as he held you in his arms. “My shoulder.” Bending your arm back, you patted the place you were thinking as you looked at Tyler. His eyes darkened slightly as he watched you, and you knew you had chosen the right spot. “I want it right here on my shoulder.”

Lily nodded. “That won’t be a problem.”

After a brief discussion about how big you wanted it and the exact placement, she printed out a stencil on a machine on her desk. Then came the slightly awkward conversation about how she logistically was going to do this since you were still sitting there with your shirt on. That issue hadn’t actually crossed your mind to that point. While you probably would have been okay going topless so Lily could work if it were just her and Tyler looking at you, Dani, Dexter, and Boone had moved their chairs over to the open door of the van to watch the process. 

A plan was eventually agreed to and they shut the van door for a moment. Luckily, you had worn a casual, short-sleeved button-down top today so once you had some privacy you took it off and then your bra. Then, you put your shirt back on but this time backward so the buttoned side was across your back. Leaving it open gave Lily the perfect access to the area you wanted the tattoo. 

She placed the stencil and Tyler held up a mirror so you could make sure it was the size and position you wanted it. Even just seeing this rough version on your skin made you vibrate with excitement and, from the way Tyler’s eyes roamed across the stencil, he felt the same way. You could almost feel his lips tracing the design between soft mutterings of how amazing it looked on your perfect skin... 

You gave Lily the go-ahead to start. 

With one hand, Tyler opened the door to the van so the others could see again while he squeezed your hand tightly with his other. And you were so grateful for him as soon as Lily touched the tattoo gun to your skin. It was more of a shock than pain, but you latched onto Tyler’s hand like your life depended on it. He chuckled softly, the sound almost getting lost in the buzzing of the machine, and he squeezed your hand back. Slowly, you loosened your grip.

At first, it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was nowhere near as painful as you had feared. Based on Tyler’s tattoo, Lily knew what she was doing and she constantly provided you with updates and compliments about how well you were doing. The other Wranglers tried to talk to you or tell stories to distract you and that helped the time pass for a while. However, after about ninety minutes, the pain began to get to you. Trying your best to hold still, you gritted your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut. 

The only thing that made it bearable was the fact Tyler kept his promise and held onto your hand the entire time. Even when you began squeezing it so hard your fingers went numb, he didn’t say a word. He just rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand and leaned over to mutter words of praise and encouragement. At one point he asked if you wanted to take a break, but you knew you might never get back in the chair if you did, so you had Lily continue on. 

It took a little over three hours for her to finish and by that time you had silent tears rolling down your face. Tyler wiped a few of them away with a soft brush of his hand over your cheeks and you gave him a pained smile. Yet all the pain, all the tears, all the time was more than worth it when he held up the mirror again for you to see the finished product. 

It looked just as incredible as you had hoped. It was the same dynamic tornado that both Tyler and Lily had, the extra lines around the edges making it look like it was alive on your back. However, just like Tyler’s horns, Lily had added a little something extra to yours. Near the top, a centimeter or so away from the funnel, was a small cowboy hat being swept up in the storm. Though your skin was still irritated and a bit bloody making it hard to make out too many details, it was clear it was a very specific hat that you had come to know very well over the last two weeks.

Lily must have seen you noticed it because she said, “I took a small liberty there. I hope it’s okay.”

You nodded, tears unrelated to your discomfort filling your eyes. “I love it,” you choked out. Wrapping her in a hug (ignoring the fresh pain as you moved your arm), you added. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

She hugged you back, careful to avoid your shoulder. “You earned it. Now no one can argue you’re not one of us.”

Dani, Dexter, and Boone cheered from their seats outside and Tyler pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You squeezed your eyes closed as a warm wave of emotions flooded through you. 

Originally, you had come to Oklahoma looking for family. And when that fell apart, you managed to stumble into a group of people that had accepted you in ways that other family never had. This was where you belonged and you now had the ink to prove it. 

You were a Tornado Wrangler. And nothing could ever take that away from you.

I know Part isn't as exciting as the last few, but we are setting up for everything that is about to happen in Part 10 😈 It is scheduled to post 10/14 as part of whumptober and will be the last Part of the series. However, an epilogue will also be posted on 10/21 to wrap everything up. Thank you to everyone who has supported this series and sent their love. It has meant the world to me and I'm excited for you all to see how it ends 💗

Tag list: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole,

@ryebecca, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @ohtobeleah, @slightly-psycho-multifan,

@sunlightmurdock, @xoxabs88xox, @superchatnoir07, @love2write2626, @smoothdogsgirl,

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@how-what-why-huh, @axolotllover225, @holybatflapexpert, @princesssterek, @autumnleaves1991-blog

@cevansbaby-dove, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @fandomprincess1994, @wpdarlingpan, @maverick-wingman

@unknowntoyou2205, @child-of-of-the-sunshine, @dream03, @djs8891, @puttyly

@loserbaby66, @mylovelykelsifer, @onlyangel-444, @omgbrianab, @allonzigiga

@lonelyghosts-stuff, @lindsayjoy444, @clairewritesandrambles, @lukeevangelista, @hookslove1592

@loreng2622, @weebgirl21, @winterassassin1804, @bunbunbl0gs

[sometimesanalice]

Hey, Sailor

Summary: It’s Fleet Week and Rooster would rather be anywhere else than on the flight deck of the USS Portland. That is, until a pretty thing in a sundress catches his eye and then suddenly his day is looking up. 

Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.8K

Warnings: Flirty Banter, Smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in Summer Whites (Minors DNI)

Note: When @roosterforme​ asks you to write her a Fleet Week fic, you write the Fleet Week fic! Here you go, Em!  💛

Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.

He loved the lively atmosphere and the parades. He loved the free drinks that were handed to him as soon as he entered a bar. And he especially loved all the attention he got from women when he wore his Summer Whites.

He usually came back to the ship looking less than pristine with lipstick on the collar of his uniform and hidden on other places on his body.

The USS Portland was teaming with excited families and camera-happy civilians taking in the sights from deck of the transport ship as they settled in for the five-hour journey to the San Diego. It was a Fleet Week tradition to welcome people aboard for an immersive experience, picking them up from a port further up North and then cruising along the coast before making their final docking for the week.

There were grills set up on the deck and the smell of flame kissed hamburgers and hotdogs mixed with the sea salt air. The sun was shining and the mood was light.

But this year, Rooster simply could not be bothered to give a fuck.

Especially not when he could have been home already instead of being stuck giving tours on a ship that he’d never even stepped foot on prior to three days ago when he and Hangman had been given orders to join in the procession on the vessel into the city after completing a short training deployment.

His superiors had okay-ed the terrible suggestion from some random Public Relations Specialist who clearly didn’t realize that he had better things to do with his time.

Early that morning, Bradley had stood on the dock with his arms crossed and wearing an impassive scowl as they had lifted his Super Hornet onto the flight deck like it was some kind of decorative hood ornament.

Sure, it was fun to watch the kids’ eyes get wide with excitement as they ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the features as he pointed them out, but he was getting hot and uncomfortable in his uniform in the mid-afternoon sun on the black tarmac.

He’d rather be in his service khakis like Seresin. Or better yet, naked at home in his own bed.

How Hangman had weaseled himself onto barbecue duty with a beer in his hand, Rooster would never know. The bastard probably played his Texan sir, I came out of the womb grilling shtick.

And every time he passed by the son of a bitch would give him a cocky salute with his tongs.

Jake was irritating on the best day, but today he was downright insufferable.

And he knew it had everything to do with the fact that Hangman’s girlfriend was laughing and lingering at his side, having surprised him by flying in with tickets for the coastal cruise.

At least someone was having a nice time, because it sure as shit wasn’t him.

Rooster was in the process of wrapping up his fourth tour of the day and handing out a couple of Dixie Cup hats to kids on the landing deck on the stern when he was stopped dead in his tracks and had to do a double take because he eyes were definitely playing tricks on him.

You were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

And he swore for a minute time slowed down as you flashed the most gorgeous smile at some Junior Officer as you laughed along with whatever undoubtedly stupid joke he’d told you. All while the wind played with the ends of your hair.

You looked like such nice girl, such a good girl in your pretty light blue sundress.

The sun was bouncing off your shoulders and the little ruffle at the hem was taunting him with the way it danced around your thighs. It coasted over your curves like water, and fit you just snug enough that there wouldn’t be any Marilyn Monroe moments on deck, much to his disappointment. But the blow was cushioned by the stunning display of your smooth, shapely legs.

From the way your breasts bounced as you walked, he knew there was no way in hell you had a bra on under that little dress.

He’s never been able to resist a bad girl wrapped up like the girl-next-door.

From the second he saw you, he knew you were just his type.

And for the first time that day Bradley is grateful to be wearing the crisp, pressed Summer Whites. 

He knew how good his biceps looked in the short sleeves of his uniform. And the way his pants clung to his legs and ass. He’d been spending a lot of his free time in the gym lately and it showed.

He never did mind playing An Officer and a Gentleman when the occasion presented itself, he was always happy to help fuel some fantasies.  

The last time he had worn this uniform out during Fleet Week he ended up going home with an absolute smokeshow, so hopefully whatever appeal his uniform had for him back then can still work for him now.

Fleet Week was finally looking up for him.

However, what he didn’t like was the fact that the butterbar was still dominating your attention.

He wanted that smile turned on him. Wanted to see if the look in your bright eyes would be just as playful with your gaze pinned on him instead. He wanted to be the one making you laugh.

It’s not like he’s going to go over there and lick your face like a kid might try and claim dibs on a cupcake.

No, he was going to act in accordance to his rank and station as an Officer in the United States Navy.

Securing the white cap on his head from where it’s been tucked under his arm at every opportunity he’s had that day, he straightens up to his full height and purposefully struts over to you.

Bradley’s never been one to shy away from making an entrance.

He forcefully taps the younger officer’s shoulder, and glances down when the guy turns around to get a look at his name tag.

“Ensign Hubbard, you’re up for civilian tour duties. The next one is due to start at 1400,” he looks down at his watch for dramatic effect, “Which is in about 10 minutes on the starboard bow, so you best get going if you don’t want to be late, junior.”

He might feel a little guilty for springing this on the kid if it wasn’t entirely within his right to assign him the nonexistent task 684 feet in the opposite direction- a fact he learned in preparation for giving tours all day- and away from you.

Especially when he sees how flustered the guy gets as he rushes through his salute and the stammered apologies he gives you before he takes off in a brisk jog heading towards the other side of the ship.

He stands up a bit taller and makes himself a bit broader as your eyes sweep over him. 

“Apologies for interrupting, ma’am. But I’d be happy to pick up where the Ensign has left off.”

There’s no missing the appraising interest in them as you take him in.

“The tours are starting at the front of the ship now, are they?” you muse out loud with a little tilt of your head. “What are all those folks over there are lining up for then, I wonder?”

You point deliberately to the group of people who are currently being greeted by the Lieutenant who was scheduled to relieve Rooster of tour duties for the next hour.

“Mm, that sure is a mystery. But Hubbard seems like a smart kid, I wouldn’t worry too much about him.” He shrugs with an unapologetic smirk on his face.

You lift a pointed eyebrow at him.

“So, you sent him away…” the almost-but-not-quite question trailing in the breeze.

“I sent him away,” he readily agrees with a nod. His eyes catch on a golden heart-shaped locket that you’re wearing around that dainty neck as it glints in the sunlight.

A smug smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you notice where his eyes have dropped too, “You’re not even going to deny it, Sailor?”

“Nope,” he says with a grin. “And actually, it’s Lieutenant Commander.”

“Ok, Lieutenant.”

“Commander.”

You hmm contemplatively like his rank was somehow up for debate, toying with that damn little heart-shaped locket in a way that was tempting his eyes to drift further down.

Rooster didn’t think it could be possible, but you’re even prettier up close. He knew you’d be stunning, but he couldn’t have prepared himself for the way your mischievous eyes sparkled magnetically. Or for the warmth spreading in his chest with the way you are broadly smiling at him now.

The top buttons of your dress are undone one more than would be strictly considered family friendly. But Bradley wasn’t bothered by that in the least.

 Clearing his throat, he notes, “It’s a nice day for a sail.”

“Ensign Hubbard and I already covered that rather riveting subject earlier,” you tease while looking at him like well, what else have you got.

“Let me try again then.” If you wanted him to put in the work, he was more than up for the challenge. “What brings you for a casual five-hour cruise down the coast on one of the Pacific Fleet’s finest?”

“Now that’s not something we got to before he was telling me about what his ribbons meant in great detail,” you say with a laugh. “Would you believe me if I said I had a deep appreciation for $1.6 billion-dollar ships purchased with Uncle Sam’s defense budget?”

He gives you a half smile as he pretends to contemplate it for a moment, “You know, for some reason, I can’t say that I would.”

“Well, shucks,” you say with an over exaggerated shrug. “What about if I said I was roped into waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight up here because my best friend’s boyfriend is a Naval aviator and she wanted me to keep her company for the ‘casual five-hour cruise’, as you called it.”

“Now that I believe,” he drawled. “So, what’s his name?”

“Well, she calls him Jacob. He has one of those silly callsigns too, but I always forget it,” you scrunch your nose adorably as you search for it, “Something-man.”

“You mean Bagman?”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

He smirks to himself. 

“I take it you know him then?” You wait for his nod before looking up at him from under your lashes and asking him, “Does that mean you have a callsign too?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s Rooster.”

He doesn’t miss the way you glance down, and he definitely doesn’t hold back his pointed smirk waiting for your eyes to meet his again.

And when he gives you a cocky raise of his eyebrow, all you do is shrug.

You didn’t just look like his type, you are exactly his type.

“Rooster Bradshaw, huh?” you ask, reaching out to tap a finger on rectangular name tag on his chest. “I take it you have a first name, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Sure do,” he drawls, “But it only seems fair that I get yours in return.”

You grin knowingly at him. His cheek ticks up as you stick your hand out towards him and give him your name. It’s pretty and suits you perfectly.

Bradley says it out loud savoring the syllables in his mouth as he shakes your outstretched hand. And he gives you his in exchange.

He likes how much smaller your hand looks in his.

“Since it seems like your friend has ditched you, what do you say about getting a tour? Not to brag, but I’ve been doing it all day and I’ve got it down to a science now.”

“A private tour? Lucky me,” you purr. “Lead the way Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.”

You knew what you were doing, he’d give you that. And he was eating it up with a spoon ready to ask for second, third, and fourth helpings. 

It’s less busy on the flight deck, as people are collecting around the grills waiting for their turn in the buffet lines for the late lunch.

He starts off by showing you his aircraft, giving you a brief rundown of its features.

You run a hand over the body of his fighter jet as he wraps up his now well-practiced spiel, “Do I even want to know how much taxpayer money contributed to this?”

“It depends. Does your appreciation for Uncle Sam’s defense collection extend to F/A-18s too? Or is that strictly reserved for amphibious transport vessels?”

“I’ll keep you posted after I get the full tour,” you say coyly.

“Well then, I shouldn’t keep a lady waiting then. Should I?”

“No, you certainly should not,” you agree.

He guides you past the table that’s set up with squadron memorabilia for people to buy and to the door with a hand on your low back. He’s close enough to smell your perfume now, he wants to bury his nose in your neck to inhale the scent directly from the source.

Rooster navigates the two of you like a pro through the narrow passageways as he takes you to the mess hall where coffee and pre-sliced cakes awaited tour guests. From there he takes you to the galley, the wheelhouse, the engine control room, the 24-bed hospital ward, and the massive hull used to transport heavy machinery.

You as him thoughtful questions every now and then. And he does his best to answer them.  The two of you drift closer and closer, it doesn’t escape his notice the way you brush against him when you pass by to get a closer look at some of the things he shows you.

It’s easily his favorite tour of the day. 

He loves the sound of your laugh as he tells you about some of the mischief that he and members of his squadron managed to avoid getting caught doing.

Along with some of the things that they did get caught doing.

Your teasing grin and witty banter and little sundress have done a number on him. And he isn’t ready to wrap this up by delivering you back on deck until the absolute last minute he has to resume his official tour duties again.

So when he circles back to the airwing, instead of turning left when he should, he leads you to the ladder that would take you down a level.

And he knows he shouldn’t, that he could get in some big trouble for showing you areas that weren’t explicitly on the official list of tour stops. But he’s always been more of the apologize later type.

Plus, he hasn’t been on this ship for very long, it’s not his fault if he manages to get conveniently turned around.

Bradley waits at the bottom of the steep ladder, actively looking anywhere else but up as you make your descent. When you’re at level with him, he helps you down the rest of the way with a steadying hand at your waist.

And when you turn around he doesn’t step back. 

You reach up and run a playful finger along the brim of his cap, “So what’s a girl got to do to get a turn wearing the hat?”

His mind flashes with images of the last time he’d let a woman wear it.

“I’ll have you know this is technically Naval property, they don’t let just anyone have one. You usually have to earn it. But for you?” he pauses and gives you a heated once over, “I’ll let you try it on for free.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want any special treatment,” you say demurely. “But I think in this case, Uncle Sam would understand. I’m a model citizen after all.”

He takes the cap off of his head and gingerly sets it on yours, “You’re something else, that’s for sure.” 

It slides forward down your head, “Oh, it’s heavier than it looks.” And Rooster wishes he had his phone on him to get a picture for himself. He likes the way you look wearing his things.

“Looks good on you,” he hums, letting his finger brush against that little locket around your neck.

You run a bold hand down his chest, “Where to next, Lieutenant?”

This time he doesn’t bother to correct you, he knows the game you’re playing now. 

Instead he grips your hips and pushes you against the ladder and brings his mouth to yours.You make a noise of surprise before your arms are wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer. 

The kiss starts out light and teasing. Your lips are so soft beneath his. He gently grazes his teeth against your lower lip, before gliding his tongue along the seam of your mouth seeking entrance. The sweep of your tongue against his is everything. The soft moans escaping you are making his pulse thrum in his veins. 

It would be so easy for him to get lost in the feeling of your perfect body against his and of the way your fingers were playing with the short hairs on the nape of his neck. But he’s already pushing the limits bringing you down here, he can’t get distracted by kissing you out in the open where anyone could stumble upon the two of you.

The small whimper that you make when he pulls away makes him grin. As does the sight of his cap sitting crookedly on your head. 

He thumbs at the lipstick that’s smudged at the side of your mouth, “C’mon, I’ve got one more place I want to show you.”

This time he takes your hand as he guides you down the gray passageway and through the door on the left.

The ready room on the USS Portland is much smaller than the one’s he is familiar with from the aircraft carriers he is usually on, but the set-up is mostly the same. There are a couple of projection screens adhered on the bulkheads and there are a few rows of leather seats with a swivel tray tables attached to the arm rests.

“Tell me what happens in here.” You ask him so genuinely, so sweetly and he already knows he wouldn’t stand a chance against you with the way you flutter those eyelashes at him.

So he tells you. 

He likes that you want to know these details about his job, he likes that he gets to share this with you. Even if the clock is ticking down before he has to get back on deck.

Rooster watches the tantalizing way your sundress dances around your thighs as you walk around the space. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the front row and pull the desk top over you before turning to him with a beaming smile with his cap still perched on your head.

And he is hit with a wave of affection for you so intense that it makes it hard for him to breathe for a moment.

He’s grateful when you see something else that catches your eye, giving him a moment to get himself back under control. You’ve got him feeling like he should be on his knees for you.

In the spot where he is used to seeing a lectern, on this ship there is a glossy wooden table inlaid with the ship’s coat of arm that you standing over.

“Does every ship have their own unique crest? Do you know what the symbols are for?”

He really needs to figure out who put him on tour duty and send them an Edible Arrangement or something. And maybe one for whoever put together the ten-page packet of “fun facts” that he had rolled his eyes at when he had first seen it.

“Yes, ma’am, I sure do.” He comes up to stand behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder as his arms cage you in against the table. “Yes, all ships come with their own. It’s something that the prospective commanding officers are responsible for designing when new ships are about to be launched.”

You lean forward a bit, gazing your ass against him, “Dark blue and gold are traditional Navy colors, right?” He hums confirmation into your neck, as he runs his mustache along your soft skin. He feels more than hears your sharp inhale. “What does the gear on the anchor mean?”

He drops a kiss to your shoulder, “The cog is a symbol of manufacturing, a nod to the ship’s namesake and the city’s history for building ships in World War II.”

You grab his wrist and bring his arm across your body, he takes the hint and presses in closer into you. “And the trident?”

God, you feel so perfect in his arms. Your body is fitting against his like a dream.

“The black symbolizes determination,” he murmurs into the space where you neck and shoulder meet. “And the choice of the three prongs is because it’s the third ship to be given the name.”

You lean your head to the side, and he takes the opportunity to trail open-mouth kisses up your neck. Your nails bite into his forearm in response, as you rock back against his rapidly hardening cock. “And the rose?”

“Portland is the City of Roses.”

“Does it have any other meaning?” you ask soft and breathy.

“It represents strong ties, baby. It’s a symbol for the supportive partners and wives of those serving onboard,” he whispers low and sweet into your ear.

“Bradley,” you sigh as you turn your head towards him for a kiss. It’s desperate and wet. And he can almost taste the neediness of your moan on his tongue.

He’s never done anything like this while on duty on a ship before, and the thrill of it has his veins thrumming with adrenaline.

“You’ve had me hook, line and sinker since the damn second I saw you.” He grinds himself against your ass and you whimper at the contact. “What do you want from me? I’ll be so good to you, so good for you.”

“Want you to touch me,” you pant into his mouth, “Want you to fuck me, Rooster. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about.”

“Fuck me.” He can feel his pulse thundering in his throat.

“I’m trying to,” you whine.

He barks a strained laugh before he spins you around, crowds you into the table. He doesn’t waste any time getting his lips back on yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You meet him stroke for stroke, just like you’ve been doing since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“This fucking dress,” he groans when he cups your breast through your fabric, as you fill his palm in just the right way. You arch your chest into his hand, and he was feeling entirely too self-satisfied in the confirmation that you weren’t wearing a bra. “Knew you weren’t a good girl.”

“So why are you treating me like one?” you taunt, breathlessly. Your greedy hands go straight to his cock, squeezing him through his pants.

Your hand feels so good on him.

“God, you’re so much fucking trouble,” he rasps, throwing his head back.You lean forward and your hot mouth works against the hollow of his throat. 

He’s trying to undo some of the tiny buttons that line the front of your dress, but the teasing way your tongue is dipping out to trace the line of his tendon is making it hard for him to think.

“Are you gonna show me how you got that silly, little callsign of yours or not?” You give him one more squeeze, before bringing your hands up to the button of his white pants.

He knocks your hands out of the way before roughly grabbing your ass and hauls you firmly against him, “That feel little to you?”

Your gasp makes his fingertips dig further into your ass. The pretty color of your eyes has been completely eclipsed by your heavy, dark pupils. He can feel the way your thighs clench together.

“You want my attention? You’ve got it, baby,” he roughly rasps, “Go on then, show me how bad you can be.”

He dips his head down for a filthy, hungry kiss.

You push him back with a hand to his chest and a gleam in your eyes. You hold his heated gaze as you slowly undo his zipper and reach into his boxer briefs to pull him out. He moans when your thumb sweeps over the top of his cock.

Rooster thinks for a second that you’re going to drop to your knees for him, the mental image of you looking up at him with those doe-eyes is enough to make his jaw clench with desire. Especially with the way your sundress is gaping open at the top, giving him a clear view of the swells of your breasts.

Instead, you surprise him by bending over that glossy table and shimmying the skirt of your dress up over your luscious hips.

“Holy shit.”

You’re wearing the smallest, laciest little thong he’s ever fucking seen.

The band is a series of crisscrossed straps attached to some intricate and dainty floral lace. The juxtaposition of it against your skin is enough to make his ears ring. He’ll be dreaming of the way you’re enticingly arching your ass towards him for months.

And he’ll sure as shit never be able to be in a Ready Room again without getting a hard-on. The memory of you bent over the table before him will forever be ingrained in his brain.

“Is this bad enough for you, Lieutenant Commander?” You shoot him a grin over your shoulder as you wiggle your hips invitingly.

That sultry smile is swiped from your face the moment his large hand connects with your perfect ass. The sound echoes throughout the small room. He palms you once more before he yanks down your barely-there thong.

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Giving himself a few rough pumps, he lines himself up and slides into you with one steady thrust.

You both release an unrestrained groan of the sensation of him filling your warm, wet cunt. He barely gives you a moment to adjust to the size of him before he starts moving.

“’s big,” you sigh shakily.

“Tell me how much you like this cock.”

He slaps your pert ass again when you release a breathy whimper instead of answering him.

“Feels good, Rooster.” Your hands are struggling to find a way to support yourself as he fucks into you. “You feel so good.”

He pushes your dress higher up your body, his eyes are greedy for more of your skin. What he wouldn’t give to have you entirely naked and spread out before him. He wants to see all of you, he wants to hear you loud and needy for him.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs as he watches himself smoothly gliding in and out of you.

The little noises you are making are driving him crazy. He knows you’re trying to muffle your sweet moans and sighs and whines. The sound of your bodies coming together fills the room.

How his cap is still perched on your head he doesn’t know, it jostles every time your bodies come together.

“I need more,” you beg, “Need you to touch me.”

“Ask me nicely.” He punctuates the demand with a sharp snap of his hips.

“Please, Bradley. Please.”

He slides his hand around to the front of you, his fingers drawn to your clit like a magnet. You keen at the contact and tilt your hips into his hand. The sound is music to his ears, “That’s more like it.” 

He doesn’t think there’s anything else better on the planet than being buried in your perfect pussy. You’re so wet for him. He already knows he’s going to need more of this, more of you.

“You’re taking me so well,” Bradley grunts as he speeds up his thrusts, “Looks like all you needed was a nice, thick cock. Just a sweet thing now, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god,” you gasp as you writhe against him. “F-fuck.”

He is so turned on by the way his hands span across you as he grips your waist and pulls you against him with every roll of his hips. His heart is racing in his chest.

The feeling of your body tensing around him is paradise. There is nothing he wants more than to be able to draw this out, but he is all too aware of how quickly time is slipping away from him.

He sets a rough and unrelenting pace. Redoubling his efforts on your clit, his indulgent strokes turn into tight, purposeful circles. And you cry out at the change of sensation on that sensitive part of you.

Your thighs start to tremble as his cock drags against that spot deep inside of you. The heat is pooling in his lower back as he fucks into you over and over again.

“Rooster, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby. Let me feel it,” he murmurs hotly against your ear, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your clit. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

The goosebumps erupt across your body like fireworks a moment before he feels you shiver and tremble beneath him as you come with a choked sob. The way you spasm and clench around him is dizzying.

Bradley is teetering on the edge, your cunt felt like heaven. Warm and wet and gripping him just right. He almost doesn’t want to give himself up to it as the pressure at the base of his spine intensified. He doesn’t want to stop fucking you.

You’re so perfect for him.

He loses himself to the feeling of your pussy milking him as you continue to pulse and writhe in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He grips your hips harder as he pounds into you before emptying himself inside of you with a shattered groan.

And for a moment all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as he works to catch his breath. Rooster feels like his knees might buckle as the soft whimper you make when he pulls out of you.

He gently pulls that lacy little thong back up and helps to pull your dress back down over your hips and thighs before turning you around and lifting you onto the custom table. 

He doesn’t know how he is going to make it through the rest of the journey knowing his come is collecting in your panties.

You’re flushed and looking thoroughly well-fucked as you smile up at him brightly.

Bradley threads his finger under the chain of your little gold heart-shaped locket that was etched with a rose in full bloom, and lightly tugs you in closer for a lingering kiss.

“I see you found your gift early, baby.”

Bradley would never forget the first time he saw you that night at the bar downtown last year during Fleet Week.

He had noticed you right away, it had been impossible not to. You and your girlfriends had been all done up in hot pink outfits for the Bachelorette party you were out celebrating.

Your friend had flounced right up to Jake taking the shot of whiskey out of his hand before swallowing it down then cheekily offering to buy him a replacement. Hangman had been wrapped around her finger ever since.

While your friends had all but shoved you in his direction while he had looked on entirely entertained as you had shot a scathing glare back at them. A sparkling tiara that read Bridesmaid sat crookedly on your head.

And then you had greeted him with a “Hey, Sailor” so weak that the couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. There was a split second where he thought that he might have fucked it up before it could even start, but then you smiled back at him.

It was a charmingly self-deprecating smile and he was yours from the moment he saw it.

“Hiding it in your nightstand next to the batteries wasn’t the most original of spots, Rooster,” you affectionately tease him. “I didn’t mean to peek, but the remote stopped working. I hope you’re not mad. I love it.”

He could never be mad at you, especially not with his necklace around your neck. You were his, and he was so gone for you.

“It looks so pretty on you,” he tells you softly as his fingers brush over your collarbones.

“Oh my god, Rooster, I can’t we defiled Naval property.” You giggle as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to circle your arms around his neck.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been defiling Naval property ever since you brought me home with you the night we met.”

You take that cap off of your head and set it back on his, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “Glad I’m getting a good return on my taxes then.” 

He snorts a laugh, “God, I’ve missed you, baby. What are doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until the end of the week.”

“And miss the visual and culinary offerings of the USS Portland? I wouldn’t dream of it.” You joke as you run your hands along his arms where they’re pressed on the table on either side of you. “This uniform drives me just as crazy as it did last year.”

“Just the uniform?” he asks as he nudges his nose against yours.

“Maybe it has a little something to do with the man in the uniform,” you make a little hum as you check him out. “You’re so tan, Bradley, have you been using the sunscreen I sent with you-”

He crushes his mouth to yours, you were undoubtedly best thing that’s ever happened to him during Fleet Week.

“I’m glad I still do it for you,” he murmurs against your mouth before giving you another deep kiss.

The two of you work quickly to get yourselves looking presentable again. He’s only got a little time left before he is due to return to his tour duties back on deck.

He helps you back up the ladder and takes that left turn when he’s supposed to this time. All while your hand is tucked securely in his.

When you’re both back on the open flight deck he walks you over to the railing along the edge of the ship and wraps you up in his arms to watch the coastline crawl by with his last few moments of freedom. 

“I really love Fleet Week,” you say with a contented sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

The golden rays from the sun are hitting you in a way that makes his chest warm.

“I do too, baby. It’s the best.”

Yeah, Rooster fucking loves Fleet Week.

Who doesn’t love a man in Summer Whites?! Consider this my formal petition for more Dress Whites in TG3!

Thank you for reading!

Update! If you want to learn about the night they met, I wrote these two a little prequel series you can read here!

Hey, Sailor Moodboard

A peek inside the USS Portland One | Two

If you’re curious, here is some info on the crest I found! One | Two | Three

You can check out my other stories and series here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse​ @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes​

[lapsthings]

I flunked my math paper again so here's how I think the blue glockers will do in ascending order (no glaze)

0-49%

Zantetsu Tsurugi 🤓

Sad thing is, he genuinely tried. He really gave it his all, immersing himself in study materials for the past week to ensure he was fully prepared. You could find him studying anywhere—whether in the cafeteria, passing through the halls, or even coming out of the toilet. He went to bed the night before confidently, walked into the exam hall confidently, sat down confidently, and handed in his paper confidently. When he received his paper back, he thought the big fat zero on the front meant he made zero mistakes

Igaguri Gurimu 🤡

Whines about studying, but ends up doing it because his parents forced him to. He grumbles as he picks up his book, pumps himself up for a motivational boost, but gives up after skimming the first page. Has the audacity to complain when he gets a failing grade

Gagamaru Gin 🐨

He lives in the forest, so Goatmaru was probably never exposed to the concept of education

Just kidding, surprisingly he does go to school, but my point still stands

Don Lorenzo 🧟

Sorry, bro grew up on the streets, he never went to school 💀. He picked up some basic numeracy from Snuffy, but that’s about it. Couldn’t care less though—you don't need to know about angles to count your cash, okay?

Raichi Jingo 💥

He forgot there was a test but somehow believes he can wing it. His overconfidence is bound to crash and burn when he gets his results back

Bachira Meguru 🐝

He casually picked up his textbook, flipped through all the pages, and called it a day

Charles Chevalier 😝

If someone doesn't specifically tell him to not study, he won’t even bother. Pretends to look up how to solve equations on YouTube, but he's really just watching Skibidi Toilet

Rin Itoshi ⚽

Surprise surprise, apparently he's only fluent in English and sucks at everything else

Otoya Eita 🥷

He’s got the potential to do well, but he’s too busy having fun with girls. Stealthy enough to copy off someone without the invigilator noticing, but gets caught anyway because he forgot to change up his workings

Kunigami Rensuke 🏋️ (post-wildcard)

He does not care 😭

Nanase Nijiro 😇

He gave his all in hopes of passing, but despite his best efforts, he fell short by a few marks :(

50-69%

Kiyora Jin 🍇🍬

He only puts in the bare minimum effort, so he barely makes the cut. Always hovering on the borderline between success and failure

Sendou Shuto 🩷

Goes like “Heh, I didn’t even study,” but the truth is he crammed everything the night before. Manages to pass though, good for him

Tokimitsu Aoshi 💪

He’s plagued by self-deprecating thoughts before, during, and after the exam. He's slightly more confident since his favorite subject is math, however his low self-esteem causes him to overthink, continuously changing his answers. Even after finishing, he’s constantly rechecking everything to avoid careless mistakes. Overwhelmed by anxiety when he gets his paper back, but lights up when he sees he got a decent grade

Aryu Jyubei ✨

He often stares at his study materials, but rarely does more than that. Instead of panicking about how under prepared he is, he’s too busy stressing over a big fat pimple on his forehead. Still ends up with a C…so not glam

70-79%

Niko Ikki 👀

He’d rather play Yu-Gi-Oh, but knows when to prioritize. He only puts in minimal effort, yet manages to get through because he’s a chad

Kurona Ranze 🦈

He sticks to recommended study methods and puts in the necessary effort, but still struggles with some concepts, resulting in a lower grade

Kunigami Rensuke 🏋️ (pre-wildcard)

He actually studies, even reaching out to others for help when he’s stuck. Unfortunately, he forgot to double-check his work and ended up with a lot of careless mistakes

Shidou Ryusei 😈

Huh? How did he end up here?

Hiori Yo 🎮

He doesn’t invest much time in studying, usually too busy being a #gamer. Despite this, he pays enough attention in class to get a good grade

Chigiri Hyoma 🐆💗

He pays attention in class and only studies to cover what he didn’t understand during lessons. Confident in his abilities, he doesn’t spend much time preparing for exams

80-100%

Oliver Aiku 🐍

Believe it or not, he actively listens in class and is disciplined when an exam is coming up. Very chill during the test, but instead of checking his work, he’s checking out girls

Alexis Ness 🪄

You cannot tell me he’s not a teacher's pet. He pays attention in class, completes his work diligently, and can be found in the library during lunch. He has a very organized study plan, so he avoids careless mistakes

Michael Kaiser 🌹💙

He’s smart enough to decipher complex formulas, dissecting problems before arriving at solutions using his own understanding. He truly is the goat

Yukimiya Kenyu 📸

Quite literally a model student. He’s a bit like Ness, but he also participates in group studies

Barou Shouei 👑

Of course, he gets good grades—he’s the king, after all, and he doesn’t settle for anything less. When asked about his study methods, or if he actually studies, he just tells them to piss off and walks away

Isagi Yoichi 🧩

He actually studies every day for about 30 minutes. He knows the key to math is consistent practice. Politely declines any invitations to hang out until exams are over

Nagi Seishiro 💤

Bro, how? He doesn’t study, sleeps in class, never does his homework. I guess he’s just cool like that

Karasu Tabito 🐦‍⬛♥️👑

Oh, Karasu, my beautiful, beautiful…

He’s an accomplished, well-rounded student who excels in every subject, including math, thanks to his determination to avoid mediocrity. His motivation and serious approach to his studies fuel his academic success

Sae Itoshi 😐

Unlike his brother, his academic success comes naturally to him—barely puts in work, barely breaks a sweat. I think it runs in the family

Reo Mikage 💳

You'd think he hired professional tutors, but he doesn't — he’s just that amazing

[excalculus]

I saw some mentions of rabies going around again and have no clue what's set it off this time, but given recent scientific developments I want to revisit the idea of curing symptomatic rabies.

First things first: there is still no practical way to do this. The famous Milwaukee Protocol fails far more frequently than it succeeds, and even the successes are not making it out in anything like a normal state. It's been argued that it should no longer be considered a valid treatment [1] due to these issues; any continued use is because there's literally nothing else on the table.

However. There are now two separate studies showing it's possible to cure rabies in mice after the onset of symptoms. The lengths you have to go to in order to pull this off are drastic, to put it mildly, and couldn't really be adapted to humans even if you wanted to. But proof of concept is now on the board.

long post under the cut, warnings for animal experimentation and animal death. full bibliography at the end and first mention of each source links to paper.

Quick recap - rabies is a viral disease of mammals usually transmitted through the saliva of an infected animal. From a contaminated bite wound, it propagates slowly for anywhere from days to months until it reaches the central nervous system (CNS). Post-exposure vaccination can head it off during this phase, but once it reaches the CNS and neurological symptoms appear it's game over. There will typically be a prodromal phase where the animal doesn't act right - out at the wrong time of day, disoriented, abnormally friendly, etc. This will then progress to the furious (stereotypical "mad dog" disease) and/or paralytic phases, with death eventually caused by either seizures or paralysis of the muscles needed for breathing.

That's the course we're familiar with in larger animals. Mice, though, are fragile little creatures with fast metabolisms.

In the first study's rabies infection model, lab mice show rabies virus in the spinal cord by day 4 after infection and in the brain by day 5. Weight loss and slower movement start by day 7, paralysis starting from the hind limbs from day 8 on, and if not euthanized first they're dead by day 10-13. [2]

This study (fittingly conducted at the Institut Pasteur) had two human monoclonal antibodies, and wanted to see if there was any possibility they could be used to cure rabies after what we think of as the point of no return.

Injecting the antibodies into muscle saved some mice if done at days 2 or 4, and none if done later, even at high doses of 20 milligrams per kilogram of body weight of each. Conclusion: targeting the virus out in the rest of the body is no use if it's already replicating in the CNS.

Getting a drug past the blood-brain barrier is, to use a highly technical term, really fucking hard. It's the sort of problem that even the best-funded labs and biggest companies in the world routinely fail at. And that's for small molecule drugs, which are puny compared to antibodies.

But this isn't drug development for a clinical trial. This is a very, very early proof-of-concept attempt, which means you're willing to ignore practicality to see if this idea is even remotely workable. So you can do things like brute force the issue by cutting through the skull to implant a microinfusion pump, which lets you deliver the antibodies directly into the normally-protected space around the brain. Combine this with the normal injections, and you can treat both the CNS and the rest of the body at the same time. Here's a survival graph of treated mice. X axis is days, Y axis is percentage of mice in that group still alive.

Figure 2A from reference 2, accessed February 2024

The fact that the blue, green, and purple lines did anything other than sink horribly to zero is unheard of. When the combination treatment was started at day 6, 100% of the mice survived. Started at day 7 (prodromal phase), 5 out of 9 mice recovered and survived. Started at day 8 (solidly symptomatic, paralysis already starting to set in), 5 of 15 mice recovered and survived. And when they say "survived", they kept these mice all the way to day 100 to make sure. Some of them had permanent minor paralysis but largely they were back to being normal mice doing normal mouse things. So, success, but by pretty extreme means.

Enter the second paper [3]. This was a different approach using a single human monoclonal antibody against Australian bat lyssavirus (ABLV - closely related to rabies, similar symptoms in humans) to try for a cure without needing to deliver treatments directly into the CNS. They also made a luminescent version of ABLV that let them directly image viral activity, so they could see both where the virus was replicating and how much there was in a live mouse.

Figure 1 from reference 3, accessed February 2024

Mice infected with ABLV start showing symptoms around day 8. You can see in the figure that at day 3 there's viral replication in the foot at the site of infection, which has shifted into the spine and brain by day 10. So what happens if you give one of these doomed mice one single injection of the antibody into the body?

Done at day 3, the virus doesn't make it to the brain until day 14, and while disease does set in after that around 30% of the mice survive. Days 5 and 7 are much more interesting. Those mice still develop symptoms at day 8, but the imaging shows the amount of virus in their spines and brains never gets anywhere near the levels seen in untreated controls, and within days it starts to decrease. Around 80% of day 5 and 100% of day 7 mice survive.

Okay, sure, you can stop another lyssavirus, but technically you did start treatment before symptoms appeared. What about symptomatic rabies?

The rodent-adapted rabies strain CVS-11 starts causing symptoms as early as day 3 after infection, and untreated mice die between days 8 and 11. The same single dose of antibody saved 67% of mice treated on day 5 and 50% of mice treated on day 7. Without making the luminescent version of the virus there's no real-time imaging of the infection, but you can still track symptoms.

Figure 2 from reference 3, accessed February 2024. CVS-11 is the name of the rodent rabies strain and F11 is the name of the antibody.

Disease score is a combination of several metrics including things like whether the mice are behaving normally and whether they show signs of paralysis. In untreated mice it goes up and up, and then they die. If one of those lines starts coming back down and continues past day 10 or so, that's a mouse that recovered. The success rate isn't as good as against ABLV, but again, this is a rabies strain specifically adapted to rodents and treatment wasn't started until it was well-established in the CNS.

So how on earth is this happening? The antibody neutralizes both ABLV and rabies really well in a test tube, but we've already established that there's no way a huge lumbering antibody is making it past the blood-brain barrier without serious help. Something about the immune response is clearly making it in there though. And it turns out that if you start trying this cure in mice missing various parts of their immune systems, mice without CD4+ T cells don't survive even with the treatment. By contrast mice without CD8+ T cells take longer to work through the infection, but they eventually manage it and are immune to reinfection afterwards.

To grossly oversimplify the immune system here, CD4+ are mature helper T cells, which work mostly by activating other immune cells like macrophages (white blood cells) and CD8+ T cells (killer T cells) against a threat.

Normally, T cells are also kept out by the blood-brain barrier, but we know that in certain specific cases including viral infection they can pass it to migrate into the brain. In the brains of the infected mice for which antibody treatment either wasn't given or didn't work, you can find a roughly even mix of CD8+ and CD4+ T cells along with a whole lot of viral RNA. But in the brains of those successfully fighting off the infection, there's less viral RNA and the cells are almost exclusively CD4+. So the antibody doesn't work by neutralizing the virus directly - something about it is activating the animal's own immune system in a way that gives it a fighting chance.

Again, neither of these proof of concept treatments is really workable yet as a real world cure. The first one is almost hilariously overkill and still has a pretty good chance of failure. The second is less invasive but careful sequencing still shows both low-level viral replication and signs of immune response in the brains of the survivors even at day 139, so it may not be truly clearing the virus so much as trading a death sentence for life with a low-level chronic infection. But now we know that 1. curing rabies after symptoms begin is at least theoretically possible, and 2. we have some clues as to mechanisms to investigate further.

Not today. Not tomorrow. But maybe not never, either.

References:

Zeiler, F. A., & Jackson, A. C. (2016). Critical appraisal of the Milwaukee protocol for rabies: this failed approach should be abandoned. Canadian Journal of Neurological Sciences, 43(1), 44-51.

de Melo, G. D., Sonthonnax, F., Lepousez, G., Jouvion, G., Minola, A., Zatta, F., ... & Bourhy, H. (2020). A combination of two human monoclonal antibodies cures symptomatic rabies. EMBO molecular medicine, 12(11), e12628.

Mastraccio, K. E., Huaman, C., Coggins, S. A. A., Clouse, C., Rader, M., Yan, L., ... & Schaefer, B. C. (2023). mAb therapy controls CNS‐resident lyssavirus infection via a CD4 T cell‐dependent mechanism. EMBO Molecular Medicine, 15(10), e16394.