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narcissarina · 7 months ago

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His Serenade˚⊱🪷⊰˚

Tw: mermaid breeding, threat, idk if leon keeping reader for himself count as kidnapping but idk, excuse my mermaid thingy explanation:3

Pirate!Leon × Mermaid!Reader

Word count: 2,569

(I used his romantic outfit since I couldn't finy anymore pirate-y but it suits this outfit for a pirate too!:])

“Captain!” The pirate member called, knocking to his office door as the one whom they call Captain stood and open the door, he cock a brow as they spoke: “we captured something big, will definitely be rich with gold!” they exclaimed and ran off to the net.

The Captain sigh, stepping out from his office as the sea breeze hit his face—the blonde captain turn his head to his crew and see what’s the fuss is all about, “what do we have here, fellas?” He asked. The heel of his boot clicking as he steps down the stairs and look over the net.

“Captain Leon.”

Leon Kennedy, their captain. Even though he did some good things in his pirate life but no one knew that he’s involved in the black market where he sells valuable ‘things’ he sees in the sea, you’d be lucky if he doesn’t want to share you with anyone else.

“I swear I did no harm!” voice squeak out, you were trapped in the net they set—it was only for luring other living things in the sea, but you; you are a mermaid, the most valuable thing and could cost up to millions and make them rich.

You were holding shiny things, silver spoon, gold plate, pearl necklaces and other things that catches your eye. As they say, mermaids like you have a knack for shiny and pretty things. Just like how when the captain they have called came to see the most precious thing they’ve caught came to see what’s happening. Your eyes shine like you have caught something more pretty and shiny, more than the accessories you have in your arms.

He has a pretty face, his eyes glows like the sea. You were mesmerized by his look as you felt breathless for a second.

His voice break your trail of thoughts as he snicker at the sight, “well, well. Didn’t think we’d get a fine maiden in a tight situation.” You hear most of his crew chuckle, probably a bad joke but you smiled at the man awkwardly and try you way of escape.

“W-Will you perhaps let me go?” you plead, the man name Leon, kneels in front of your vulnerable form, he saw your fin flinch as you curled your lower body and feel yourself shrinking under his cold gaze. He spoke, “what will benefit me and my crew once we let you go?” he scoff.

Racking your brains out, trying to find something to make them let you go. And as if on cue, a light bulb lights up in your mermaid brain, “I could find you lost relics and treasures deep within the ocean water.” You beam, Leon swears that your smile is part of the radiation of the sun. It was bright and he thought he had gone blind.

But his interest was piqued, he listens in and pulls the net up to your head to have it not block your face. “and, what kind of treasures are we talking about here, sweetheart?” he chuckles, snatching one of your shiny accessories from you and took a closer look of it.

“Pretty thing like you likes pretty and shiny little things huh.” He remarks, giving it back to you as you yelp and mutter a hush, “thank you.” His eyes still bore into yours, waiting for you to answer his question.

You start to stammer but eventually found your words, “I remember I saw a chest lying deep beneath the sand, the lock looks rusty and it could break easily when forced open.” You mutter, eyes glistening to let him know that you’re telling the truth, “you don’t know, probably a hundred or other things could be worth selling.” You try to tempt them to give in.

Leon turn his head and see his crew mumbling, piqued and tempted by the offer. “Are you true to your words? If not, we might do something worse.” You squeak at his threat and quickly nod, “I swear.” You swore, blinking your pretty lashes at the man—pleading to be let go.

The captain snap his fingers to his men and have you untangled and free from the net, “I’ll be giving you twenty-four hours to get us that so-called treasure, if not. We’ll have you sold to the black market.” Leon threatens, he picks you up and put you on the edge of the ship.

“See ya.”

He drops you off like you were nothing, back at the ocean as the things you collected were now forgotten—you got a new objective to finish, you don’t want to lose your fins and scales now, do you?

But first, you need to get home and show your presence to your father and sisters. They must’ve been worried sick that they couldn’t find you anywhere, “dear heavens! Where have you been?” mother asked, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face and angle your head to see any bruises or wound if you might’ve potentially hurt yourself.

You went to your sisters and father to let them know you’re safe and unharmed, “I told you not to go far from home.” You father sigh, stroking your hair as his eyes speaks with worry “I’m fine,” you mumbled as you assured, “are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and left, back to his throne—you guess. After assuring everyone and blessing them with your presence, you get back to work and ask some sea friends to help you lift the heavy chest. You know you still remember the path on the way there. It was a bit dark, but the way that the gold shines makes it easier for you to spot and tell your friends to take to the surface.

The ocean was wide as it sends waves, you turn to spot his ship and swim over there. “Knock, knock!” you yelled, knocking on the wood of the ship since it was stop to a halt, “c’mere.” You gesture to the dolphins as they help you lift the heavy treasure chest, “just as I promise!”

Leon look over and smiled at the sight, “lift her up.” You heard him yelled, little did you know—you swim right to their net. Your sea friends panicked and left you with the treasure, you can’t blame them as they don’t want to be harmed.

You let out a yelp, flopping over in the net as the treasure was lift with you. “You have one strong net, captain.” You praised, swaying your fin as the net was put down in the ship, he smiled and mutter to his crew and lift the chest to his office. He’s the one handling golds.

“so uh…” you start, “I did my part, kept my word and brought it back to you and it hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet…” you mumble, fidgeting your finger and your fin flops to the side of the net. The crew looked at each other funny but didn’t utter one word.

Silence was all the answer they could give you.

You look over the blue water of the ocean as the waves crashes, lost in your thoughts as you felt hands around your body—lifting you up like a bride, you shudder at his touch as you snap your eyes to him. It’s Leon, and he was walking towards to the door of his office.

“No,” he says firmly with a grin, his hold to your tail tightens, “I’ll be keeping you as my trophy.”

Living in his ship was not that bad, you thought. He put you inside his office, build a tub for you to swim in even though it’ll be cramped—his office is wide and a little too spacious for him so he didn’t object about constructing a tub inside his office for you to swim in.

Plus, it’ll be good for your scales. Don’t want the beauty to fade away because of the surface air.

Truth is, if you stay in the surface too long—the air will dry you up and make you look like a dehydrated fish and Leon doesn’t like that thought, he had a book in stored that came in pretty handy.

A book about the legends of Merfolk.

It has saved his ass and saved yours, building a tub inside was a dumb idea—thought by the crew but Leon doesn’t give two shits about it. As long as he could keep you to himself, that is all that matters to him, keeping you as his little valuable trophy mermaid.

You didn’t mind that the pretty man took you in though, his eyes shines like the blue sky and sea—how could you also say no to the face he has?

Father, Mother and your sisters would kill you if they knew that you left them for this ‘evil’ pirate that they so-called evil pirates that hunt their beings down so they could make profit or food.

Would it be twisted that you had to agree on that but had to object about the idea of Leon being an evil pirate?

The blonde Captain gives you whatever shiny pieces of trash that you desires and you store them at the bottom of your tub that you now call your second home.

In return, you give him your scales that’s been falling off. Shredding is what they say call it as you grew a new shiny one. Leon was intrigued and once wore it as a necklace to show his appreciation for the gift. It was a beautiful color and a vibrant fade on it. You were one beautiful mermaid, after all.

It once shocked Leon that most people wanted to buy his “jewelry” as they say it captivated their eyes and would pay a ridiculous amount of gold, he didn’t refuse the offer though and experimented what they’ll do with it. One merchant asked a stock or a jar of those scales.

Only fuels Leon’s idea.

You only lie low in your tub and flick your fin out of boredom and blew bubbles on the water, your eyes darted to the male who’s sitting in his chair—reading a book about Merfolks. Your hand scratches at the almost end of your fin as one scale fell off, “Leon!” you called, he never grew tired of that voice that sounds like melodies of a song.

“yes?” he put down his book and focus on you as you held your scale and stretch your hand to give it to him, “another one fell off..!” you beam. He reach out and took it in his hand, placed it in the jar with your other scales; he has been collecting them ever since, “I’m glad I can help you with profits.” You mumble, squishing your cheek to the wooden floor as you bow your head down.

He nodded and got down with you, soaking his clothes as he pulls you into his arms. His hand on the lower back of your waist, his face buried on the crook of your neck. “Just want you to know, you don’t have to force yourself to shred.” He mumbles, kissing your neck as you shudder at his affection.

It feels nice to be held in his arms once in a while, making you to take your mind off with your worries about your family in the ocean. You feel warm.

But this is bad, mermaid goes in heat every after three months and you’ve been craving—desperately wanting to breed, that is the reason why you have your own room and lock yourself in there until it calms down, or you calm yourself down.

You hear him groan with content, your back pressing against him real close. His hand travels down to your tail and feel every each of your pretty gradient scale, “so pretty for me.” You hear him mumble and bury himself to the crook of your neck, heat rising from your cheeks and ears—squirming to his touches.

“You know, I read something interesting…” he mumbles, kissing your skin and resting his chin on to your shoulder. Shifting his position, he got to his knee and push your body to the edge—bending you over, your fin tap his leg lightly as your body grew excited.

“I read that mermaid goes into heat after every three months.”

His statement made you embarrassed, you look away to avoid his gaze—he chuckle as he trail down to your hip and your tail, finding if there was an entrance to pry open. “Is that true, princess?” he asked, his fingers massaging where your rear is. Leon felt something off and move the scales aside that’s been covering something.

You felt his fingers enter you, gasping and tensing up at the stretch.

Leon chuckled and leaned back to look, “found it, I assume.” He pulls and plunge in slowly, making you mewl as your face was planted onto the floorboards and your lower body still in water. He could feel your gummy walls pulse around him, “you're so wet.” He coos and speed the pace of his fingers, you gasp—desperate for air as you whine at the stretch.

“You’re too tight for me, let me help you hm?” Leon coos, while he busy his fingers stretching and curling inside of you—he’s also taking some of your scales that’s been falling and tossing it to the side.

He found your sweet spot.

“oh my—!” you screamed, eyes widen as tears drops, feeling your orgasm when he pressed hard on to your sweet spot. “Can’t have you too loud, you’re gonna distract the guys.” You nodded at his words, twitching as he pulled out—belt buckling and zippers unzip, he positioned himself and slammed himself at ease with one thrust.

You screamed, your gummy walls clenching around him as he groans at the tightness, “fuck, that’s some mermaid pussy.” He hisses, pulling and plunging in—building his pace as he ravages you. Your moans loud and tears couldn’t stop from falling.

“please, I—” you cried, you sing so beautifully as the pirate fucks you to oblivion, “damn, you sing so fucking pretty for me.” His thrust becoming harsh and hard, the familiar warm sensation approaching. Eyes rolling back, Leon grip on to your hips, his fingers digging to your flesh as he chases his high.

Not long until he finally painted your insides white, “fuck!” he curses under his breath, fucking his orgasm inside and being sure to not spill a drop. He pulled out and see the masterpiece he created, your hole twitches as his seeds ooze out from you.

To his surprise, your scales move to finally cover up your used pussy. He laughs at the knowledge he just gained and help himself up, don’t worry—he didn’t forget you and your marvelous singing ability, your ocean friends and family probably heard you.

He stayed inside the tub with you, you snuggling close to him—clinging as if your life depends on it—he drew circles around your abdomen and pepper kisses to your temple.

“I wonder if it’s possible to have a mermaid pregnant with my child.”

“If it is, I want to carry yours and have a family together.”

He smiled and finally lets your rest.

Both of you slept on the tub, being in each others warm and embrace.

How lovely.

◇ asks are open for request!

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uzumaki-rebellion · 21 days ago

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A Daughter's Plan

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): Pure Fluff. Single Dad. Girl Dad energy. Terry's POV. Low angst.

Summary: Terry Richmond is a lonely single dad caring for his ten-year-old daughter, Pilar. When Pilar's mother re-marries and moves overseas to start a new job and family, the pre-teen thinks her dad needs to find someone for himself, too. Unbeknownst to Terry, his clever daughter has her sights set on the new neighbor, Allegra, who might be the perfect match.

Word count: 7,481

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"Isn't she pretty

Truly the angel's best

Boy, I'm so happy

We have been heaven blessed"

Stevie Wonder—"Isn't She Lovely?"

Terry Richmond heard the familiar rolling sound of his ten-year-old daughter's skateboard crossing over into the cul-de-sac of their gated townhome neighborhood. He could always pick out the unique sound of her board's ka-kump, ka-kump, ka-kump rhythm compared to her school buddies as they raced each other home.

Pilar always did a few kick flip tricks by Mr. Rhea's property before she jumped the curb and circled past a speed bump near Mrs. Purdue's home. While hand sanding a rocking chair, that he made for his pregnant sister, Terry paused.

He didn't hear Pilar's skateboard anymore.

Her crew of three friends whizzed past his open garage door toward their homes, but Terry didn't see his only child roll up to greet him with her angelic smile and chaotic energy. He lifted his protective goggles and wiped his hands on his work apron. Still no sign of her.

He strode out of the garage to take a peek and he noticed her lingering by their mailbox, still wearing her protective helmet and staring across the wide street. A furniture van blocked the driveway of the townhome facing across their property. A Black woman in her late twenties or early thirties directed two burly movers to carry a brand new sofa covered in plastic through her front door. The cute bob and conservative pastel colors of her sweater and pencil skirt had him guessing she was a teacher, or worked in corporate.

He glanced at Pilar who kept her dark brown eyes laser-focused on the recent addition to their quiet corner of the world. She chewed on her lip and rolled her board back and forth with her left foot. The new neighbor bought the house of Pilar's best friend since kindergarten. Little Leslie Gardner left Ville Broussard, Louisiana a year ago, and her old house stood empty for nine months until the For Sale sign finally came down three months ago. Terry knew that Mr. Gardner put a pretty penny into renovating the place before putting it on the market, and the expense of the renovation drove the price up.

The woman across the street probably spent over two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the two-bedroom property. Pilar pretended to dig in the mailbox, knowing he had already gotten the mail, and stared at the woman. From that distance, he couldn't tell if Pilar was still upset about Leslie moving or if she was upset that a stranger was moving into her bestie's old home.

"Pilar," he called out.

His daughter looked his way, and so did the woman across the street.

Whoa.

Terry never got a full view of the neighbor before. He always caught sideways glances or the back of her head. But the full frontal turned out to be something else. She looked like a gorgeous Black Barbie doll. He peeped her figure a few days ago when she first showed up in form-fitting pale green sweatpants and a matching hoodie. The fall weather brought out the layers, but she must've ignored the forecast because she walked around double-cheeked up in sportswear not designed for cooler temperatures.

Miss Neighbor turned her attention back to the interior of her home and Pilar ambled over, carrying her skateboard. She pulled off her skateboard helmet.

"Hey munchkin," he said, ruffling her thick two-toned curls pulled back with a light blue scrunchie. From the roots to just above the tips, Pilar's hair was dark brown. The ends had turned their annual summer-in-the-sun reddish brown that matched her skin tone. She looked exactly like his oldest sister Brianna and had her spirited personality, too.

Pilar's down-turned lips reflected a little 'tude.

"I don't see any kids," Pilar said.

She sounded bummed.

"Checking out the neighbor, huh?"

"She's pretty. Do you think she's pretty, Dad?"

"She is very attractive."

"Very?" Pilar said with a smug grin.

"Don't read anything into that."

"We should go say hi."

"She's busy with furniture. Let her get settled in."

He guided Pilar into their home through the garage, and she dumped her board and helmet by the dinette table. She washed her hands in the kitchen sink and he pulled a PB&J sandwich on a plate and a Capri Sun from the fridge, placing them on the table for her after-school snack.

The landline rang, and he answered it.

"Hi Terry, is Pilar in yet?"

His ex wife's voice sounded perky and happy.

"Yeah, hold on.'"

He carried the cordless from the living room into the kitchen and handed it to Pilar.

"It's your mom."

Pilar's face brightened, and she chatted away on the overseas call. Terry returned to the garage and began sanding the armrest of the rocking chair. He swept sawdust on the ground and closed the garage door after he finished.

Back in the kitchen, he rinsed his hands. An uneaten sandwich remained on the kitchen table without Pilar in sight. He looked in their living room and didn't find her there.

"Pilar?"

Terry climbed the stairs to the second floor and found his daughter weeping on her bed, her face buried in a yellow Big Bird pillow.

"What's wrong?"

He sat his big body on her twin bed, and she shook her head on the pillow. He laid a hand on her back.

"Babygirl, what is it?"

"Mom isn't coming back for Christmas. She eloped with that man in Italy and they plan on flying me out there for a boat cruise instead of coming to the lake like she promised. They'll have a big party in place of a wedding in Rome next July."

Pilar never addressed her new step-father by his name, Bryson. It was always "that man" despite her mother dating him for two years. Bryson was east coast respectability. A Black Archon Boulé with a prestigious prep school background and long family money. The complete opposite of Terry's country boy/military roots. He drove a 2015 F-250 truck and drank beer. Bryson drove a 2025 Jaguar and sipped Chardonnay.

Yolanda leveled up to the Black bougie life she always wanted. Terry knew in his heart that Yolanda would never be happy building a life with him. They were both twenty and naïve, getting married the moment they found out Pilar was conceived. He quit college and joined the marines to support them. Yolanda worked as a flight attendant after their daughter was born, so Terry stayed the primary caretaker, training other marines and not deploying out of the country.

Yolanda wanted more out of life than he could provide financially and asked for a divorce when Pilar turned six. Both their families had been shocked when she granted Terry primary custody of their only child. Yolanda wanted to travel the world and her career let her do that. She eventually settled in Atlanta, working for Delta. Pilar adjusted to being shuttled back and forth for holidays and summers.

Then Bryson popped up, freeing Yolanda from the working class. He was older, established, and child-free. Also very generous with his money.

Terry had made arrangements to send Pilar abroad for a lavish wedding the following summer as her mother's flower girl. She and Bryson had planned to spend the Christmas holiday with the entire Richmond family so that they could all meet the new man who would be connected to them through Pilar. Christmas was going to be the rare treat of being with both her parents for a holiday. The Richmond clan had reserved fancy cabins by a lake for a week and planned on turning it into a family reunion of sorts. Yolanda offered to arrange her Christmas plans for the reunion so Pilar wouldn't miss out on seeing all of her cousins from all over the states. Now she eloped and switched up on their child three months in advance.

Terry kept his anger in check in front of Pilar. He'd call Yolanda when his daughter was back in school and give her a smooth cuss out. He offered to switch Thanksgiving for Christmas because it was important for Pilar to experience a big reunion for the first time on his side of the family.

Pilar turned her head from the pillow. Big, wet eyes stared at him. Her bottom lip trembled and his heart squeezed in his chest. His daughter was the light of his life. Watching her expectations crumble hurt his soul. Pilar came first before anything, and that was the difference between him and Yolanda. Their daughter became a secondary consideration with her. His ex wasn't a terrible person. He loved her once a long time ago. She was ambitious, energetic, pretty, and gave him a perfect child. Yolanda just wasn't cut out to be a mother saddled with the responsibility of putting her daughter's emotional needs first. To Yolanda, whisking Pilar off to Rome probably sounded like giving her child the best in life. Bryson was an American Express Exec for their Italian branch and lived in a lavish home with staff and chauffeurs. Yolanda shopped, dined, and played tennis every day in luxury. She wanted Pilar to experience that lifestyle. In his own way, Terry wanted their daughter to have that chance, too. But without pulling the rug from under Pilar. She set her heart on having them all together for once since their divorce.

"Tell you what��I'll talk to her and try to convince them to come for Christmas."

"She said the cruise is their early honeymoon and they want me to go so we can bond as a new family. I already have a family!"

Pilar buried her face in his chest, and he stroked her hair.

"How about we go to Cholly's Burgers for dinner and you can mope over a double cheeseburger and a big chocolate malt?"

Pilar sniffled and wiped her nose.

"Okay, I'll go…but I can't guarantee that I'll feel better."

"Deal," he said.

He left her alone in her room and went down to the kitchen and put her sandwich and juice away. Checking emails on his smartphone, he spent the next couple of hours watching TV and then ironed Pilar's clothes for school. He showered and called his daughter down for their dinner trip. Outside, their new neighbor carried some things from her cream-colored Mercedes S-Class in the driveway.

"Excuse me," the woman called as Pilar jumped into his truck's passenger side.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Hi, I'm Allegra…new neighbor…um, can you tell me what day the trash and recycling go out?"

"Thursdays!" Pilar called out.

His daughter had her head stuck out of the window with a big grin on her face.

"Yeah, Thursdays. They normally roll through around eleven a.m.," he said.

"Great, thanks."

"I'm Terry, and this is my daughter, Pilar—"

"Are you married? Have kids?" Pilar asked.

Allegra smiled politely, holding a small box. Her eyes bounced from Pilar's to his, then back to Pilar.

"I'm not married. No kids."

Pilar whipped her head around to look at Terry. He ignored her.

"Have a good evening," he said.

He climbed into his truck and started it up.

"You're really not good at finding a date, Dad."

"What are you talking about, little girl?"

He backed out of their driveway and headed toward the main road that led to the highway.

"A single, beautiful woman with a fancy car asked you about trash day. She could've called her realtor or looked it up online."

"We were right there in front of her. It's quicker to ask a neighbor. That woman is not looking to date people she lives around. Besides, she saw me with you, so she'll think I'm married with a family already."

"She'll know pretty soon that it's just you and me."

"I don't think most upwardly mobile Black women are interested in men that already have children nowadays."

It took them twenty minutes to arrive at the burger joint, and Pilar's mood lifted considerably. They talked about her upcoming soccer game and she slurped down her chocolate malt content with life once again.

Back home, he washed and braided her hair in two cornrows, tying it down with a black satin hair scarf so he wouldn't have to do her hair in the morning. Their evening bedtime routine went off without a hitch and he allowed her to watch a cartoon before she went to sleep in her room.

The next couple of weeks were normal in the Richmond household. He'd ride his bike in the morning to take Pilar to school, following behind her as she skateboarded ahead of him with her classmates. Later, he'd ride his bike over to check on the restaurant he invested in. He spent a few days with his financial advisor and moved some money around that he received from a police settlement. His current financial status allowed him to enjoy not having the worries of steady employment until he found something he wanted to do. He put funds in stocks that did well, paid off the townhouse, and Yolanda's monthly child support covered the rest for Pilar. His woodworking kept him busy during the afternoon while Pilar was in school. But once she was home, he went straight into daddy mode. Soccer Dad duty, carpooling to games, checking homework, cooking and cleaning, fixing things at his parent's house and running their errands…they all filled his time.

Once a week he went bowling with friends and drank at bars, chasing a little tail, but not really trying to catch much. His three older sisters rotated keeping Pilar with their kids so he could have some adult time. The last few "dates" he had were with single moms who complained about their ex-husbands or ex boyfriends. He thought one woman named Michaela would be a long-term situation, but she reconciled with her boyfriend and moved to Dallas.

After a Saturday soccer practice, Pilar came to him and asked if she could bake some cookies for a school party. It was nearing Halloween. He pulled out some easy to bake pre-made Tollhouse cookie dough from the freezer. All Pilar had to do was place the small chocolate chip cookie dough squares onto a baking sheet and use the stove timer to keep them from burning.

He kicked up his feet to watch the news and when the stove buzzer went off, he trotted into the kitchen to make sure Pilar didn't burn herself by taking them out of the oven with the oven mits. She only baked a dozen.

"Shouldn't you bake more for your class?" he asked.

"It's a potluck, so people are just bringing whatever to share."

After they cooled, she used a spatula to scoop them onto a decorative plate of pumpkins and fall leaves. He covered them with plastic wrap.

"Maybe you should put them in some Tupperware," he suggested.

"No, this is good."

He left her to handle her party business.

Terry didn't think anything about the cookies until three days later when Allegra showed up at his open garage door. His electric sander and earplugs prevented him from hearing her approach. He turned toward the street and almost jumped, not expecting someone to be standing near his truck watching him. Shutting off the sander, he pulled out the earplugs and stared at her with his goggles on.

"Sorry to startle you…Terry…right?"

He nodded.

"I came over to bring you back your cookie plate. That was such a thoughtful housewarming gift. I ate every single chocolate chip cookie. Perfectly gooey in the center the way I like! The note you wrote was really sweet, too. Thank you so much."

"I'm sorry?" he said in confusion.

Terry pushed up his goggles. Allegra handed him the plate that wasn't empty. On it were slices of banana bread. He looked at the baked goods, then back at her.

"To show my appreciation for the cookies…I just made it last night. I didn't put nuts in it because I don't know if anyone in your family is allergic to nuts."

"No, we aren't."

"I'll remember that."

Allegra's pretty eyelashes curled over naturally, and her lips had just enough red lipstick to give her plump lips a rosy tint. She was dream girl material, and the cut and style of her bob reminded him of something the old Black starlets wore in the sixties, but it looked contemporary too with a soft flip on the ends. Terry became lost in her face and she seemed equally lost in his, her gaze never leaving his eyes. That was one of the physical traits that women always said they loved about him. The green, lion-like eyes. She looked up at him and their size difference was quite obvious. She was petite-chic, the cut and color of her clothes making her seem taller far away. Allegra was shorter than his ex wife. He felt like a big giant standing next to her. She smelled so good. Her perfume hinted at jasmine in the summer.

"My daughter and I will enjoy this. Thanks for bringing it over with the plate," he said.

Allegra smiled and his chest caved in. Was it possible for her to be even more attractive with a smile on her face?

She glanced around his makeshift workshop.

"Woodworking? You do this for a living?" she asked.

He stepped aside to let her see the dining cabinet he built for another neighbor.

"Actually, it's a hobby of mine."

"Hobby? This is true craftsmanship."

He touched the side of the cabinet.

"I learned it from my dad and kept at it in highschool."

"If I paid you, could you make me a couple of custom bookshelves?"

"What type of wood?"

"Not too expensive."

"I can make some maple wood shelves and stain them to look expensive.'

"I like your way of thinking. When I get the time, I'll measure my walls and let you know what I need."

"Still settling in?"

"My god, I haven't unpacked all of my boxes. I'm still eating takeout because I dread unpacking everything in my kitchen. My new job keeps me busy and I'm usually too tired by the end of the day. I should be unpacking right now, but I have to leave for an event soon."

She sighed and pushed back a flipped curl on her forehead.

"I better let you get back to work. Again…thank you for the sweet welcoming gesture."

Allegra left him alone in the garage and he watched her walk back across the street to her place. She had a little sway in her hips as she walked in her well-fitted navy blue dress pants and structured white button-down shirt. The light pink cardigan sweater tied around her shoulders was such a classy touch, along with her chunky blocked-heeled pumps.

He looked down at his dust-laden ripped jeans and brown work apron. Not too shabby, but he almost wanted to spruce up. He took the plate into the kitchen and checked the time. Pilar would be there in half an hour. He wanted to know what she wrote in that note to Allegra.

Running a hot shower, he cleaned his body and stared at his reflection in the mirror afterward. Time for a fresh line-up. His facial hair looked a little ungroomed. He took time to shave and then changed into better jeans and a fitted long sleeve shirt. He waited at the front door, peeking out of the screen.

Allegra stepped into her Mercedes wearing a pastel coral cocktail dress with an upswept hairdo, looking like Diahann Carroll with a smidgen of Grace Kelly. She drove off to wherever she needed to go and he imagined how breathtaking she'd look, stepping into a crowded room with all eyes on her beauty.

Ka-kump. Ka-kump. Ka-kump.

Pilar glided onto the sidewalk near their house and headed for the garage.

"I'm right here," he said.

She looked at him through the screen. He opened it and stepped outside. Folding his arms over his wide chest, he gave his daughter a questioning look.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked.

Her friends Caleb, Trudy, and Aisha waved at her and kick-pushed their skateboards toward their houses while yelling hello to him.

"You baked those cookies for Miss Allegra. Not a school party."

Pilar gave him a sheepish grin.

"What did you write in the note?"

"I just said something like…welcome to the neighborhood. Enjoy these homemade cookies. Then I put your name on it."

"Just my name?"

"Yes."

"She brought the plate back and made us some banana bread."

"Ooh!" Pilar said, rubbing her hands together. "My plan is set in motion."

"What plan?"

"Dad…c'mon. Miss Allegra is the best-looking woman around here. I think you should ask her out on a date."

"I don't need my ten-year-old setting us up."

Pilar put a hand on her hip.

"Well, Auntie Brianna and Auntie Sloane said she's gorgeous and they think you should get to know her. She might be your perfect fit."

"How would they know? They've never seen her."

"I snuck a picture of her on my phone and sent it to them."

"Why the sudden interest in getting me to date?"

Pilar's gaze dropped to the ground.

"No reason. She's new and you don't go out as much anymore."

"That's because I have to take care of you. You're my priority. Dating can always come later."

He stepped aside and let her come in with her skateboard.

"It was a nice thing you did…giving her the cookies," he said.

Pilar grinned.

Terry was an adept father and took pride in keeping a meticulous home, and his child put together well when she exited the front door. Two weeks before Thanksgiving, Pilar started coming home from school with wildly disheveled hair. Even if he put protective styles in with twists or high buns with little curls framing her face with cute tendrils, his daughter returned looking like her head went through a blender.

She'd claim it was the weather. Bad rainfall, or the wind messing it up, but for ten school days, she rolled back home with her hair every which-way, rubber bands busted, barrettes missing, and knocker ball hair bobbles vanished into thin air. She'd roll through, and each time, their neighbor Allegra would be outside collecting her mail. Pilar would wave and say "Hi!" really loud and Allegra responded in kind before stepping back into her house.

He assumed she wanted her hair out, craving to wear hairstyles like her older girl cousins. Rather than make a big deal about it, he started putting a headband on her.

One Saturday afternoon, Pilar played outside on the curved part of the cul-de-sac with her friends, kicking a soccer ball into Caleb's two netted goal posts. A typical loud day of children freely running around screaming and playing in the street. Pilar rocked a bushy 'fro and had the loudest voice out of the bunch.

He kept an eye out for them while watching a football game by leaving his livingroom shades open. Snacking on some chips, he turned his head to check on the action outside.

He quickly ducked his head down low.

Allegra played outside with the children.

Terry hid behind the couch and secretly watched Allegra interact with the neighborhood kids doing soccer ball tricks with her knees and sneaker'd feet. She kicked the ball to Pilar and his daughter charged her, heading for a goal post. Allegra wasn't shy about her defensive moves and easily swiped the ball away from his daughter, kicking it with a curved arc into the opposite goal post. All the children squealed in delight and high-fived her. She stepped aside to let the children continue their boisterous match up.

Terry's back ached from being hunched over spying. Pilar spoke to Allegra for a long time, ignoring her friends, and her bouncy energy kept a smile on the woman's face. Allegra glanced toward his open window and Terry dropped to the floor, hiding his body.

He waited five minutes.

"Why are you on the floor, Daddy?"

Pilar stood above him with a quizzical expression. She'd come in the house through the garage door.

"Stretching my back out," he said.

"But you're on your stomach."

"Can I help you with something?" he said, standing up.

Outside, Allegra stood watching him through the window.

"I asked Miss Allegra how she kept her hair so pretty and she told me her hair care routine. I'm coming to get a pen and paper for her to write it down so you can take care of my hair."

"What? I know how to take care of your hair! I've been doing it since you were born."

Pilar grabbed a Bic pen and tore a piece off some junk mail envelope sitting on the coffee table.

"Daddy, please. Work with me here. I've been looking raggedy for two weeks to get her attention. She finally asked about my curls and I asked about her hair."

Pilar dashed out the front door before he could stop her. She handed Allegra the pen and paper. Terry became flustered. His daughter pretended to be unkempt to fool a grown woman into having sympathy for him.

Allegra scribbled on the paper outside and he felt exposed for something that wasn't true. Pilar ran back into the house through the front door and handed him the half envelope. Most of what Allegra listed, Terry already had in his bathroom for his daughter.

However…she wrote her phone number down, too.

"Boo-ya!" Pilar said, flinging her fingers open like an explosion going off.

"Come into the kitchen with me," he said.

Pilar followed him.

"Sit," he commanded.

He stuffed the half envelope in his back pocket.

"Pilar…babygirl…I know you mean well, but please…stop the antics."

"But Daddy—"

"I mean it."

His voice went down an octave, his baritone sounding harsh. Pilar ran from the kitchen table and stomped loudly up the stairs. He closed his eyes in frustration and waited fifteen minutes before going upstairs.

Pilar cried on her bed. Her loud bawling startled him.

"Munchkin…I'm not mad…I just…you don't have to do this."

"I do!" she wailed.

He sat in his usual spot and let her get her emotions out. She eventually calmed down to gaspy shudders and sad moans of pain. He brushed her hair back, and she threw her arms around his neck.

"I don't want you being alone. Mom married somebody and now she gets to be happy. I want you to be happy, too, Daddy."

"Munchkin, I am happy. I have you…grampy and grandma, your aunts, my friends—"

She shook her head against his neck.

"It's not the same as having someone for yourself. I'll grow up and go to college and you'll be here by yourself. Everyone in our family has someone. Grampy has Grandma, Auntie Brianna has Uncle Mitch…Auntie Sloane has Uncle Kenny. Even Auntie Monique has her boyfriend Gordon. I'm scared for you, Daddy. You're such a good, kind person and you deserve what Mommy has."

Pilar burst into more tears and his eyes grew blurry. He wiped them and pulled back from his daughter.

"It's not your responsibility to worry about me. My job is to worry about you, hear me?"

Pilar kept crying. Her nose ran, but she nodded at his words.

"When the time comes for me to find my special someone…it'll happen. Naturally. Understand?"

"Y-Y-Yessss," she blubbered.

He kissed her forehead and used his thumbs to wipe away warm tears.

"Can I tell you something that will make you happy?"

"O-O-Okayyyy," she choked out.

"Your Mom and 'that man' agreed to change their plans back to coming out for Christmas. And, I don't have to trade Thanksgiving."

"For real?"

"For real. In fact, Bryson urged your mother to reconsider, and he rescheduled the cruise for next year. He's not so bad, huh?"

Pilar sniffled, and her swollen red eyes pained him.

"I guess not."

"Let's make a deal, okay? You don't worry about hooking me up and just enjoy being a little girl with a happy father."

"Are you happy?"

"I am. I have you and a very full life. Promise. Go wash your face and get back outside with your friends."

"Okay, Daddy."

She jumped off the bed and ran to the hall bathroom. He went to her bedroom window and peeked out from the blinds. Allegra went back into her home. He pulled the scrap of envelope from his back pocket and stared at her phone number.

Saturday afternoons were usually Terry and Pilar's time to decompress and watch movies together. Sometimes there was a slumber party with her cousins at their house or one of his sister's. But on this particular Saturday, it was football fever on the flatscreen TV with his buddies while Pilar was at her grandparents' house.

Terry had plenty of pizzas and beer, and his sound system blasted the play-by-play of the game. He enjoyed the company of his buddies, all Black men with families, and very little free time except for the small moments of respite at Terry's place. The Steelers beat the Commanders and the guys talked shit, then they played his AuxGod Hip Hop Edition game. He rapped his ass off while playing Nas's "One Mic" on his smartphone and got his friends hyped to share R&B music. They all howled when someone messed up playing the wrong songs based on cards they pulled, thinking they had the perfect jam. Good clean fun.

The afternoon wound down into late evening and he cleaned up pizza boxes and empty beer cans. His friends bumped fists and gave each other dap as they left out the front door. Rain started falling, and he noticed Allegra pulling into her driveway. The late hour had him guessing she had a night out again. Her job didn't keep her from a busy social life. He often caught sight of her coming and going on the weekends. One time, another car brought her home and stayed overnight in her driveway.

He waved his friends away and pulled out his cell to call his father.

"Hey Junior," his father said.

"Hey, Pops. How's it going over there?"

"Good. The girls are playing and your mama is letting them stay up late to watch some Godzilla movie on Amazon Prime."

"I wanted to say goodnight to Pilar."

"No problem, hold on…Pilar! Your Dad is on the phone!"

Terry waited for his daughter, and soon enough, her voice rang in his ear.

"Hey, Dad."

"Being good?"

"Of course. What time are you picking me up tomorrow?"

"After you get back from church."

"Aw man. You can't get me early, so I don't have to go?"

"I had to suffer through it. It's your turn now."

"But they take forever. Even God goes to sleep by the time that preacher gets done."

"Hey, don't blaspheme, and don't you two keep Grampy and Grandma up too late, okay?"

"We won't. Night, Dad!"

Terry swiped his smartphone and noticed Allegra's car lights were still on. She hadn't left her driveway. He guessed she was talking on her cell phone.

His house smelled of cigars, pepperoni, and Budweiser. He finished cleaning up and sprayed the dining room with air freshener. Rolling his neck muscles, he climbed up to his bedroom. His blinds were open, and he checked the street again.

Allegra stood near her car in the rain looking up at the sky. She stuck her tongue out, tasting the droplets, and spun around in a circle with her arms outstretched. He smiled. She looked like a big kid having fun.

The rain drenched her hair, and she swiped it back, her tresses turning into slick ringlets. The playfulness she exuded cracked something open inside of him. Maybe Pilar was right. Maybe he did want someone to share his life with. He and Allegra barely exchanged enough words in passing for him to sense that she would be open to going out for a coffee or dinner. She never got back to him about the bookshelves, and he never called her phone number to ask about the hair care products she suggested for Pilar.

His confidence in asking women out had waned that year. Each time he thought he might want to spend time with a woman, schedules didn't match up, or he didn't feel that pull to pursue a relationship. The spark wasn't there. Part of him was afraid to put his heart back out there. His ex, Yolanda, had been a heartbreak he finally let go of two years ago. It frightened him into not wanting to be vulnerable with another woman again. Romantic love was for the brave, and Terry was not feeling brave anymore.

But Allegra?

After shaking her arms, she finally went inside her house, not caring that her snazzy outfit was soaked clear through to her skin. He looked at his dresser. The envelope with her number sat next to his hairbrush.

He texted her number.

Hi, Allegra. This is your neighbor, Terry. I was going to pick up some lumber at Home Depot tomorrow and wanted to know if you were still interested in getting bookshelves made? No rush to answer. I'm always going there every other week. If you changed your mind, that's cool, too.

He sent it off, and seconds later, she rang him up.

"Hello?"

He sounded breathless.

"Hi…Terry? It's Allegra…from across the street. Got your message."

"Oh, great. Sorry for texting so late. I was about to turn in and wanted to ask you before I forgot and left tomorrow."

He winced. His words came out in a rush of nervous energy.

"I do want the bookshelves made. I've been so busy I just never got around to measuring anything. Could you come by tomorrow before you leave and take a look at my floor space? You'd have a better idea of measurements than I would."

Terry stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes turned into saucers.

"I can do that. I've got to pick up my daughter from church tomorrow at one. I can drop by with my digital tape measure before then and then go to Home Depot."

"Can I go with you? I'd like to see the wood you're considering besides the maple you told me about."

"Uh…sure."

"What time should I expect you over here?"

"Let's say ten?"

"Great, see ya then."

"Goodnight."

He hung up, stunned.

She wanted to go with him to the Depot?

"So, what do you think? Two shelves here and then two more in my office room?"

Allegra watched him make final calculations on his phone. He surveyed her living room set-up one more time to ensure efficient use of her space. They'd spent a good twenty minutes upstairs in her stylish office and he made a quick sketch on his notepad of the shelving unit he could make for her in there. She would pay for the wood and any extra supplies he needed, and he insisted on doing the work for free.

The layout in her house was roomy and leaned toward a mid-century modern styled interior. She liked rich and luxurious wood furniture with mustard yellow and avocado-colored accents. Her home fit her personal style the way he imagined it would. It had a timeless quality. He told her a little about the family that lived there before she bought the place, and the conversation meandered into her own hobbies of painting and gardening. She showed him her patio space in the back and he offered to build her plant containers to grow her favorite flowers. Those were easy to put together and would be cheaper than her buying them pre-made online.

He learned that she had been a highschool soccer star, and that talent landed her a full-ride scholarship to Brown University where she almost landed a spot on the Olympic team. But a skiing accident ruined her shot. She still liked to watch the game and play occasionally.

Allegra worked from home mostly as an In-House attorney for a legal firm with document heavy cases, thus the need for bookshelves to hold all her law books. She did contract reviews, legal research, and dealt with a lot of intellectual property research for her clients.

Terry listened to her talk about herself, and her warm personality gave him the courage to open up about himself. Of course, he bragged about Pilar, and on their way to Home Depot, he pointed out places of interest to her.

"I always wanted to live in a small town," she said. "I grew up in New England, but my grandparents were from here, so I had annual trips for holidays and always liked it. Now that I can work remotely from home, I put stakes in the ground and live here full time. Getting away from the east coast has been a relief. This place makes me happy."

"We love it here. Excellent schools, nice people who look out for each other."

"It's just you and Pilar?"

"Yep. My ex remarried and moved to Europe."

"Co-parenting overseas must be rough."

"Yolanda…my ex…she recently moved there. It's going to be a change for sure. I'm used to Pilar flying a quick hop to Atlanta. Now, she'll have partial summers there and I don't know if I can handle her flying so far away where I can't get to her fast, y'know?"

"I had to do it when I was young. My parents divorced when I was twelve. I hopped from Boston to England to stay with my dad and his new wife on my school breaks. My mother was a nervous wreck at first, but you adjust."

"I hope so. I try to be stoic for Pilar, but I know I'll be in shambles when she flies out there next year."

Allegra laughed and the sound of her voice so close comforted him.

"I'll help talk you down when those nerves kick up," she said.

They walked up and down aisles at the Home Depot, and since he was a regular, the workers there were quick to help him because he didn't waste time. Terry explained the different type of wood options and they compared prices. He did his best to keep costs down for her, and she went along with whatever he thought was best. She'd seen his work output and trusted his skills.

He loaded up the truck bed, and they swooped over to his grandparents' church to pick up Pilar. His daughter's eyes widened when she noticed Allegra sitting in the truck. She ran past Terry and chatted with Allegra. He soon introduced his parents to her, and they invited her to attend a church service in the future.

Pilar hopped in the seat behind Allegra, and he drove them back to their home.

"I'll unload this and start working on your shelving units tomorrow," he said.

"Great."

Pilar watched them interact. She wore the goofiest grin on her face.

Allegra took off across the street and he watched her leave along with Pilar. When she was outside of earshot, Pilar grabbed his arm.

"You hung out with her?" she enthused.

"We talked about her bookshelves."

"So you went inside her house and spent time with her, right?"

"I did."

"Isn't she cool? She plays soccer, and she likes monster movies…"

Pilar stopped gushing about Allegra.

"I forgot. You told me not to interfere."

"I might've been wrong about that," he said.

Pilar's face lit up.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I like her. She's really nice and smart."

"My work here is done," Pilar said.

She skipped into the house, and he unloaded the truck.

Making bookshelves and planter boxes was the beginning.

Next came inviting Allegra over for football game gatherings with his family.

He introduced her to his oldest sister who gave birth to a baby boy, her first, and he watched Allegra nervously hold the newborn with trepidation in her eyes.

"You got it…just hold his head like this and keep him close to you…yeah, see, you got it," he said.

Terry's new nephew was a little chocolate drop.

"He's so tiny and adorable," Allegra said.

All of his sisters liked her, and his mother took the grand gesture of inviting her to join them on their family Christmas trip. Allegra looked genuinely receptive to the idea, but she already had plans to fly out to Boston to spend the winter holiday with her family. Terry felt bummed about it and realized that he was catching feelings for her.

He kept their budding friendship platonic, but by the following spring, it was clear to everyone around them that something was blooming past friendship. They hadn't been physical with each other yet, not even kissing. He liked the slow, easy pace. It gave him time to know her before jumping into anything serious, especially since he had Pilar to think of.

His daughter was crazy about Allegra.

He was too.

As time ticked on and it grew closer to the time that Pilar would have to fly overseas, his anxiety spiked. He was not planning on attending the celebration. His former sister-in-law, Zarah, was going to fly the long distance with Pilar to Rome.

The day his daughter was to leave, he paced in his living room, going over Pilar's packing list several times. Allegra hung out with him, reassuring him that all would be well. Zarah was on her way in a Lyft to pick up Pilar. They all thought it best that he say his goodbyes from home and not go to the airport.

"Go to the restroom one more time before you leave," he told his daughter.

Pilar ran upstairs to her bathroom.

"I'm going to put the roast in the oven for our dinner tonight," Allegra said. "Be right back."

He walked her outside of his home. When Allegra reached the sidewalk, she turned around to face him. For the first time, she slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him.

"You're a great Dad, Terry. Pilar is so lucky to have you…and so am I."

Terry locked eyes with her, and any fears he had about taking a chance on finding love melted away.

"May I kiss you?" he asked.

Her eyes twinkled like she'd been waiting her whole life to hear him say those four words.

"Yes, you may, Mr. Richmond."

He placed his forehead against hers first and savored the moment before the moment. Yes, he deserved someone for himself. His wily daughter had been so correct in her assessment of him. Forever grateful for Pilar's push to get him out into the world with the special woman in his arms, Terry lowered his head and kissed Allegra.

His full, lush lips were nothing compared to the soft place of comfort he found pressed against her mouth. Her lips coaxed a passion out of him he hadn't felt in years. He kept the kiss a little below chaste…she gave him a little teasing of her tongue to entice him for more later, when they would be alone. His grin broke their physical contact and the butterflies in his stomach told him she was the one to take a chance with.

He pushed a fluffy bang away from her left eye and Allegra glanced up toward his second floor. Terry followed her gaze, and they both glimpsed Pilar looking down at them from her bedroom window. She fist-pumped her right hand, and the expression she gave them was pure joy.

Her little plan worked.

Author's Note:

I wanted to write something fast and fluffy to put out the day after the horror of that anti-Black orange menace being put back in office by racist white people and their non-Black PoC racist minions. Black women need soft, joyful things to get us through. We all we got. Remember that.

#Terry Richmond #Rebel Ridge #Aaron Pierre #terry richmond fanfiction #rebel ridge fanfiction #terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond x oc #terry richmond fluff #Uzumaki Rebellion #Girl Dad Terry Richmond

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darknight3904 · 8 months ago

Text

so american

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴠᴀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴍᴀʟᴀʏꜱɪᴀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴀʀʀʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ. ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ɪꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇx ɢᴇɢᴇ ᴡʜʏ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴛ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴀʟᴀʏꜱɪᴀ??

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ꜱᴏ ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ʙʏ ᴏʟɪᴠɪᴀ ʀᴏᴅʀɪɢᴏ.

ꜱᴏʀʀʏ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ….

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2ᴋ

ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Kuantan, Malaysia

Vacation Day 5:

"Your English is really great." You compliment

"Thank you, I spent a lot of time in my early twenties practicing." The man next to you says

The hot sun that dances above is blocked by a pretty blue umbrella that your new companion got to stand up correctly. A half-melted drink rests in the sand next to your bag.

You met Nanami on the first day of your vacation while you were struggling to communicate with the woman who was working at the front desk of your hotel. He had smoothly cut in and easily translated your choppy Malay to something more fluent and even got you a room upgrade in the process. Originally, you had just planned to buy him dinner as a thank you but here you were, day five of vacation and you were still hanging out with him.

"You look good like that." He compliments

"Like what?" You laugh thinking of how sunburned you were

"With my shirt on." He explains, reaching out to tug gently at the sleeve of his soft linen beach shirt. He had let you borrow it after seeing how red your shoulders had become.

"Oh, right, duh." You smile, avoiding his gaze.

Was he even aware of how flirtatious he had been the past few days? You swore his pretty face and warm compliments would turn you into a puddle of love-sick embarrassment before you left this country. He reminded you of one of those men you only hear about in books or in cheesy one lined poems about love.

"It's getting late. Would you like to go to get dinner? I know a great market nearby, it has delicious street vendors." He asks

"Sure!" You smile jumping up off your towel to pack up your things while Nanami pulls the umbrella out of the sand.

You struggle to slip out of his shirt, your shoulders are burning from the sunburn.

"Keep it. I've got another in the car." He says pulling it back up over you, " You look pretty in it anyway."

You're mesmerized by the blonde as he drives down the road. Warm air from the open windows pushes your hair from your eyes as you eye the way his arms flex slightly when he takes a turn.

"You're quiet today. Normally you're full of jokes." He says

Crap. You can't admit that you've been ogling him all day!

"I...my back has been hurting."

What the hell was that?!

"Ah. You should've told me earlier, we could've rented those chairs." He says, referring to the overpriced chairs that were for rent on the beach.

"It's alright. Those are just tourist traps anyway." You dismiss

"We're both tourists." He reminds you

"I know..." You roll your eyes

"Put your feet up, I heard that can help with pain."

Your face heats up when he stops the car at an intersection and gently pulls your feet up so they rest on the dashboard. So touchy, you swear he's doing all this on purpose!

"Better?" He asks

"Yup!" You smile

Silence settles around you as you try not to treat the man next to you like eye candy. In defense, it's not your fault. Who knew driving could be so attractive? It didn't help that he hadn't put that extra shirt on yet...

"Tell me a joke." He prompts

Who did he think you were, a stand-up comedian?

"Umm...Why did Darth Vader go to the dermatologist?" You ask

"Why?" Nanami responds, a hint of amusement in his voice

"He had Start Warts." You say

You hear him let out a snicker of laughter and you feel your face heat up out of embarrassment.

"It was the best I could do cold turkey okay!" You groan

Nanami had been right about the market and the street vendors. You had never seen so much delicious-looking food at once. How did he know so much about this place? According to him, he had only been in Kuantan two days before he met you.

"So," You smile as you pop a delicious bite of food into your mouth "Do you always look like this or is this a special version of Nanami?"

You're referring to his relaxed appearance. Long blonde hair slightly hides his eyes and the top view buttons of his shirt are undone. His skin is tanned from all the time spent on the beach at your side and a pair of sunglasses sit in the pocket that's sewn onto his shirt.

"I actually wear suits most of the time when I'm back home." He says

Seriously? He hides this muscular build under suits every day? The poor women of Japan, they don't know what they're missing!

"No way!" You laugh

"I'm serious." He says, and he takes his phone out and pulls up a few pictures of him and a kid with pink hair at his side.

"Wow. You uh, look..." You don't want to tell him he looks like he has a stick up his ass...

"Stoic, I know." He says "I like to think Itadori brightens this picture up though."

You look at the pink-haired boy, Itadori, who is holding up double peace signs and looks like a ray of sun next to the stoic Nanami.

"He definitely makes up for your lack of smile." You tease, poking at his cheek as he brushes your hand off his face

"Well, I had good reason to not smile. The person taking this picture is the most- speak of the devil."

A chime interrupts his sentence and you look down at the phone to see a push notification.

Satoru Gojo

Shoko is going through old pics, check this one out, you were so cute, Nanamin!

Another ding sounds and your eyes widen to see a picture appear at the top of the screen.

Nanami tries to snatch his phone off the table but you get there first and open the message from this Satoru Gojo.

"Is this you in high school?!" You gasp seeing the picture in all its glory as you tap on it

You take the blushing and silence as a yes.

"Your bangs!" You laugh

"I know, it's bad. I don't know what I was thinking." He admits sheepishly

"I think it's kinda cute." You admit, "It kinda reminds me of an emo haircut."

"I wasn't emo." He says

"You sure? Those bangs aren't very convincing..." You laugh "Not to metnion you're not smiling here either...kinda seems emo to me!"

"I wasn't!" He groans, finally reaching successfully for his phone "I wasn't emo...I'm not emo."

You laugh at the way he texts this Satoru Gojo back with a scowl on his face.

"You should tell this person my opinions of your hair." You say

"So he can call me an emo when I get back? I don't think so. Nice try though." Nanami says gently tapping his shoe against yours under the table

Vacation Day 6:

You agree to Nanami's suggestion of a nice stroll through the lit-up city. City lights twinkle against the dark sky as you see the shops and karts selling different goods. You pick up the goofiest-looking plushies and make up different voices for each of them as Nanami watches and laughs.

"Wait, stop for a second." He says suddenly

"Hmm? Do you want one of those weird charms? They don't really seem like they're your style." You say, distracted by the store he's stopped you in front of.

A soft tickle on your leg brings your attention downward and you see something you're not expecting. Nanami is down on one of his knees tying the laces on your left sneaker. His blonde hair is brushing your knee as he finishes up.

"I didn't want you to trip." He says gently patting the back of your calf as he straightens back up

"Oh, thank you." You say, trying to ignore how warm his hands felt against your leg.

You're a mess internally as you try to keep cool when he continues to walk. If he keeps this up you're going to end up in love with him before this trip was over...wait...has that been his goal the whole time? It couldn't possibly be.

"Could I ask you a question?" Nanami asks when you finally get yourself together

"Sure." You say

"Are those red cups I see in movies actually a real thing where you come from?"

That's his question? Why would Solo cups not be a real thing?

"Umm of course!" You laugh at his dorky question, "Did you think they were fake?"

"I just thought it was strange that everyone drank from red cups at parties." He shrugs

"Well, for your information, Nanami I've been to multiple parties and drank from a red cup like in the movies." You say

"Interesting." He says, his body gently bumping into yours when you get a little too close, "You can call me Kento."

"I thought in Japan you were supposed to call a person by their last name." You say

"Well, yes that's for formality." He says, "I think we're familiar with each other though, we've been around each other for six full days now."

"Alright then, Kento." You smile, testing his first name out on your tongue

You want to laugh when Kento drags you into a tie shop. He must want something fun to wear to work when he gets home. You suggest multiple different kinds that are ridiculous and would probably get him fired. Your personal favorite? The one with the huge eagle with a snake in his talons. It was just too ridiculous to be real. Honestly it reminded you of things you'd see back home. It was just missing the signature red white and blue.

"Here, switch places with me." Kento says as you exit the store and get back on the sidewalk

"What? Okay." You agree

You don't miss the way he smiles to himself when he gets what he wants. Does he have a preferred side of the sidewalk or something? Who enjoys being on the side closer to the road? What a weird man.

Vacation Day 7:

"You're really strange sometimes." You observe

"How so?" He asks as he bites into a cookie

"You were fully content just wandering into my hotel room. What if I was an axe murderer?" You ask

It was a rainy day in Kuantan. There were road closures and a few downed trees nearby so you had invited Kento to spend the day with you in your hotel room. The two of you were wrapped in fuzzy bathrobes and had just polished off an excellent room service meal that he had insisted on paying for despite you insiting that it was payment for driving you around.

"I knew you weren't though." He says

"And if I was?" You ask

"I would be disappointed and then I'd try to fight you and your axe off." He says

"What if I was too strong?" You joke

"I doubt it." He laughs as he flexes one of his arms.

There isn't much to look at because of the bathrobe that conceals his arms from your greedy eyes but you swear you can see a bit of definition under all the fuzzy material.

"Whatever..." You mumble

His stupidly pretty face is making you say dumb things. Who talks about axe murderers with such a good looking man in their bed? You were surely the biggest idiot in all of Malaysia.

"I thought you said this was a good movie," Kento says

"It is! You just need to give it a chance!" You say

"We're already ten minutes in and the only jokes they've made are about sex and drugs." Kento points out

"Okay, but...look you just have to trust me okay!" You say looking at your laptop which is playing Superbad, a film Kento hasn't ever seen

"There is more to humor than just bad sex jokes." He says

"Well, not in this movie. Now hush." You say unpausing the movie

Kento Nanami's eyes drift over you as you're mesmerized by this movie. Sure there were funny moments but he had definitely seen better.

Besides, how could he focus on some old 2000s movie when he was too distracted by you? You look too cute for words in the hotel's bathrobe and there's even a bit of chocolate smeared on your face from the Hershey kisses you had pulled out of your bag and insisted he try earlier.

His eyes rake over you and your entire room in general. A pair of blue jeans haphazardly sits on the chair across the room. He can see the American flag-printed sunglasses you wore the other day sitting on the nightstand beside a few stray hair ties. An oversized bag of chips you had brought from back home is half eaten on the bed near his feet, he didn't even know they made bags that large.

He swore you were some walking stereotype of things he didn't even know were real outside movies. To top it all off he's pretty sure you're wearing a "New York Yankees Baseball" t-shirt underneath your robe.

"You're so American."

The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" You ask, clearly a bit offended by his words

"Nothing, nothing." He laughs at the way your eyebrows knit together in confusion

"Tell me!" You groan reaching out to punch at his arm.

He easily catches it and pulls you into his side.

"Nothing. You're just really American." He smiles as he wraps an arm around you

You let out a huff of annoyance that he finds cute.

"Whatever, Kento. Maybe you're just too Japanese." You dismiss as you rest your head on his chest.

He lets out a hum of amusement and just accepts the way you send a mean pinch to his upper thigh. The pain is barely there but he laughs when you gently rub at the spot as a form of apology.

He's never been more glad that he came to Kuantan. He can't wait to visit more corners of the world, hopefully with you at his side. Yes, he's sure he wants to be around you even more, even if you're loud in stores, drink out of red cups, and wear baseball themed shirts. Sure, you might be oh-so-American to everyone else but he loves every bit of it.

Was that a cringe ending? I hope it wasn't.

As an american, I tried to think of stereotypes to put into this fic and struggled. IS that a sign I'm blind to them? Probably. Oops.

Yes, I'm still working on my Gojo fic. Have some Nanami while you wait. Consider this my formal apology for what I did to him in the Gojo fic...

My Masterlist

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whencyclopedia · 2 months ago

Photo

A Gallery of Tutankhamun & Family

Tutankhamun is easily the most famous Egyptian ruler in the world thanks to his nearly intact tomb discovered by Howard Carter in 1922 and the "mummy's curse" associated with the opening of that tomb. Although Tutankhamun was initially thought to have been a minor ruler, that opinion has changed, and he is now regarded in a more favorable light.

Tutankhamun (r. c. 1336 to c. 1327 BCE) was the son of Amenhotep IV (better known as Akhenaten) of the 18th Dynasty and his wife Nefertiti. He came to the throne at a young age and died soon after. His father had changed the religious paradigm of polytheism to a monotheistic worship of the god Aten, and the young prince was originally known as Tutankhaten ("living image of Aten") before he changed his name to Tutankhamun ("living image of Amun") when he discarded his father's new religion and returned Egypt to a worship of the old gods, including the popular Amun.

When the general Horemheb (r. 1320-1292 BCE) came to the throne, he tried to erase all evidence of Akhenaten and his family including, of course, Tutankhamun, claiming for himself the role of champion of the old gods and restorer of tradition. Tutankhamun's tomb was accidentally buried later by the workers building the tomb of Ramesses VI (r. 1145-1137 BCE) and was forgotten until its discovery by Carter.

The famous "mummy's curse" or "Curse of Tutankhamun" that became worldwide headlines in 1923 after the "mysterious" death of Carter's patron, Lord Carnarvon, was based on a misinterpretation of an inscription found in the tomb which was reported as reading "I will kill all of those who cross this threshold into the sacred precincts of the royal king who lives forever" but which actually read "I am the one who prevents the sand from blocking the secret chamber" – the "I" being the door. Howard Carter was aware the "curse" was fiction but never challenged it because it kept people away from the tomb, and he could work in peace without constant interruptions. The "curse" also scared people who had either smuggled artifacts out of Egypt illegally or purchased them on the black market into returning them or donating them to museums. There was nothing mysterious about the death of Carnarvon or anyone else associated with opening the tomb. Carter lived until 1939, and Carnarvon's daughter, who was present when the tomb was opened, lived until 1980.

This gallery presents some of the artifacts found in Tutankhamun's tomb as well as images of his parents, the famous image of the young king and his wife Ankhsenamun, and, of course, one of the best-known images associated with ancient Egypt: the golden death mask of Tutankhamun.

#History #Tutankhamun #Egypt #Akhenaten

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writerpey · 11 months ago

Note

Omg wait, you have so many fandoms I love, ok, ok could you make like a list of characters from theses shows and what they’d be? Like regressed, caregiver, ect? (So I can send asks based on that) I’m so excited right now

Arcane, Detroit Become Human, Last airbender, Our flag means death, and Six of crows/shadow and bone

happy 2024! this has been in my inbox forever but looks super fun to do! here’s my take on what characters would be regressors/caregivers for arcane, dbh and atla. I totally wrote way more than I expected to but here u are! <3 I’ll do a separate post for ofmd and soc bc they have so many characters I have opinions on.

Agere Character Headcanons

(Arcane, D:BH, ATLA)

(jinx is me cooking up this thread)

Arcane

Vi: As much as she’d be a wonderful caregiver, she’s absolutely a regressor. Being small reminds her of days spent with her parents and Powder, family trips to the fish markets of the coast and sunny days building sand castles at the beach. She tends to be on the older side, a natural tendency from a life spent as the older sibling, taking care of Powder. Vi’s a very active and vivacious little, playing outdoors and hanging off Caitlyn’s shoulders. Loves physical touch, hugs and high fives are the way to go.

Caitlyn: Caregiver all the way! I think she loves kids in general, and despite her awkward nature and sheltered upbringing, she finds it easy to take charge and step into the role of a protector. Definitely looks after Vi and is oftentimes too concerned about her safety. She loves taking the little out to the playground and to eat at Jericho’s food stall (even if she still refuses to eat a bowl of slop herself).

Jinx: Tiniest, cutest, moodiest little troublemaker there is. Jinx regresses to about four or five years old, and absolutely bounces off the walls at all hours of the day. She’s not the quiet, sweet child she once was as Powder, but rather gets herself into trouble and feigns innocence. She loves to annoy both Silco and Sevika, clambering on the latter’s lap and hiding under Silco’s desk for games of hide and seek. Her mood changes rather drastically as well, as she can go from completely happy to hyperventilating sobbing from anything as simple as scraping a knee to refusing bedtime.

Jayce: He’s a very attentive and high strung caregiver. Looking after Viktor is much easier than Caitlyn, Silco, or Sevika’s jobs, but Jayce always fusses over the little. He’s quick to scoop him up whenever it’s deemed necessary, and goes to Mel for help when he needs another pair of hands. Jayce loves caregiving because it gives him something to focus on other than his responsibility to Piltover, and enjoys simple play with his little like story time and building blocks.

Viktor: Super small and quiet regressor! Viktor can get very young, and has no qualms with depending on Jayce for help when he’s little. He likes to be snuggled up on a couch in a mound of blankets and is also content to sit and watch Mel paint the ships that go by the balcony of her apartment. Viktor is sweet and shy and doesn’t tend to verbalize his needs, but because Jayce is so attentive they mesh well together.

Detroit: Become Human

Kara: Caregiver. Need I expand? It’s in her coding in the first place to protect and nurture. Upon her deviance, Kara realizes that even if she was made for it, she can still reclaim that part of herself for herself. She is quick to console whomever her little may be, and projects the kindest and warmest energy to the person she’s taking care of. Kara enjoys making up her own stories, and loves playing make believe with her regressor.

Connor: One hundred percent a regressor. This little guy was shy and uncertain when he first started regressing, as he didn’t know what ‘normal’ behaviour from a deviant was, let alone how to process all the new emotions he was feeling. Connor loves to spend time at Hank’s house with Sumo, revelling in the feeling of the dog’s fluffy fur and laughing happily when he teaches Sumo all sorts of tricks. Connor is usually happy when regressed, but struggles with anxiety and asking for help. Hank is always there to walk Connor through his big feelings and encourages him to use his words.

Markus: He’s one of the most chaotic caregivers there is. You picked the pacifist route in the game? Doesn’t matter. This guy is unhinged when it comes to caregiving. Spoiling his little at any time possible, letting them stay up hours past their bedtime, giving them candy for breakfast and encouraging colouring on the walls. He spent so many years being exactly who Carl wanted him to be while also tasting freedom through Carl’s art that it brings him so much joy to see a regressor’s eyes sparkle when he says yes to whatever their heart desires. He’s also amazing at comforting a regressor. Big hugs and gentle eyes!

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Katara: Is a caregiver! Incredibly kind yet less patient than one (Sokka) might hope. Katara is quick to caution her little, always on the lookout for anything that they might hurt themselves with or on. But this doesn’t mean she hates fun! She adores the beach and using her bending to splash around, and is always ready to get her little an extra blanket or any snacks they ask for. She’s super sweet and falls into the role of a caregiver like she was made for it. Katara has even sewed a plushie or two as gifts, and has a knack for settling a regressor in front of a crackling fire and braiding their hair before bedtime.

Sokka: Regressor for sure. Even though he’s a big brother he never let go of his goofy side, and it plays into so much of his behaviour when he’s regressed. He’s on the older side, around 6-8, and has so much energy he doesn’t know where to put it all. Queue him running around for hours, laughing at absolutely anything that Aang says and bothering Toph just so she’ll play with him. Sokka doesn’t cry, even when he takes a tumble (which is quite often) but is fussy when he doesn’t get his way. He’s a troublemaker, but his beaming smile lets him get away with plenty.

Aang: Honestly I think he’s a caregiver, but is more like a fun uncle than any other label. His sage airbender wisdom doesn’t come through often, which means he’s all about fun all the time. His childish side matches a little like Sokka’s constant energy, and he seems to vanish into a cloud of smoke when any tears come his way. And how did Sokka and Zuko get chocolate all around their mouths, you ask? Well, there’s no one to ask because Aang’s just taken off on his glider on some very important business.

Zuko: LITTLE! REGRESSOR! TINY! Oh my goodness, he’s the first fictional character that I ever headcanoned as a regressor. There’s no need to delve into his trauma here, but the boy is in such a desperate need of healing his childhood that he regressed long before he even knew what it was. Regresses very young, between 2-5. Before meeting the Gaang he’d hang off of Uncle’s shoulder during Pai Sho tournaments on his ship and would shyly ask the crew members to play songs during music nights. His tough demeanour disappears completely when he’s regressed and he turns into a shy boy that is insistent on doing things himself and is quick to cry when he’s unable to, for example, wrap his robes the way he wants. Zuko has a turtleduck plushie that Katara sewed for him after Aang asked him what his favourite animal was and Sokka caught him cuddling up to Appa at night. Sweetest boy in the whole world.

Toph : Caregiver! Matches more with Aang’s style of caregiving than Katara’s, but still lands somewhere in the middle. Her earthbending gives her the ability to pick up on every tiny emotion that a regressor feels, and it means she’s prepared and in tune with every need, happy or unhappy, that someone needs. She tends to playfully tease Zuko and Sokka, but knows exactly where to draw the line with either boy based on the rhythm of their heart. Toph helps Aang when it comes to letting the boys do something Katara has specifically told them they’re not allowed to, and will always feign innocence when confronted by the eldest caregiver.

#sfw agere #sfw agere fic #detroit become human agere #dbh agere #dbh #detroit become human #arcane agere #arcane #atla agere #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender agere

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ak-vintage · 8 months ago

Text

Quarry - Chapter 7

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Please note new TWs in red!!! Reader is Mando's bounty, second-person POV, Din Djarin POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, intimidation, physical abuse (not perpetrated by Din or reader), discussions of slavery and indentured servitude, power dynamics, trauma

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Three days later found the Razor Crest descending through the atmosphere of a planet quite unlike any you had ever seen. It was just barely sunset local time, and endless plains of black, volcanic rock and charcoal sand stretched out before you, painted in hues of red and gold as the sun sank in the pale sky. The matte black surface was broken up by a complex spiderweb of lava rivers, flowing almost too slowly to be perceived, throwing jets of steam into the air. Nestled in the valley of two large rock formations, a sprawling settlement of whitewashed buildings and colorful market stalls poured into the surrounding flats. A small spaceport could be seen just on the edge of it all, marked by glowing outlines of designated landing zones and manned by a variety of staff in yellow jumpsuits milling about the place.

“So that’s it, huh?” you asked from your spot in one of the co-pilot’s chairs at the rear of the cockpit. “That’s Nevarro?”

Mando nodded once, the bright light of the setting sun reflecting off the beskar dome of his helmet. “Yes.”

You brought your hand up to block the light from your squinting eyes. “Quite an operation. It’s bigger than I expected.”

“Most of what you see is a relatively recent development,” he explained. His gloved hands moved expertly, almost absent-mindedly over the landing controls, bringing the Crest into a steeper decline as you approached the landing zones. “The people in charge have become pretty invested in turning this place into a major trade center. Sure is a step up from the back-water Guild town it used to be. Looks like they’ve done even more with it since the last time I was here.”

“But your Guild agent is still based here?”

“Last I heard, he made himself ‘magistrate,’” he said wryly. You could hear the dry amusement in his voice even through the vocoder.

An answering smile tugged at your mouth, and you let out a soft laugh. You supposed it wasn’t entirely uncommon for members of the Bounty Hunters Guild to end up in positions of power. It was a lucrative profession, and credits could buy more than just material goods. Still, there was something entertaining about imagining a hardened Guild agent settling himself into the cushy life of a politician.

As the Mandalorian deftly settled the ship between the well-lit lines of the nearest landing zone, however, all of the good humor seemed to evaporate from your body, and anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach like a ball of lead.

This was it. Your time was up, for real this time.

“I need to go unload the others,” Mando announced, rising from the pilot’s chair.

You swallowed thickly, then nodded and stood, as well, Grogu in your arms like always. “What – what would you like me to – ”

“You’re not going with them,” the bounty hunter interrupted with a shake of his head. “I’m handing you over to Karga personally.”

You felt your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Oh. Okay. Sure,” you replied dumbly. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“You can come down into the cargo hold with me, but stay back from the rear doors. We’ll head into town once the other bounties are taken care of.”

You nodded and gestured for him to precede you down the ladder.

By the time you made it to the lower level with Grogu in tow, Mando had opened the rear blast doors, and the ramp was halfway extended to the dusty soil below. Before it could touch the ground, however, an unfamiliar face, bright and cheerful, popped up at the foot of it.

“Hey there, Mando! Long time, no see!” the man called out with a wave. His voice was chipper and warm, and he was dressed in one of those yellow jumpsuits you had noticed from the air, the ones indicating spaceport staff. He carried an official-looking datapad in a well-worn protective casing.

The Mandalorian greeted the other man with slightly less enthusiasm. “Darro,” he acknowledged, inclining his head in his direction.

“What can I do for you? The Crest looks in a much better state than she was the last time we saw her,” the man named Darro said. His gaze flickered over the ship, assessing.

“No repairs today,” Mando confirmed. “I’m turning over six quarries. I need them unloaded, cataloged, and prepared for transport.”

The lively expression on the dock worker’s face melted away, and he stared back at the bounty hunter with something akin to awe. “Six? You brought in six quarries? All at once?” Mando nodded. “Dank farrik, man! I hope you’ve got plans to live it up for a while. You’re gonna be rolling in credits.”

Rather than respond directly, Mando reached into a small leather bag tied to his utility belt and pulled out a handful of heavy, round disks. “Here are the bounty pucks for each. Feel free to verify their identities against them,” he said, passing them to Darro. “I’ll return the tracking fobs to Karga in town.”

Darro accepted the stack of pucks with a nod. “Sure, sure. The Magistrate should be in his office. You want me to get in touch with his protocol droid for you, let him know you’re on your way up?”

The Mandalorian seemed to hesitate slightly at that, as though taken aback by the question, but he recovered quickly enough. “That won’t be necessary. He’s expecting me.”

“Okay, no problem.” The dock worker shoved the bounty pucks into one of the many deep pockets of his jumpsuit before climbing up into the Razor Crest’s cargo hold. He raised his datapad, tapping it a few times as he began to examine the bounties suspended in carbonite on the rack near the door. However, he wasn’t at it for long before he seemed to notice you, still hovering near the ladder, watching silently.

“Oh, hello there,” he said in greeting. His thousand-watt smile was back in full force, and you watched as his stance shifted, affecting a more confident, masculine swagger. “Now, I know I’d remember that face if I’d seen it before. Who’s your new friend, Mando?”

The bounty hunter drew himself up to full height, stepping in the dock worker’s line of sight to break his interested gaze. “She’s no one. Just take the quarries, Darro.”

The other man chuckled good-naturedly, appearing entirely unbothered. “All right, all right.” He brought up his free hand and offered a placating gesture. “I can see she’s already taken.”

“The quarries,” Mando repeated. His voice was hard and cold as ice, and even though it wasn’t directed at you, you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound.

“I got ‘em, I got ‘em.” Darro peaked around the rounded pauldron on Mando’s shoulder and offered you one last smile, smaller than the first, and then turned back to the carbonite slabs. He flipped a switch on each one, and you heard the faint, telltale whir of repulsorlift projectors coming online.

Leaving the dock worker to his task, the Mandalorian finally turned back to you. “It’s time to go,” he said.

You worried on your lower lip and nodded wordlessly. “Do you mind if I say good-bye to the kid?” you asked, your voice small and weaker than you wanted it to be. Mando had informed you that Grogu would be staying behind on this trip for his safety, and while you trusted his judgement, you found it odd that he would leave the boy on his own for something like this.

A part of you wondered whether he wanted to avoid Grogu causing a scene when he handed you over. You supposed you couldn’t blame him, if that was the reason.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice solemn.

You offered him a tight smile in return before lowering yourself to your knees on the deck plating. You sat the child down gingerly, your eyes meeting his huge, black ones. His little wrinkly brows were drawn up and inward on his forehead, his mouth turned down. Tears welled behind your eyes at the pitiful expression, and you fought them down. Still, your voice trembled when you spoke.

“I am…so happy to have known you, buddy. Thank you for having so much fun with me while I was here,” you said earnestly. “Now, you be a good boy for your dad, okay?”

Mando spoke up behind you at that. “I am not his – ”

But you pushed onward and added, “He loves you very much. So you two have to take good care of each other, okay?” Gathering the kid’s tiny frame against yours one last time, you hugged him tightly. Grogu cooed and squealed in your arms, a distressed, unpleasant sound, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it. If you stayed with him for a second longer, you were going to lose the battle against your tears, and you couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. Instead, you let him go, rose to your feet, and extended your hands toward the Mandalorian.

“Okay,” you said firmly. “I’m ready.”

The bounty hunter stared back at you silently for a moment, glancing between your face and your extended hands, wrists together, fingers balled in tight fists. “What are you doing?”

“I’m your quarry, remember? You can’t take me into town and hand me over to your Guild agent without restraints.” You nudged your hands in his direction again, giving him a wobbly smile. “Promise I won’t try to bust out of them this time.”

Mando hesitated, but after a moment, he crossed over to the forbidden silver cabinet along the wall, punched a code into the control panel, and pulled it open. Inside, it was as you had begun to suspect – full of an intimidating collection of firearms, blades, incendiaries, and ammunition. He reached in and produced a medium-sized set of silver binder cuffs. Wordlessly, he closed the cabinet and crossed back to you.

You wondered if perhaps you imagined it, but as he sealed the cuffs around your offered wrists, you thought he might have swiped the warm, leather pad of his thumb across the inside of your palm. Goosebumps erupted up your arm at the sensation.

“There,” he said, his voice heavy and dark. “Now let’s go.”

___

“Welcome to the Nevarro Municipal Center.” The voice of the protocol droid behind the oversized reception desk was cool and posh, and Din felt his hackles raise instantly. “Do you have an appointment?”

At first, after leaving Darro and his crew to manage the offloading of the quarries in stasis, the Mandalorian had led you across town to the quiet, modest office space Karga had been renting the last time he had been on Nevarro. However, rather than finding his Guild agent, he had instead come upon Mythrol shutting down his computer console and packing up for the night, the desk across from him empty and covered in a thin layer of dust. It was only then that the bounty hunter learned that Karga had packed up and moved into one of the larger buildings in the city center, claiming a need for something more “official” to match his new political title.

Following the blue, fish-like man’s directions, Din had back-tracked toward the central plaza, and the two of you had eventually found yourselves in the polished, echoing lobby of a large building with a whitewashed exterior. You were conspicuously the only living beings in sight, the lobby’s only other occupant a bronze TC unit holding an official-looking datapad.

“Sir? Do you have an appointment?” the droid repeated when he didn’t respond.

The bounty hunter gritted his teeth and fought back a sigh of irritation. “I’m here to see Greef Karga,” he said curtly.

“Unfortunately, sir, the High Magistrate is otherwise engaged. I would be happy to set up an appointment for you, perhaps sometime next week?”

Din shook his head and took a step forward, closing the distance between himself and the desk. “He’s expecting me. Please tell Karga that the Mandalorian is here to see him – he will know it’s me.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir. The High Magistrate is currently in a meeting with a very important client – the senior foreman of the New Republic’s shipyards, if you can believe that!” The TC unit sounded deeply impressed, almost reverent. “I’m sure you understand – he will not be interrupted.”

Din, of course, was entirely unmoved. And it was becoming increasingly clear to him that this droid would be of no assistance. Swearing under his breath in resignation, he wrapped his fingers around your upper arm and swiftly escorted you down the hallway on the other side of the reception desk.

As he had ushered you through the city, he had watched as your clear sadness at saying good-bye to Grogu morphed into a profound, growing unease. You had taken to keeping your eyes on the ground in front of you, refusing to look him or anyone else you met on the street in the face, and your calloused, capable hands were balled into fists so tightly your knuckles shone white in the blue light of your binder cuffs. From where his hand held your arm, he could feel that you were trying not to tremble, and he could see you chewing mercilessly on your bottom lip.

You were terrified, and it set Din’s teeth on edge in a way he couldn’t fully explain. All he knew for certain was that he needed to get this over with, as quickly as possible.

As the two of you shoved your way past, the protocol droid let out a mechanical gasp of outrage and immediately began toddling after you. Din, however, paid it no heed and simply walked faster, urging you along. He refused to allow some stuffed-shirt bucket of bolts delay him any further.

Luckily, after a few turns and a brief flight of stairs, Karga’s glass-walled office came into view.

The cool protests of the protocol droid, who was still doing its very best to catch up, took on a shrill tone then. “Sir. Sir! I must ask you to – now, you wait just a minute! You cannot simply barge in – ”

But that was precisely what Din did. Before the droid could stop him, he turned his shoulder into the office door and slammed it open with more force than was probably necessary.

As the door swung inward, the Mandalorian took in the sight of two men standing in the center of the room, clearly in the middle of a tense conversation. One, he would recognize anywhere, with his dark skin, precisely trimmed goatee, and heavy, sumptuous red robes. Karga’s hands were extended in a placating gesture, but his eyes were tight and closed off. The other man was entirely unfamiliar, though it took Din less than a second to determine that he didn’t like him.

He was tall, thin, and human, with pale skin and almost unnaturally red hair – dark and rich like the color of wine. He was dressed deceivingly simply in a plain, gray uniform with black boots, though upon closer inspection, Din found the fabric of the uniform to be finer than any he had ever seen on a man of his profession, and his boots shone as though frequently polished. Everything about him was neat as a pin, not a single hair out of place, and his thin mouth was twisted in an ugly sneer that reinforced the impression that the two men had been about to argue before you two had exploded through the door.

The metallic, tottering sound of the harried protocol droid finally catching up to you broke the strained, stunned silence.

“Oh, I am deeply sorry, High Magistrate, please forgive me, this gentleman and his companion stormed right past me – ”

Karga startled out of his surprise then, his expression quickly shifting from taut to welcoming. “Mando! I thought I might see you this evening – I watched the Razor Crest dropping through the atmosphere from my window. Please, come in, old friend.” He stepped forward, beckoning you both further into the room. “TC-48,” he added, “you’re dismissed for now. Thank you.”

If the protocol droid had had any ability to create facial expressions, Din was certain that it would have looked quite taken aback at the dismissal. Its voice sounded confused as it stuttered, “Well, I… Yes, High Magistrate” before slipping back out the door.

Karga offered both you and Din a smile that didn’t quite reach his warm, brown eyes. “Apologies for my overzealous droid, Mando. He’s new, still getting used to the place.” He gestured then toward the other man in the room. “And may I introduce my client, Orron Halcard. Master Halcard, this is – ”

But before Karga could offer any additional information, the man in gray stepped forward and tucked his hands behind his back. “I believe you have something that belongs to me,” he said abruptly. His voice was cultured and cold, his expression aloof, and the moment he spoke, Din could feel all of the muscles in your body seize up in response. Immediately, all of his senses were on high alert. To you, this man was a threat, and the urge to protect you from it was almost overwhelming.

“I will see that my asset is in good condition,” Halcard continued. He brought one thin, wiry hand out from behind his back and curled his finger at the Mandalorian, beckoning. “Bring her forward.”

Every instinct at his disposal was screaming at him to keep you far away from his man, but Din knew he could not refuse, not with Karga standing right there. Not with the promise he had made, to ensure that the exchange took place as planned. Wrestling his raging emotions into submission, he forced himself to nod once and draw you forward.

As he did so, he risked a glance at your face. However, to his surprise, in sharp contrast to the fear and anxiety that had been there since the Crest had landed on Nevarro, he found your expression to be carefully, meticulously blank. There was nothing behind your eyes, no tension between your brows or in your jaw. You were entirely vacant, and a sense of dread coated his tongue like ash at the sight.

“Hello again, pet,” Halcard murmured silkily as you came to stand before him. His sharp, pale eyes trailed over you, from your head to your feet, and he brought a hand up to rub his jaw in thought. “Hm. Turn around. Slowly.”

The Mandalorian watched as you obeyed, turning slowly in place as you stared into the middle distance, not looking at anyone or anything directly. You stopped when you faced him once again, and wordlessly, Halcard closed what little distance there was left between you by grabbing onto your chin and yanking you toward him. Using his index finger and thumb, he pressed down hard on the muscles of your jaw, forcing your mouth open. “Hm. Very good,” he said softly as he tilted your head this way and that, appearing to examine your teeth. Once he was satisfied, he dropped your jaw, and you stumbled slightly before righting yourself, never making a sound.

Din could feel his blood boiling under his skin. The sight of that man’s hands on you, the thoughtless way he handled you was enough to make his trigger finger itch.

“Well, she seems none the worse for wear,” Halcard announced. “Put on a bit of weight, perhaps, but that can be remedied.”

He turned his attention back to Karga then, seemingly mollified enough to discuss payment terms, but his last words proved to be the last straw for Din’s restraint. He had been hoping to allow the conversation to continue to evolve naturally, to learn more about you and about this man and what precisely you were wanted for, but he found he couldn’t hold back any longer. The implication that Halcard intended to starve you was too much – he couldn’t not speak.

“What is the nature of your relationship with her?” Din demanded, making no attempt to soften the harsh growl of his voice.

Halcard paused and turned back around, making direct eye contact with the Mandalorian for the first time. His brow was arched, his head cocked in surprise. “I wasn’t aware you were owed such an explanation, bounty hunter,” he replied coolly.

Karga chuckled awkwardly, his gaze darting back and forth between his two guests. “Please forgive my colleague, Master Halcard. What he means is – ”

Din bristled at the intrusion. “I meant what I said,” he snarled. “I want to know what you want with her.”

“What I want with her?” the pale man echoed. His voice had gone dangerously soft. “What an impertinent question. I want only what I am owed. As she very well knows.”

Before Din could demand he elaborate, however, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he watched, relief flooding his chest, as you took your first autonomous step forward since you had left the Razor Crest. Your face was no longer carefully vacant. No – he could see sparks of fury in your eyes, and for the first time, you tugged against the restraint of your binder cuffs.

“I don’t owe you anything,” you spat, your tone steeped in indignation. “Not anymore.”

Your sudden surge of strength was short-lived, however. The moment the words left your mouth, before Din could intervene, Halcard swung. A powerful crack echoed through Karga’s office as his backhand landed across your face, and you were sent reeling away from him.

The bounty hunter was at your side in an instant, catching you as you fell. Your lower lip was split and had begun to ooze dark red, and you had begun to shake. Cursing under his breath at the sight, Din tucked you in close against his body, his other hand flying to his blaster holster.

You were bleeding. He had killed men for less.

Karga’s voice rang out then, cutting through the chaos. “Now, now – let’s everyone take a step back and just calm. Down.”

But the Mandalorian was the furthest thing from calm. The last few minutes had proven to him what he had already begun to suspect, what he had feared to be the truth from the moment he learned just how little information had been provided about you to the Guild. This man had not been seeking you out of any care for your well-being, nor had he been seeking you because you had committed any transgression against him. He had filed your bounty with the minimum amount of information possible to not draw any additional attention to what you were – what he should have known from the beginning that you were.

You were his possession.

“She’s a slave,” Din said then, finally putting words to the realization that had a sick, sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “You have slave labor working at the Chardaan Shipyards.”

Halcard scoffed at that, his face twisting into something cruel and menacing. “Hardly. She is my servant, indentured to me through a contract with her family line. The most talented bunch of starship engineers I have ever encountered. And she, unfortunately, is the last of them,” he sneered. “You cannot imagine how much time, how many credits her absence has cost my operation. But no matter. She belongs to me.”

Tucked tightly under Din’s arm, you stirred, seeming to regain some strength in the face of his claim. “My family’s debt is paid, Orron! It’s been paid for years, you know this, please just – ”

But Halcard wasn’t listening. Instead, he turned his back to both you and Din, dismissing you entirely and instead giving his full attention to Karga. “The exchange is acceptable. 7,000 New Republic credits, as agreed,” he said firmly, dropping a leather bag jangling with currency into the magistrate’s hands. “Have your bounty hunter take the binder cuffs off her. I won’t be needing them.”

Karga met the Mandalorian’s gaze then, his expression solemn and resigned. Curling his fingers around the bag of credits, he inclined his head, wordlessly ordering the bounty hunter to do as the client ordered.

Din’s jaw worked inside his helmet, his grip on your body tightening of its own volition as he stared Karga down. He knew what he had to do. He only hoped that you would permit him to explain after, that perhaps, with time, you would forgive him.

Silent as the grave, he slowly eased you from his arms and turned your body to face him. He permitted his eyes to meet yours for an instant, and you gazed back at him. He found himself watching, in real time, as you schooled your expression into something placid, something far away. It was a deeply unnatural look on you, you who were so full of life, you who wore your heart on your sleeve, and a heavy ache settled in Din’s chest at the sight. Forcing himself to look away, he thumbed a few controls on his vambrace, and your binder cuffs fell open.

“Stand aside, now, Mandalorian,” Halcard commanded, once again aloof and detached. “The deal is done.”

Din obeyed and stepped back a few paces, putting some distance between you and him.

“Very good.” The foreman approached you once more, and the beginnings of a smirk played on the edges of his thin, cruel mouth. Producing his own set of binder cuffs from a deep pocket of his uniform, he gestured for you to extend your wrists. You did so without a word, and in a moment, you were cuffed again.

However, Halcard did not stop there. Clutching onto your jaw with one hand, he yanked your head to one side, exposing your long, bare neck. With the other hand, he pulled a small, blinking device about the size of a Calamari Flan out of his pocket, and the Mandalorian watched, helpless, as your eyes widened in ice cold fear.

“No, no, no – Orron, please,” you begged softly, your voice trembling, your gaze locked on the mysterious device in the pale man’s hand. With growing dread, Din realized that the device had three wicked-looking metal prongs sticking out from the back side.

Before he could protest, Halcard rammed those prongs into your neck, sinking them deep into the column of muscle just below your ear.

You let out a single scream of pain, your knees buckling beneath you, the only thing keeping you on your feet the grip of the foreman’s hand on your jaw. A thin trickle of blood dripped down the side of your neck, soaking into the collar of your boilersuit.

The red was all Din could see.

Halcard watched, indifferent, as you regained your footing, and once you appeared more stable, he wrapped his fingers around the connector between your binder cuffs and tugged you toward the office door. “Come along now, pet. Our business is finished here,” he said. He offered Karga a single, stoic nod. “A pleasure to meet you, Magistrate.”

You were nearly out the door before the Mandalorian felt it was safe for to speak.

“Wait,” he called, stepping forward.

He could feel his Guild agent tense behind him. “Mando.” His deep voice, ordinarily so jovial, was hard with warning.

Din, however, paid him no heed. “How much to buy out her debt?” he asked.

Halcard froze in place, hauling you to a stop just inside the threshold of Karga’s office. Your head whipped around, and you stared at the bounty hunter, stunned.

Tense silence hung in the air for a moment until the pale man slowly, deliberately turned around to face the Mandalorian. “Excuse me?” he murmured, his jaw tight, his tone carefully cold.

Still, Din was undeterred. “Her debt,” he repeated, more confidently this time. “You say she owes you. And that her absence cost your business money. How much to pay it off?”

Halcard’s upper lip curled in a disdainful smirk. “More than you can afford, Mandalorian.”

“Mando…” Karga echoed, more insistent this time.

Again, Din ignored him, taking another step toward the door. Although he knew it couldn’t be seen by others, there was still satisfaction in the smirk he returned to the foreman beneath his helmet. “Try me,” he said.

Cocking his head, Halcard stroked his sharp, pale jaw in thought. It almost appeared as though he was giving the proposal true consideration. Din could swear that the whole room could hear how his heart raced in his chest as he tried not to get his hopes up. If Halcard cited a truly outrageous sum, or if he denied his proposal, there would be nothing left he could do to protect you.

After what felt like perhaps the longest minute of Din’s life, the other man finally spoke.

“25,000 credits,” he said, his smirk widening with triumph.

Clearly, however, Halcard had very little experience working with bounty hunters of the Mandalorian’s caliber.

“Done,” Din agreed instantly.

He watched as the man’s pale face dropped. “What?”

By his side, you were shaking your head furiously, your lips trembling. “No, Mando, please, you don’t have to – ”

Din met your gaze and raised a hand calm you. “It’s all right,” he assured you, making his voice as soothing and confident as he could manage. Reaching into his utility belt, the bounty hunter produced all seven tracking fobs from this hunt and dropped them onto the dumbfounded Karga’s desk. The metal components clattered on the polished surface but were otherwise silent, their beeping long since silenced. “Your men are unloading each of these as we speak,” he said, his gaze now directed at his Guild agent. “They will find all of them to be legitimate. I will take the payment now.”

Karga took a moment to study the tracking fobs, his wizened face, so purposefully neutral up until now, betraying his astonishment. Din knew that he was doing the math in his head, recalling which of his remaining bounties he had sent with Din and how much each of them were worth. Silently the bounty hunter prayed that his estimation of his payout was accurate. Din had never been one for academics, but when you made your living cashing in bounties, mental math was something you got a lot of practice with.

After a few more moments of fraught silence, Karga finally spoke. “Of course, my friend. 30,000 New Republic credits.” Taking a seat in his high-backed desk chair, the older man pulled out one of his desk drawers and laid his hand upon the print scanner lock atop the safe nestled inside. The safe clicked open, and Karga reached inside, pulling out three pouches made of deep purple cloth. “Yours,” he said, passing each of them to Din at a time.

The pouches had hardly been in his grasp for more than a handful of seconds before the Mandalorian sat one of them down on the surface of the desk. Carefully, wordlessly, he counted out 5,000 credits and tucked them into his utility belt. Then, he closed up the pouch, closed the distance between himself and Halcard, and extended all three bags to him.

“25,000 credits. Her debt is paid. You have been compensated for the absence of your…servant,” Din growled. “Now release the binders, and get that cortical tracking device off her.”

He watched with satisfaction as the arrogance melted off of the other man’s face. “You cannot be serious,” Halcard said through gritted teeth.

Din, however, did not deign to respond. He simply held the foreman’s gaze through his visor, the credits held out between them.

“Fine.” With a grimace, Halcard snatched the proffered pouches out of the air. “You want her that badly, she’s yours.” Hurriedly and with rough hands, he opened your binder cuffs, ripped the tracking device out of your neck, and thrust you toward Din. The Mandalorian caught you effortlessly and quickly gathered you behind him, putting himself between you and Halcard.

“Well. This has certainly been a…productive evening, gentlemen,” Karga said, clapping his hands together. “Master Halcard, if you are satisfied with this exchange, I will have my TC unit escort you back to your ship. I’m sure you’re a busy man. I wouldn’t want to hold you up any further.”

“Oh, yes. More than satisfied.” Halcard rolled the weighty pouches of credits around in his thin, wiry hands with a smile. “This is far more than that pathetic harpy is worth. This should fetch me…why, three replacement assets, at least.”

Din cocked his head at the foreman. “I’m sure the New Republic would be interested to hear that. I wonder what they would think…knowing their largest starship manufacturer is using slave labor in their hangars.”

For the first time, Halcard’s pale skin flared bright red, and he began to sputter indignantly, striding forward as though about to charge at the Mandalorian. “Now, you listen here – ”

“No, sir, I don’t think we will,” Karga interrupted, polite but firm. “Ah, TC-48. There you are.” The bronze protocol droid from the reception desk had pattered into the room behind Halcard, its posture expectant as it waited for orders. “Please escort Master Halcard back to his ship. And no detours, if you please. He’s on a tight schedule.”

“Gods damn you, Karga – ”

“Of course, High Magistrate,” TC-48 said cheerfully. Taking ahold of Orron Halcard’s uniform sleeve, it ushered him inexorably toward the door. “If you would follow me, please sir.”

And Din Djarin watched with swelling satisfaction as the senior foreman of the Chardaan Shipyards was conducted, flushed and cursing, out of the office, down the hall, and into the city beyond.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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recklessfiction · 1 year ago

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What to Do when you Travel to the City

There's a great nightlife. Long stretches of city blocks radiating blinding neon, frenzied beats thrumming up from the asphalt, humming along to the violent slaughter taking place around you. Let your cheek and lips be painted red by another, fall into feverish affections, rhapsodize.

Prior to 5:30 AM weekdays, all Skytrains will be making scheduled detours into the throat of the God of Deep Anguish. Customers traveling between West Broadway Station and 5th should plan for at least 20 minutes of extra travel time and prepare for some crowding on trains and platforms.

The Gardens of Excess will be having their annual Summer Flower Festival this July. Please remember to keep emotionally malleable individuals out of reach of the fruit trees. Employees of The Gardens will not be held responsible for any marriage or germination that may occur between guests and the Unrelenting Abundances.

The beaches that surround the City are great to visit with the entire family. The sand burns the soles of your feet and pierces your skin when kicked up by the wind. The only escape is the ocean and it has been reaching for you all the while. You did not notice the rising tide but now it has reached well past your waist and it pulls. You feel the ground disappear beneath your feet and then...nothing but the sea. You fight to keep your head above the water but it tugs at your ankles, impatient and eager to embrace you in full, to show you its depths. This is a struggle you will not win.

The Night Market is open once again! From April to November come by and sample strange, fermented corruptions, experience Death In Perpetuity, and stock up on gifts for Christmas like featureless iron masks, the gift of prophecy, or a seat on the throne of a kingdom in dreams. Whatever your wishes are, the Night Market is a great place to strike an unpleasant bargain, win or lose yourself in hand to hand combat, or just people watch.

Be sure to visit the dungeons while you're here. Our Wizards have made sure that every moment you spend within these vile halls is both foul and incredibly distressing. You will encounter incredible creatures not from this plane of existence and many have even carved out their own eyes when faced with the horrors. Hundreds enter the gates every year and none have ever emerged but you could be the first!

As host to many cosmically traumatic events such as the divine nascence of The Stairs and the cataclysmic joining of Man To His Beloved and Wretched, the City boasts a number of unique and exciting tourist destinations. Witness first hand the crater left in the wake of Her Movement or the forest that blossomed forth at the climax of the Great Pestilence. Keep up to date on weather reports and the movement of the beings by downloading our city's informational app or visiting our website.

#urban gothic #horror #city gothic #unreality #tourism #what to do #my writing

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itaehynz · 4 months ago

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three’s a (choi) charm! ˙ ⋆ . ˚ ☆

25. FALLING IN LOVE.

warnings: fully written, angst and fluff.

here you are with beomgyu. he’s been going through too much and he needed time to get away without leaving korea, so you’ve decided to help him as you also need the time away.

besides that, you and beomgyu had a fight over who should drive the car… let’s just the fight was useless. you ended up behind the wheel just like you wanted. you wanted to take beomgyu to a surprise location as the both of you share a love for sunsets.

with this information, you decided to take him to a beach during the time you knew there would be nobody there except the people working. mingyu used to take you here to clear your mind during your time away from school and it helped so much that it was the first thing that came to mind when beomgyu came to you with his issue.

“we’re here,” you say to beomgyu, who’s been on his phone almost the whole ride. he was still a bit sulky from the fact that you wouldn’t let him drive but he quickly got over it once he saw the destination.

he seemed like he was going to say something but was soon caught off guard by his own reaction to the beach. a short exclaim of awe comes from him, causing you to smile.

“i’m guessing you like it?” you ask, mockingly. he simply just nods his head and reaches for the door handle to see outside better. you shortly follow after him, watching as he walks around the car slowly, in awe at the sight in front of him.

you walk around to the trunk, taking out a small basket and picnic blanket. walking back to beomgyu, he catches a glimpse of your hands, reaching out to help you lighten the weight on you. you smile in thanks, following behind him as he walks to where he wants to sit with a warm smile on his face.

he carefully lays out the blanket, covering the ends in sand to keep it from flying away. he gently taps the spot next to him, motioning you to sit down next to him.

you seat yourself next to him, placing the basket in between the two of you. you both begin watching as the waves sway with the wind, beautifully moving towards the dry sand.

beomgyu sighs happily, “this was definitely needed.” he says, looking over at you watching the sun as it slowly descends into the clouds. you nod your head at his comment, “definitely. i needed this as much as you did, life’s been rough lately.”

he nods his head, head dropping down towards the basket and opening it. he peeks inside, soon reaching for the strawberries you packed. you look over at him and begin reaching for one.

he hands you one, watching your reaction to see if they’re actually good. as you softly groan at the taste, he decides to also try one. the delicious burst of flavor takes him by surprise as his eyes roll back in delight.

“woah, these are delicious, y/n!” he says, reaching for more. “i know right! they’re from the fruit market by my house, i didn’t know they were so good.”

after a few strawberries and watching the sun, you finally speak up. “has everything been okay since they’ve left?” and to your delight, beomgyu wasn’t caught off guard by the sudden question.

he shake his head no, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. “i’m still not sure how to feel. yeah, i’m sad and angry with myself but i really want to know if i’m the only reason why they left, specifically soobin— i didn’t think he was too bothered by it but when i saw them arguing the day i was singing, i couldn’t help but feel intrigued… you know, curious to know what was going on?”

you hum, “i was curious too, but i didn’t want to get involved considering it’s definitely not my business, but i just wanted them to figure everything out… i didn’t think they would go as far as to leaving korea,” you reply, saddened.

beomgyu nods, agreeing with you. he shows you his phone, showing the messages he’s tried sending both soobin and yeonjun on different days. “even though they’ve both blocked me, i still hope this message somehow reaches them. it definitely won’t but, it’s the thought that counts, you know.”

you rub his shoulder, trying to empathize with him. you two sit in silence for a while before beomgyu mentions that yeonjun called him before he got on his plane, saying that he can have you and he’s done with the “competition”. as the words leave his mouth, you feel a wave of sadness wash over you.

you don’t know why you feel sad but you also know exactly why. yeonjun was genuine and you never wanted to hurt him or be the cause of his pain. you can’t help but remember the kiss you two shared, which you ended up telling him you regretted and never told him otherwise once you had the chance to speak to him again. you know that definitely took a toll on him with how much he genuinely liked you.

you never had the chance to tell him that you didn’t mean it and you longed for him to kiss you again.

you never had the chance to tell him that you missed his kind conversation and words of encouragement.

you never had the chance to reciprocate his words.

you never had the chance to tell him how much of a great person he was, flaws and all, if there was any.

you never had the chance to tell him how much you loved him, for all that he was and all he had.

shaking these thoughts away, you bring your focus back to beomgyu. not realizing that he’s been sitting in silence, with his head in his hands and his hair disheveled from how many times he’s ran his hands through it.

you rest your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his torso. you try your best to comfort him but to him, this means everything. he’s been needing someone to just hug him and sit in silence with him.

none to your surprise, beomgyu begins sobbing softly. you bring his body to your lap, softly running your hands through his hair. watching as his eyes pool with tears, you feel your eyes begin to water as well.

nobody can feel what beomgyu’s been feeling these past few weeks, the immense amount of stress and pain he’s been feeling. nothing can amount to his ability to keep his strength intact.

you’re now sobbing along with him, which he catches. he rises from your lap, embracing you in a tight hug. the hug you two share is filled with comfort and love. beomgyu rests his head on your shoulder, crying into your shirt as you do the same.

at this rate, you’re both releasing guttural sobs and just hoping to get through it. your pain obviously doesn’t meet beomgyu’s level in any universe but you feel for him. having someone be mad at you to the point where all they do is ignore you and go days on end without talking to you.

having someone be so disgusted with you that they can only hope you see what they see and it hurts like hell.

you understand him.

having his older cousin, his support, his own blood be disgusted by him and his actions is the worst thing in the world to him. he doesn’t know what to do or how to fix it, he doesn’t even know if he can. he wishes that he can reverse the time and all of this would’ve never happened, even if it means that he never matched with you.

his sobs are much louder than they were before and it worsens how you feel. its almost as if he’s thinking the exact things you’re thinking, he feels terrible about himself. he knows he crossed the line with what he said to yeonjun, he knows he should’ve kept everything to himself, he’s been wishing for the past few weeks that yeonjun and soobin would just come back and forgive him but he also knows that’s not what’s going to happen and it makes him sick to his stomach.

he’s trapped himself in his room and cried to himself, telling himself that he’s an asshole, that he needs to disappear, that he would do absolutely anything for his cousins to come back and just be happy, even if it means for them be to happy without him. he wants to try and put it all behind him but he can’t, he just can’t.

all the things he said to yeonjun haunts him, knowing that yeonjun was feeling exactly how he felt in this exact moment. knowing beomgyu’s words were the last thing he ever heard from him because he never had the proper chance to apologize. he was too late.

yeonjun had already reached his breaking point and he wasn’t hearing anyone out, not even his own cousin. no matter how bad he wanted to hear the words “i’m sorry” leave beomgyu’s mouth, he didn’t care anymore. he didn’t want to continue hurting over a girl and definitely did not want to continue having to cry himself to sleep with the words from his own blood being “you disgust me”.

yeonjun was disgusted by himself. now beomgyu is, too.

and it’s gotten so bad to the point that not even soobin cared to help anymore, he decided to leave too. he accepted his fate with yeonjun and decided to take his leave.

beomgyu didn’t even try to stop them because he knew.

it was all his fault.

beomgyu’s hold on you has gotten much tighter and you continue holding him, knowing how much he needs it. he’s stopped crying but he’s back to sobbing and sniffling. you rub his head softly, sniffling along with him.

he slowly rises from your shoulder, wiping his eyes softly and resting his head between his knees. you rub his back gently, comforting him quietly.

“i’m sorry— for the big stain,” he mutters. you smile softly, “no worries, i know you needed to let that all out. i’m sorry for the big stain as well.” you say.

he smiles sadly, going back to watching the sun. you follow his lead and do the same, knowing the sound of the waves will calm you both.

he sighs, closing his eyes and basking in the soft sunlight.

“thank you, y/n.” he says. it catches you slightly off guard but you know what he means, he means thanking for helping him clearing his mind.

you smile softly, “you’re welcome, beomgyu. i’ll always be here to help whenever you need me.”

“warts and all?”

“warts and all.”

the time you’ve been with beomgyu, you’ve felt something. you don’t know what it is but from your knowledge… you think you feel yourself falling in love with beomgyu.

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A/N: wrote this while listening maze in the mirror… made me cry a little while reading over it 😕 anywho, enjoy reading!!

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nightghoul381 · 1 year ago

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I have a little prompt for Silvio fluff 👀👉👈

Emma/MC begs Silvio to adopt a pet, and Silvio is trying to talk her out of it with the millions of reasons why a pet in a palace is impractical… but she has the power of persuasion.

Thank you anon and @happy-pup so much for the requests! I decided to combine them because the idea of doing a cute fluffy Silvio fic in his POV about the struggle of trying to convince his lover that pets don't belong in the palace was too good to leave separate.

No Pets

Silvio Ricci (POV) x Reader Genre: Fluff WC: ~ 1k

I can’t believe you’re on this again… How many times am I gonna have to tell ya, the palace is no place for a pet. But here you are, tryin’ to convince me yet again that you’d be less lonely. What do you mean you’d be less lonely? Are the rotten mutt and I not good enough company for you?

Thoughts spiral through my mind as I stalk through the halls on my way to my last meeting. It seems like you’ve been even more eager to get me to agree to letting you get a pet recently, coming up with the most random reasons.

“It’ll give me something fun to do while you’re working. I could take it out to the beach and let it run in the sand!”

“I want to be able to try out this new recipe that was developed specially for dogs.”

“They’re just so cute!”

My entire meeting went by in a blur as I recalled time after time that you had mentioned wanting to get a dog, a cat, a rabbit, any sort of little furry companion.

Recently it really seemed like you were interested in getting a dog. Every point, every question, every… everything.

I’m really not sure why you’re so desperate for an animal. The thought of you spoiling it with your affection honestly had my heart twisting just a bit with jealousy.

I threw open the door to our room and was greeted with a startled scream and a flurry of thumping sounds as you leap to your feet, running toward me and blocking my view of the room.

“You’re acting suspicious,” I state, fixing you with a questioning stare.

“What are you talking about? I always come and greet you at the door.”

The look on your face tells me everything I need to know.

“Is someone else in there?”

“Just me,” Valerio’s voice called from the far end of the room.

My eyes flick back to you, and I can’t stop the fear and panic from flaring up.

“What the hell?! Why is that damned dog in here with you?”

“Silvio please calm down! It’s not what you’re thinking! I promise!” You sputter, taking a few steps backward and glancing nervously at Valerio.

“It sure as hell looks like what I’m thinking.” I’m having a really difficult time holding the red rage inside. Valerio leaps to his feet, stalking around the side of the bed.

“Will you calm down already? She was just too nervous to tell you about the surprise!” He growled, fixing his sky-blue gaze challengingly at me, as if daring me to keep talkin’.

“Rio!” You shout, an indignant scowl crossing your features.

And then the room is filled with a flurry of loud yapping and scrambling noises.

“No, no, no! Luca, sit!” you squeak, twirling around and darting over to the side of the bed.

You don’t seem to notice that I’m right behind you, peering over your shoulder. You little sneak. You went and got a dog.

I look down at the little bundle of white and black bouncing at your feet, tongue lolling as he excitedly tries to grab at one of the toys you had picked up. Another bout of excited yaps spill from the puppy as he notices me looking down at him, his tail wagging furiously as he runs around your legs to come see me.

“Silvio! I’m really sorry I was going to come and talk to you but he followed me home from the market and I tried to find his owner for several days! Rio was keeping him in his room but the maids insisted that they clean his chambers today and didn’t want the little guy running around and leaving pawprints all over the freshly mopped floor.”

I kneel down, reaching out a hand to the dog who eagerly sniffs at the rings on my fingers before licking at them. Normally, I’d be repulsed by the drooling creature getting my hands all dirty like this, but there’s something so innocent about his eyes and the cute way the spots on his face are laid out makes him look endlessly happy. Dammit. Leave it to you to manage to find a damned puppy that I’ll never be able to say no to.

“You would,” I sigh, shaking my head.

“Silvio, please. I really did try to find his owner.” Your tone is so melancholy and I can’t help but chuckle. You’re so dense sometimes.

Looking up at you I see your hands fisted in your skirts and you’re nervously chewing on your lip staring at me with such a deep look of guilt.

“You would manage to find an animal that, without a doubt, belongs here.”

You’re stunned, I can tell. It’s so damn adorable, I scoop the puppy up from the ground, his tail never slowing down as he leans up to lick my face.

“Hey! Hey, stop it little guy! Ya said his name’s Luca right?” I ask, petting between his ears and earning and excited bark as he leans into my hand.

“Um… yeah that’s what I’ve been calling him. He just makes me so happy and it means ‘bringer of light’ so I thought it suited him.”

Damn. Damn. Damn. I don’t get it… you’ve already got me hooked on ya and then you go and do this shit. I lean in to steal your lips in a kiss but it seems our new little companion wanted in on the fun as he begins licking at our faces.

We both start laughing furiously. Looks like he’s gonna need a lot of attention, but I’m starting to think it might not be too bad to give him the attention.

“We can count on Uncle Valerio to puppysit sometimes too, right?” I joke, flashing my brother a smile.

“Really! You’d let me watch him!” Valerio exclaims, his eyes welling with tears of joy.

This is absolutely not what I had expected when you had started asking so many questions. I can’t say I’m surprised; you’ve always been able to come up with some sort of harebrained scheme and it all works out for you. And damn if I don’t fall even more in love with you for it.

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Please feel free to message me if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

#100 followers!#ikemen prince #ikepri #Silvio ricci #ikepri silvio #ikepri silvio ricci #ikemen prince silvio #ikemen prince silvio ricci #ikepri fluff #ikepri fanfic

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pearlsmith25 · 11 months ago

Text

Sanding Block Market Frontier: Pioneering the Art of Surface Refinement

Market Overview:

Sanding blocks are hand-held tools used for smoothing surfaces during woodworking, metalworking, and other similar activities. They are available in a variety of shapes, sizes and materials to suit different sanding applications.

Market Dynamics:

The growth of the sanding block market is attributed to increasing construction activity globally. According to World Bank estimates, the global construction industry market size was valued at US$ 7.8 trillion in 2020 and is projected to reach US$ 15.2 trillion by 2030, growing at a CAGR of 6.4% during the forecast period. As construction output rises, demand for sanding blocks from various end-use industries such as furniture, fixtures manufacturing, among others is also expected to increase considerably over the coming years. In addition, growing DIY culture has been fueling the sales of sanding blocks through multiple distribution channels. Consumers are increasingly taking up do-it-yourself projects at home requiring the use of these tools.

Drivers of Increased demand for high precision sanding needs in automotive industry

The automotive industry demand for sanded parts with high precision and finish has been increasing at a steady rate over the past few years. This is primarily due to the automation and robotics introduced in the manufacturing process which requires close dimensional tolerances and smoother surface finishes. Traditional hand sanding cannot provide the level of precision needed for modern automotive components. Sanding blocks allow for more consistent and even sanding required to meet the strict quality standards of the industry.

Increase in DIY home improvement and woodworking activities

The popularity of do-it-yourself home improvement and woodworking projects have been on the rise. Many people have taken up woodworking and crafts as hobbies during the pandemic. This has resulted in increased demand for tools and accessories required for sanding wood and other materials. Sanding blocks help amateur woodworkers and DIY enthusiasts achieve smooth and professional looking finishes with consistent results.

Restrain due to availability of powered sanders

While manual sanding blocks are useful for small areas and edges, the rise of inexpensive random orbital sanders from China has reduced the demand for manual sanding blocks to some extent. Powered sanders can sand larger areas much faster than sanding blocks. They provide versatility for variable rate sanding on curved, grooved or intricate surfaces where sanding blocks may not be effective. This has made powered sanders a preferable choice for industrial and commercial applications where time is a critical factor.

Opportunity for specialty blocks with advanced features

Currently the market mainly offers basic rectangular wood or plastic sanding blocks. However, there is an opportunity to develop specialty sanding blocks with advanced features catering to specific sanding needs. Examples include ergonomically designed soft grip handles, sanding blocks with integrated dust collection ports, flexible blocks suitable for intricate contours, dual material blockade that allows wet/dry sanding etc. Such innovation driven product development focused on areas currently not addressed can tap new market segments and command a premium.

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#Sanding Block Market Share #Sanding Block Market Growth #Sanding Block Market Demand #Sanding Block Market Trend #Sanding Block Market Analysis

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eccentric-nucleus · 2 months ago

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also, so, okay, so i'm working on a game project right now, right? i generally don't really talk about wips because deeply ingrained into my personality is "hey don't brag about stuff you haven't done yet", b/c i think that's... profoundly self-aggrandizing and i don't like it. and if it's not self-aggrandizing then it's marketing and i also don't like that. and given my track record with finishing projects i feel like anything i work on is likely to never see the light of day.

but i probably should try to, you know. talk about what i'm actually doing to some extent b/c that helps me get my thoughts in order

so i have this whole rendering & worldgen system that i'm mostly satisfied with, & i was thinking about the primary Mechanical Loop in the game being basically identical to 'the new hive': yr in a desert town, you go out to scavenge parts from various ruins, you return to town to fix stuff up. sometimes this is from people's requests and sometimes it's for stuff for your own use. sometimes, when you return to town some stuff is happening and there's plot & story developments. sometimes, you go out in the desert with other people and there's stuff to do when you camp for the day.

mostly what i am thinking about is a game that is deeply involved in, like, the day-to-day. in 'the new hive' the camping thing was mostly just the place to put your daily tfs and your sex scenes, but in this i think it'd be really neat to have a little cooking minigame, or like, various card games, and while you're doing either of those you're also talking to whoever you're with to get character interaction stuff. i really liked breath of fire 3 & 4 and a game that's all about the campfire scenes would be great.

maybe there's even system-driven stuff, like, there were sandstorms in 'the new hive' and for this i've been thinking about like, sandstorms and acid rain (there's an equatorial ocean of acid so along the coasts there's genuine highly-acidic rainfall) and how that would influence camping. you gotta set up the tent all the time, but now you also gotta set up some sand screens or a waxed & oiled tarp overhead to limit the weather effects! maybe you have to bunker down at camp for a few days due to weather problems and that kinda introduces other things. stuff like that.

i have a loose design for an overly-complicated "crafting system" that's kinda block-based, in that things have recipes like 'needs 1x sturdy element, 1x sharp element, & 1x binding element' and then you have items like "cord: binding/-50% repair cost" and "glue: binding/+10 durability", and so a crafted item is kind of the composite of all the various modifiers involved in crafting it, but then also each item is actually some kinda tetramino-shaped chunk and you get some 6x6 crafting grid or w/e and you have to physically fit all the ingredients together, and that would also determine which materials could be used together. this would probably also how the cooking system would work. codewise, not that difficult to make, but in terms of "thinking up plenty of different resources that have novel variations" design, it's kinda more difficult. also that might be too fiddly? i don't exactly want to drown the player in mechanics.

anyway you would still be able to fuck weird monsters but it might be more towards the 'fade to black' end of the spectrum than '8k word sex scene about taking a giant monster knot'. but it's all barely more than concepting at this point

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inkykeiji · 1 year ago

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3 with flawless Tomura please 🙈

prompt: strawberry moon series: flawless AU warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, female reader, daddy kink, lots of saliva, lots of sugar, little bit of public indecency, blowjobs + cum swallowing words: 1.4k

Laying on the sand with a thick fringed blanket, you’re the only two left on the beach, most of the other patrons having packed up and left the moment the sun began to sink. Waves tenderly lap at the shore behind you, the scent of artificial strawberry twining with the sea breeze, making the air salty sweet.

It’s nice. Despite being out in the open, something about it feels intimate; cozy, almost, scene backlit by a strawberry moon, stained pink with the glow of the sun emanating from just beyond the horizon—a hazy cloud that shimmers gold and magenta, it’s brilliance reflected on the gently wavering water.

“The moon looks like a strawberry,” you sigh out dreamily, arms tightening around Tomura’s waist as you hug yourself closer, a leg hitched over his hip.

“Strawberries seem to be a theme lately,” Tomura murmurs as bony fingers pick at the wax paper enveloping a piece of salt water taffy—strawberry, his second favourite, since they were out of watermelon—voice vibrating against your ear. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign? A sign of what?”

“That we should go strawberry picking,” he shrugs, popping the pink candy in his mouth and speaking around it, hard taffy clacking against his teeth.

“Really?” your head lifts from off his chest to peer up at him.

“Sure, why not?”

“Maybe we can bake something with them after.”

“Me? Bake?” he snorts, like the concept is downright preposterous. “Baby, I don’t even know how to use the fucking oven.”

“Alright, maybe Kurogiri can bake us something,” you revise.

A hum of contemplation vibrates on his tongue, soft and melty. “Yeah, maybe that’d be nice.”

You do, in fact, go strawberry picking during the next week, at a family owned and operated farm your father used to take you to when you were a child.

It’s a beautiful June day, deep blue sky embroidered with puffs of white cotton as the sun’s rays play between them. You and Tomura spend an absurd amount of time inside the little market at the front of the farm, diligently picking through all of the sweets—homemade fudge and freshly baked cookies and maple sugar candies—leaving the small shop with armfuls of treats, to fuel your berry picking expeditions, he reasons.

And, really, who are you to say otherwise? Daddy knows best, so what Daddy says goes, always.

It’s romantic in a sense, the ten minute wagon ride spent sharing a block of double chocolate caramel swirl fudge between the two of you, taking turns eating pieces from each other’s fingers, the hot June sun leaving thick smudges of it on your fingertips.

Tomura’s hand cuffs your wrist just as the final piece of fudge is melting on your tongue, bringing your fingers to his mouth and wrapping his lips around your index, slowly sucking the remnants of chocolate and caramel from it, and each and every one after it, mouth puckering and cheeks hollowing as his tongue curls in a wet embrace around the digits.

By the time he’s finished licking your hand clean your fingers glitter with a syrupy slave of saliva, spit tinged brown from the cocoa, viscous drops of it rolling down your palms to settle in the lines.

“Your turn,” he says with a cheeky smirk, holding his large hand out to you, fingers caked with soft fudge wiggling a little in enticement.

And you, good little girl that you are, wrap two hands around his wrist, steadying his hand before taking his index finger down your throat, mouth clamping over it with dedicated earnest and sucking hard. Your tongue wreathes around it, slurping the fudgy residue clean from his skin and swallowing, the sudden constricting of your throat pulling a soft little sound from deep within his chest, unblinking eyes staring at him with such pure devotion it almost hurts.

But Tomura isn’t looking into your eyes, his own eyes gaping at your lips, shiny and slicked with spit, watching the way your lips swell with each bony knuckle that passes through them as you slowly pull off his finger.

You do the same for every other one, too—middle, ring, pinky, thumb—and by the end of it he’s exhaling little pants through slightly parted lips, glazed eyes fixated on your mouth, cock half hard and twitching pathetically in his jeans.

That’s when it starts.

But it doesn’t stop there. Oh no.

Because why would it, with you? Because when does it ever, with you?

You aren’t even modest with it, legs kept straight as you bend, back perpendicular to the muddy ground and ass stuck out, to pick through one of the strawberry bushes, the hem of your cute little dress hitching with the motion, material fluttering in the perpetual soft breeze and gifting Tomura with glimpses of the pink silk clinging to your cheeks beneath.

No, there’s nothing modest about the way you look at him as you bite into a particularly large, particularly juicy strawberry, eyes glinting in the late afternoon sun and lips shimmering, glossed with strawberry juice that collects in the corners of your mouth and runs down your chin in glistening drops to drip onto your cleavage, gathering in the divots and streaking your skin with glimmering pink trails, mouth curling into a playful little smirk, giggles sticking in your throat.

Nor is there anything modest about the way your strawberry-soaked tongue keeps stealing little kitten licks, laving over the self-inflicted scars crisscrossing on Tomura’s neck with hot, strawberry-steeped breath, traces of the sweet scent clinging to his skin, tickling his nose and watering his mouth.

God, he’s too fucking easy.

God, he fucking loves you.

Really, he should punish you; that’s what any good Daddy would do, would drag your bratty little ass from the strawberry fields without bringing a single berry home, wicker basket spilling its crimson guts on the dirt floor as a large hand encircles your wrist and yanks, hard, hard enough to have you yelping, hard enough to have you stumbling over your own ankles, and reprimand you for such tasteless, disgraceful behaviour.

And he will.

But he lets you have your fun first, lets you romp and frolic through the bushy green fields as you give him little teases and tastes—because he loves it, too—mentally tallying up your punishments with playful growls in his chest and a predatory grin spread across his cheeks.

It’s the sweetest torture—literally and figuratively—and by the time the sun is setting and your wicker baskets are overflowing with ruby berries, he’s nearly about to crawl out of his sugar-stained skin.

“You are fucking unbelievable,” Tomura’s muttering into your neck as you await the wagon to take you back to the entrance, arms twined tightly around your waist with his chin resting on your shoulder, his hips subtly rutting against you, hard cock grinding against your ass.

“Hey, you started it,” you’re giggling, pushing back against him and reveling in the muted groan it pulls from his throat.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna finish it, too, you little brat.”

And finish it, he does.

Because at the end, after all of your teasing, your strawberry stained lips and strawberry-tinged kisses with strawberry flesh in your teeth, Daddy finally takes what’s rightfully his, on the side of some dilapidated, seldomly used country backroad, in his pretty candy apple red Maybach.

And he finishes with his cock shoved in that pretty mouth of yours, thick cum spilling down your throat, it’s bitter mixing with the strawberry’s sweet, creating an intoxicating concoction.

He stuffs your mouth full of it, so much so that it collects in crevices of your cheeks and the creases beneath your tongue, so much so that when he pulls his cock from your lips, after you’ve swallowed several times, there’s still thick cords of ivory, webbed and viscous, connecting your tongue to his cock.

Cum dribbles from the corners of your lips in the prettiest pale pink, dyed by your strawberry infused spit. His thumb swipes through it messily, smearing it across your chin in a stroke of glistening cream, and pushes the substance collected on the pad of his finger back into your diligent mouth, lips closing around it automatically, dutifully, and sucking it back into their heat, tongue curling around the stout digit to sop up any remnants of cum it can, licking it clean.

“Such a good girl for Daddy,” he murmurs, repeating the action again, eyes dark and blown with a morbid fascination as he watches you eat. “Maybe we should go fruit picking more often, huh?”

If it ends like this, you’re drooling out, gazing up at him so dreamily, so devotedly, you’ll do anything.

#shigaraki smut #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura smut #shigaraki tomura x reader #thank you so much for this anon!!!#this one is likeee way too long hahaha but!! i had fun writing it!!#flawless universe #inky.bb #clari gets mail

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