#Step Deck Transportation

[luvsupa]

“WHATT? NEVER SEEN A GHOSTT..”

summary: next time be respectful for gojo’s memorial. . .

tags: ghost!gojo x fem!reader, smut, threesome (ig ..?), use of clone techniques, jjk spoilers, mean gojo, ōral sex (f!recieving), size difference,belly bulging, full nelson, degrading, dumbification, etc, mdni.

w.c: 4k . . .

a/n: GUYSSS WE GOIN UPPP ☝🏽 TYY FOR 1,7K MWAAAAA

+ sorry for the errors

kinktober masterlist

the halloween theme park buzzes with screams from rollercoasters and actors in horror costumes that look almost too real. you walk arm in arm with your friends, all of you decked out in matching monster high costumes. at first, you weren’t into it, but after enough pestering, you caved and ordered clawdeen’s full outfit.

the crowd can’t stop complimenting the four of you. from the boots to the hair, everything is spot-on. but gosh these platform boots are killing you. you can already feel tomorrow’s regret setting in.

“ooo, let’s try this ride before we leave,” one of your friends says through the fake fangs she’s wearing as draculaura. you all turn your heads to see what she’s pointing at. a sign reads infinity maze, with eerie, glowing blue eyes blinking on and off. it’s famous, mostly because the guy who designed it—gojo satoru—died a few years ago, turning it into some kind of attraction with ghost stories attached.

you scoff. people are suchwimps.

as you approach, you’re grateful for your speed passes because the line is insane. “okay, how about we make a bet?” your cleo-dressed friend suggests. “slowest time pays for dinner.”

you grin at the challenge, nodding along with everyone else.

as you wait, something catches your eye—a giant memorial statue of gojo satoru, standing tall near the maze entrance. his cocky grin is frozen in stone, and beneath it, the descriptiom reads,

in loving memory of satoru gojo. forever lovable and the strongest.

you roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “who gives a fuck about him?” you say, loud enough for your friends to hear. they giggle, and you continue, “seriously, they’re doing the most with this memorial. it’s not that deep.”

one of your friends shakes her head, trying not to laugh too hard. “it’s haunted, remember?” she says mockingly, to which you just snicker.

“haunted, my ass.”

your first friend goes into the maze, and you start timing her on your phone. almost three minutes later, she comes out breathless, claiming the only scary part was a worker grabbing her ankle at the end.

next up are the others, who all manage to escape in under two minutes. the pressure’s on now, but you refuse to be the one paying for dinner. with a quick glance at your friends, you flash your speed pass to the coordinator, ready to sprint through this lame maze and leave them all in the dust.

your platform boots thud heavily against the creaking wooden floor, each step echoing in the suffocating silence. the door slams shut behind you with a sharp clack, sealing you inside. a deep breath fills your lungs, but the air feels heavy, thick. the faint glow of flickering lights ahead barely cuts through the darkness, revealing the first room—a classroom?

it’s an old, japanese-style classroom, but something feels off. chairs are scattered across the floor like a struggle took place, and bloody handprints—too real for comfort—smear the walls. your heart races as a sudden crack of thunder rips through the air, making the weak lights above you flicker wildly. it feels like you’ve been transported, as if this isn’t a theme park anymore... like you’re somewhere else, somewhere you shouldn’t be.

you inch forward, boots sinking into the floorboards with each loud creakk. you can’t shake the feeling that the room is watching you. the chalkboard looms at the front, with jagged, uneven writing smeared across it

look behind you

your stomach twists. your mind fights to stay rational—it’s just part of the maze, it’s not real. but your hands are trembling as you slowly turn. nothing. just scattered desks and the harsh, stuttering light overhead. thunder crashes again, timed too perfectly. 

your heart rate slows a bit, but you mutter under your breath, stupid maze, trying to shake off the unease as you head toward the next door. the sign above it reads, hall of mirrors,

the knob feels cold in your hand as you twist it, stepping into the next room. pitch-black darkness swallows you whole, except for the mirrors that tower from floor to ceiling. hundreds of them, endless reflections stretching out in every direction. your eyes adjust to the faint, flickering light—just enough to see yourself, but not much else.

“fuck,” you whisper, hating mirror mazes with a passion. you move cautiously, knowing you’ll bump into a dead end at some point. your reflection multiplies with every turn, making it feel like you’re being watched from all angles. you stop in front of one mirror, catching your breath, and take a moment to adjust your costume.

you smooth down the sheer purple mini skirt, making sure your wolf ears are straight on your head. you shift slightly, checking out your ass in the reflection, appreciating how well the outfit hugs your body. you’re about to laugh at yourself when your eyes catch something—a shadow

a figure. behind you. 

your breath stops cold. your friends hadn’t mentioned anyone being in here with you. you freeze, heart pounding as you stare into the reflection, too terrified to turn around.

“o-oh um, did I come in the room too early?” you stammer, your voice barely steady, assuming he’s the worker who grabbed your friend’s foot earlier. you swallow hard, trying to make sense of the tension creeping up your spine. the lights flicker again, casting shadows that stretch too long. your eyes twitch as you stare into the mirror—he’s still there, standing so still it sends a chill down your spine.

the lights flicker again, plunging the room into darkness. your pulse races. you can feel his presence behind you, closer now, even though you haven’t turned around. every hair on your body stands on end, anticipation mingling with fear. when the lights finally come back, your breath catches in your throat.

gojo satoru.

he stands right behind you, towering over your smaller frame, his eyes glowing like cold fire through the mirror. his presence is overwhelming, suffocating, andelectrifying. his ocean-blue gaze locks onto yours through the reflection, freezing you in place. you can’t move, can’t breathe, as his lips curl into a slow, dark smile.

“nahhh, you came at a good time,” he drags out, voice low, rough, as it echoes through the room. the sound of it, mixed with the flickering lights, makes your knees weak. he steps closer, his icy fingers brushing the hem of your skirt, sending a shiver down your spine. your breath hitches as you feel his touch, subtle yet possessive.

“and who are you supposed to be?” his voice is condescending, almost mocking, as his hand continues to toy with the fabric, lifting it just slightly. the way he says it makes your heart race faster, your skin prickling with a mixture of fear and something else—something darker.

you glance up, meeting his gaze in the mirror, tears forming in your eyes. this can’t be real. his white hair falls messily around his face, his long lashes shadowing those dangerously beautiful eyes.

“h-how? y-you’re dead,” you blurt out, ignoring his question as panic takes over. but his chuckle—low, dark—vibrates against the back of your neck, making you shudder. you’re trapped between the mirror and him, his breath warm and taunting against your skin.

“that i am,” he murmurs, his lips so close to your ear, “but you know what they say… energy never dies. you brought me here.” his words wrap around you, suffocating, intoxicating. your mind spins, trying to comprehend. you brought him here? how could you possibly—?

“h-how?” your voice is barely a whisper, trembling as you try to make sense of his words. it feels like the room is shrinking, like the walls are closing in, the air too thick to breathe.

“don’t play dumb now,” he chides, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. the heat of his palm sends sparks through your body. you shouldn’t want this, but the way his fingers tease your skin, the slow drag of his hand, has you clenching your thighs together.

suddenly, it hits you. images of you mocking his memorial, laughing at his statue, flashing through your mind. his low chuckle tells you he knows exactly what you’re remembering.

“i-i didn’t mean-”

“didn’t mean it? nahh, pretty, you fuckin’ meant it.” his plush lips press against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that make your knees weak. fuck, you shouldn’t be getting turned on by this, by a ghost. yet, your body betrays you, burning up under his touch.

he leans into you, his teeth grazing your exposed skin, making you flinch. fangs? you tremble as he brushes his fingers under your chin, lifting your face so your wide, glossy eyes meet his through the mirror.

“all that nasty energy you have within you… mmm, that’s why.” his voice drops as he nibbles on your earlobe, tugging lightly on your hoop earrings, making you wince.

“‘m sorry, j-just don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything,” you stammer, your voice shaky as his grip on your chin tightens. his movements still, and the way he smirks behind you makes your heart sink. you’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable—like you just handed him your dignity on a silver platter.

without a word, he pushes your back down, forcing you to brace yourself against the mirror, your fingertips smudging the glass as you struggle to keep steady. glancing to another mirror, you see him crouching down, eyeing your clothed cunt with dangerous curiosity.

“anything, she says”, gojo quietly says, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you arch your back just right for him. his eyes darken when he notices how soaked your panties are, the fabric clinging to your folds, sucked in by the wet heat between your thighs. of course, the lights choose now not to flicker—how fucking embarrassing.

with a quick, rough tug, gojo hooks his finger into your panties, pulling them side to side, watching how your chubby folds swallow the fabric before yanking them aside, fully exposing your dripping cunt. you clench hard at the sudden cool breeze against your exposed skin, and he pauses, mesmerized.

“you like this, huh? getting off to a dead man… ohh, you’re disgusting,” he mocks, his voice low and sinister.

“‘m going to make sure you live your dirty fantasies,” he growls, his tone laced with intent.

and he really is.

gojo has been diving into your cunt for what felt like hours, his impossibly slimy tongue lapping up your juices as your gummy walls snugly embrace him. your hands grip the sides of the mirror for dear life, feeling him reach the deepest parts of you. you’re moaning like a bitch in heat, your desperation rising as his spare hand mercilessly toys with your clit, not in cute circles, but pinching and pulling on your sensitive nub with no mercy whatsoever.

your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably as he pushes you to your third orgasm, broken moans escaping your glossed lips. your pussy slowly feels numb, overwhelmed by how hungrily he’s eating you out. do they not feed him in his world?

“ngh—‘toru, it’s too m-much,” you hiccup, and he growls behind you, the sound vibrating through your body. at this point, you’ve completely forgotten about your friends, about the stupid bet—you’re lost in the most toe-curling head of your life.

your stomach churns unexpectedly as you cum again, your brain so fuzzy that you can’t even comprehend it. he loudly slurps up your mess, not wasting a single drop as he licks you clean, your cunt twitching around his tongue. when he pulls his tongue from your gaping hole, your swollen folds throb in response as he grins at your state.

“heh, look at you—just a slut for a ghost!” he taunts, now standing behind you, grinding his achy bulge against your exposed cunt. his eyes never leave your face in the mirror.

“let’s see how much dick she can take,” he mutters to himself, cupping your pussy, clearly addressing her rather than you. as you catch onto his words, a wave of confusion and excitement hits you. how much? there’s more than one?

before you can process anything, you blink once and find yourself in the most insane position you’ve ever been in—full nelson. gojo has you completely at his mercy, holding your legs high above your head with a firm grip, locking you in place like a ragdoll. your tall platform boots dangle helplessly in the air, the sensation thrilling and humiliating as you stare at your reflection in the endless mirrors surrounding you. your stomach twists at the sheer size difference between your body and his, your eyes widening as you see your slick, swollen cunt clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

your miniskirt is now so short that it’s bunched up around your waist, exposing more skin than you’d ever intended. your eyes drop lower, and you gulp as you take in the sight of his cock, standing proudly upright. the base is a tan colour, thick and powerful, with mean veins decorating the sides that pulse with each heartbeat. the bulbous tip is a deep pink, glistening with droplets of cum that catch the dim light.

with one hand firmly securing your legs, gojo uses his other to tease you, rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds, the sensation sending electric jolts through your body. you bite your lip at the girth of his shaft, feeling a mix of excitement and horror. he’s definitely bigger than all your previous exes, and with every second you spend in this position, he brings undeniable shame onto them.

“can you handle it, baby?” he taunts, his voice dripping with condescension as he revels in your predicament.

“yes, I can-”

without lettint you finish, he thrusts into you, burying himself deep within your slick warmth. the suddenness takes your breath away, and you let out a gasp as he fills you completely. his girth stretches you in a way you’ve never experienced before, almost burning as your gummy walls clench around him, trying to accommodate his size. each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, a delicious blend of pain and ecstasy as you realize you can only take it.

gojo holds you firmly in place, using this ruthless position to keep you utterly at his mercy, revelling in your helplessness. with each powerful thrust, he drives deeper, hitting spots inside you that make your vision blur and your legs tremble. you can’t escape, all you can do is take what he gives you, your body completely surrendered to the pleasure.

“look at you, taking it so well,” he growls, a wicked grin stretching across his face as he watches your reflection in the mirror. your moans fill the room, echoing off the glass, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. the sweat glistens on his body, making his white hair stick to his forehead, adding to the rawness of the moment. “you’re nothing but a greedy little slut, aren’t you?”

you can only whimper in response, your head spinning as his relentless rhythm pushes you closer to the edge. your thighs shake uncontrollably as he hits that sweet spot, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust. you’ve completely forgotten everything but the way he stretches you out, your body fitting around him perfectly as if you were made for him.

as gojo thrusts into you relentlessly, your collar jingles with every powerful movement, a stark reminder of your current position. each chime echoes in the room, amplifying your vulnerability as he drinks in the sight of your pretty, disheveled form. he watches how your eyes flutter in bliss, how your lips part with each thrust, and how your reflection reflects the pure ecstasy etched across your face.

“what happened to all that toughness?” he sneers, his breath hot against your ear as he quickens his pace. “wanna tell me how stupid this is?” his laughter reverberates through the air, as he reminds you of your sly comment.

the humiliation of his words ignites a flame deep within you, and despite the embarrassment, your body craves more. your jewelry clinks and jingles as he pounds up into you, each sound mingling with the echoes of your moans. the sensation is overwhelming, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your mind hazy as pleasure clouds your thoughts.

as you struggle to keep your eyes open, the world around you blurs and spins. you can’t tell if it’s the overwhelming pleasure or the way he’s wrecking you, but you swear you see multiple gojos swarming around the two of you in the mirrors. they grin wickedly, each one reflecting the same smug confidence, but you’re too lost in ecstasy to process it completely.

am I seeing things? you wonder,

your mind foggy from the pleasure coursing through your body. each thrust sends you spiral deeper into submission, heat pooling in your core, ready to explode.

then, without warning, you feel another hand, another gojo, playing with your pussy. your eyes shoot open, panic flooding your senses as you choke back a gasp.

he can clone himself!

your body responds eagerly to the dual sensations, the original gojo still jack hammerinh relentlessly inside you while his clone teasingly rubs your clit, heightening your pleasure to unimaginable heights. as if sensing your need, the clone moves closer, rubbing his chubby tip along your widened folds. you scream internally, panic flashing through your mind as he presses against you, the overwhelming stretch igniting both fear and pleasure.

there’s no fucking way.

the clone pushes in slowly, stretching you beyond your limits, sending shockwaves through your body. you cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain, tears brimming in your eyes. he’s moulding himself deep within your walls as you feel every inch of your velvety walls being re-designed for him.

the original gojo leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “c’mon, big baaaad wolf, can you handle both of us?” he taunts the nickname referring to your costume, as his thrusts becoming more forceful as the clone fills you. “i thought you were a big girl.”

you can only moan in response, the sound mingling with the jingle of your jewelry as they continue to drive you wild. the mirrors reflect your state—multiple gojos swarming around you, each one more enticing than the last. their mocking smiles deepen your humiliation, but the pleasure they bring you makes it impossible to care. both their cock heads rushing as if it were a race to reach your cervix as you squeak at the brutal thrusts.

“look at you, a pathetic mess,” the original gojo mocks, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as you squirm between them. your gaze lazily drifts to the your tummy where a large bulge forming beneath your costume, moans escaping your lips at the sight. “you love being filled up like this, don’t you? who’s the stupid one now?”

your body betrays you, your pussy clenching around both of them as they thrust in sync, stretching you to your limits. the lewd squelches and sloshes of your dripping cunt fill the air, drowning out all coherent thoughts. each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, the overwhelming sensations causing your mind to spiral into oblivion.

the clone suddenly flicks your head, thr pain forcing you to look at him, and you feel a rush of clarity amidst the haze. “stay with us, pretty,” he demands, his tone both condescending and sultry. 

“we- hgnn -want to see that face you make when you fall apart.” you shudder at the sound of his voice, the way it sends waves of heat coursing through your body.

“mmf—i can’t. . . ’s too much,” you babble, your voice rising higher as the clone continues to push into you, the overwhelming sensation of fullness sending shockwaves through your body. pleasure and pain blur together, and you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

“ohhh, but you can,” the original gojo growls, thrusting harder, your body shaking as you sob loudly, the sounds echoing off the mirrors as your achy walls clenching around his thick shafts.

every angle captures your struggle—your skin glistening with sweat, your costume soaked and clinging to your curves, and the way you’re trapped between two versions of the man you crave. the reflections amplify the chaos, a never-ending loop of desire and degradation as you’re thrust deeper into submission.

“what about your friends?” the clone taunts, a wicked smirk plastered across his face. “what will they think when they find you like this?” the thought sends a wave of humiliation crashing over you, but the pleasure is relentless, drowning out any semblance of reality.

“anddd what about that bet you had?” the original gojo continues from behind, his voice dripping with mockery. “i bet they wouldn’t believe how much you enjoy being filled up by us.” you nod at his words, sniffles escaping your nostrils as fat globs of tears streak down your cheeks, your makeup a ruined mess.

they’re so deep inside you that it feels like they’re going to split you in half. each thrust stretches you to your limits, their relentless rhythm pushing you closer to the brink.

you swear you feel him in your chest.

“please… i need to—” you gasp, your body trembling as the clone toys with your clit, electric jolts of pleasure coursing through you. your senses blur, and all you can feel is the overwhelming fullness and the pleasure spirall out of control.

“let go, pretty,” the clone whispers, fingers dancing over your sensitive bud. “show us how much you want it.”

with one final thrust from the original gojo, the heat builds to an explosive climax. you feel your body tighten around them, walls pulsing as a tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you.

“fuckk!” you scream, body convulsing as you squirt, release gushing out of you and mixing with his cum. gojo’s thick cum shoots deep inside as he paints your gummy walls a pretty milky white, creating an intense mess that ends up coats your inner thighs. the overwhelming sensation sends you spiraling into a realm of ecstasy, every nerve ending igniting as you succumb to the bliss.

“what a sight,” the original gojo grunts, breath heavy with satisfaction. you’re lost in the aftermath, body shaking as you ride the waves of pleasure, mind fogged with overwhelming satisfaction and disbelief at the chaos that has consumed you.

as you try to come back from your intense orgasm, the clone pulls back and disappears. when gojo finally slides out of your cunt, a waterfall of cum oozes from you, thick globs spilling forth—it’s utterly inhumane. gojo carefully places your wobbly legs, which had been in the air for what felt like hours, back on the ground as you collapse, the numbness too much to bear.

the mess cascades down your gaping hole, sticky and warm, creating a thick pool beneath you. you can’t help but feel utterly exposed, the evidence of their domination staining your costume and making you acutely aware of how thoroughly you’ve been filled.

the sight is almost too much to bear, the way your body quakes with the remnants of pleasure while the glistening fluid slowly drips, accentuating the chaos you’ve just experienced. you feel humiliated yet impossibly aroused, the reflections in the mirrors surrounding you amplifying your vulnerability as he stands, watching you tremble.

“c’mon, baby, your friends have been waiting,” he coos, picking you up bridal style as you mumble nonsense, your brain so fucked that you can barely string a thought together. he strides through the mirror maze and into the last room, steadying you onto the ground for you to exit on your own.

he fixes your hair and outfit, quickly pecking your lips before opening the door and giving you a final push. you stumble out, the cool breeze hitting you like a splash of cold water, bringing you back to reality.

“girl, what the hell took you so long?” your friends shout as you try to steady your wobbly legs. one of them shoves her phone in your face, and your jaw drops.

50 fucking minutes.

“t-the worker was—”

“t-the worker- shut up. now you’re buying us food.” one of them mocks, handing you your belongings while they stare you up and down, taking in how badly you’re shaking and your frizzy hair.

“jeez did a demon fuck you? you look like you got meannn dick in there,” she jokes, and everyone bursts into laughter, including you. they have no idea what you’ve just been through, but you can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

[skirter01]

AU: Dukes got a strange new teacher, Jason has a weird neighbour, Dick helped a poor civillian with two broken legs, and Tim's got a bad feeling about the knew Wayne Enterprises employee. Who knew they'd turn out to be the same person? Or... Dannys stuck in Gotham, how, why, when? To be confirmed, although, he's positive its something to do with a certain time-turning asshole. But now he's got bats on his tail and a serious case of the munchies. Good thing Sam and Tucker learned early on to slap a tracker on his phone.

----

Smol Teaser

Dick stumbled forwards, chain rattling around his foot as it pulled taunt. He hit the deck.

“No!”

Duke closed his eyes – and for a moment, he wondered what it would’ve been like if he’d just stayed home like he’d planned to – as Danny descended, mouth split into a feral smile and scythe in motion.

Then, “Bang!”

Dukes’ ears screamed as something exploded, a sonic boom erupting somewhere to his right. A fiery green blast flashed through the air, smacking into Danny like a sledgehammer and sending him hurtling into the concrete pillar in a blast of dust and debris.

Duke took in a sharp breath, eyes fettering over where the teacher landed. His eyes locked on Dick, who was staring over his shoulder from his place on the floor.

“Ha! Bullseye!” Duke startled at the voice and whipped to his right. “I am literally a God.”

Had he been transported to Men in Black right now? Because there was no other explanation for what this was right now. The owner of the voice was a young African American, with neat cornrows and dressed in a suit straight out of MIB, save for the sunglasses which were substituted for a slick pair of black framed glasses.

With a huff, the newcomer hefted an enormous smoking bazooka to rest between his shoulder blade and collarbone. He looked over the room with a grin. “Worry not ladies, knight with shining armour reporting for duty.” He proclaimed with a cheeky grin and a wink, patting the weapon’s steel side fondly, “No, need to thank me. Just doing my job.”

There was a click, and the stranger froze, “Who in the hell are you?” Jason growled through his modulator, stepping out of the shadows to the left of new guy, pistol aimed for a head shot.

The stranger’s eyes slid, acknowledging Jason’s gun from his peripheral. “Sure…” He drawled cautiously, ‘shoot the man with the bazooka. Do it.”

Jason pulled out his second gun. Head titling in challenge.

New guy grinned. “Geez, calm your tits. Names Foley, Tucker Foley.” He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a badge. “FBI”

The FBI?

Jason lowered his pistols. “The fuck is the FBI doing in Gotham?” Duke would like to know the same thing.

Tucker shrugged, “Shits and gigs” he said, dropping the bazooka from his shoulder, and catching its nose on his foot before he propped it up against the closest wall. He swivelled, jabbing a finger over at the downed spectre. “Mostly that troublemaker though. Do you mind if I–actually, why am I even asking you?” He stalked over to the cracked concrete pillar and jabbed at foot at Dukes downed teacher, shifting his lifeless body “Oi, Danny.”

Duke didn’t know how to break the news. “Um, Mr. Foley? He’s not–Well, he was killed by something, we don’t know what exactly. I don’t think he’s–yeah…Sorry.” Ever so eloquently put.

Tucker raised a brow, “Are you trying to tell me he’s dead?”

Duke resisted the urge to point out that this Tucker guy did actually shoot him into the wall with a bazooka. He was dead before anyway, but still.

“Obviously,” Jason grumbled, crossing his arms. “Some occult thing.”

“Right.” Tucker’s face twisted into a slight frown, and he nudged the body again. “Danny, stop foxing and get up.”

There was a groan and Duke took an involuntary step back.  

Tucker prodded Danny again. “C’mon, up and at ‘em.”

“5 more minutes.” Danny rolled over onto his side. “M’kay?”

Dick’s mouth was wide open at the scene. “Are you serious right now?”

Danny popped his head up, hair and face covered in dust, his eyes narrowed. “You’d think coming at them with a scythe would scare them off, right Tuck?”

“I told you it wasn’t going to work.” A feminine voice came from the doorway, and a woman stepped into the room. “But please, feel free to be disappointed.” She was dressed in back cargo pants, and a cropped purple tee, dark hair neatly braided down her back. She leaned against the door, “You missed our anniversary.” She said pointedly towards Danny.

Danny dropped his head back to the floor. “Can we go back to when I was just a lifeless corpse?”

Tucker gwuaffed. “You’re already a lifeless corpse, there’s nothing to go back to, stupid."

[callmemaeverick]

Good cop, Bad Boy - A. Aretas

Summary: Being part of AMMO meant that you would be working with the best on the force. But when shit hits the fan, you find yourself enlisting help from an unlikely source. Well.. maybe not so unlikely

WC: 2.1k

TW: guns, blood, death, Senor Aretas

The water calms you down, it always has. Whenever life gets too fast or too hectic, you would find yourself gravitating towards bodies of water. It was why you love Miami so much.

Taking a drag from your dwindling cigarette, you kept your eyes out onto the sea, letting the soft sounds of the gentle waves calm down your nerves. So much had been going on in the last week.

News started spreading that your beloved late captain had ties to the cartel. And then, Marcus and Mike went MIA while transporting Mike’s son, Armando, who was actually in the cartel. And then that morning, another bomb got dropped on you when you knocked on Dorn’s door and someone else answered.

After a heated shouting match about how inappropriate it was that your colleagues are dating, you decided that you needed some space and stepped out. Leaving was not an option as there were heaps of Howard’s files to go through, so you told Dorn you needed some air and stepped onto his deck.

The truth was, you were slightly jealous. With Rita becoming Captain and Rafe transferring to another unit, and now, this new development, you were left essentially, alone. No partners to watch your six and with no partners, it would mean less active work.

And that pissed you off. That and the IA nightmare this could bring.

There was a shift in weight on the boathouse and before you know it, your gun was out of the holster and aimed. Your body tensed.

Brown eyes widened and the familiar face of Armando Aretas greeted you. “Calmate,” His voice was low.

“What the f-“

A split second later, Mike was in front of you. “Hey, it’s us.” He reached out and pushed the barrel of your gun down slowly. “It’s just us.”

“Oh my God!” You gasped as you re-holstered and lunged to hug the man. “We thought you guys were dead!”

“Takes more than that to bring us down,” Marcus chimed as he ducked to Dorn’s door and knocked violently. Mike, in turn, faced his son.

“Hang out here for a sec.”

The man nodded once and your attention went to him. All three of them looked haggard, covered in dirt. Their clothes looked stolen and you found yourself wondering where they had been the last three days.

Marcus and Mike barged into Dorn’s living room and you waited outside. They were in for a surprise and you do not wanna be there when they found out.

A horn sounded in the distance and you turned back to the sea, taking the last drag from your cig before dropping the butt on the deck and stepping on it with your boots.

You could feel eyes on you and when you looked up, your suspicions were confirmed. His eyebrows quirked when you caught him.

“What?”

He gave you a once-over then moved to the door.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” You warned him and he stopped for a second before he turned the knob and entered.

You scoffed and smirked, following him in.

The scene that greeted you when you entered behind Armando was very similar to what you had subjected him to early on as you stared down the barrel of Kelly’s gun. You leaned in to his back.

“Told you,” As you side stepped him, you caught his side-eye and grinned. Your day was looking up.

xxxx

When Mike said Howard had files, he had files. Pictures, videos, case reports, manifests. It was like trying to complete a very large jigsaw puzzle with no full picture in hand and all you had to help was Armando, the only person that could identify your target.

You held up a new picture him. “Anybody ring a bell?”

He glanced at it and rubbed at his eyes. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

The glare came full force. “Sí. I know these people, but none of them are who you are looking for.” He sighed.

His eyes were bloodshot and it was only then you realized he was still in the same raggedy shirt and jeans he came in with. And worse, he hadn’t had the chance to clean the cut on his forehead. “Shit, did Dorn not…”

He leveled you with a look that said, 'What do you think?'

“Well, that’s what you get when you flirt with someone’s girl,” You quipped. “Come on, follow me,” You didn’t wait to see if he was following, you just knew. And as you passed Dorn at his console, you smacked him lightly upside the head.

“Oww! What was that for?!

“You know what it’s for!” You sniped back as your best friend watched the two of you pass. “You were raised better than to disrespect guests,”

“He’s not a guest!”

“He’s Mike’s guest, therefore he’s a guest!”

His grumbling followed you to the second floor but you ignored it and went straight to Dorn’s guest bedroom. You’ve slept in there more times than you can count so you knew where everything is.

“Spare clothes are in there. Towels in the second drawer. Bathroom is through there.” You pointed and watched as he took stock of your instructions.

“Do you need the first aid?”

“What?”

“Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need the first aid kit?”

“Oh… nah. I’m good.”

“Okay,” As you turned to leave, he caught your wrist and you turned.

“Why are you helping me?”

“This is hardly considered help, Aretas,”

He stared.

“Well, aren’t you helping us?” You asked back. “Way I see it, you’re risking your neck to help clear someone’s name. Someone very important to your father. That earns you a pass in my book.”

“How do you know I’m not doing this for myself?”

“What could you possibly gain from this?” You scoffed. “It’s not gonna earn you a pardon. So I think you’re doing this because Mike asked you for help. Am I right?”

Armando did not answer so you just gave him a knowing smile and left him alone.

xxxx

The night air was cool and the sounds of waves lapping calming you down again. It was the reason why you liked hanging out at Dorn's so much. But with the new development; you might need to find another spot.

It was almost d-day and you all have had one hell of a night. You saw the attack on Marcus' place and was thankful his son-in-law was there to protect his wife and daughter. But Mike wasn't so lucky.

Witnessing his panic attack almost triggered your own. If the indomitable Mike Lowrey was scared; you should be too. You remembered when you yourself was in his shoes, the weight of the ring around your neck heavy.

Somebody leaned on the railing next to you and judging by bronze of his skin, you already knew who it was.

"Can't sleep?" You broke silence.

When no answers came, you turned to face Armando. You took him in slowly. After a shower; he had looked better, more alive than when they first arrived at the boathouse and you were glad for it. You wouldn't kid yourself and not admit that the man is very attractive. He's capable, intelligent, quiet. And there there was the way he assessed everything around him with those eyes of his.

You had no idea how anyone wouldn't just spontaneously combust at being under his gaze.

Speaking of his eyes, you saw his attention slide to you and his eyebrows rose, so you quickly diverted your own back to the sea. Your face grew warm.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"There is nothing to say,"

"Well, I don't do well in uncomfortable silences so.."

This time he fully turned to you making you mirror his actions. He took one step forward and instantly, your warning bells blared. Your eyes widened and you gulped.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" His voice dropped low but his eyes blazed as they stared into yours. Holy shit, you thought.

"I - uhh -…"

A rogue smirk painted his lips, pulling your attention. The smirk widened to a grin. Then as suddenly as he was close, he stepped back and gave you back your personal space. You blinked, dazed and confused as to what just happened.

Once you retrieved your bearings, you cleared your throat. Your face was now burning. "You're a dick, Aretas," You snapped and was blessed with the low timbre of his soft laugh.

xxxx

You came to with ringing in your ears and pain all over your body. The last thing you remembered were strong arms wrapping around your body and then you were airborne.

Mike gave you both a mission and that was Callie. But then there were too many of them. And then there was the plane.

You stood from behind the overturned table and looked around. There were bodies littered all over. But no Callie. And no Armando.

Then, the radio crackled in your earpiece. Judy.

“I’ve got eyes on Aretas. Moving in.”

Fuck.

“Who’s got eyes on Armando?” You called into the comms.

Rita’s voice came on. “Last I saw he was extracting Callie. West exit.”

You bolted without thinking, praying that you would get there in time. He was your partner, you need to have his six.

You arrived from behind, just as Mike arrived from the side and you skidded to a halt as Judy’s gun swivelled to you.

“Put the gun down!”

Immediately complying, you raised your hands up. But your eyes were on Armando.

Without warning, your heart thundered at the sight of him, leaning heavily againt the tree trunk. He was breathing hard, bleeding all over. It was not looking good.

“Mom. Mom, stop!” Callie yelled. “He saved my life!”

And for the first time, Judy seemed to see someone else other than her father’s killer. She saw her daughter. Alive and safe, with barely a scratch on her.

“Please, Mom.” The girl begged. “He saved my life.”

It felt like ages, but the moment Judy holstered her weapon, both you and Mike rushed to Armando’s side.

“Are you hit?” Mike asked his son, his eyes roaming Armando’s body, looking for holes. “Are you hit?”

You were on the ground, ripping a piece of fabric off of your tshirt and wrapping it around his thigh. When you pulled tight, he grunted and flinched. As you stood, Armando had raised his arm around his father’s shoulders and leaned against the taller man. He was dazed but at least he was upright

“You did good.” Mike assured. “You did good.”

The radio crackled again. This time, it came from Judy’s.

“Howard, do you copy?”

Everyone present froze as you waited for Judy’s response. Dread seeped into your bones as she looked at the three of you and then, her daughter.

But then, by some miracle, she released her radio and met Mike’s eyes.

“Go. Before I change my mind,”

Not to be told twice, the three of you made for the trees and beyond it, the river and the little boat you had arrived on with Armando.

You stepped from under his arm and stepped away to give father and son a moment alone but not before you caught his eyes.

He was your partner for at most, 15 hours, but he was a good partner to have. He had your back the whole time and not once did you doubt him. Without your permission, your brain had started to trust him fully and it intrigued you. He intrigued you.

And now he’s leaving. You didn’t know if you would ever see each other again.

So you gave him a nod and a small smile. When you heard the motor start, you made your trek back to the van. Mike’ll find his way back on his own.

xxxx

5 months later...

The sensor beeped as it detected your facial ID and allowed you entry into the elevator that would take you down to the basement of your HQ. You got the call just that morning.

A major player just got PID'd slipping through customs and the department believed something big is going down in Miami. And AMMO had been tasked to find out what and stop it.

As you approached the center of the room, you eyes caught the familiar figure leaning against the wall in a corner. You fought not to let your reaction show, but the way you slowed your steps was telling enough judging by the smile Marcus was failing to hide.

You stowed your gear and made your way down and beelined for that same corner, ignoring the eyes and smiles of your colleagues.

God, IA is going to have a field day.

"Alright, now that we're all here," Mike began and the screens behind him lit up.

You leaned againts the console and let your shoulder touch Armando's but your eyes were on your superior.

"Welcome back,"

[sometimesanalice]

Hey, Sailor

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

Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.8K

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

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

Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fleet Week was finally looking up for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lift a pointed eyebrow at him.

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

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

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

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

“Ok, Lieutenant.”

“Commander.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean Bagman?”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

He smirks to himself. 

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

“Yes, ma’am. It’s Rooster.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He likes how much smaller your hand looks in his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s easily his favorite tour of the day. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he tells you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Portland is the City of Roses.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m trying to,” you whine.

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

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

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

Your hand feels so good on him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.”

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

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

“’s big,” you sigh shakily.

“Tell me how much you like this cock.”

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

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

He pushes your dress higher up your body, his eyes are greedy for more of your skin. What he wouldn’t give to have you entirely naked and spread out before him. He wants to see all of you, he wants to hear you loud and needy for him.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs as he watches himself smoothly gliding in and out of you.

The little noises you are making are driving him crazy. He knows you’re trying to muffle your sweet moans and sighs and whines. The sound of your bodies coming together fills the room.

How his cap is still perched on your head he doesn’t know, it jostles every time your bodies come together.

“I need more,” you beg, “Need you to touch me.”

“Ask me nicely.” He punctuates the demand with a sharp snap of his hips.

“Please, Bradley. Please.”

He slides his hand around to the front of you, his fingers drawn to your clit like a magnet. You keen at the contact and tilt your hips into his hand. The sound is music to his ears, “That’s more like it.” 

He doesn’t think there’s anything else better on the planet than being buried in your perfect pussy. You’re so wet for him. He already knows he’s going to need more of this, more of you.

“You’re taking me so well,” Bradley grunts as he speeds up his thrusts, “Looks like all you needed was a nice, thick cock. Just a sweet thing now, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god,” you gasp as you writhe against him. “F-fuck.”

He is so turned on by the way his hands span across you as he grips your waist and pulls you against him with every roll of his hips. His heart is racing in his chest.

The feeling of your body tensing around him is paradise. There is nothing he wants more than to be able to draw this out, but he is all too aware of how quickly time is slipping away from him.

He sets a rough and unrelenting pace. Redoubling his efforts on your clit, his indulgent strokes turn into tight, purposeful circles. And you cry out at the change of sensation on that sensitive part of you.

Your thighs start to tremble as his cock drags against that spot deep inside of you. The heat is pooling in his lower back as he fucks into you over and over again.

“Rooster, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby. Let me feel it,” he murmurs hotly against your ear, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your clit. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

The goosebumps erupt across your body like fireworks a moment before he feels you shiver and tremble beneath him as you come with a choked sob. The way you spasm and clench around him is dizzying.

Bradley is teetering on the edge, your cunt felt like heaven. Warm and wet and gripping him just right. He almost doesn’t want to give himself up to it as the pressure at the base of his spine intensified. He doesn’t want to stop fucking you.

You’re so perfect for him.

He loses himself to the feeling of your pussy milking him as you continue to pulse and writhe in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He grips your hips harder as he pounds into you before emptying himself inside of you with a shattered groan.

And for a moment all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as he works to catch his breath. Rooster feels like his knees might buckle as the soft whimper you make when he pulls out of you.

He gently pulls that lacy little thong back up and helps to pull your dress back down over your hips and thighs before turning you around and lifting you onto the custom table. 

He doesn’t know how he is going to make it through the rest of the journey knowing his come is collecting in your panties.

You’re flushed and looking thoroughly well-fucked as you smile up at him brightly.

Bradley threads his finger under the chain of your little gold heart-shaped locket that was etched with a rose in full bloom, and lightly tugs you in closer for a lingering kiss.

“I see you found your gift early, baby.”

Bradley would never forget the first time he saw you that night at the bar downtown last year during Fleet Week.

He had noticed you right away, it had been impossible not to. You and your girlfriends had been all done up in hot pink outfits for the Bachelorette party you were out celebrating.

Your friend had flounced right up to Jake taking the shot of whiskey out of his hand before swallowing it down then cheekily offering to buy him a replacement. Hangman had been wrapped around her finger ever since.

While your friends had all but shoved you in his direction while he had looked on entirely entertained as you had shot a scathing glare back at them. A sparkling tiara that read Bridesmaid sat crookedly on your head.

And then you had greeted him with a “Hey, Sailor” so weak that the couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. There was a split second where he thought that he might have fucked it up before it could even start, but then you smiled back at him.

It was a charmingly self-deprecating smile and he was yours from the moment he saw it.

“Hiding it in your nightstand next to the batteries wasn’t the most original of spots, Rooster,” you affectionately tease him. “I didn’t mean to peek, but the remote stopped working. I hope you’re not mad. I love it.”

He could never be mad at you, especially not with his necklace around your neck. You were his, and he was so gone for you.

“It looks so pretty on you,” he tells you softly as his fingers brush over your collarbones.

“Oh my god, Rooster, I can’t we defiled Naval property.” You giggle as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to circle your arms around his neck.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been defiling Naval property ever since you brought me home with you the night we met.”

You take that cap off of your head and set it back on his, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “Glad I’m getting a good return on my taxes then.” 

He snorts a laugh, “God, I’ve missed you, baby. What are doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until the end of the week.”

“And miss the visual and culinary offerings of the USS Portland? I wouldn’t dream of it.” You joke as you run your hands along his arms where they’re pressed on the table on either side of you. “This uniform drives me just as crazy as it did last year.”

“Just the uniform?” he asks as he nudges his nose against yours.

“Maybe it has a little something to do with the man in the uniform,” you make a little hum as you check him out. “You’re so tan, Bradley, have you been using the sunscreen I sent with you-”

He crushes his mouth to yours, you were undoubtedly best thing that’s ever happened to him during Fleet Week.

“I’m glad I still do it for you,” he murmurs against your mouth before giving you another deep kiss.

The two of you work quickly to get yourselves looking presentable again. He’s only got a little time left before he is due to return to his tour duties back on deck.

He helps you back up the ladder and takes that left turn when he’s supposed to this time. All while your hand is tucked securely in his.

When you’re both back on the open flight deck he walks you over to the railing along the edge of the ship and wraps you up in his arms to watch the coastline crawl by with his last few moments of freedom. 

“I really love Fleet Week,” you say with a contented sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

The golden rays from the sun are hitting you in a way that makes his chest warm.

“I do too, baby. It’s the best.”

Yeah, Rooster fucking loves Fleet Week.

Who doesn’t love a man in Summer Whites?! Consider this my formal petition for more Dress Whites in TG3!

Thank you for reading!

Update! If you want to learn about the night they met, I wrote these two a little prequel series you can read here!

Hey, Sailor Moodboard

A peek inside the USS Portland One | Two

If you’re curious, here is some info on the crest I found! One | Two | Three

You can check out my other stories and series here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse​ @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes​

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 10

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: very likely typos, fluffy stuff, cursing i think.

Words: 3157

The One I Want Masterlist

The words ‘I’ll be fine’ are still ringing in your ear, drilled into your brain from the excessive number of times they’d been said or texted in the last ten hours. From the moment you stepped out of your bedroom door this morning, Jake began insisting on picking you up from the shop following your shift. He insisted before you even had a chance to suggest an alternative plan for your day. As soon as you opened your mouth, he had his hand up and head shaking to stop you.

“Don’t even say it,” he said, “I’ll be there to get you, same as always,” to which you responded with what might as well be your new catchphrase: “I’ll be fine.”

His attempts to put his foot down on the matter were unsuccessful as you pointed out every reason why finding your own means of transportation after work is the best solution. He rolled his eyes at “It’s your birthday, Jake,” and snorted at “Your party at the bar starts an hour and a half before my shift ends,” but finally surrendered to “If you’re late, your friends will be disappointed. They mean too much to you for that.” Then he sighed and nodded and continued about his morning routine as you did yours before you headed to the shop. Though you thought you’d won, you received multiple “Are you sure?” texts that were also answered with “I’ll be fine.” And you are fine. Your shift was dull, uneventful, and you had no issue securing a quick ride to The Hard Deck. 

Hopping out of the back of the driver’s car is a struggle with the number of bags hanging off your arms. Between your purse, Jake’s present, and the clothes you wore to work shoved into a grocery bag—which were switched with the casual, green knee-length dress you’re wearing—you’re weighed down. 

“Need some help there, Sweetness?” Javy is one of few lingering outside the bar, and the only person you know within sight. He smiles and the arms crossed over his chest bounce with his chuckle. Before you answer, he walks over to snatch both your purse and the grocery bag in his hands. “I’m gonna toss these in Jake’s truck. No one will bother them,” he says.

In his brief absence, you stand a little straighter and brush the stray hairs back behind your ear. A low whistle coming from behind you causes you to flinch until you realize it’s from your friend as he makes his way back over to you.

“You're definitely lookin’ lovely,” he teases, and you snort.

“Quit it.”

“No can-do, sweetness. Too pretty to ignore.”

Heat floods your cheeks and you look down at the ivy-green material flowing around your body. It’s about as simple a dress you could find—well, that Millie could help you find after insisting on leaving behind the jeans—but it’s much more than anything you’ve worn in the past. Social events have never been your cup of tea. Not being invited out has left you slim on practice, and that includes every aspect down to your choice of clothing. While Millie did help you pick it out, it doesn’t necessarily mean she is an expert either, but you have no way of knowing for sure. “Is it too much?”

“Not a chance,” Javy replies. “You look amazing. And you happen to be the very reason I am out here instead of in there.”

“Meaning…”

“As Jake’s top-tier friend, I want to be the one to personally deliver his favorite present. Now that you’re here, I can do that,” he says with a wink before holding out his elbow for you to take. 

—

Jake’s eyes are already on the door when you walk in, finding you instantly, and his entire body perks up like a man just shot with a bolt of life. Shoulders lose the little bit of slump there was from forearms resting on the high-top table and eyebrows drop their pinch as he watches your every step toward him. Through the mass of bodies Javy assists in weaving you through, Jake’s stare is impressive. It’s steady and he doesn’t lose you, not for a second. 

When you reach him, Javy loudly declares “The contest is over! I just won best present.” He then releases you to round the group and pops open a bottle of beer with the edge of the table. By the multiple marks on the wood surface, you imagine—hope, anyway—that Penny doesn’t mind. However, if anyone were to follow her rules and respect the property she requests be respected, it would be this group. 

As you stand there greeting the rest of the crew, you can still feel those green eyes. A few other pairs dart back and forth between you and Jake. Tension bubbles around the back corner of the room where the modest party is set up, but it’s not an aggressive tension from distress or concern of discomfort; it’s a tension buzzing wildly with excitement. And from the smiles on faces and the little redhead you’ve bonded with bouncing on her toes, you can begin to guess where this buzzing, humming, zapping energy is coming from. 

They know. You’re not sure why a flash of surprise moves through you. Of course, they know. Of course, Jake told them. They’re his best friends. They’re the family he made after the devastation of having his own taken from him. His sharing of what’s happened between you over the last week is normal, so normal that it’s unfamiliar. One more thing you’ll have to get used to if Jake continues to pull you out of the existence you’ve known for so long.

“Hi,” he says. It rides on a heavy exhale that you can barely hear through the cacophony of voices filling the bar. 

Jake’s friends appear to go back to their conversations, but they’re no good at disguising their true intentions. Their ears are alert as eyes rely on the strength of their peripheral vision to catch either your or Jake’s next move. A tight squeeze with roaming hands, a deep kiss, an arm wrapping possessively around a shoulder or waist—they’re clearly eager to witness it all, but the anticipation hanging in the air is snuffed out by Jake leaning in and innocently brushing his lips over your cheek. To your side, there is a collective murmuring of disappointment that is, again, poorly disguised.

“You get here ok? I mean, you know, without complication?” Jake asks. A nod joins your budding grin. 

“Easy-peasy.” He stares more, his fingers traveling from your elbow to your wrist, and you suddenly remember what’s clutched in your hands. “Oh, I got you this,” you say, holding up the bag. It’s made of a thin, golden paper that’s priced way too high for its quality with clashing orange tissue sticking out of it, and it’s about four sizes too big for the gift you got him, but it was all the shop had last minute. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s your birthday. That’s what people do,” you counter, because even though you’ve never received a present on your birthday, Jake is the type of guy who always should. You hold the bag higher, forcing him to take it.

“Thank you,” he says before turning to set the bag on the table. It’s then that you see the remnants of paper and bows scattered across the wooden surface. Piled on a couple of stools behind Bob are the gifts he has already opened. Jake’s hand starts to dig through the bright orange tissue paper. 

“You’re going to open it right now?” you ask, having previously imagined there would be at least a sliver less of attention on the two of you when he does. Your fingers of one hand begin to fiddle with the fingers of the other. 

“Sure, why not?” His hand pauses and he looks at you a little harder. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

“N-No, it’s fine.” A blond brow raises. “Really, it is.”

He waits a second longer before resuming his discarding of the paper. When he looks inside, his hand retreats, and he watches your gift at the bottom of the bag as if it might start moving on its own. Then his head shakes and he grins ear to ear and he reaches back in to pull it out. The brows of the other aviators pinch in confusion at the globe sitting in the palm of Jake’s hand. In all of its cheap glory, it contains a beach scene with plenty of unnatural sparkly snow settled at the bottom of the liquid which is quickly disturbed by Jake’s light shaking. He chuckles. Then chuckles some more. Crinkles deepen at the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t get it,” Rooster mutters, only to have Millie elbow him in the side. 

“You don’t have to,” she scolds. “Now hush.”

Despite Jake’s laughter, when he places the snow globe back in the bag you fear you’ve somehow fucked up. That it’s not as cute as you imagined he would think. That he’d rather you have gotten him nothing over something so silly. But then he faces you, takes your hand, and as he starts to walk away from the table, whispers, “Come with me.”

As you’re led away you glance over your shoulder to see that your friends are all in different states. Nat and Bob are exchanging glances and snickering at the birthday boy’s rapid departure, Millie is smacking her boyfriend’s hand as he reaches for the golden bag, and Javy smirks along with the statement “That certainly didn't take long.” 

You look ahead, but before you can fully catch up with your surroundings, you’re yanked through a door and pushed up against the other side of it as a mouth firmly presses to yours. Jake’s palm smacks the surface next to you, blindly feeling around for the deadbolt, and the thud from its turn echoes in the empty bathroom. Then his hands cup your cheeks and you melt as he pulls you in closer. 

At a different time, with a different man, unmanageable thoughts would be taking control of your senses right now. Your fingers would be stiffening and your eyes would be snapping open, darting around to take in every square inch of the room in search of signs of other people. You would be listening for any and every sound with such intensity that you’d have a decent count on the number of footsteps passing by the other side of the door. You wouldn’t be letting yourself go or forget your troubles or feel for a single moment because you know what this behavior looks like. You know how others often perceive it. In the midst of past frenzied kisses, your brain would deteriorate into a fractured mess. Ten percent of your mind would struggle to focus on the wandering hands and lips attached to yours; fifteen percent would go to wondering if anyone saw you sneak into the bathroom with a man; twenty would be spent worrying you’ll receive looks of judgment and pity once you rejoin the bar; twenty-five would be questioning why you’re choosing to be in the position you’re in when you know it won’t end well; and the remaining thirty percent would be trying to prematurely push away the shame to come when the somewhat intoxicated man kissing you in the bar bathroom decides he is done. 

It’s not a different time, though. You’re not with a different man. You’re exactly where you are, with the man you are with, and you don’t care about anything but him. 

Jake is pulled in with hands fisted in the material of his shirt. He’s your only source of stability and direction as he turns your bodies and walks you backward. When your lower back meets the edge of the sink, you separate the kiss and instinctually jump up. Of course you jump. You always jump in these situations. But this time when your bottom lands on top of the counter, you don’t second guess the man whose hips are settling between your spread thighs, whose eyes gaze at you like you’re the most incredible thing they've ever seen, whose hands are threading into your hair, whose lips are once again claiming yours. 

His tongue teases the seam of your lips and when you part them so it can slip inside to brush along yours, muffled moans merge. The fingers hidden within the strands of your hair tighten into fists. They stay there until your own hands begin to explore. One index finger curls through a belt loop, tugging inward to remove what little distance remains between you. The other is the first on that hand to dip under the hem of his shirt and stroke over a patch of tanned skin just above the button of his jeans. You love how he feels there—hard with thick muscle but soft from the trail of hair that disappears under a band of denim. Jake shudders against you, and it seems to serve as a reminder that there is more of you for him to touch as well. 

With your hair freed, a hand grasps your outer thigh where your dress has ridden up. Fingertips knead flesh as an arm snakes around your waist. A squeak of surprise gets stuck in your throat when that arm jerks forward, unexpectedly managing to inch your bottom closer to the edge of the counter. 

There is so much happening, so much to absorb, and you don’t have a chance to mentally address the tick of uncertainty that never showed itself. Instead, you are simply full of the feeling that none of this scares you. Not a bit of it. Not the strength of his arm around you. Not the hand that has begun to slide up your thigh and under the hem of your dress to the swell of your ass. Not the pressing of his hips into the space between your legs. Not the heat he gives off that fights the chill of the room. Not his teeth nibbling your bottom lip, or the whimpers it draws forth that with anyone else would have you shrinking in embarrassment. You’re so far from afraid that you've crossed into happily addicted territory.

His mouth vanishes from yours to latch onto your neck. The sound you make at the new sensation has Jake’s hold on you tightening. 

“All because of a—” you gasp from a teasing lick under your ear, “a snow globe?”

You’ve learned that Jake likes to leave trails of his kisses; mark after mark to show the places he’s been. It is between the kisses of this trail from your ear to your shoulder that you hear “Partly the snow globe,” after one kiss, “partly this dress,” after another, and then “mostly just because it’s you.”

Jake chuckles when you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck. You could let him continue on for hours—would, too—but a banging on the door snaps you out of your blissful haze. 

Cursing, your spine straightens like a rod. “J-Just a second!” you yell, patting Jake’s shoulder. He hums into your sensitive skin, sending vibrations over your pulse. “Jake, I know you heard that. People want in.” There’s another knock, and another. Leaning back and placing your hands on his cheeks, you force Jake to look at you. “Time for you to leave.”

He holds his finger up. “One condition.”

“No conditions,” you say as you nudge him aside and hop off the counter. “There are women out there who have to pee.”

It’s a boom this time, leaving no question as to the person’s impatience. Twisting around, you glance over yourself in the mirror. Your lips are stolen, hair wild, and as you go about fixing it back into place, Jake’s arms wrap around your waist. 

“Promise me we can continue this at home,” he says. “I don't want to stop.” 

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. “Maybe…if you go.”

“Deal.” One more kiss lands on your shoulder before Jake is unbolting the door and jerking it open for whoever is on the other side. He peeks his head out, glances left and right, then looks back at you. “No one’s here.”

“You still have to go.” His face falls into a pout. “Don’t look at me like that. All of your friends are waiting for you, anyway.”

“They're waiting for you, too.”

“It's not my birthday. And I need to fix myself up a bit.”

Jake grins. Watching his reflection in the mirror, you see his eyes linger on your face and chest, enjoying the flush he caused that is more prominent under the fluorescents. They then make a slow line down your body, taking the time to appreciate your ass along the way. “That really is a great dress.”

Your flush deepens. “Go,” you demand, “I’ll be there in a minute.” He winks and then he’s gone. 

A squeeze traps the air in your lungs. It caves in your chest, making the thumping of your heart all the more demanding of your attention, and you roll your eyes when it becomes clear that your body is reacting to you missing him. Two seconds apart and you already want him back, and now you feel like a giddy fool; a horny teenager around the first boy to ever truly want her. 

Blowing out that trapped breath, you run your fingers through your hair to tame it. It doesn’t manage to return to its previous state, but there is nothing you can do about it. Neither can you remove that pink shade from your cheeks and chest despite the damp paper towel you blot over your skin. You look half-sexed, and it’s comically obvious. But maybe if you channel Jake Seresin energy and walk back to your friends’ table without looking guilty, they won’t look at you like you have something to be guilty of. Not guilty in a demeaning sense, of course, but guilty in a way that will have them shooting teasing looks at you right before Nat and Millie pull you away from the men for details of your actions.

That will have to be your plan, because there is no chance they won’t notice your altered appearance, especially when they immediately knew why you and Jake were disappearing to begin with. 

Shaking your head, you tug at the bottom of your dress to make sure all of its seams line up with where they are supposed to be on your body. When you decide it’s about as good as it’s going to get, you head for the door and pull it open, but your path is blocked. 

“Good thing he finally left,” Brit says. She steps forward and to avoid a collision you have to take a step back into the bathroom. “Now we have a chance to talk.”

---

Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things

[s0ft-d3cay]

Our Home

Shigaraki x Male Reader | I had some family shit that came up so my writing might be more comforting and lovey dovey for a bit. Just a heads up! Hope you have a lovey day/night!!!!

WARNINGS: they make out, lots of kisses, cute domestic gay couple stuff because I need it, Tomura calls the reader a brat(Lovingly), its RELLY cute, use of Y/N

WC:1,273

"Do you want me to carry you home?" Tomura asked teasingly, the two coated in blood and dust equally. The remains of heroes now staining their clothing, Y/N couldn’t care less about the mess. Plus…the man had a way of making blood look hot on him and Y/N could never resist the sight of the liquid crimson on the other man’s pale skin.

His brain turned to mush at the small question, grinning as he wipes off his weapon. The mere idea of something so small and domestic made his heart skip. Y/N chuckle at his offer. "I would absolutely love for you to carry me home, Tomura." Y/N replied, the red eyed man grumbled out an order to the doctor. Black oil-like substance formed a poorly made portal to a lone watchtower, one Y/N had revamped to his home.

Ecstatic, Tomura moved to pick up the other man in his arms, holding him close against his chest. Looking down at Y/N with a winning smile nuzzling his cheek with his boyfriends. "You comfortable, brat?" Y/N chuckles. “Very, now come on I want you to see the house!” With an excited giggle, Y/N replied. His gaze taking in his pretty boyfriend, wandering over every detail of him.

Glances at the portal, Tomura turns his attention back towards Y/N, his expression glee and amusement as he replies. “You’re really hyping up this house of ours.” Walking through the transporting oil-like substance. Both of them now on the first floor of the watchtower. A lone two story compacted building surrounded by thick evergreen trees. Standing in front of the door to the house, a set of stairs lead to the second floor and ground below split a few feet from the door.

Tomura’s red eyes took in the environment around him silently, before he speaks up. "Your house is amazing. How did you find this?” He questioned in wonder, eyes still wavering over the building. Y/N chuckles, "Found it for sale years back, thought maybe one day I could take a break and rest.” He said bashfully with a shy smile, tilting his head towards the door in front of them. Three windows lined along the left side, sun catchers gleaming within the house. Turning and glowing with beaming rainbows cascading on the wooden deck.

The villain leaner steps in hesitantly. The house held a large bed beneath below the line and corner of windows, a full kitchen on the right in front of the door, and a couch in the far left corner of the room. The bed lays messily in sea-foam green covers, a few earthy tone rugs in rusted red and blotched greens. The kitchen fair full with a dishwasher, fridge, stone and microwave. And the lone gray couch set against the wall, what looks to be a projector hung up on the ceiling.

"It’s so lovely…feel like we’ve been here for years.” He commented with a grin, still holding the other man in his arms as he walks deeper into the house. Y/N's eyes fondly looking over all his hard work. The white haired man looking around in thought. His red eyes lingerer over the bed, "Do you mind if I…put you on the bed and we cuddle? I wanna lay with you.” He uttered softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the man’s forehead.

Y/N ponders the cuddling idea for a second before another idea come to mind. "Could I show you around the place real quick? Each room I show you, I’ll kiss you.” The man teasingly asked, his arms tightened around Tomura’s neck. "Please!” Y/N begged cutely, blinking rapidly as he playfully pouts.

“Hmm, sounds like we’re gonna have a lot of kisses...” He replies, chuckling as his eyes rolled. "I can see why you wanted to come here to relax, this place feels…cozy yet beautiful at the same time. You did an amazing job with finding this place, Y/N…” The villain praised sweetly with his raspy voice.

"And…the decorations as well as rebuilding, my love.” Y/N added on, placing a tender kiss to Tomura’s dry lips. His own soft and plush against his boyfriends rough ones. Feeling the hair white haired put him down to stand through the progressive heated kiss. "You did all of that? You truly are the jack of all trades.” The white haired man muttered out with a soft grin, kissing the man again. Y/N hummed through the second kiss, his lips curling and melting to his partners.

Y/N hum dreamily as he continued to complement his hard work. Breathlessly pulling away from their connected lips, hands moving down to Y/N's waist. Keeping the man close to brush his lips once more…then again and again, Y/N’s heart pounded with a giddy thrill. Beginning to walk through the house.

"Here we have a lovely kitchen…” Y/N leaned up to kissing him again. "Mmm…~” Tomura hums pleasantly, leaning the front of his body flush against the other man. Pulling away to halfway glance at the kitchen, then back at Y/N. Red eyes now focused on Y/N's kissed stained lips, his tongue licking his own in eager anticipation.

"What else do you have here in this lovely house of ours, brat?” Tomura questioned with a warm smile on his blood and dirt covered face. Y/N pulled him farther into the house, resting his back against the far wall as he opened a sliding door on the other end of the house. A few steps away from the couch. "Full bathroom with a tub, shower and a washer and dryer in the corner.” The man quickly uttered, allowing the other man time to look into the room. Impressed, Tomura looks around the space, his red gaze falling back to his boyfriend. Grinning as he saw him standing beside the door.

"We have our very own bathroom as well?” He asked in a soft grumble, Y/N nodded with a bright smile, pulling his boyfriend in for another kiss by his collar. This one slow and savory between the two men, Y/N pulls away with an audible pop. "Yes, we have our own bathroom…” The blush on Tomura’s face after the kiss looked angelic, given the white haired man was always angelic in Y/N’s opinion. But his soften expression, those wide eye. Y/N could replay that expression over and over again. With a shaky breath, the villain pressed his lips to Y/N's again, pushing him to the wall. A whine at the pressure of his body pinned to the wall slips past his lips in passion and hunger.

Y/N breath catch in his throat after the series kisses, leading his boyfriend toward the welcoming bed in the opposite corner, he continues. "The couch in the corner and the wall, I wanted it to be like a big nest. And right there is my record player, I connected it to speakers surrounding both levels and the outside."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Y/N watching his lover’s gaze gleam in fond admiration. "That’s it for the first floor, what do you think?” Waiting for him to both reply and join him on the comfortable bed. Tomura walks over, his excitement plain as day on his face. Jumping on the bed, laying face first with open arms and legs against the sheets and blankets Y/N laugh out, turning on the mattress. Tomura glances over at the other man from the sheets, grinning wide like a child.

"This house is so fucking cool, Y/N! I love how big the bed is and I love that there's music! This place is perfect!” He says before sitting up to kiss the man passionately and lovingly. Sighing dreamily kissing back, Y/N crawls over on top of his boyfriend, holding him close against himself. Feeling the infinite love for Tomura flow through his veins.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights of any of the characters I write about, all the rights go to their respective creators.

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants Harry Hook x Reader: The Pirate's Enchanted Locket

Prompt: Y/n has an ancient locket that transports her to The Isle of the Lost. Captured by Harry Hook, he initially suspects her of being a spy. As he grows fascinated by her, he defends her against a rival gang’s attack. In a moment of intense emotion, Harry confesses his feelings.

Reader: Female

Word count: 3584

Average reading time: 13 min

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: This story contains themes involving emotional distress, fear, and harassment. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

The full moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the restless sea. Y/N stood at the edge of a rocky cliff, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Clutched in her hand was an ancient locket, a mysterious inheritance from her mother that promised to bring you what your heart desires the most. The locket felt warm in her palm, as if it had a life of its own, pulsating with a gentle rhythm. As she carefully opened the locket, wisps of magic light surrounded her, pulling her through time and space.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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When the light faded, Y/N found herself on the deck of a pirate ship, the grimy structure silhouetted against the dark waters of the Isle of the Lost. The smell of saltwater and smog filled the air, and the sound of creaking wood and flapping sails was almost deafening. Disoriented, she stumbled across the deck, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The ship was bustling with activity, rough looking pirates shouted orders and heaved ropes, their faces shadowed by the dim lantern light.

Harry Hook, Uma’s fierce first mate, appeared, his sharp eyes immediately spotting her. He was a tall figure, his dark hair hiding underneath a black pirate hat, a silver hook gleaming dangerously in place of his left hand.

“What do we have here?” Harry’s voice was a low, dangerous growl. His accent was thick, his tone dripping with suspicion. “Someone trying hide, or perhaps a thief?”

Y/N’s heart raced. She had heard the stories of these pirates, the children of villains of old tales, but never imagined she would meet them. “I’m not here to steal anything. I was just—”

“Save your breath, Lass,” Harry interrupted, his voice cold and commanding. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “We don’t take kindly to intruders. Especially ones who appear out of thin air.”

Before Y/N could protest further, Harry took her arm with surprising strength and dragged her below deck. The narrow, dark passageways twisted and turned, lit only by the occasional flickering torch. Other pirates stared as they passed, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hostility.

They reached a small, dark cell at the far end of the ship. Harry shoved her inside, and the heavy clang of the iron door as it shut behind her resonated with finality. The cell was cold and damp, the air thick with the smell of rust. Y/N sank to the floor, her mind racing with confusion and fear.

“What have I gotten myself into?” she whispered, clutching the locket tightly. She could still feel its warmth, a faint reassurance in the darkness. 

Time passed slowly in the cell. The sounds of the ship and the ocean were muffled, creating a deafening silence. Y/N's thoughts were a whirlwind of worry and regret. She thought of her grandmother’s stories, the tales of magic and adventure that now seemed all too real.

Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse, the door creaked open. A confident pirate girl, with turquoise braids and a mischievous glint in her eyes, entered. It was Uma, the sea witch’s daughter and the ship’s captain.

“Well, well,” Uma said, her voice smooth and taunting. “What do we have here? A little runaway, or maybe something more?”

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Uma’s. Gathering her courage, she replied, “I’m not a runaway. I was brought here by magic. This locket” she held it up, its faint glow illuminating the small cell, “it brought me here.”

Uma’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the locket. She leaned closer, inspecting it with interest. “That’s no ordinary locket.” she murmured. “Where did you get this?”

“My mother.” Y/N answered truthfully. “She said it would bring me what my heart desires the most.”

Uma’s expression shifted, a calculating look in her eyes. “And what does your heart desire, little one?”

Y/N hesitated. “Adventure,” she said finally. “And maybe something more.”

Uma laughed, a sound both sweet yet disturbing. “You might just get what you wish for,” she said. “But remember, magic always comes with a price.”

With that, Uma left, leaving Y/N alone in the dim cell but with nothing but her thoughts and a glimmer of hope. She clutched the locket tighter, its warmth still present.

-----

Days passed in the cell, at first Harry occasionally came to check on their prisoner by Uma’s order. But soon Harry’s visits became more frequent, yet the fear of her situation never quite faded. The walls, slick with dampness and grime, seemed to press in on Y/N, their oppressive presence a constant reminder of her imprisonment. Yet, each day, as Harry’s visits became more regular, a subtle shift began to take place.

Harry’s demeanor, once arrogant and indifferent, softened. His initial curiosity about Y/N’s resilience grew into genuine interest. He began to linger longer during their conversations, and the tone of his voice, previously sharp and commanding, carried an undertone of care. There was a tension in the air, an unspoken connection that neither of them acknowledged directly but both felt deeply.

One evening, as the cell was bathed in the dim, flickering light of a single bulb, Y/N’s curiosity overcame her usual caution. She looked up from her seated position against the wall, her face illuminated by the pale light, and asked, “Why do you keep coming here?”

Harry leaned against the bars, his usual arrogance tempered by a weariness that spoke of long, restless days. His expression was a blend of annoyance and hesitant interest, a reflection of the internal struggle he faced. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone quite like you, Lass. You’ve got spirit.”

Y/N’s eyes met his with a mixture of resistance and fatigue. “I don’t cower.” she said, her voice carrying a steely edge. “I just don’t see the point in making things worse.”

Harry’s gaze softened slightly, revealing a glimpse of the conflict within him. He crossed his arms, his posture less rigid than usual. “You’ve got a point. It’s not every day someone ends up on Uma’s ship with nothing but a locket.”

The mention of the locket brought a flicker of emotion to Y/N’s eyes. It was a small, delicate piece of jewelry, a token from a life that seemed impossibly distant now. “The locket belonged to my mother.” she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s all I have left of her.”

Harry’s expression changed as he looked at her. The hardened exterior he maintained was marred by a rare hint of empathy. He looked at the locket as if seeing it for the first time, acknowledging the significance it held for Y/N. “She must’ve meant a lot to you.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. “She did. And it’s more than just a memory. It’s a reminder that there was a time before all this, a time when things were different.”

For a moment, the cell fell into a thoughtful silence. Harry seemed to wrestle with his own thoughts, the weight of Y/N’s words evident in the furrow of his brow. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “You know, Lass, you’re not what I expected. There’s something about you, something that makes me think maybe, just maybe, there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

Y/N’s gaze lifted to meet his, her eyes searching his for any sign of him lying. “And what does that mean for me?”

Harry’s expression was unreadable, a mask of guarded contemplation. “It means,” he said slowly, “that you’re not entirely alone in this. And maybe, just maybe, there’s more to be learned from each other than either of us thought.”

As the silence stretched between them, the tension in the cell seemed to ease, if only slightly. Harry moved closer to the bars, his fingers gripping the cold metal as he leaned in, his face inches from Y/N’s. “Why do you trust me enough to talk about her?” he asked, his voice a hushed murmur.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the intensity of his gaze. “I don’t know if I trust you,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “But I think you’re different from most. There’s something in you that’s... kind.”

Harry’s eyes darkened, a mixture of frustration and longing flickering in their depths. “Kindness is a dangerous thing around here.” he warned, his voice barely audible. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re bringing out a part of me I thought I’d lost.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the cell seemed to disappear. The tension between them crackled with unspoken words and suppressed emotions. Harry’s hand reached through the bars, his fingers brushing against Y/N’s cheek, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Harry...” Y/N’s voice was a breathless whisper, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Y/N,” he replied, his voice heavy with an emotion he couldn’t name. “Be careful. This... whatever this is between us... it’s dangerous.”

Y/N’s hand covered his, their fingers entwining through the cold metal bars. “I know.” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “But I’m willing to take the risk if you are.”

Harry’s eyes softened, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re something else, Lass. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I promise you this, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

-----

The nights grew colder, and Harry’s visits became a small comfort. However, one fateful night, the tranquility shattered as the ship was attacked by a rival gang of villains. The sounds of battle swords clashing, men shouting filled the air, growing louder as the intruders neared.

Y/N's heart pounded as the chaos drew closer, each step of the invaders echoing her rising dread. The cold metal of her cell door creaked open violently, the sound slicing through the din like a knife. A rough hand yanked her from her confinement, dragging her into the harsh light of the battle-torn deck.

"Look what we have here," one of the attackers sneered, his breath hot and foul against her ear. He gripped her waist with brutal force, his fingers digging into her skin. "A pretty little thing, aren’t you?"

Terror surged through her veins as she struggled against his iron grip. Another attacker, his eyes gleaming with malice, leaned in close, his lips brushing her cheek as he spoke.

"Why don’t you give us a kiss, darling?" he taunted, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. Y/N turned her head away, revulsion twisting her stomach.

“Get away from me!” she cried, her voice trembling with fear. She twisted in their grasp, desperate to escape their leering faces and grasping hands.

"Help! Someone, please!" Y/N’s voice trembled, barely audible over the surrounding tumult. Her pleas seemed swallowed by the night, lost in the brutal frenzy.

Her captors laughed at her desperation, their taunts ringing in her ears. “Scream all you want, girl. No one’s coming for you.”

But they were wrong.

Harry’s blood boiled when he saw the attackers’ rough treatment of Y/N. With a roar that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he burst onto the deck, his sword gleaming with deadly intent. His eyes blazed with fury, locked onto Y/N even as he swung his weapon with lethal precision.

"Back off, you scurvy dogs!" Harry's voice was a thunderclap of rage. "Touch her again, and I’ll have you all walk the plank!"

The attackers hesitated, the ferocity of Harry’s assault breaking their resolve. They had underestimated him, and now they were paying the price. One by one, they began to retreat, their faces pale with fear as Harry cut a swath through their ranks, his determination an unmistakable force.

The attacker holding Y/N released her, shoving her roughly to the ground. She scrambled back, her heart racing, watching as Harry fought like a man possessed. Each swing of his sword was a vow to protect her, his movements a blur of deadly grace.

One of the attackers, emboldened by desperation, lunged at Harry with a dagger. Harry parried the blow effortlessly, his sword flashing in the dim light as he disarmed and incapacitated the man with brutal efficiency.

When the last of the attackers had fled into the night, Harry's attention turned to Y/N. She stood trembling, her face pale, tears carving silent paths down her cheeks. Her eyes met his, wide and haunted, a mix of fear and relief swirling in their depths.

Harry approached her slowly, his expression softening, the pirate's fury melting into concern. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch a grounding anchor against the storm of her emotions.

“It’s over now,” Harry said softly, his voice a soothing balm against her raw nerves. “You’re safe.”

Y/N collapsed against him, her body wracked with sobs. Harry held her tightly, his embrace a shield against the horrors of tonight. For a moment, the world was reduced to the two of them, the warmth of his presence pushing back the cold grip of fear.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. “I was so scared…”

“I know,” Harry murmured, his hand stroking her hair gently. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not ever again.”

-----

His arms wrapped around her, carefully lifting her in his arms. Y/N’s heart fluttered as she felt his warmth and strength surrounding her. She buried her face in his neck, her tears flowing freely. The world outside seemed to fade as Harry carried her through the remaining chaos, his movements both strong and tender.

“Harry…” Y/N’s voice was muffled against his skin. “They—they were touching me… I was so scared.”

Harry’s breath hitched at her words. He tightened his embrace, his heart aching at the thought of her suffering. He carried her to his quarters, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm light around the room. Gently, he set her down on the bed and knelt beside her, his eyes full of concern.

“No one will ever touch you like that again,” Harry vowed, his voice firm yet gentle. “I swear it on my life.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude and increasing affection. “Thank you for protecting me, Harry. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Harry’s gaze softened. He brushed a stray tear from her cheek, his touch light and comforting. “You don’t need to worry about that. You’re mine to protect, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

The room was filled with an intense, charged silence. Harry’s hand gently cupped Y/N’s cheek as he leaned in closer. His gaze was locked on hers, his eyes burning with a mixture of fierce protectiveness and deep affection. 

Slowly, he pulled her closer, his hook wrapping around her waist in a tender embrace. With a gentle yet firm grip, he tilted her chin up with his other hand. The proximity between them was electric, and Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as Harry’s lips hovered near hers.

Without breaking eye contact, Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle at first, a soft, reassuring touch that spoke of his promises and his unspoken feelings. As the kiss deepened, it became more passionate, filled with the urgency of their emotions and the relief of their survival.

Y/N’s hands found their way to Harry’s chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. She clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring herself in the moment.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling in the warm, intimate space, Harry’s eyes were filled with a mixture of relief and something deeper, something that Y/N recognized as love.

“I’m yours.” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “I want to stay here with you. I want to be where I belong.”

Harry’s eyes shone with a mixture of pride and tenderness. “And I’m yours, Lass. I’d let the world flood if it means knowing you are safe.”

Y/N felt a profound sense of safety wash over her. She reached out, her fingers tracing the lines of Harry’s face, committing every detail to memory. The flickering lantern light played off his features, casting shadows that danced and flickered with a life of their own. 

“I never knew I could feel this way,” she admitted, her voice soft and filled with wonder. “Like I’m whole when I’m with you.”

Harry’s expression softened even further, and he took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to her palm. “You complete me, Y/N. You’re my strength and my reason. I’d do anything to see you smile again.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes, but this time they were tears of joy and overwhelming emotion. “You already have,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “You saved me, Harry. In more ways than one.”

Harry’s eyes glittered with unshed tears of his own as he pulled her into another embrace, his arms wrapping around her protectively. They sat there for a long moment, holding each other, finding comfort and strength in their shared connection.

Finally, Harry pulled back slightly, looking down at her with a serious expression. “We’ll face whatever comes next together. You and me. No one can stand against us.”

Y/N nodded, a sense of determination filling her. “Together.” she agreed, her voice steady and confident. “Always.”

They stayed close, the warmth of their bodies mingling as they found comfort in each other's presence. Outside, the world continued its relentless march, but inside Harry’s quarters, time seemed to stand still, allowing them a precious moment of peace and love.

Harry brushed his lips against her forehead, a gentle promise of his unwavering commitment. “Rest now, Lass. You’re safe with me.”

With a sigh of contentment, Y/N closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax fully for the first time in what felt like forever.

-----

With the dawn of a new day, Y/N knew she had to make a choice. The locket’s magic had brought her here, but if she wanted to truly stay with Harry, she had to break the bond that tethered her to her world. Without hesitation, she took her mothers locket no matter how much it meant to her and broke it, the magic dissolving into the morning light.

Harry watched her with a mixture of pride and deep affection. As the last piece of the locket crumbled, he pulled her into a close embrace, his arms wrapping around her protectively.

“You’ve chosen to stay,” he said softly, his voice filled with gratitude. “And I’ll be here, always.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a profound sense of belonging.

He took a deep breath, the weight of his words heavy with promise. “I want more for you than just this Isle of the Lost. You deserve a life full of beauty and opportunity, not one mired in darkness and danger. I’ll get us out of here. We’ll find our way to Auradon, and I’ll give you the life you’ve always dreamed of.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling with emotion. “Harry, I don’t care where we go or what we do, as long as I’m with you. You’re my home.”

Harry’s gaze softened. “Then we’ll make a new home together. I promise you, Lass, I’ll fight every step of the way to give you the life you deserve.”

As they were completely lost in each other's embrace, the door to Harry’s quarters creaked open. Uma, the formidable pirate queen and Harry’s captain, stepped inside. Her eyes flared with curiosity and a hint of amusement as she took in the scene before her.

“Well, well, well,” Uma drawled, her voice filled with her usual commanding presence. “Seems like you two have been busy. Thought I’d check in on my first mate and supposed to be prisoner.”

Harry’s posture stiffened, but he quickly masked his surprise with a smirk. “Just taking care of things, Uma.”

Uma’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at Y/N. “You’ve caused quite a stir, girl. This place is no vacation. But if Harry’s vouching for you, you must be something special.”

Y/N, feeling a bit awkward under Uma’s scrutiny, managed a small smile. “I’m just trying to find my way.”

Uma nodded, her expression becoming more serious. “Well, if you’re sticking around, you’d better be prepared. Life here isn’t exactly gentle.”

“I’ve learned that the hard way,” Y/N admitted.

Uma’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Good. Because you’ll need all the strength you can get. But if you’re with Harry, that’s a good start. He’s not one to take chances with those he cares about.”

Y/N glanced at Harry, who looked back at her with a mixture of pride and affection. Uma’s approval meant something—especially if it meant a smoother journey ahead.

“Well, since you’re both set on staying,” Uma continued, her tone softer, “let’s make sure you’re prepared. Harry, we need to talk about our next move. And you, Y/N, might as well come along. If you’re with Harry, you’ll be part of the crew. It’s best to know what you’re getting into.”

With Uma’s words hanging in the air, Y/N felt a newfound sense of determination. As Harry’s hand slipped into hers, she knew they were on the brink of a new chapter, one that promised adventure, challenges, and a future built together.

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[ataraxiaspainting]

It's Cold Outside.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: A stranger has weaseled his way into every aspect of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-con/dub-con (the reader is under the influence of aphrodisiacs but non-consensually), the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectfully, threats of violence, stalking, manipulation, Chrollo the Creepster, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 2.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

(You’re The) Devil in Disguise by Elvis Presley

Salvatore by Lana Del Ray

Who Is She? by I Monster

Kiss Of Fire by Georgia Gibbs

Money, Money, Money by ABBA

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

4:00A.M. by Taeko Onuki

How I’d Kill by Cowboy Malfoy

Sonne by Rammstein

The Great Gig in the Sky by Pink Floyd

“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.” — Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from the Underground

*~*~*~*

i. “Technicolor worlds with white clouds are bound to be destroyed by silver snow.”

When you step into your house, it is like you are instantly transported back to a year ago. Everything in sight, from the walls to the shelves, has decorations of some kind, whether going all out with the kitchen table having an entire feast of delicious holiday treats made by your grandparents, or just a green and red painting of a Christmas tree placed in your older sister’s usually monochromatic room. Perhaps the painting is yet another way she proves that she can somewhat react well to requests to change her room a little bit. Even if the painting is on the farthest wall from the door and is partially hidden from view by the many anime figurines and books larger than your head. Your mother claims that it is a miracle she convinced her to put up any holiday decorations in her room at all and thus doesn’t bother her further. 

Each room also has a different festive scent, your younger sister’s room having a hot chocolate scent mixed with the smell of piled up dishes on her desk, most coming from when she was ‘helping’ your grandparents cook by ‘testing to make sure the food isn't poison’.

How heroic of her to sacrifice herself for the family.

Your room, you think, looks much better than your sisters’ combined, having decked it out to the maximum by taking out all of your Halloween decorations and replacing them with Christmas ones. It took you the whole weekend, sure, and caused you to break the bank, but your love for accessories outweighs your logic and reason by quite a lot. Your beloved record player is back on your table that also simultaneously houses your television and jewelry playing Elvis Presley’s Blue Christmas. A wreath larger than your torso is on your door and your room smells like all the holiday air fresheners you found in your closet. Pine, peppermint, orange, lemon, cranberry… all mix to make a beautiful festive scent unmatched by even your parents’ bedroom. Everything is how it should be, and how it always is every year.

Well, almost. A man named Chrollo, a man who gives you anything but comfort, has been invited to your family-only yearly Christmas party. When your father, who has always been too protective of you and your sisters and never lets you spend time with the opposite gender, told you that Chrollo of all people would be attending, you tried to argue otherwise. You tried telling him that none of you had known Chrollo for so long, but he had rebutted Chrollo’s lie that you had known him for over a year with you two developing a close bond. You realized it was too late then, and Chrollo had charmed your entire family, with even your older sister always having a smile on her face whenever she saw him at her workplace. 

ii. “Like actors, each snowflake has a different role to play. They sing along with every step of a boot as a deceitful way to express their pain.”

The moment the doorbell chimes, its piercing resonance assaults your eardrums and causes an unsettling shiver to course through your spine.

You find yourself in an unsettling situation as your family eagerly awaits, and to your dismay, you are the designated individual tasked with the responsibility of opening the door. You two are such good friends, aren’t you? We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your bonding time.

You want to say he is lying, to tell them everything, every threat he has told you, him meaning them or otherwise. But as soon as they know of what Chrollo really and truly is, they will meet a painful end; that being pushed onto train tracks, their drink being laced with a poison that destroys the body from the inside out, or having nails thrusted into their bloody palms as they hang on their bedroom wall as you look in horror. Elton, Anya, and Robert all being examples of such… You don’t want to think of the bodies just waiting to rot around the Riverbend, your fault or otherwise.

You also don’t want to drown in this river. A river inhospitable to any aquatic life whatsoever, and only harbors a barrier of carnivorous plants that eat those who dare come close. Butterworts, large lilac purple ones that feel like they have been dipped in the most tempting butter mixed with forbidden fruit and honey produced by none other than the queen bee herself. Are you the fly, or are they? You have no idea, and you don’t want to find out.

“Hello.” Your response is concise and devoid of warmth, with a noticeable absence of your usual cheerful demeanor evident in your expression and tone.

Chrollo's smile is so sinister that even the most depraved devil's grin would pale in comparison, with all the large gift bags behind him swinging like a tail.

“Ah, [First]. Happy holidays. No need to be so cold, you know. The snow is already doing that for you. So-”

Despite your strong desire to slam the door in his face, you choose to step aside and allow him entry, in an attempt to silence him.

“Put the gifts by the tree by the kitchen table. The white table and not the black one.”

However, rather than fulfilling your expectations, all he does is elicit a burst of laughter so unique that it resonates within you, while discreetly handing over the most colossal gift bag, compelling you to accept it as if under some intangible force.

“Just a little something. I know it’s customary to wait until later but… I simply can’t help myself. Open it whenever you get the chance, dearest.”

…He means right now, in your room, doesn’t he? Perhaps he installed a camera in your room as you slept, he has certainly threatened to do that before. Or maybe he will just spy on you through the little space between the door and the frame. He has done that before, after all. 

…

You resisted the urge to scream when you saw a picture of your mother sleeping blissfully, the camera focused on her ring finger with the caption Should I take another souvenir? written on it, but the card, as beautiful as it appeared with a lace envelope and your name written in script on the card’s cover above Chrollo’s, proved to be even more of a challenge. When you read the words on it, your heart plunges so deeply that you fear your gastric acid will erode it.

Save your tears. For even if you cry to the whole world, it will never be enough to make me disappear. Meet me outside in five minutes, and make whatever excuse you deem necessary. No exceptions.

As you begin to read further, a wave of fragrant and delicate floral scents envelops your senses, instantly igniting a warm sensation in your head, leaving no time for contemplation.

Trying to ignore your slight dizziness, you read the rest of the card.

Just a little something to make sure you do this. We wouldn’t want your family to see you in… what state you are about to be in, do we?

…Just what did he do to you?

iii. “With the burden of wintertime ending, nature spends time creating beautiful trees and flowers. To accompany them, she makes twisted vines and weeds, for she knows that without them there cannot be balance or purpose in being comfortably numb.”

You were on your back, on his bed, within what felt like one second, not remembering the car ride over to his place, your wrists pinned beneath the strength of one of Chrollo's hands while he looked down at you within another, his other undoing the tie of the bandana on his forehead and showing you, for the very first time, of the cross tattoo underneath it.

All you can do is watch your whole world slow down and be replaced by a dream.

A blissful and sweet dream, as sugary as saccharine and as dissolvable as cotton candy, that is a veil and covers your eyes from what is happening; until it is too late, until you feel some of his fingers go into the band of your skirt and start pulling and pulling, downward, and that is when terror went to combat with your unwanted lust.

“...What… are… you… doing…? Chroooooo…” Your words slur as your mind buzzes with euphoria, and you can feel every sensation in vivid detail, every touch and every breath feeling heightening and intoxicating. As much as you want to, you can’t tell him to stop, not now.

“Shh, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” At least that is what you think he said, because as Chrollo spoke, you struggled to decipher his words amidst the haze that enveloped your mind. Reality fragments, leaving you unable to muster the strength to plead for him to cease. “It will feel oh so very good, I promise. Very, very nice and very, very good.” With that, you come to realize the wetness between your rubbing thighs, amidst the cloudiness and the larger-than-life headache that rips your skull apart. “Do you trust me?” The voice sounds almost heartfelt, not as intimate as it could be, but it was still more than enough for your hands to cling to him and pull him in closer, faster, so he could relieve you of this hell. “I will assume that that is a yes.” His hands move to the two buttons on your blouse, undoing them with ease, softly, gently, like it was a baby bird. 

“Faster… faster…!” You feel like a man who hasn’t seen water on any day of their life, and if you lose the location of the oasis you are sure to never find it again. 

Like a man lost in the desert, you choke on imaginary quicksand, soon to drown if water does not save you.

“Aw, such a precious little thing, aren’t you?” You are gently flipped over in an instant and he unbuckles your bra, quickly. 

“If you love me… really love me… make me feel better… please.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He flips you over again and his fingers lower to your panties, pulling them down from your trembling legs, just like he did with your skirt. “You trust me after all, don’t you?”

You cry out yes after utterly desperate yes, as he watches, his smile getting wider as he starts undoing his belt. He puts a finger on your lips after he has heard enough, shushing you gently.   

“Then trust me when I say that this, my dear, is for your own good.”

Beneath the surface, whether it be shallow or not, you have no desire to comprehend his intentions.

You don’t want to know. You just want this to go away.

iv. “Through discoveries, there is a hint of madness that enters our minds. Only then can we see our world’s colors change from squid ink and bone to begonias and finches.”

Chrollo undoes his belt, then his pants, and then his boxers. You focus on his face to ignore what is currently nearly touching the side of the mattress by a hair or two, hard and enlarged and slightly pink and-

He takes off his shirt button after button, much, much, much slower than how he took off the rest of his clothing. There exists a deep-seated anger within you, yet it is accompanied by a sense of gratitude, as both you and he are aware of your mutual aversion towards this situation.

Despite both of you being aware that this is not your desired outcome, he still kisses you, gently, full of warmth, and tenderly. What you truly desire is to satisfy the ache within you. But he won’t give it to you yet, will he?

Time seems to drag on as his kisses get faster, and more hungry, with his tongue essentially becoming another of your muscles, wet, and neither wanted nor unwanted. 

Eventually, you get what you want, after enough begging for him to just get it over with. At the beginning, there is a gentle caress resembling a warm and velvety rose petal. However, as time progresses, the touch becomes increasingly forceful until his fingers enter. But it does not hurt. Should you be thankful for that? At least he is being nice.

He starts thrusting, and that also does not hurt. No soreness. You won't feel any discomfort until your eyes meet, causing a sensation that almost makes you want to throw up, were it not for the illicit satisfaction this dreadful encounter brings. It's a peculiar kind of pain, one that lingers like a ghost stealthily gliding through walls, catching you off guard before you can comprehend its presence.

Nothing hurts, and that in of itself gives you the most pain anyone could imagine. 

v. “Heat lightning gives way to summer storms and verdant wind. This makes for a hauntingly beautiful melody of ripples and thunder.”

“…And this maiden, she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.”

vi. “The dead, fallen leaves of autumn come in many shades from bright red to a dull brown. They flow with the wind from one place to the next as invitations from those who passed on to the living.”

[collapsedsquid]

The Dali - a 948ft (289m) container ship - was at the start of a 27-day journey from Baltimore to Sri Lanka when it struck the Francis Scott Key Bridge, sending thousands of tonnes of steel and cement into the Patapsco. It left the ship stranded under a massive expanse of shredded metal. [...] The crew, made up of 20 Indians and a Sri Lankan national, has been unable to disembark because of visa restrictions, a lack of required shore passes and parallel ongoing investigations by the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) and FBI. On Monday, the crew remained on board even as authorities used small explosive charges to deliberately "cut" an expanse of the bridge lying on the ship's bow. Ahead of the controlled demolition, US Coast Guard Admiral Shannon Gilreath said that the crew would remain below deck with a fire crew at the ready. "They're part of the ship. They are necessary to keep the ship staffed and operational," Adm Gilreath said. "They're the best responders on board the ship themselves."

[...] According to Mr Messick, the crew has been left largely without communication with the outside world for "a couple of weeks" after their mobile phones were confiscated by the FBI as part of the investigation. "They can't do any online banking. They can't pay their bills at home. They don't have any of their data or anyone's contact information, so they're really isolated right now," Mr Messick said. "They just can't reach out to the folks they need to, or even look at pictures of their children before they go to sleep. It's really a sad situation."

The Beached Dutchman, stuck forever at a foreign port but never able to step off

[buryustogether]

-> THE SHADOWS OF STARS

johnny silverhand x reader (not v)

word count: 8.5k

summary: despite being the newest groupie for samurai, you work hard to pull more than your weight and ensure gigs run smoothly. after a run in with a crazed fan goes awry, johnny silverhand offers you a bit of comfort.

warnings/tags: pre-relic johnny, reader is not v, violence, blood, age gap romance, non-penetrative sex, first kiss, first time, virgin!reader, mention of arranged marriage and running away, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

author’s note: he may be a bit ooc but he’s my dreamboat so

If you’d have known how the night would have ended, you would have done things differently. You would have said more, said less, perhaps. Stepped further left, taken two more paces back. Anything and everything, you would have done differently.

Anything and everything would have been for nought - because the end of the night transported you to the stars invisible above your head, and beyond the crescent moon hanging from a weathered thread. You hadn’t known you could go that high - and you owed the jump to none other than Johnny fucking Silverhand.

It started with a woman - of course, that’s what all the old-world love stories say. But this woman wasn’t a princess waiting for a king to come down from his tower and save her and make her his; she was a plastered drunk with ugly-as-all-hell bangs on her forehead and a tank top so thin and skimpy her tits would have hung out even if she tried to keep them covered.

You had been watching her from the corner of your eye the entire show from your little perch beside the stage, headphones clasped over your ears and a tablet with the set list in hand. From the shadows, because that’s all you were, really in comparison to them, you had tracked her as she downed drink after drink and got closer and closer to the edge of the stage. Of course she was decked out in their merch - hell, everyone here was, but there were hearts inked onto the Samurai logo across her chest. Just what this gig needed - a crazy-ass fan hammered out of her mind.

It was when she’d disappeared to get herself another shot when you’d allowed yourself a glance up to the stage on your right. Christ above, they were so fucking cool. You didn’t care if that made you sound like an awestruck teenager; they were the only words you could conjure up at the moment. You’d never been one for poetics.

A band of rough and rowdy outcasts, torn at the edges in all the right places and ragged at the ends, they stuck out in a city like this. Especially the guitarist; god, you’d had a massive schoolgirl crush on Johnny Silverhand since you were sixteen and had first discovered their music. He was everything you found enticing; attractive, but without the superficial glamour Night City was held under; charismatic, charming, confident; maybe a bit full of himself, which you had discovered after being pulled into their crew as the newest groupie, but it didn’t phase you as much as you thought it would.

Your younger self would have fainted if she knew you were a groupie for Samurai these days. You were new - the youngest by far they’d ever taken on, but god above knew you pulled more weight than the older assistants who’d gotten used to the feeling of trailing in the shadows of stars. You stayed late into the night and early into the morning to clean up and pack after gigs, set up arrangements for desirable venues, arrived early to prepare so they only had to get up there and sing. Hell, you even cleaned their instruments when you had the time; you’d restrung Silverhand’s prized guitar enough times to have the same calluses on your fingers as his.

Of course, it had taken a snapped string, a sweat-inducing dash to the nearest music store, and an approaching meeting with a business partner for him to give it up to be repaired by someone else than him. Eurodyne had certainly had a hand in convincing him to part with the damned thing; he’d given you an appreciative nod and a charming wink when Silverhand had left his case at your little station.

Back in the present, you found your gaze pulled from your set list to watch as Silverhand kicked up a foot on a speaker to twist out a solo that left goosebumps trailing along your skin. Below him, fans hollered and screamed their approval; his lips quirked up in that Cheshire grin of his, the crinkle of his eyes hidden behind his aviators. You swallowed thick. Despite working for Samurai for nearly a month now, you’d never spoken to Silverhand once. He’d never even glanced in your direction, too caught up in his own business or too distracted by fans to pay you much mind.

You wondered what his voice would have sounded like feet from you, soft and gentle, instead of strained with his cries as he appeased his crowds.

Your spine straightening, your eyes at once flicked back to the woman you’d been watching as she reappeared at the front of the crowd. She was barely able to keep herself on her platform heels, eyelids drooped and movements sluggish. Your lips twisted themselves into a frown; some hangover she was going to have in the morning. You glanced back down at your tablet for a moment, then back to the chick. At once, your chest thundered.

She was leaning against the wall of the stage, hand outstretched in an attempt to touch Silverhand’s pant leg. He kept his cool - surprisingly - and continued the song as he took a step back so that he stood just out of her reach.

You cast a quick glance around the dim venue. Where the hell was security? The bodyguards you’d hired to keep a perimeter at the stage? You found them; they were both slumped at the bar. Perfect; this night was throwing in all kinds of elements that made for a perfect bomb. The question was - when was it all going to blow?

The rest of the gig, you kept your eye on the rowdy fan, never letting her stray too far from your vision. She paced back and forth about the stage, trying to touch even the boot or pants hem of one of the players. It raised the hair on your neck at end as a hot, lava-like sensation filled your stomach.

Were you… jealous?

God, no, you told yourself as the last song of the set came to a close. You didn’t get jealous of blackout drunks practically sobbing over a couple of rockstars who probably didn’t even know your name. And yet… every time she cried out Silverhand’s name, every time she blew him a kiss, that sensation worsened. It coiled like a serpent in your belly, forcing your jaw to clench and your blood to boil.

Shit. You needed to get a serious grip.

Slowly, as the bar began to clear out and final tabs were paid at the bar, you found yourself in conversation with the owner of the place. You sat at a table and watched as she did the math for the band’s share of the profits of the night, cradling an iced concoction you’d been dying for since you got here. Up on the stage, Silverhand and Eurodyne were speaking in hushed tones, motioning back and forth.

“You know,” said the owner as she tallied up her data, “you seem pretty young to be a manager for those fellas.”

You forced yourself to smile and chuckle softly. “Oh,” you said, “I’m not their manager. I’m actually a groupie. I just, you know, move their things back and forth and hook up their systems for them.”

“You seem to do a lot more than that.” With a flick of her hand, she deposited the eddies into your account; a moment later, they showed up on your vision screen. When you got the chance later tonight, you would divide up the earnings between the band, the hired muscle, and yourself. You didn’t think those meatheads had done anything to earn the scrap, but you were terrified to be the one to tell them so.

“I guess someone has to,” you murmured quietly.

“I mean it,” she said. She gave you a gentle, motherly smile, one that made your heart and ache and pang for home. “You’re playing practically every role in this little game of theirs. Movement, tech, cash flow. And I’d bet they don’t even know your name, do they?”

You felt yourself blanch a little. Casting a glance over toward the rockers, your stomach flipped slightly as Silverhand threw his head back and barked out an echoed laugh. “They do,” you lied.

“Sure, kid.” The woman patted your arm before hopping off her stool and taking your empty glass. “If you’re going to survive a life like that, at least make sure to claim the respect you deserve. You’re not a doormat, girl. Don’t act like one.”

With that she left you to your own clouded thoughts, mind a hell scape of troubles and conflicting wants and needs and desires. You pursed your lips and stared down at your lap. Maybe she was right; maybe you should talk to them. Ask for better pay. Throw in a couple set ideas you’d been saving for the past weeks. Yet as much as you wanted to, the queasy feeling in your belly kept you from advancing too far.

You’d always been an anxious kid; too scared to voice your opinions. Your parents said you were well-behaved. You thought ball of nerves was a better way to phrase it.

You had just begun to kick off your stool and begin the tedious task of packing up the equipment when a flash of movement caught your eye. That woman - the one who had tried to touch the band on the stage - was jittering across the floor toward Silverhand and Eurodyne as they made their way to the backstage entrance. Her tits swayed as she bounced in their direction, feet dragging in her drunken state.

Fuck - some people just didn’t know when to quit, did they?

Feeling that simmering boil arise in your chest again, you quickly stride across the floor to intercept her aim toward the men. She was just behind them when you reached her, her arm outstretched and palm open to grab a handful of Silverhand’s ass. The serpent in your belly flared.

“Hey.” You grabbed the woman’s wrist in an iron-fisted grip, stopping her fingers just inches from their prize. Her head drunkenly lolled over to glare daggers at you. “No touching, you got it?”

“Get the fuck off me, you fucking kid.” She ripped her hand from your grip, and the numerous rings slid along her fingers scratched along your skin. You refused to flinch at the pain, instead pulling yourself to your full height and clenching your fists. “What the hell’s your problem?”

Your eyes flickered to the door backstage. The men had disappeared, and you felt a short little something burst inside of you. Disappointment? Surely you weren’t thinking they would come to your aid? That Silverhand would tell this bitch to scram and then say, ‘Damn, kid, thanks a lot. Want to come backstage and sign to become our mascot?’ God, you were a fucking idiot.

“Go home before someone knocks you on your ass,” you said, trying to mimic some of things you’d heard street kids say in back alleys. “I’d hate for your lipgloss to smear any further.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are?” Now she was angry. Getting up in your face. And you were alone - the venue owner had vanished, and the band was backstage. You suddenly wished you knew how to mind your own business. “You know where you are? This is fucking Heywood. Lose an eye for saying something like that.” She sniffed and looked you up and down. God, those bangs were ugly as all hell. “What are you, sixteen? You better run home to mommy before you get smacked.”

To your dismay, and fury, and horrified embarrassment, you felt tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You could count on your fingers the number of times someone had yelled at you like this, and each and every one still made your heart thunder like a drum. You weren’t cut out for this kind of shit; you should have taken her advice and run home, begged your parents’ forgiveness.

But suddenly the owner’s words were resurfacing in your mind.

You’re not a doormat, girl. Don’t act like one.

Gathering what little courage hadn’t dwindled away, you squared your jaw and said, “Get out and don’t come back, or I’ll call the pol-“

You weren’t able to get anything else out before suddenly a fierce, solid fist connected with the side of your face. You went sprawling, sending a table a a stool clattering into their sides, your hands clutching at your nose. Hot, tangy copper flooded down from your nostril, dripping onto your shirt and staining your palms. Holy fuck - she’d just punched you. You’d never been struck before - is this what it actually felt like? Your nose throbbing, your eye aching in its socket, your lips open as you gasped for breath?

Vaguely, through the blood pumping in your ears, you felt the woman kick your foot and scoff before the door swung shut behind her. You were left in silence, still in place where you lay propped on your elbow on the floor, with nothing but the scarlet falling from your nose and a painful watering eye.

With a coarse gasp, you sat up. Your head pounded like someone had delivered a bullet to your temple and it had come out through your jaw. Now that they weren’t being held back, tears cascaded down your cheeks freely and fell from your chin. You touched your nose, the skin around your eye, and let out a small sob as the pain flared through your skull.

Your attention was pulled from your attack to the backstage door, where a peel of laughter reached your ears. The band - you could ask them for help. Explain what happened. They could clean you up, take you to a ripper doc to make sure everything was still intact.

“Fuck, no,” you whispered to yourself. You’d eat lead before you let them see you like this; before they realized that, shit, you may have had your nineteenth birthday a few months ago, but goddamit, you still were just a snotty-nosed kid who needed her hand held when things got rough on the playground. They couldn’t know that. No one could.

You felt yourself rising, using the bottom of your shirt to gingerly wipe off the excess blood on your face. You needed to pack up. Load the equipment into the truck. Call the venue for tomorrow’s gig and make sure the show was still on.

Then you would wander, see if any rippers were still open. And if there wasn’t, well… you’d just have to deal with it.

Your mother’s words rang in your ears, still as sharp as a razor as they were when you left home. “No one’s going to take care of you out there,” she had said. “No one will help you. No one will care about you. No one will love you. You’re going to be all by yourself.”

Fuck it - you didn’t need any help. You didn’t need anyone to take care of you, to love you. You’d do it all yourself.

The pain was too much to acknowledge that was a lie.

It wasn’t but a half hour later that you were winding up speaker cords and wrapping them in their protective cases, gritting your teeth against the panging ache blossoming from your face. You were nearly done with the front half of the stage, a small tower of equipment stacked behind you and waiting to be dragged to the truck out back. You were already sweating your ass off, not to mention that the scab in your nose kept breaking and bleeding. You were sure you weren’t looking like much of a model.

You exhaled a long, exhausted breath and took a seat on the edge of the stage. Your toes barely touched the ground. Head bowed, you fisted the material of your blood-stained shirt and bit your lip to keep a fresh wave of tears at bay. You failed; they escaped, trailing down your cheeks like twin rivers.

What the hell were you doing? You were miles from home, miles from anything you knew. You’d had a life, a future planned out for you. Money. Comfort. Everything you didn’t have now. And you’d run away from it all.

“Hey, kid,” said a voice from further down the stage. “You seen my pick around here? Dropped the fucker after the show.”

Oh, holy fuck. Johnny Silverhand was speaking to you - and you were sitting here crying about being smacked around once or twice.

You cleared your throat once, twice, that the same time turning away quickly and pawing away the tears clinging to your cheeks. “Uhm, yeah.” Keeping your face turned from him, because frankly, you couldn’t take one more thing going wrong tonight, you fished out the obsidian-colored guitar pick you’d found on the stage while packing up. You had planned on leaving it beside his case when he and the others went out for a drink like they always did; it had been burning a hole in your pocket since you’d stuck it there, knowing it was the very pick he often stuck between his teeth after songs.

You held it out in his direction, refusing to let him see your tear-streaked face. He took it from your outstretched palm with his cybernetic hand, the metal fingers clicking together as he accepted it. You began to pull your hand back before suddenly those metal fingers were wrapped around your wrist, keeping your palm turned upward.

“You cut yourself or something?” he asked. He was looking at the blood you’d wiped off with your hand; fuck. Couldn’t you do anything?

Sniffling again, you pulled your hand away a little more forcefully than you meant to and cradled it in your stomach. “Yeah,” you murmured quietly, but you knew he heard you. Your voice echoed here in the empty building. “I’m fine. Sorry for worrying you, Mister Silverhand.”

To your surprise, he released a mumble from the back of his throat as he came closer and settled himself on the edge of the stage beside you. You immediately stiffened, your wide eyes trained like a magnet to an empty spot in the corner. “Christ, kid, I’m not that old. Johnny’s fine, as long as my hair’s not grey and I can still piss on my own.”

You listened as he lit up a cigarette, the lip of his lighter clasping shut before he tucked it back into his pocket. Was this actually happening? Was Johnny fucking Silverhand actually sitting down with you? Maybe that chick had knocked you clean out after all.

“You’re the new one, aren’t you?” Johnny asked as he took a drag of his smoke. He said your name, and your heart sprang like a bird screaming to be free of its cage. He did know your name. “What do you think of this shitshow? Not exactly what you expected, right?”

You reached up to wipe your nose - and quickly hid your hand when you brushed off a fresh swatch of blood. “I don’t think it’s a shitshow,” you admitted in a shy voice. You sniffed. “I think it’s great. I think you all are.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his wrist - he was offering you a drag of his smoke. You stared at it for a moment before gingerly taking it and holding it like a joint; you felt his gaze on you, you could see the edge of his faint smirk. Obviously you weren’t holding it right. Nevertheless, you hesitantly brought it to your lips. How bad could one drag be?

As soon as the smoke tumbled down your throat and into your lungs, you pitched forward and hacked out a number of dry coughs. It felt like ash was steamrolling down your spine, tasted like a bad dream you couldn’t wake from. You felt like you were going to be sick.

Beside you, his feet crossed at the ankles, Johnny gave that deep, drawling laugh you’d heard time and time again - and had practically fallen for - and took back his cigarette. “First smoke, kid?” You heard the smile in his voice as he placed it back between his lips. “When you throw up, just don’t do it here.”

You raised your hand to cover your mouth, your bleeding nose, but you were too late. You bent your head and coughed into your lap - with enough force to send a spattering few droplets across the tops of your thighs. Your hands scrabbled to wipe them away, but the man beside you was quicker.

“Jesus,” he said, all traces of amusement wiped like a slate from his voice. “Didn’t think it’d kill you.”

“Sorry,” you gasped.

There came a short, yet stifling moment of stillness, of silence. It felt as if the world had gone still, had come to a stop on its axel or the spinner or whatever the hell it rotated on. If it even did anymore.

But then it all came back full force, like a slap to the face, like a bullet to the chest. Johnny reached his hand out and grabbed your chin - gently, but commanding; forcefully, but gingerly - and forced you to turn your head and look at him. It was the first time you’d met his eyes since he’d walked into the stage - his aviators were pushed up on his head, his smoke dangling from his lips, his oak-colored eyes hard and steely and rough to disguise the shock lying beneath them.

“Fuck me.” He tilted your head slightly, his gaze traveling over your face. “Someone do this to you, kid?”

You felt as though you couldn’t speak. Even if you wanted to, you just couldn’t. His artificial fingers were cool against your flushed skin, his grip harsh but forgiving all at once. Fireworks were exploding across your face where he touched you, rendering you speechless. Did he… actually care? Give a shit you’d taken a clock to the skull?

When you didn’t answer, his fingers tightened slightly on your jaw. Your eyes found his again, lips parted and heart skipping beats. “Hey,” he said more firmly, then pulled his cigarette from his lips with his free hand. “Who did this shit to you, huh?”

Ignoring the thrumming and singing and screaming of your heart, you swallowed thick and averted your gaze. “No one,” you replied. When his grip didn’t let up, you finally caved. “Just… just a fan, a little bit ago. She was, uh…” You hesitated. “She was trying to catch a grope of you, so I stopped her. Guess I caught it instead.”

Your small, forceful chuckle wasn’t met with the kind of response you were hoping for; maybe a laugh, or at least a tug at the corner of the lips. But it did not happen. Instead, you were met with a stony glare. A hard gaze. A deeply-set frown that bordered on a scowl.

You became suddenly and deeply intimated of Johnny Silverhand, aware now of the tight grip he had on your jaw and how close he was to your face. You bowed your head to the side, and he at last let you go. “Sorry to ruin the after party,” you murmured, then swallowed thick and hopped off the stage. “I’m fine, really. I just need to finish packing up and I’ll get out of here.”

Attempting to hide the flush in your cheeks and the hammering of your heart in your chest, you bent over to gather up a speaker in your arms. When you stood straight again, you found Johnny standing just feet before you, his aviators clutched tight in his grip at his side.

“I’m not fuckin’ with you here, kid,” he said, bringing his face close again. You felt your knuckles paling around the speaker, clutching it tight to your chest. His hair framed his face in a darkened curtain, the stubble on his cheek pronounced in the dim lightning. “Nobody fucks with my band without feeling it later. You know what this bitch looks like?”

“There really isn’t a need for more violence.” Eyes down, head bowed, you shifted the speaker’s weight in your arms. You tried not to dwell on the sensation that arose in the pit of your belly over being included in his band. “I just want it to be over with.”

Johnny watched as you set down your load, reaching up to wipe at your bloody nostril. As he crossed his arms, his foot began to tap gently - a sign of agitation you’d come to recognize. “Fuck all, kid,” he rumbled, then pulled the bandanna from his back pocket and tossed it to you. Raising the cloth to you nose, you tried not to inhale deeply as his scent overpowered you. “If you’re not going down that road, you at least got liquor at your place to soften the blow that shiner’s going to give you tomorrow?”

You clenched your jaw, wrapped your free tightly over your chest. The blood from your nose was stained into the fabric of the bandana; your grip tightened around it. You murmured a soft reply.

Johnny cocked his head, hands planted on his hips. “Speak up, kid. Use that voice of yours like it’s meant to be used.”

“I live in my car,” you said again, louder, then immediately cleared your throat and began to drag a box toward the door. “Listen, uhm… Johnny, I appreciate it, but I really need to finish packing -“

“Fuck packing.” Johnny crossed the small distance you’d put between the pair of you, stopping so close you felt his breath fanning across your face. “Let those other dickwipes pull their weight for once.”

Your gaze tried to avert itself again, but something within the hallows of your chest forced your eyes to stay trained on his. Were those flecks of hazel in the brown of his irises? You blinked a few times; you’d never been this close to him before. Hell - you’d never been this close to a man before at all.

“I…” You hesitated, gripping the bandana so tightly you were sure you were about to tear it in two. “I didn’t think you cared so much.”

“I told you, kid,” he said, then reached up to grab your shoulder. Explosions; fireworks; detonations where he touched you. “I take care of my band.”

And that was how you found yourself holding an ice pack to your face in Johnny Silverhand’s apartment in Pacifica, with the night sky and the stars taking up the space between peering in on you from the windows across the room.

You brought a small glass of liquor to your lips as you took in the living space; it was quaint, but not a shitty little hole in the wall either. You knew he didn’t care for aesthetics or shows; he was a man of practicality. Whatever served him well - pretty or not - he kept around.

Maybe that was why you’d lasted this long so far tailing the band as their little runt groupie.

You shifted slightly in your seat on the couch, pulling the pack slowly from your face. A television was set against the far wall, where the news station spewed some commercial for the latest body mod people were just ‘dying for!’ Clothes lay discarded around the bed set in the alcove in the corner, and a trio of electric guitars stood by dutifully in the corner amongst a mountain of expensive speakers and stereoes. Mounted on the wall were half a dozen framed magazine covers that featured Samurai - and a few were only his face occupied the page. Photoshoots, interviews, covers… he had it all done and displayed.

The star himself stood at the miniature bar pouring himself a few fingers of vodka, hair tied up in a half knot at the crown of his head. He set the bottle down and crossed the room to take a seat on the opposite side of the couch, then kicked up his feet on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankle.

“So tell me,” said Johnny and sipped at his liquor. He extended an arm across the back of the couch, his fingers just a few inches from your head. “How’s a kid like you end up in this shit city? You certainly aren’t built to be a street kid, so you didn’t grow up here.”

Consciously, you reached up to touch the area around your eye. You’d used the bathroom when you first arrived here to clean the blood off your face, but the black eye steadily blossoming across your skin wasn’t going to wash away as easily. As if you didn’t already feel bad enough; you were sitting on fucking Johnny Silverhand’s couch in a bloodstained shirt and the confession off your lips that you lived in your damn car.

When he tilted his head to look at you expectantly, you felt your throat run dry. You knew how he - hell, how most of the street kids in Night City - felt about where you came from. Surely you didn’t have to tell him the entire truth. Besides - even if you lied, you were expecting him to come to his senses any time now and tell you, his month-new groupie, to get out of his house and scram.

“Well,” you said and gingerly placed the ice pack on the side table, “I guess you’re sort of right. My family was pretty… well-to-do. I grew up on the top floors of the snottiest buildings -“

“You used to be a corpo kid.”

Your blood ran cold in your veins. Fuck; this was it. Your run with Samurai was over. With any band, really. Surely word would spread you were a corpo brat trying to slum it as a street kid.

Johnny shrugged a shoulder and brought up his glass to take another sip. “You don’t hide it well, kid,” he told you bluntly. “The way you talk, walk, hold yourself. You reek of that high-brow lifestyle, no offense.” The corner of his lips quirked slightly. “But surely mom and dad didn’t drop their precious little darling on the street, now, did they?”

You couldn’t stop the zipping, electric sensation that pinged off the walls of your chest. “Not exactly.” You finished off your drink and set it aside, eyes focused on the corner of the television. You had no idea what the anchor was talking about; you didn’t really want to know. “My parents are oil investors. Old money types - they both came from countryside mansions and absent fathers - heh.” You smiled slightly to yourself. “They always told me I was a, as they called it, ‘soft soul.’ In their native tongue, that means weak. Not able to make those cutthroat decisions, you know? I don’t think they ever planned on including the stocks and the oil fields in their inheritance, so they went off and found the son of another tycoon who they could give it to.”

“Holy fuck,” said Johnny and lifted a stunned brow. “You’re telling me they arranged a marriage for you and this asshole?”

“They tried, I guess.” You hesitated, hand fidgeting with a stray loose end on your shirt. “I told them I’d rather splatter my brains on the wall - and they told me I could either do it their way, or leave and not come back at all.” You turned your head and gave him a wry, tight-lipped smile. “So I haven’t gone back.”

Johnny hissed out a breath through his teeth and tossed back the rest of his vodka. “You’ve got balls, kid, I’ll give you that,” he said and set aside his glass. “NC’s sure one hell of a place to hit the ground running.”

“Mm.” Maybe it was the liquor in your systems talking; or maybe it was the fact that slowly, as the evening went on, you were becoming more and more comfortable around him. “When I was younger, I heard your music for the first time and I just couldn’t get enough of it. My parents fucking hated it - tried to take away my vinyls, block the streaming websites, but I always found a way to keep listening. I guess… it was the only way I felt I could rebel.

“I got dragged to parties to be seen and not heard; I was given piano lessons at five, and when those didn’t stick, they put me in sports. They always wanted me to be some, I don’t know, incredible prodigy. Like I needed to be amazing to call myself their daughter. And I guess when they realized I wasn’t anything to be proud of, they just gave up.”

As soon as you shut your mouth, you regretted what you had said. When you’d left home, you had vowed to leave your past in the past. What the hell were you doing?

But then Johnny was barking out one of those laughs of his as he rolled his head back against the couch cushion. “Oh, come on,” he said and eyed you incredulously. “Nothing? You can handle your way around eddie negotiations - you sure they didn’t try to shape you into a corpo biz manager?”

“Believe me,” you said, finding yourself snickering along with him. “They tried everything. Nothing I ever did was good enough for them.” A loosened giggle escaped your lips as you gestured vaguely around the apartment. “Hell, I think they’d keel over and kick it if they knew I was at Johnny Silverhand’s place - the most infamous rockstar in Night City.”

He smirked coyly. “What?” he said and scratched at his throat. His eyes stayed trained on yours as you watched his tattoos move with his ministrations. “Your old man doesn’t like bad boys and tech fuckers?”

“Especially.”

There was another one of those still, silent moments between the pair of you, like the string attached to your fingers had pulled taunt. The television played quietly across the room. Car horns blared and wailed outside. Your gazes were locked together, unable to pull apart even if you wanted to.

Then he was moving. Pulling his feet off the table, standing to his full height. Stepping closer - resting a silver hand on the couch arm beside you and the other on the back near your head. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned over you, enveloping you against him and his ow shadow.

“Listen, kid,” he said, and you realized his voice had dropped a baritone. In the pit of your belly there came a fluttering, one that traveled further, lower, straight to your core. “I might be getting some off vibes here, but I’m not going to be a pussy and say I wouldn’t be disappointed if I was.” You felt your breath slam from your lungs as he leaned closer, closer, and dragged his tongue along the short expanse of your cheekbone; you swore your heart stopped. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but I think there’s a thanks in order for saving my ass earlier.”

Ice - your blood had frozen and turned to ice beneath your skin. Did he know you were holding your breath? Did he know you’d never been this close to anyone like this? Did he know you’d never kissed before, never fucked or gotten fucked or known what real, true devotion felt like?

After what seemed an eternity - a forever of him staring at you from inches away, awaiting your green light to advance - you at last found your voice. “I didn’t do it in exchange for this.”

“Yeah,” he said, “but let me spoil you, sweetheart.”

Then his lips were melded to yours, and your mind, your senses, your body - they all burst red and green and purple and every color across the spectrum you didn’t even know existed. His knees came to rest on either side of your legs and he bent down, so that he hovered over you and you stretched up in order to keep your mouths connected. His kiss was rough and demanding, the reins held tight in his hands, and he took up every last gasp of breath you had left in your lungs.

He pulled back for a quick inhale, leaving you shell shocked, but only for a moment before he was pushing his lips back against yours. “Fuck, honey,” he slurred between deep, passionate kisses, “you taste even fucking better than I thought.”

When his mouth moved down to the column of your throat, his touch anchoring your hips down beneath him, you realized this wasn’t supposed to be a one-man show. Your movements felt foreign, unknown, as you brought one hand to thread through his hair and the other to cradle the back of his neck. His tresses slipped through your fingers like feathers or silk or some other poetic shit - you didn’t care enough to think of the right metaphor.

Johnny found a spot on your skin where your neck met your shoulder, his hand moving your shirt collar out of the way, and attached his mouth to that area. He sucked and pulled at your vulnerable throat, using his sharp teeth to gently bite at the skin. You gasped aloud, your grip in his hair tightening, as he licked at the place he’d bitten, almost like apologizing or making up for the pleasurable pain.

And fuck, was it pleasurable. With every moment that ticked by with his mouth lavishing your neck, with his touch roaming across the planes of your body, you felt yourself growing wetter. Your belly was flip-flopping with nerves and excitement, your core suddenly aching from the attention you were receiving. And, if you shifted your hips just right, you felt the growing erection in his pants pressing against your thigh. You gave a hesitant, experimental buck of your hips against his - and your heart leaped when he pulled off your throat to groan low and gravelly into your collarbone.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” Johnny growled as he sat up. He peered down at you with blown pupils and an almost animalistic gaze, his hands working the clasps and buckles of his bulletproof vest. “Keep playing games like that and you might get your prize sooner than you expect it.” At last, he lifted the vest over his head - and you didn’t stop yourself from staring. His stomach was a flat plane of muscle, riddled near the hip and the pec with a few puckered scars. His dog tags clinked against his chest, hanging like ornaments over the line of hair that began at his belly button and became thicker as it disappeared beneath his waistband.

“Impressed?” he crooned, drawing your eyes back up to his.

You felt yourself smiling, albeit a bit nervously, and slowly reaching out to touch his abdomen. “Maybe,” you murmured. Your fingers trailed over his chest, his nipples, his belly. His muscles flexed under your touch, and every few moments he let his head fall back and released a low-throated moans. They sent shivers up your spine and an ache down to your core, clenching around nothing.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Johnny said, coming to his senses and hooking his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt. “I can’t exactly do this the right way if I’m the only one playing skins.”

Your nerves jumped wildly as he began to pull up your shirt; you partially lifted yourself to aid him, but as the fabric began to clear your breasts, you felt your blood spiking. “Wait!” You grabbed his wrist, halting him in place. “Wait, Johnny, wait.”

Obediently, he paused where he was. He peered down at you questioningly, searching for a sign of whatever he’d done wrong. “Don’t get cold feet on me now, kid,” he drawled gently.

“No,” you said quickly, and you panicked because he looked like he was going to pull away, so you surged forward and kissed him hungrily. He gave a muffled grunt of surprise, but returned it nonetheless. When you finally leaned back again, you knew your face was flushed; how attractive you must have looked, with a violent blush and a black eye coming in. “I want to, Johnny, I really do. More than…” You shook your head slightly. “More than I think I’ve ever wanted anything?”

“More than you want to tell those fucking parents of yours where to shove it?”

A nervous, wobbly smile wound over your lips. “Yeah,” you replied. “More than that. But…” You swallowed thick and averted your gaze, letting your eyes fixate instead on his dog tags. “I, uhm… I haven’t exactly… done this before. At all.”

“Hmm.” It was all he said for a long, quiet moment. You could tell he was staring at you, but you didn’t want to know if his gaze was full of reproach or unease - or the wild, suddenly feral look some men got around virgins. He shifted his weight atop you slightly. He spoke again. “You’ve at least cum before, haven’t you? Used one of those toys you women like so much?”

For a fraction of a second, you realized the gravity of it all - you were lying beneath Johnny Silverhand, talking about your previous use of sex toys. But before you could begin to register the situation, you said, “I mean, I’ve used vibrators before. I didn’t ever… didn’t ever orgasm on those. It just wasn’t enough. And my mom always said I didn’t want to lose my virginity to a piece of silicone. So…” You gently tightened the grip you had on his wrist. “No. I haven’t. I didn’t… I hadn’t even kissed anyone before this.”

“Fuck me, kid.”

You waited for him to roll off you, to tell you that you were a nice kid, but he suddenly wasn’t feeling well. It seemed forever. Then, that feeling - that sensation that was growing familiar - of his metal fingers on your chin drew your attention back up to his face. He was gazing down at you with a look so understanding, yet so teasing and coy it seemed as though the painter who had sculpted his features changed his mind half way through.

“If I’d known that was your first,” he rumbled to you, “I’d have made sure to bite.”

With that he dipped down to recapture your lips, his artificial hand coming up to cradle your cheek affectionately. A tidal wave of relief flooded through your systems as you reached up to tangle your hands in his hair again, your body beginning to act on its own accord. Your leg twisted around his to pull his hips closer to yours, and you felt his erection bump against the apex of your thighs. You both groaned into one another’s mouths, sharing breaths and panting into throats.

“Hang on,” he ordered you, and once you had locked your legs around his waist, he braced you against him and hauled you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. He continued to bite at your lips and shove his tongue into your mouth as he carried you toward the bed.

When your back hit the mattress, he pulled you further up toward the pillows and crawled over your form. “I’ve got an idea,” he drawled, nipping at your throat. When you made a noise of acknowledgement, he slowly began to undo the button of your trousers. “We’ll save the fucking for the next time. Tonight we’ll stick with basics - swear it’ll feel just as fucking good.”

You felt your heart rate pick up like a methodical tick. Your grip on his shoulders tightened, nails digging into his bare skin. “The next time?” you murmured, dammit, hopefully. You knew Johnny Silverhand was a womanizer, that a different girl fell into his arms every other night. A part of you felt stupid for hoping this would be different; now you weren’t feeling quite as foolish.

Johnny smirked down at you, his hair curtaining you both. “What?” he said. “Thinking this was going to be a one-time thing?”

“Well…”

“Let me tell you something, sweetheart.” He pressed his forehead to yours, his human hand trailing down to the space between your thighs. A small squeak escaped your lips, one that melted into a moan, when he pressed his thumb down on your trousers right above your clit. “I’d be fucking stupid to find a little thing like you and let you go.”

You hitched out a gasp. “Let me go?”

“Oh, yeah, baby.” He inched down until he was level with your exposed belly, then licked a stripe up to where your shirt was bunched just below your breasts. “You’re all mine now.”

Your world was flipped on its head, like you were watching the scene play out from above instead of from your own eyes. Johnny helped you pull off your shirt, and then your bra, and you finally let yourself moan unabashedly when he pulled the peaks of each breast into his mouth. Then he removed your pants, and your panties, and then he had practically picked you up and pulled you into a position that had your core aching like never before.

Johnny sat his back to the headboard with you seated between his legs so that your shoulder blades laid flat against his bare chest. He’d hooked his ankles around yours when your legs spread, keeping them apart and open for his touch that was slowly, torturously making its way down your body.

“Johnny,” you moaned as his metal hand cupped your breast, alternating between kneading and pinching the nipple. His warm, human hand was dragging his fingers over the tops of your naked thighs, occasionally dipping between them, but never where you needed him the most. “Johnny, please…”

“Ooh, my poor thing sounds so good when she cries for me,” he chuckled in your ear from behind. His voice was low and came from deep in his chest, sending goosebumps over your flesh. “I bet she’d sound even prettier singing.”

Without warning, his hand dipped toward your center and dragged a finger through your wet folds. In reply, as if obeying his command, you released a garbled cry and leaned your head back against his shoulder. Fuck, this was so goddamn good. You’d never known letting someone else touch you like this could feel so fucking amazing.

“That’s right,” growled Johnny, then found your clit and began to rub circles around it. “Cry for me, sweetheart.”

You squeezed your eyes shut in pleasure as he played with the bundle of nerves, your hands gripping onto his thighs for support. Your legs instinctively tried to snap closed, alleviate the heightened need for friction, but his ankles locked around yours kept you from doing so. Feeling your pull against his legs, he quickened the speed of his circles, increased the pressure ever so slightly.

“Oh, fuck!” you whimpered. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, your slick smearing across your thighs. “Oh, shit, Johnny. Oh, my god, please don’t stop.” Quickly becoming overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and sensation, your body began to react on its own. You squirmed in his grasp, hips attempting to buck and feet kicking. There was a sort of coiling feeling building in your abdomen, like a pressure from within, and your body was chasing after it like it was the sun it had never seen.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” With every buck of your hips, his own chased yours, practically humping up into you from behind.

You couldn’t reply, only whimpered and whined and buried your face into the musky-smelling crook of his neck.

Johnny applied just the smallest bit of more pressure, his free arm wrapped securely around your middle to keep you anchored to him. “Come on, kid,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “Give it to me. Give me this first one.”

Whatever kind of effect his words had on your systems, it was immediate. That coil in your belly snapped, wound too tight, and your vision tore white as you threw your head back against him. “Oh, god, Johnny! Johnny, fuck!” Your words melted into hoarse cries and moans and gasps. You felt a warmth pooling from your entrance and his fingers gingerly gathering it up; if you had been able to open your eyes, you would have seen him suck your release off his own fingers and smirk to himself in satisfaction.

For a long, quiet few minutes, you simply sat there between his legs, feeling your chest rise and cave as you tried to regain your breath. Behind you, Johnny craned his neck to press open-mouthed kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders, the jut of your spine. He unhooked his legs from yours, allowing you to draw them together and to your chest as you gripped his thigh with a grip that refused to let go.

“You with me still, kid?” Johnny shifted his weight a bit, then wrangled you until you were sat sideways in his lap and he cradled you against his front.

Your head rested against his bare pec, fingers unconsciously gripping onto the dog tags around his neck. “Mm,” you hummed, because you felt as though you couldn’t form words anymore even if you wanted to. A sudden and powerful tide of exhaustion had washed over you, leaving you feeling hollow and full all at the same time.

“Use that pretty voice of yours,” he insisted and flicked a piece of stray hair from your sweaty forehead. “Tell me you’re alight. That I didn’t go too hard.”

So - because you would do anything for him, after he just did everything for you - you scraped together what was left of your vocal cords and said, “I’m alright.” You skimmed your fingers along his chest, and again, his muscles flexed beneath your touch. “Johnny.”

“Yeah, kid.”

“You won’t…” The next words caught in your throat. You thought of your parents, who had tried to sell you off because they believed you were nothing. You thought of that woman who had clicked you like it was a second nature to her. You thought of your own doubts and fears that taunted you like bad dreams that wouldn’t go away even after you woke up. “You won’t leave me… will you?”

Johnny’s grip around you tightened, and he pet your hair soothingly. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, and there was something about his tone that made you believe this wasn’t just a promise to you, but to himself, as well. As if he’d loved and lost before; as if he refused to let this crash and burn, even if it killed him in the end. “I’m never letting you go.”

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 3: Pick Up the Pace

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: You and Steve have been running into each other for weeks, just, now you’re starting to plan it.

Word count: 4,948

Content/warnings: Law enforcement and forensics themes, swears, eating dinner, clothes sharing, my low knowledge of suit brands, mentions of misogyny and misogynistic themes, snacking, being dressed down in a room full of fancy clothes, sneaking into someone’s trunk?, the lightest mob themes, DA (yes, he got promoted) Barber

Author’s Note: I hope you guys are chomping at the bit to see Steve x Decks as much as I am. Actually, I know you are, the polls support it and I love it.

I really liked this chapter, it just flowed. You can see that Decks is really back and forth on what’s going on… This takes place at roughly the same time as chapter 9 of YCMBWH in the Outta Nowhere AU

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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To call you overworked would be an understatement. You were exhausted from the long week, your early Saturday shift hitting you like a train. The great thing was, you didn’t have to work tomorrow and were only on-call Monday, in case something especially heinous happened and they couldn’t handle it. Might as well be a golden weekend! But you couldn’t celebrate too soon, you still had half the day in front of you.

You had come into the lab even earlier than your schedule demanded today to get a few more results compiled for an important case that was set to go on trial soon. It seemed like almost everything was on the rise lately, causing you to have to take on more cases at once, and the same thing went for the DA’s office. That’s what brought you here, transporting important files a few blocks down, far outside your usual basement-to-crime scene-and-back domain.

Usually, detective Lang would take the evidence up to the DA’s office for whatever case was going on, but he wasn’t in today and this was top-priority. You knew how to do it, just never had to, so you were slightly tentative on where exactly you were going. But, either way, there was no way in hell you were going let Detective Walker even think about touching your files. You didn’t trust that rat of a man, which is how you found yourself walking up the steps to the DA’s office on your own.

It was a nice change of pace, at least. The air was slightly less stale above ground, although way more humid. The sun even peeked at you from beyond the dense cloud coverage. As you made your way through the DA’s office, you weren’t quite sure how they could all stand the amount of searing natural light that must pour through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Sure, your office could stand to have a little more non-fluorescent light, but this was too much. Plus, it probably cost a fortune, this new office having been built just a few years ago as one of the few actions of the office that you didn’t quite agree with.

One thing you did agree with, though, or at least hoped you did, was Andy Barber. He was seemingly a nice guy, but you had never met him. You voted for him for DA, so you were hoping he wasn’t that bad, but all you had to go off of was his case prosecution method and whatever the local paper had to say. According to them, at least you knew he’d be in his office over his lunch break, lining up with yours. DA Barber was notorious for working hard. It was something you and many citizens respected him for, although you were sure his wife and son thought differently.

You walked through the hallway towards his office, transporting the file that was clenched tightly in your hand, hoping you’d be received well. Distracted by checking the room numbers instead of peeking inside the offices, you removed a set of stiff knuckles from the Manila folder in preparation to rap on the door when the image on the other side sharpened into focus. You froze with your fist in the air as your jaw slightly dropped and your eyes shifted back and forth a the sight before you.

Two sets of blue eyes, attached to bodies dressed in suits, stared back at you through the glass, the one in the large desk chair holding mild confusion, yet intrigue, the other holding….maybe amusement and….was that…fondness? But definitively it was slight trepidation.

The man at the desk, DA Barber from the looks of it, gestured for you to come in. You did your best to will your body to move from your rigid position, swallowing thickly and lowering your arm to the door handle. Your feet felt nailed to the ground, weighed down by cement in the shuffling steps you took to get into the office. Your eyes kept wanting to shift to the man who sat opposite of the desk, the one you’ve seen around a lot lately, at work and in your mind, as his own gaze was glued to you.

Remembering where your were, you made a beeline for the DA, sticking out your hand. “DA Barber, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. I come bearing that evidence you asked for.” You introduced yourself as he shook your hand, nodding and smiling in acknowledgement.

He gestured for you to sit down in the other leather chair positioned in front of his desk before waving a hand toward the man who had been silent thus far, despite the way his clear blue eyes had practically been screaming at you since before you entered the room.

“Please, Andy is fine. I hear a lot about you, especially from this guy right here. You know Steve Rogers, right?”

You nodded, looking over at Steve, just to catch the way his gaze averted yours just for a second, before locking in again in the formal, respectful manner he always tried to hold.

“Yes, Steve and I have met. And you can call me Decks, if it’s all the same. I hope I’m not interrupting anything, I can come back later if you want to discuss the file once your lunch date is over.”

Andy laughed and nodded to Steve once again. “I see what you were saying.” He looked back to you, slight creases in the corners of his eyes from his smile as he raised his eyebrows at you. “You’re funny. But no need, Steve is involved somewhat with this case and can stay for the discussion.”

You simply gave a curt nod, all business, opening up the folder and turning the documents toward him before going through your results.

You had spent way longer in Andy’s office than you had anticipated, half talking through the case and half just getting along with the gentlemen in front of you. Honestly, it was nice to finally have a conversation with people who understood your line of work, not only the mechanics of it, but where that work led, even if you still weren’t exactly sure what Steve did or what this all had to do with him.

Before you knew it, it was time to head back to the lab so you could grab your stuff to go home. As you started running down the steps and out the front door to try and beat the rain that threatened to fall soon, you heard tapping steps behind you.

“Hey, Decks, wait up.” You stopped and looked over your shoulder to see Steve gliding down the staircase, long legs making the strides look effortless.

He caught up and you continued walking back to your lab as he joined you, easily matching your brisk pace. As you were about to open your mouth to ask him why he was walking with you, your stomach growled over the sounds of even cars passing on the street and interrupted your train of thought. You simply looked at him, the two of you sharing an owlish gaze before busting out into a small bout of laughter.

“So you’re speeding off to dinner, then, I assume?” You shrugged, swerving around a parking meter before looking back at him.

“I wish. I’ve gotta hit the lab to get my stuff and then head home, but I’m way too tired to make anything, so we’re looking at either takeout or leftovers…”

Steve contemplated for a second as the two of you reached the precinct, and opened the door for you. “So, that’s what, with Saturday night traffic and cleaning up your space, an an hour? Maybe two before you actually get food in you?”

You descended the steps towards the basement, pulling out your keys to unlock the lab space and letting Steve in in front of you. “Yeah, I guess so, and I can already feel the hangry coming on, but I mean, at least there’s no one around who’s going to have to deal with it. It’s just me.”

Steve stopped in the middle of the room and turned around to face you. “No, Decks. I do. I have to deal with it, especially now that we’re friends.”

You looked at him with a raised brow. “Steve, we hardly know each other.”

He shrugged. “Then get to know me. How about I propose you a solution? What if I told you I could cut that time in half? From right now to you having an actual meal. I’ll help you clean up the lab here and then you and I can go to one of my restaurants. I’ve got a couple that aren’t far at all. On me, and I’ll guarantee food will be in your mouth within ten minutes of sitting down.”

You grabbed a pair of gloves, tossing the box to Steve for him to put on his own. “While I appreciate the offer, and I will put you to work in here, I can’t ask that of you, Steve. Plus, look at me, I’m a mess right now. And I’m sure all your restaurants are fancy. Could I even wear this to one of them?” You gestured up and down to your body, clad in jeans, one of the few perks that came with working Saturdays instead of a weekday, a casual shirt, windbreaker overtop and hair slightly ragged from a mix of the wind and a long day.

“I think you look fine, but, Decks, please, let me do this for you. You deserve to eat a good meal after how hard you’ve been working. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll change out of this suit so we match. Sound good?”

You sighed, starting to clear the clutter all around and signaling for Steve to do the same. He wasn’t going to move, though. Not until you gave him an answer. His eyes were boring into your soul despite how soft they looked, the hopeful smile on his face adding a sparkle you couldn’t resist. You looked at him and cocked your head to the side in exasperation, the back of one gloved hand perching on a popped hip, the other pointing towards Steve’s nose. “Ugh, fine. But none of that fancy bullshit. I want actual food, like you said. I don’t have the brain power for high-brow culinary transformation right now. Understood?”

Steve beamed at you, elated with your confirmatory response and ever amused, happy to comply by your demands. “Understood. So how do you feel about pasta?”

Steve pulled your car up to the entrance of his restaurant and tossed the keys at one of the young valet attendants, the other opening your door. You stepped out and looked at the elegant, yet humble storefront, surprised that you had never been here before. Sure, you worked close and you loved pasta, but you never even dared to try getting a reservation and were often too tired to even think of going anywhere but home for dinner, especially here.

Out of the corner of your eye, you witnessed Steve’s Range Rover pull up to where your car was moments ago, an arm reaching out and handing him a duffel bag. Steve slung it over his shoulder and nodded at you, opening the door for you to go inside.

“Mr. Rogers and Ms. Decks. Right this way, please.” The hostess immediately greeted the two of you, leading you back to a booth in the corner of the room, able to see the entire space. On your way there, though, you could see the nice clothes everyone was in. Yours were nothing akin to theirs, but no one spared even you a glance, which was oddly comforting, but a little unsettling.

Steve whispered down to you that he was going to change and you nodded, picking up and perusing the leather-bound menu in front of you. You hadn’t even finished reading, let alone made a decision, before Steve was already sauntering back to the table, now wearing a pair of jeans, white t-shirt, and navy blue bomber jacket. Oh man, did that make his eyes pop. His outfit was quite similar to yours, but just fit him perfectly in every way.

He gave you a shy smile as he slid into the booth, nodding towards the menu. “Find anything good yet?”

Your eyes went wide as you blew out a breath. “Steve, it all looks good. I can’t even decide what I want.”

“Well, what’s your favorite?” You snorted at that.

“My favorite? I’m not quite sure…. I mean, I cook spaghetti for myself the most, but that’s because it’s easy, not necessarily because it’s my favorite. What do you recommend?”

Steve clicked his tongue before responding to you. “I think I know just the thing.” He hardly raised two fingers off the table before a waiter was at his side, listening to Steve’s instructions on a ‘tour of the menu.’

“And any wine pairings this evening?” Steve looked to you in deference of the question, before you simply shook your head.

“No, thank you. Just water for tonight should be alright.” The waiter curtly nodded and walked away.

Steve was right, you timed it on your watch. He guaranteed ten minutes for food to be in your mouth, it hardly took eight. Steve watched tentatively as the plates were set before the two of you on the table, letting you portion out what you wanted first. The second the first bite hit your lips, you swore it was heavenly. Your store boxed spaghetti and jarred sauce held nothing to this rigatoni alla vodka, or the simple scents you had gotten off anything else so far.

As soon as you swallowed, you looked across the table at a very knowing glance. “Holy fuck, Steve. This is delicious.”

He nodded, finally serving himself and sipping his water before digging in. “The greatest, right?”

You hummed, taking in the amazing food, paired with the atmosphere. The rain beat against the window, adding to the coziness of the restaurant and the comfort and satisfaction provided by the food in front of you. Damn, this was good pasta. If Steve was going to insist on being around you so often, you were going to make sure he brought this along with him every time. Now that you tried it, you were never going back.

The two of you opted for silence as you continued to eat, at least for the first few bites. When you thought about it, Steve probably hadn’t had anything for as long as you, although he was taking it much better.

As the meal went on, though, the two of you fell into an easy conversation. It almost infuriated you how well the two of you got along. It was like talking to an old friend, except one that never got too explicit about their job description. Steve knew all about yours, and you knew all about his life growing up with Bucky plus a few interests, but that’s pretty much where it stopped. It wouldn’t have been a concern if he worked an everyday 9-5 job, but he didn’t. Something just didn’t quite add up, but that honestly wasn’t your concern. If he wanted to own a bunch of businesses, at least they made quality goods like this linguini. You were still astounded by how much he was able to control the room, though.

“So, like…what’s the deal?” You interjected just as he was about to take another bite.

“I’m sorry?” Steve was caught off guard, even though he could see the flashes of gears turning in your mind sporadically throughout this whole dinner ordeal.

“Sorry, I actually didn’t mean to make that as harsh as it came out, but like…you can’t tell me there hasn’t been a pattern of behavior with you all day today. I just wanted to point it out.”

Steve set down his silverware to put his full focus on you. Everything he had told you up until this point had been honest, and he wondered if he was about to be persecuted. The conversation had been fine, and the two of you were having a good time, but he couldn’t blame you for being a little bugged by his vague answers and workarounds.

“I just feel like everywhere you go, you command people around. If it were anyone else, I feel like they’d be all cocky about it, making false promises, but so many people are out here lending you their attention like you run things. Sometimes even in my workplace.”

“Decks, I, uh…. I don’t know how I’m supposed to take that.” His eyes slightly narrowed at you, unsure of where this was going next.

“I guess, it’s, uh…. It’s a compliment? But really more of an observation. And I’m saying I feel like I’m the only one who sees it. Feeling like a regular old Lizzie Curry.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Um, am I supposed to know that name? Is it someone you went to school with? Is it one of your coworkers?”

You let out a chuckle. “God, no. You’ve never seen that movie? It’s an old western. You know what, come over and we’ll watch it, plus you can listen to the song it inspired, too. Steven, you uncultured dog”

He laughed and rubbed his neck. “Okay, okay, I get it. But you don’t mean like… right now, do you?”

You pushed your plate of food away from you, more than satisfied with the best meal you’ve had in months. “I mean, I guess? If you wanted to. I’m not working tomorrow. I’m not even on call, so sure, I could technically stay up. It’d be worth it to see someone else’s reaction to old film.”

Steve sheepishly smiled before sinking a little into the seat, signaling the waiter to come back and package the leftovers, sure to send you home with extra bread, too. “I would love to, but I actually have an important business meeting.” He checked his watch. “That I’m about six minutes away from being late for already. Tomorrow?”

You nodded, pulling your jacket on and accepting a bag from the waiter. “Yeah, tomorrow works.”

Steve slid out of the booth, sending a message on his phone before sliding it into his back pocket to put as much attention towards you as he could. “Okay, perfect, I’ll come by at seven.”

You vigorously shook your head. “No, way too late. Make it five.”

He looked at you incredulously. “Five!? Okay, fine. Let me make some phone calls. I’ll see what I can do. I can probably rearrange some things.” He sighed and pulled out his phone again, holding it up to his ear and sending you a wink and a wave before getting into the Black SUV that sped to the curb, meeting him as soon as he touched the sidewalk.

You spent the day Sunday cleaning your entire apartment. Sure, it was your normal cleaning day when it could be, but something made you feel like it needed to be extra spotless. You were in a zen, music blasting, dancing around with your mop, which was luckily the last thing you had to do.

You at least didn’t have to worry about preparing snacks or anything for Steve’s visit, texting him the command to get them on his way over, since you were already doing him the ‘gracious service of hosting,’ as you had said. He got a kick out of that one and obliged you, even texting Bee to get your preferences and personally picking them up instead of sending out a lackey.

He was surprised by how short Bee’s texts to him were, though, considering they usually had chipper conversations. Maybe he would call her later, or at least tell Bucky to since they had both been in a good mood the last time they’d spoken.

Steve pulled into your parking garage and went to the trunk of his car to grab his duffel so he could change into comfy clothes once he got up to your place. As the lift gate opened, though, Steve was terrified for the first thing he saw to be a shoe, attached to a leg clothed in Ralph Lauren pants. Steve took inventory of what was going on in his trunk as Bucky, the man attached to said shoe and pants turned over and groaned. Luckily, it didn’t appear that he was injured, but his eyes were quite puffy and his hair was in a mess, and not how it was back at the farm.

Bucky was wearing one of his junk suits: one that he didn’t care what happened to it. One that was marked as comfy, that he could throw it away in a second.

This was less than an everyday suit. Usually, Bucky wouldn’t be caught in anything less than Armani, even known for wearing Brioni almost every day. He must’ve really been going through it, especially since his hair has never been seen professionally without at least half an ounce of gel in it.

This was bad, and it was the last thing Steve needed right now, as the time was crunching and he didn’t want to delay your snacks or this date….wait. Was this a date? Was last night a date? Whatever, he didn’t have the time to think it over, though, instead looking down at the mob boss sprawled in the trunk and trying to gather information as quickly as possible.

“Bucky, what the actual hell is going on right now. Why are you in my trunk? Were you crying?” Tears were something Steve had only seen from his best friend a handful of times over their lives side-by-side, so for them to be so suddenly present was a concern.

Bucky sniffled before putting his best attempt of an angry face on, although it looked more like a pout. “I miss her, Steve. It’s only been a week, but I just can’t stand to be away. She’s stuck in my head and we were never even anything official. I’ve been trying to drown myself in work, but all I’m really drowning in is…sadness.”

He swung his legs to finally sit up under the tailgate. Steve knew Bucky had thrown himself into work, the man had been back for six days and had hardly been seen outside his office while Steve was sent out for all the in-person necessities. Steve slapped his hands on the shoulders of his best friend before meeting his gaze, then eventually pulling him in for a hug. “Okay, I get it. But she’s not gone. She’s only a few hours away and you can call her whenever.”

Bucky shook his head and sniffled. “No, I can’t call her. It’ll just make it worse. I just need a friend right now. Can I hang out with you?”

Steve sighed and placed his hands on his hips, questioning the plausibility of the situation. He had been getting along with you so well this weekend that the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it. And it would be indecent of him to cancel when he was already here, bearing snacks.

You were perched on the couch in your nice, comfy clothes scrolling through the TV to find the movie you had told Steve about. It had been awhile since you had seen it, but from what you could remember, it was hilariously ridiculous and you’d be happy if you could just get one person to share in the spectacle with you.

Of course, you didn’t mind that it was Steve, either. You rather enjoyed his company. It wasn’t overbearing or obnoxious, at least when it was just the two off you, and when he wasn’t trying to flex his knowledge. This weekend so far with him had just been… easy, though. And most of all, he listened. It was so hard to find someone who was like that, especially in your line of work. You were one of the best forensic scientists in the area, but many wouldn’t give you the time of day, mostly the shitty cops you worked with besides Lang. With Steve, outside of what had happened the first time he came into your lab, you felt as though your expertise was respected.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a firm knock on the door, followed by murmuring on the other side. You opened the door to see Steve holding a bunch of grocery bags, along with his duffel. Behind him was another man in a suit, kicking his feet.

“Bucket? What are you doing here?”

Steve sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and walked through the door you were now holding open, towards your kitchen to set down the snacks. “He’s not doing super well right now. I hope you don’t mind that I brought him.”

Steve looked at you with anxious anticipation as he walked towards the bathroom door as Bucky spoke up.

“Yeah, Decks. I’m really sorry to just show up unannounced, but going back to work after a month in the middle of nowhere was a hard transition.” That among other things were racing through his mind, but honestly, you got it. Hell, even coming back after a single weekend was hard, so you couldn’t blame the guy. He looked about as bad as Bee sounded in your phone call with her the other day. You just nodded.

“You won’t even know I’m here.” He looked at you with pleading eyes, rivaling the most helpless puppy you could possibly dream up.

“Okay. That’s fine, just get changed and you get to arrange the snacks. Does Steve have a change of clothes for you? I’m instating this apartment as a business attire-free zone.”

You looked over to where Steve was still leaning against the door frame where he shook his head. “I mean, I’ve got extra pants for him, but do you have another shirt or sweatshirt I can borrow?”

Movie time found you and Steve on opposite ends of your small couch with Bucky in the middle, the three of you holding bowls stacked high with all of your favorites, and seemingly Bucky’s too.

Bucky wore Steve’s clothes while Steve wore one of your old, oversized college hoodies from the collection. He had picked it out when you took him back to your room to try to find something that would fit one of the buffest men you knew. During this time, Steve told you all about what was going on with Bucky, and you understood. Being away from a loved one is never easy, you missed Bee everyday, too.

To your surprise, and honestly a little annoyingly, the sweatshirt Steve grabbed fit him better than it fit you. You missed the smug grin he wore as he slipped it on, happy to be hugged by your scent.

You hardly got to enjoy the sight, though, as a brick wall of a man sat between the two of you, jaw constantly clenching with the way he had steeled his feelings and demeanor. Bucky would never let anyone but Steve see him cry, but you had no idea how much it meant that he had even let you have a glimpse at him feeling sad.

Watching a movie that was almost purely taking place on a farm probably wasn’t the best decision. That wasn’t technically your fault, though. You had already chosen it and Bucky’s surprise visit wasn’t going to make you change your plans more than you already had by him just being there.

About half way through, he paused it, getting up to make the three of you drinks from whatever was in your cabinets, giving you and Steve the opportunity to talk about what had happened so far.

“So how old is she supposed to be?” Steve pointed at the screen.

“My best assumption is late twenties, early thirties if they were trying so desperately to marry her off at this point and still expecting kids. But she looks a little older than that, right? She was like, fifty when this was filmed.” You popped another gummy bear in your mouth.

“Ah, makes sense. Yeah, I’ve been so thrown off this whole time. Old-time expectations and behaviors are…interesting? I guess I’m not surprised, but it’s also quite alarming to see it portrayed so casually on the screen.” You nodded in agreement.

“Oh definitely. But you have to agree it makes it a little funny. I don’t think I could make it through the whole thing if it wasn’t laughable.”

Steve gave you a tight-lipped smile before Bucky covered your view, handing the two of you drinks. Steve was grateful for the break in eye contact. He wasn’t sure how he could tell you that misogynistic behaviors like that were so prevalent in his and Bucky’s line of work, and they jarred him in real life just as much as on the screen. Neither of them wanted a life like that, though, even if they had been a little misguided by the models in their youth.

The three of you settled in again, you and Steve throwing your feet on Bucky’s lap after he had almost sat on top of them.

You finished your drink and the movie, falling asleep there on the couch soon after. You woke up hours later with a blanket over you, borrowed sweatshirt folded at your feet and house as pristine as could be, two men nowhere to be seen and your door locked.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Brownie points if you can tell me what movie they watched.

Series Taglist:

@evie-119

[sumersprkl]

I'm watching Star Trek Lower Decks for the first time and I just had like a 10 minute long philosophical discussion with my SO on the topic of "William" "Transporter Clone" Boimler.

It started out with me thinking about why he acted so differently from regular Boimler in the scene where Riker wanted one of them to transfer back to the Cerritos, and I decided that he probably was thinking "The right thing to do would be for both of us to step forward and volunteer to go back to the Cerritos and hope that the other guy gets picked. But, man... I'm the transporter clone. I have to live the rest of my life knowing I'm not even the real Brad Boimler. I need this win. I know he's gonna volunteer, expecting me to do the same, because that's what I would do, so what if I just... don't?"

And after a while we came to the conclusion that for the rest of his life, Transporter Clone Boimler calls Mariner while drunk off his ass on Andorian Ale like "I know I'm not your real best friend but can we just talk for a while? "

And Mariner verbally kicks his ass over whatever he's crying about and then uses him to extract embarrassing childhood memories to use against her Boimler. Also she's even harder on him than Original Recipe Boimler, because this version of him did actually, permanently abandon her, and didn't even walk that choice back when he had the option to do so. It's basically an extension of Holodeck Therapy for her.

And it drives Bradward Boimler absolutely NUTS that Mariner knows so much weird shit about him that he's never told anybody, and whenever he asks, Mariner just says in a really ominous voice "I have my sources..." so Boimler goes on an episode-long paranoia-fueled rampage where he interrogates everyone he knew for his entire life before Starfleet to figure out who is leaking info, and at the end of the episode Mariner's like "Yeah man, I have like, bi-weekly drunk calls with your transporter clone. He's pretty cool." (It is absolutely VITAL that this episode takes place far enough into the future of the series that no one on the show OR in the audience remembers that "William" "Transporter Clone" Boimler ever even existed.)

[lilacskiesapothecary]

Can you do a Zoro x reader where reader and sanji are close friends and Zoro is jealous

…Jealous…

One Piece

Zoro X Reader

I hope this story is what you’re looking for🌸 (no smut just fluff)

One sunny day on the Thousand Sunny, you and the crew are enjoying some rare downtime. You're sitting on the deck, chatting and laughing with Sanji, you two have become close friends by bonding over your love for food and cooking. Whenever you both are together, they can't help but talk about recipes, ingredients, and different cooking techniques.

During your conversation, you both get lost in the world of gastronomy, discussing the perfect balance of flavors, experimenting with different spices, and even planning meals for the rest of the crew. Your friendship with Sanji has been a helpful way to take your mind off the daily stress. When just then Zoro walks by. He notices the two of you sharing a lighthearted moment and a pang of jealousy stirs within him.

As we know Zoro is not very open with his emotions. On the inside Zoro is struggling, he’s cared about you deeply for sometime now and seeing you laugh and giggle with Sanji was killing him. Zoro questioned why was it so easy for Sanji to be himself around you, when Zoro struggled in every interaction with you. Zoro wanted to be the one who makes you laugh, who you go to when something is bothering you, or just to sit with you in quiet moments. Zoro feels heat rising from his chest to his ears, feeling angry that he the great swordsman couldn’t tell you what is on his heart.

Zoro furrowed his brows, marched over to where you were sitting and said the first thing that came to mind :

"I've wanted you for so long," Zoro admits, his voice slightly hoarse. "I could never say it before, but seeing you with Sanji... it made me realize how much I care about you."

There was an awkward pause for a moment but it was broken by Sanji getting up and excusing himself to the other side of the ship. Seems like he caught that you two needed some time alone. You’re taken aback by Zoro's confession, your heart racing. You reach out and gently touch his arm, looking into the swordsman’s eyes. You could feel his heart racing and his skin was hot, nothing scared Zoro but in this moment you can tell he’s terrified.

And you couldn’t help but start to giggle, not at the terrified swordsman in front of you, but of the fact that if he knew you felt the same way he wouldn’t be terrified at all. “Zoro please don’t think I’m laughing at you, I just never knew, and…I …” Your words escape you and the only thing you felt you could do was crash your lips against his.

Zoro with a mix of shock, relief and happiness washes over Zoro as you two deepen the kiss. As you two come up for air Zoro takes you in his arms and a small smile is tugging at the corner of his lips.

Jealousy is a crazy thing…🤭

🩷🧼Hope you enjoyed this story! And don’t forget to check out our shop for Holiday gifts!🧼🩷

[thelargefrye]

LIBRARY OF ILLUSION : THE TWILIGHT PRINCESS ... mature rated series

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | M.LIST | NEXT CHAPTER

pairing : pirate!mingi x princess!reader

genre: adventure, smut, pirate au

word count : 3k

warnings : language, 8ft tall mingi (implied monster mingi), mentions of death

smut warnings : unprotected sex, monster cock!mingi, size difference, manhandling, fingering, stomach bulge (kind of), princess (both title and pet name)

journeying into the first section, adventure, you soon find yourself placed in the shoes of a princess aboard a pirate ship where she is attempting to take her kingdom back from twilight. without much guidance, you find yourself face to face with the first guardian as you attempt to complete his trial.

you felt like you were teetering from side to side as you made an attempt to stand up. it was a poor attempt as you immediately fell back to the ground. the ground being the deck of the pirate ship you had stowed away on.

wait a minute.

you didn't stow away on a pirate ship.

last thing you remember was being inside that library, you had ventured into the adventure section and then...

huh, you don't remember. you let out a sigh as you once again attempt to stand up. you bunched up the skirt of you dress, your heels making a rather deep click sound as you finally stood back up.

about damn time, you think as you look around the deck of the ship to see not another soul in sight.

this was wrong. there should be a whole crew of pirates running around in order to make the ship sail smoothly. but it was just you. you probably would have felt more unnerved than you already were if you slowly didn't remember that the guardian of the section had to be here somewhere. right?

your eyes drifted up to the main deck of the ship was, where the wheel remained untouched and you couldn't help but feel like someone should have been there. where was-

a loud crash startled you from your thoughts and you turned to see the door that leads below deck is thrown open. you swallow the large lump in your throat as you take a frightful step back. you were stuck with nowhere to go.

that's when you hear the heavy footsteps that first sound from below deck. you can barely feel the thumping of your heart over the thumping of the footsteps against the wooden steps. then you see a head of brightly colored hair before you're greeted with a sharp gaze. you back away just a little further from the person until you're tripping over your edges of your dress and falling to the ground.

no fucking way... was this the guardian of this section? the adventure guardian. your eyes traveled up his large figure and you concluded that there was no godly way this guardian was human. not with how fiery his hair was and by just how tall he was.

fuck, just how tall was this guy?

"you," he starts and you feel yourself getting flustered with just how deep his voice is. it was like something shot through you as you just kept taking in his appearance. "are you looking for this?" he asks before he's holding up a key that looks a little too tiny in his giant hands.

that's when you remember why you're here. why you got transported to this ship. you needed to pass his trial in order to receive his key and mark of the section. that was what the keeper of keys told you anyways.

"y-yes! it is! give it to me!" you say, quickly standing to your feet. you couldn't help but blink in shock by how demanding you sounded.

"my, my princess, you think that after all this time you've spent on board with us, that you would know how to ask nicely for things. especially when it comes to things you desperately want. did captain not teach you enough manners?" oh god, he's taunting you know and this is when you fully take in his height.

craning your neck up even with the distance between you two. there was no possible way he was human. you can't help the way your heart jumps to your throat and how aggressively butterflies start to swarm around in your stomach. you felt your body slowly get hotter and hotter the longer you stared at him, and you know its rude. you know that ▇▇▇▇ would be upset with you for forgetting your etiquette.

wait, why couldn't you remember his name?

"you know..." he trails off catching your attention. "i'm surprised you're here, and that you look the exact same as you did all those lifetimes ago," he says as he took several steps closer to you until he was bending over slightly in order to take your hand into his and bringing it up to his lips. "you still look as beautiful though," he adds before he's kissing your hand.

why did this all feel so familiar? like you've been here before with this guardian, on this ship, demanding him to give you something, his kissing your hand. you're mind feels a little fuzzy as you're starting to see things, see memories that weren't yours... at least you think they weren't yours.

"mingi, give it to me," you demand again and chill is immediately sent down your spine when the pirate grins at you.

his large hand suddenly comes up to easily squish your cheeks together. you can't help the sudden adrenaline that rushes through your body and to your core even when you feel him manhandle you just a little bit.

"what did i tell you about demanding things from me, princess. have you learned nothing, or is it that you want me to teach you a lesson?" he asks, craning your neck up to forcefully look at him and you can feel yourself moving to stand on your tiptoes as he's able to pick you up with just his one hand. his face is extremely close to yours with his hot breath hitting your face.

you have to will yourself to not try and rub your thighs together. you know that if he finds out how turned on you're becoming thanks to him, he will on taunt you more.

"unless..." he says, smirk painting his face, "you want me to teach you a lesson?" he adds before putting you down and letting go your face. you couldn't help but immediately try and rub the cramp that was forming in your neck.

you then have to stop yourself from immediately jumping away in surprise as mingi bends down, face to face with you as he says, "if you want the key so badly, princess, then let me teach you a few lessons in etiquette."

was this his trial? you thought as you watched him stand back up to his full height and turn on his heel before he once more goes back below deck. was allowing his to teach you a few "etiquette lessons" the trail you had to complete. you couldn't help but lick your lips before you followed after him, your heels clicking against the wooden deck and stairs which earned his attention.

mingi turned around with a smirk on his lips before he took in your slowly flustered looking appearance. "i always knew you were a masochist, princess."

"a-ah! mingi, fuck," you gasp out, your hands fisting the sheets tightly below you as mingi fingered you. your back arched high off the bed as your body tried to pull away from the stimulation. the stimulation and pleasure that was slowly bring you to the edge closer than you wanted it to. "a-a-ah– fuck! fuckfuckfuckfuck," you moan when you feel mingi use his free hand to hold you down.

"such a foul mouth, princess, don't you know better than to say such things," mingi tsk'ed at you and you found it quite ironic how him, a pirate, was telling you to watch your mouth. you couldn't help but moan at the pressure on his hand on your stomach as he presses down on you, stopping you from moving as he abused your poor pussy.

fuck and this was only his fingers, you couldn't help but clench around them at the thought of when he finally puts his cock in you. how big you know he'll stretch you out like he's done before.

"m-mingi, it feels so good please! let me come!" you say as mingi's long fingers hit your sweet spot over and over again. you cry out when he does the 'come hither' motion. the heat in your lower stomach keeps growing more and more, and you swear you think you're about to rip the sheets from how hard you're pulling at them.

"mingi– mingi, please let me come!" you beg again, tears welling up in your eyes from how you're back your orgasm. waiting for him to tell you it's okay to come.

"do you think you've been good enough to come, princess? think you deserve to?" mingi is teasing you as you feel him slow his fingers in order to taunt you. fuck this guy.

"yes! yes! i have been! please let me come! let me have your cock, please!" you beg, tears streaming down your face. mingi can't help but chuckle at how desperate you are. he hovers over your body and you feel a pleasured chill run up your spine as he licks one of your tears.

his lips then hover close to your ear as he whispers, "go ahead and come, princess." and just like that you feel the heat in your body snap and you're coming around his long fingers.

you come with a loud, almost ear-piercing cry mixed with a strangled moan and you feel your body shake from how long you had been holding your orgasm. mingi can only grin at how much your body is falling apart just for him and he's quickly leaning over and capturing your lips with his own.

"my princess, you've done so well. are you ready for my cock?" he ask and you immediately nod your head, a mantra of yes's leaving your lips and you feel yourself falling more and more in a fucked induced state.

mingi's grin never leaves his lips as he undoes the buttons of his trousers, your eyes falling his every movements like a hawk. he notes how flushed you look, a layer of sweat covering your whole body as you're trying to catch your breath. he can see the dazed look in your eyes and he's reminded about how he's seen you like this many times before. his princess. their princess.

"mingi," your voice comes out in a whine as you watch him remove the finally layer of his clothing. you can't help but clench at how his hard cock stands proud and almost angry looking. fuck, he's big, you think as you take in his size. the thought of will he fit floats in your head before you're pushing it in the back of your head.

like your body moves on its own, you spread your legs beckoning him between them. mingi notes how despite you coming only moments ago, you're already ready to continue. already ready to take his cock.

"oh, princess, don't look so eager, or else i won't hold back," he says as he moves between your legs and he swears that you spread your legs even further. the inhuman pirate towers over you and you can't help the whine that leaves you when he rests his cock on top of you.

it rubs nicely against your leaking folds as the both of you see how big he is compared to you. his tip resting past your belly button and it sends a shiver over your body from not only his length, but also from it heavily rests against your body and his thickness.

"f-fuck," you moan out as you move your body, your arms hooking underneath your legs in order to hold them up. basically presenting yourself to him. you felt some of your juices run down your pussy and over your ass. "p-please fuck me mingi! i'm up, please mate press me," you beg, voice shaking from how desperate you're feeling.

"oh princess, look at you. not very lady-like of you, did you forget what you were taught or has being on the sea with pirates stripped that away from you," mingi laughs as he reaches over you easily in order to grab a pillow before stuffing it under your lower back. "as much as you like feeling the pain, i don't want to snap your spine in half," he says before he's taking your legs easily with one of his hands and bending you in half.

you let out a surprised cry as you feel mingi enter you, his thick girth stretching you out. you throw your head back, mouth hanging opened as incoherent noises escape you. you feel a line of drool spill out of the corner of you mouth as mingi eventually bottoms out inside of you. your lover lets out a few curses as his entire body towers over you, his one hand pressing holding your legs up as his other hand rest above your head to brace himself.

"fuck, princess, you're so tight," he sounds a little surprised by his words as he begins moving his hips, slowly dragging himself against your walls before pushing back inside you. you feel him rub against your womb nicely, warmly every time he thrust inside of you. the two of you let out a string of moans as he continues to fuck you, his speed picking up with each thrust.

you let out a few shuddered gasp as the thoughts of only mingi and his cock cloud your mind. the thoughts of what you were doing before sits in the back of your mind and this reality and your own start to blend.

are you really a princess who ran away after her kingdom was taken over. running away with your guard and advisor after you watched you're father be killed by the magical army. how ▇▇▇▇ had to rip you away from your father's body, as he carried you away. fuck, why couldn't you remember anyone's name? why only mingi's?

your guard, no he wasn't just your guard but your best friend... your lover. just like your advisor. ▇▇▇▇ and ▇▇▇▇, no why couldn't you remember their names. why couldn't you remember the captain's name? captain ▇▇▇▇. his face was right there, but blurry and unrecognizable. you feel frustrated for not being to remember your lovers' faces. what kind of princess and lover were you.

"ah, mingi," you say, feeling the tears running down your face as you crane your neck to look at your fiery lover.

"yes, princess?" he doesn't halt his thrust, but you can tell that he's listening and waiting for you to speak.

"why can't– fuck– why can't i remember their names. why can't i see their faces?" you cry out and you can hear how shaky your voice is.

"because that's not how the library works, princess."

"library?" that's right. you weren't actually a princess. you're inside a library, trying to finish the trials of each guardian. trying to find the treasure to save your friend. "ah, mingi! the key!" you say as you suddenly start to remember why you were here.

mingi only grunts as he picks up the speed of his thrust, and you can't help but clench around his cock. the wet sounds of your juices mixing together fills yours ears as you feel them leaking out of your hole more and more. your hand immediately comes up and tangles into his hair, you give it several tugs here and there as you feel yourself coming closer and closer to your second orgasm.

"m-mingi! can i... can i come?" you ask as your other arm grabs a fistful of sheets.

"fuccck~ go ahead, princess, come around my cock," he says as you finally come for the second time. you were basically held in place thanks to mingi holding your ankles in a tight grip. your pussy clenches around him as your juices leak out and it's only moments later when mingi is stilling and filling you with his seed.

you feel his cum fill you up and paint your walls nicely, leaving your mind dazed as the pirate slowly moves his hips a little bit before he's slowly pulling out of you.

you felt out of breath, chest heaving as you watch mingi slowly lower your legs – which feel like jello with how shaky they are. mingi remains sitting on his knees between your legs. his hands come up to rub over your body as he leans over you, face to face.

"mingi..." you trail off feeling your eyes starting to get heavy.

"it was nice seeing you again princess," he says before pressing his lips to yours. when he pulls away you feel like a part of you leaves as well when you can no longer feel his body heat against yours. you try to reach out to him, to pull him back, but it's no use. your limbs are all like jello, and your eyes soon fall shut.

when you wake up, you find yourself back in the library. you're laying on a velvet couch, a small blanket thrown over you and you can't help but wonder if what you just experienced was all a dream.

"ah, you're awake," a familiar voice says and you look behind the couch to find the keeper of keys standing there. you watch as he walks up to you, his hand digging inside his pocket before he showing you a rather large ring-looking thing.

"what is this?" you ask as you take the ring from him.

"its a key holder," he says before gesturing behind you and you turn your head to see a key – the one mingi was holding – resting on the table. your heart beats loudly when you reach for, taking the metal in your hands and you note its a lot larger than what mingi made it look like.

"congrats on passing your first trial," the male says and you turn to look back at him as walks around the couch, but you note how he keeps his distance from you. not getting too close.

you can't help but think back to all the emotions and thoughts that had went through you in the adventure section. how your memories were getting mixed with that of the character you were put into. how upset you were not being able to remember any faces or names.

"would like some tea before you start your next trial?"

"yes, please."

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[uzumaki-rebellion]

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar Chapter 10"

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

"Listen, there are waters Hidden from us In the maze we find them still We'll take you to them You take your young ones May they take their own in turn But by our lives be we spirit And by our hearts be we women And by our eyes be we open And by our hands be we whole…"

Sweet Honey in the Rock – "Testimony"

N'Jadaka guided the hover bike above the stern, placed it in neutral, and helped Yani climb down safely onto the houseboat. Afterward, he jetted up toward one of the stinger aircrafts above them and gave a final instruction to their security detail. He returned and parked the bike in its rack and covered it with a pale blue tarp. Yani already had a glass of the Chilza's white wine and finished off the last of it. It was a strong batch and she already looked intoxicated.

She followed him to the upper deck to watch him program their next destination. They cruised downriver, and where the split in the river came that led to Umbono Lake, Yani patted his hand.

"How about we go see Warrior Falls first and then loop back around to the lake?"

"We can't switch up now."

"Why not?"

"Well, I pre-arranged to have the lake closed off to the public so we could have it for a week to ourselves. If we go to Warrior Falls first, we'll have to share the lake with too many citizens on the return, and we won't have any privacy. Okoye won't like that. Too many variables again."

"You're the king and I'm the queen. We can just switch the schedule."

"Baby, it took a lot for me to get these dates of closure for us in secret. We'll see the Falls in a week."

Yani chewed on her bottom lip and her eyes darted toward the water.

"What's the matter? Why do you want to go there sooner?"

"I just heard so much about it from the Chilzas that it got me excited about getting there faster."

"There's no need to rush. All in due time. Besides, we have a lot of fishing to do, and snorkeling. We can go diving in the cove…"

Something was wrong. Her tipsiness didn't hide a tension in her voice and in her body. Yani was worried about something.

"You're right," she said while spinning around and using the steps back down from the engine room. "So much to see and I'm rushing it."

She stopped near the covered hoverbike.

"You know what I'd like you to do while we're on the lake?" she said.

"What?"

"Teach me to ride this on my own. I've ridden motorcycles and Jet Skis back home, and I need to know how to enjoy this by myself. My goal is to learn how to do something new before I go back to Zana. I'll ride the hoverbike solo…I'll fish for the first time. Imagine me living on an island growing up and never picking up a fishing pole! I'll bake yam cornbread the way Umama does and so much more."

Something was definitely wrong. The hoverbike frightened her with any thought of using it on her own. She rode on them with him because he was so good at it. But by herself in the sky?

"I thought solo riding on the hoverbike scared you."

She waved her hand and patted the covered transport.

"Ekuqaleni made me feel brave, like I can do anything because I witnessed the magic of that place. In fact, I want to learn how to fly the Royal Talon Fighter just like you. A queen of Wakanda should be able to do what the king does…in fact…maybe I should be the Black Panther since you are the Golden Jaguar!"

She twirled around and giggled, plopping down on a plush deck chair that overlooked the tranquil river. He smiled. She was definitely lit from the wine. Whatever tension he sensed in her voice and body went away as she gazed at the water.

"One thing at a time. We'll start with the hoverbike," he said.

She clapped her hands and lifted the bottle of wine from the table next to her seat.

"Finish this off, I'm going to get another bottle of champagne that's been chilling and make us mimosas!"

She scurried off with a little skip in her steps.

He grinned and surveyed the landscape. Cloud coverage rolled in on the balmy weather and that would be good for their fishing. The light rain would knock insects into the water and on overcast days, fish tended to cruise more for food. His mouth already watered at the thought of catching fresh chambo and grilling it up with a seafood gravy on top. Their galley had a supply of the best cuts of meat and plenty of seasonal vegetables to create all sorts of gourmet meals.

Yani returned with champagne flutes filled with a blood-orange mimosas. She handed him one and they toasted.

"Slow down with the drinking, we'll be fishing soon. I can't have you stabbing your fingers on the hook with our bait," he said.

"Look who's talking? With that big drink in your hand."

"You had more than me already."

She sipped her drink and he enjoyed the taste of his. He downed it quickly and she unfastened her wrap-around dress. Totally naked underneath, she pranced around for him before settling onto the plush seating again.

He put down his glass and dropped to his knees, pushing her legs apart. Yani laughed and pretended to try and get away, but she rested her head back and parted those thick thighs for him. He wiggled out of his trunks and lifted a pillow from the seating and placed it in front of Yani to protect his knees. Dropping down in a comfortable position, he kissed all over her vulva and licked each one of her piercings with an artful tongue. He spelled out his Wakandan name on her clit with just the tip, and his wife let out a passionate moan. Yani stroked his hair and kept eye contact with him.

He pressed his lips against her inner labia and hummed, allowing the vibration to flow across his beard too. Yani was wet and puffy in her tender parts. He wouldn't push for penetrative sex to give her body a rest. They fucked so much in Ekuqaleni that even he had to slather his dick with a rejuvenating lubricant from all the friction that went across it. Facing her vulva, he looked at it like it was an expensive painting, enjoying the color and the way it glistened with her arousal. Yani touched her clit, rubbing it gently while keeping her gaze on his face. He slid his hands up her torso and held her breasts. Her nipples were big and stiff and tweaking them with his fingers caused her opening to throb. Yani's pussy lips always looked so wide open and welcoming. So pretty. He licked around her clit making sure to touch all of her sensitive spots without using his fingers. She locked her knees around his neck and he grabbed them, wrestling with her thighs to let him push them back onto the seat. He slapped the underside of her rump and Yana shoved his head into her vulva and soaked his beard.

N'Jadaka licked his way up her midsection and sucked on her nipples, taking turns on each one until he gave butterfly kisses along her collarbone. She slid her tongue across his lips to taste the sweetness between her legs. He traced his index finger in soft circles on her clit, mindful of the sensitivity there from their past intimacy. Aligning the head of his dick in front of her opening, he stroked himself while staring at the slick pink that beckoned him to enter her. It took all he had to prevent himself from penetrating her again. He squeezed and rubbed all over his tip, spreading pre-cum all over it. Yani's lips puckered. She kissed her pinky finger and teased it along his slit. He grunted softly and hot streaks spurted, drenching her entrance until he couldn't see the pink anymore. Tilting his dick at another angle, the rest of his cum streaked across her stomach and spilled back into her belly button.

N'Jadaka leaned down and kissed her forehead. Yani lowered her legs and ripped out a loud fart. She started laughing hysterically and N'Jadaka reared back laughing with her.

"At least I didn't fart when you were eating me out!" she cackled.

He waved his hand as the odor reached his nose.

"No more eggs for you this week. That was atrocious," he said.

"No worse than you funking up the bed with your stink bombs after eating up all the plantains last night. Didn't even save me any."

"I did! I tucked them in the fridge with all that candy you bought."

Yani lifted and kissed his cheek.

"Take a shower and then we can break out the fishing poles," he whispered in her ear.

"Don't need a shower," Yani said.

She jumped up from her position and dashed off the back off the boat. Her body dived in the water with a perfect arc.

"Yani! Crazy girl!" he shouted.

The houseboat kept moving away from her and he ran to turn the engine off. They hadn't reached their destination yet. The boat had barely entered the split in the river that led to the lake. Yani swam at the mouth of it.

The houseboat slowed to a halt and N'Jadaka ran back down to check on the position of his wife. Yani tread easily, watching his expression with amusement.

"All clean!" she shouted.

N'Jadaka dived in after her. Yani was an exceptional swimmer, but she had been drinking. He reached her quickly and tugged on her hand to guide her back to the stern. She held onto the ladder attached to the back and pulled herself up. He pushed on her rump to help keep her from falling back. Soaked all over, she shook off her body like a mischievous puppy.

"Be right back," she said.

She traipsed up the stairs that led to the upper deck. He pulled on his shorts and wandered into the galley to grab the container of bloodworms he would use for bait that were stored in a separate fishing cooler. He pulled out their fishing rods and leaned them against the the west side of the boat. Yani returned wearing lime-green shorts and a matching bikini top with yellow topsider slides on. She smothered sunblock on her arms and face.

"Ready," she said.

N'Jadaka opened the container of worms and their moist slithery bodies forced a grimace on Yani's face.

"Watch how I bait mine," he said.

He handed the container to her and she stuck her tongue out and squeezed her eyes shut in an exaggerated fashion.

"Pay attention, silly," he said.

Yani watched him hook the worm at the top of its body and slide it up, then curl it around the hook in two places before stabbing it in the tail, securing it. The worm did a wiggle of its impending death dance and Yani threw a hand over her mouth.

"That is so gross!"

"You want fresh fried chambo with gravy and rice?"

"Yes."

"Okay then, it's your turn," he said.

He took the container from her hand and she stared at the writhing mass of dark red worms.

"Do it for me," she said, hopping up and down.

"Nah, you gotta do it yourself Ma. Like how Grandpop taught me."

Yani whined and reached for a worm.

"Oooh, yuck…oh, it's so gross and squishy!"

"Big baby," he said.

She finally lifted a fat one from the container. N'Jadaka closed the lid on the others and set the container down on the side table near them. He handed her the hook on her rod.

"You are more freaked out by this than when I taught you how to shoot a gun," he said.

"A gun is not a living creature I'm impaling on a…oh yuck, N'Jadaka! It's guts came out…it's all slimy on my hand!"

Yani flicked the hook away from her fingers and jumped around waving her hands about. The hook swung out and N'Jadaka stopped it from piercing his skin where it hit him.

"C'mon girl…you got the first part in."

Yani pressed her lips together into a line and wrapped the wiggly mass twice before stabbing it again with the hook.

"See? It's that easy."

"I have worm guts on my fingers!"

"Take your pole, and watch how I toss my line out," he said, rolling his eyes at her.

He lifted his rod and slid his finger around a bit of line and flipped the reel open, showing her every step.

"Give yourself about two to four feet of line before casting out…see?" he said.

She nodded, keeping her eyes steady on his fingers.

"Step back and just let it go with one fluid motion…"

He cast his line and the worm flew across the water, plopping down in the perfect spot.

"These worms are big and heavy enough to not need extra weights on the line. Try it," he said.

Yani lifted her rod and followed all the steps. She cast out a good line and squealed when she got the hang of it on the first go. She wound the reel handle dragging the line back with the still moving worm and practiced tossing it out a few times.

They reeled back in their lines and rested their rods against the side of the boat.

"Lemme go move the boat into the lake. I don't think we'll do so good in this midway point," he said.

He returned to the engine room and set them back on course manually, easing the houseboat onto Umbono Lake. The fishing map he checked showed him an ideal spot at the entrance of the lake they could try first. There was a small marshland area he wanted to avoid and moved the houseboat further into the lake, heading toward the center. A lake patrolman on a hoverbike zipped past them, clearing out other last minute boats that hadn't gotten the memo that the lake was off limits to the public. N'Jadaka had any and all indicators that their houseboat belonged to the Udakus taken off. Many nobles had boats just as luxurious as theirs but anyone passing by wouldn't know the king and queen of Wakanda were the reason the lake was closed off. Wakandans were very good about keeping their natural environments protected, so it wasn't unusual for lakes and other waterways to be temporarily closed for eco-management tasks. In this case Umbono Lake was rescheduled for an earlier shutdown to accommodate the king's honeymoon and none would be the wiser. It just meant the occasional sighting of a few lake preservationists doing water testing and wildlife management onshore while the Udakus floated in peace.

They anchored a mile away from Umbono Cove. N'Jadaka made sure that all the boat's windows were in tinted mode to ensure their privacy. If Yani wanted to sunbathe nude, there would be no worry about peeping Toms. He joined her carrying an empty white bucket. Yani watched him dip it into the lake and fill it three-fourths full.

"Dump whatever you catch in there," he said.

He brought over two bar stools for them to sit on and they started fishing, keeping their voices low. Above them, the sky was the color of an old penny that had bits of pale green malachite on it. Cloud coverage draped over the lake only letting in streaks of bright light when the sun broke through periodically. The air itself remained muggy, like walking through a never-ending sauna. A bit of a breeze would've helped them not sweat so much. He handed her a cold cider beer and popped one open for himself.

"Bored?" he asked after twenty-five minutes of nothing happening.

"No…I think I see something floating out…there! See it…ooh, something bit my hook!"

Yani jumped off her seat and reeled in her line too soon. Part of her worm was gone.

"What a sneak!" she gasped, staring at him with disappointment.

"You have to let the fish nibble a bit until it actually swallows the hook," he said.

She tossed her half worm back out and fifteen seconds later, her line was dragged deeper in the water.

"Oh, gosh! I got one! I got one N'Jadaka!"

"Bring it in easy…he's hooked on there tight…dassit…slow and easy…"

Yani yanked her catch out of the water and it went flying behind her hitting part of the boat's roof. The fish was a little over seven inches in length with silvery-gray scales. It had a fat and healthy body. N'Jadaka guided Yani in carefully unhooking the fish and she tossed it in the waiting bucket with a proud grin on her lips. He noticed his pole bending from the fishing rod holder mounted on the hull. He reeled in another fat chambo and quickly released it and dumped it next to Yani's bewildered catch. She added fresh bait to her line and he helped her secure sinker weights on it.

"It'll go down deeper and maybe we can catch bigger ones," he said.

He did the same for his pole and they spent a lazy and very serene afternoon fishing. They were able to toss some fish back into the lake because the pickings were good and they didn't have to settle for anything they caught. Within four hours they had amassed a bounty of ten sizeable fish. Five plump chambo, three catfish, and two large Wakandan species of lake salmon. He laid out a fire-proof pad facing the water and proceeded to build a fire inside the portable iron grill/firepit. After placing a protective iron screen over the flames, he joined Yani in the galley to prepare their evening meal. They were both hungry even though they ate huge curried chicken salads for lunch while fishing.

Yani began cooking white rice and started gathering ingredients to make the gravy and vegetables they wanted. He cleaned and filleted all five of the chambo, and wrapped the other fish up to sit in the freezer for another day. Yani handed him fish seasoning after he washed his hands and rinsed the fish again. He sprinkled enough seasoning to make the fish spicy and squeezed lemon on them. Sliced onions, yellow peppers, and oranges were layered around them in a grill basket to add more flavor to the fillets while they cooked.

His task complete, Yani followed him to the grill and lifted the covering for him. They sat around the fire and cooked the fish for about four minutes on each side. Removing the fish and placing the covering back over the grill, they returned to the galley where Yani had a giant skillet on the stove already filled with a simmering gravy of onions, chopped carrots, green peppers, curry spice, and a light fruit chutney. He added the fish and covered them completely in the gravy, letting them sit in the pan simmering for five minutes.

Yani scooped them rice and crispy fried cabbage, and they both salivated when N'Jadaka placed the chambo and gravy over the rice. They ate their fill by the outdoor pit/grill and sipped on white wine. The sun had set and the evening cloud coverage painted the water around them dark and mysterious. It began to sprinkle after their meal, and the air grew cooler. N'Jadaka put out the deck fire and started a new one in the living room section of the boat while Yani cleared their dishes. There were blankets already stacked on the overstuffed couch. They snuggled together with Yani lying on his chest and stared at the flames and also out of the wide windows that let them see the lake in the evening stillness.

Once again, N'Jadaka experienced peace. His wife rested on him. Their bellies were full and they had nowhere to be but with each other. Yani started snoring as a heavier rain poured down outside and he opted for them to stay there and sleep. The couch was wide and soft enough for two and their cozy blankets secured warmth he wanted to enjoy all night. His eyes became drowsy at the pitter patter sounds. A clap of thunder rumbled and lightening lit up the outside for a moment. Yani slept through it and soon enough, he did too.

Another crack of thunder woke him up.

The reddish-orange glow of burned down embers in the fireplace gave him the only light in the room. Yani whimpered on his chest, her fist balled up and shoved against her cheek. Still asleep, her eyes moved back and forth under her lids and her body trembled.

"No!" she cried out.

Her body shot up and the glow of the fire made her eyes look feral and frightened.

"No…" she murmured, glancing around.

"Baby, you're okay. Just a nightmare," he said, soothing her trembles with his large hands rubbing her back.

Her eyes wrenched from the dying fire and latched onto his steady gaze.

"What is it? Can you remember what you dreamed about?"

Yani pulled away from him and curled her legs under her backside. She ran a nervous hand over her fade and her fingers shook. He sat up an put an arm around her.

"Yani?"

Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for something and she burst out crying.

"Hold on," he said, leaving her side.

He quickly padded into the galley and grabbed a cup, filling it with room temperature water from a pitcher.

"Here, drink…" he said.

She took the cup and drank all of the water.

"I was in a cave…a cavern of some kind. I could hear water lapping, and there was light on the walls…firelight…and it was hot…so hot. I walked on sand and then it grabbed me, like quicksand and then I felt hands dragging me down…I couldn't…I couldn't get out of it and I could hear voices…and someone was angry with me. There was no one else there, but I could feel an anger pulsing all around me…"

She stood and paced in front of him, wringing her hands and touching her face like she was making sure she was fully awake.

"Yani, sit down. You can calm down better without all the pacing."

She stopped in front of him.

"I don't want to keep secrets from you. I think my dream was a warning."

"A warning of what?"

She cradled is face with her hands.

"I could lie to you…or tell you something important. But if I do, it might wake up…"

She paused, smashing her lips together suddenly.

"It might wake up who, baby? I'm not understanding what's scaring you."

She shook her head and knelt before him, resting her arms on his thighs.

"Bast. Bast scares me because I have to do something important, but I can't say too much because it'll wake her up inside of you."

N'Jadaka did an internal check. Neither Bast nor Ogum stirred.

"Talk to me," he said, stroking her cheek.

Yani shook her head and rose up on her feet. Turning, she let the mild heat of the embers warm her body. She rubbed her arms and then her right hand drifted down to her stomach.

"Yani…come here."

She glanced back at him and slumped to her knees in a dead faint. N'Jadaka rushed forward and gently lifted her from the floor. He placed her on the couch again and checked her pulse with his kimoyo beads. Her breathing returned to that of a deep slumber once more. Whatever bothered her frightened her back into sleep. He pulled the blankets over them both and leaned on his side to watch her. The sun would be up in a few hours.

If he wanted, he could tap in with the gods that rested in his body. However, he chose not to in order to spare his wife more fear. He wanted her to tell him whatever she needed in her own time. His skin cooled with the flush of creeping dread. The look in Yani's eyes told him that she wanted to reveal something immense…something that concerned him. Bad dreams had never affected her like that in the past.

N'Jadaka watched Yani sleep until the sun rose. The vibrating hum of two stinger aircraft patrolling the lake for them went across the boat and he turned off the tint in the windows so that sunlight could awaken his love. Her return to consciousness was slow, but her eyelashes fluttered and she tossed an arm around his waist and burrowed deeper under the blankets.

"Welcome back," he said.

She kissed his chest and he rubbed her shoulder.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Yani stretched and peeked over his shoulder.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Ten."

"You let me sleep in that late?"

"That nightmare you had got you up for a minute. You actually fainted when I was talking to you about it."

"Nightmare?"

"You don't remember?"

She touched her forehead and thought for a minute.

"Maybe all the wine and beer messed me up. I can't remember waking up."

"You were shook up pretty bad, girl. Said your dream was a warning of something."

She nested in the crook of his arm, the nightmare not even registering in the comfort of his closeness.

"I'm hungry, but I don't want to get up yet."

"Still tired?"

"Just not fully awake."

"I'll make us some breakfast and you chill here until I bring it to you. What would you like?"

"Pancakes and chicken sausage…lots of syrup and butter."

"Luckily we have all of that."

He kissed her forehead and left her side, humming to himself as he washed his hands in the galley sink and gathered up the ingredients. The pancake mix was pre-packaged and only required water added to it. He popped sausage patties in a fast-cook oven and had their morning meal prepared in under twenty minutes. Yani sat up on the couch when he entered carrying a tray with their food and orange juice.

"There you go," he said presenting her a full plate with her favorite sliced apples added.

She appeared famished as she cut pieces of her pancakes and dipped them in extra syrup. Her stomach looked bigger after finishing her meal and he teased her about getting chunky already like the old women at the river market encouraged.

He cleared up the dishes and Yani took a shower. She returned when he finished cleaning up wearing a short yellow babydoll house dress. Plopping on the couch, she pulled the blankets back over her shoulders.

"Thought you wanted to learn how to ride the hoverbike," he said.

"I do, but I'm feeling lazy right now. I'll do it later after lunch. No rush."

He nodded and wandered off to wash up and trim his beard. While grooming himself he thought about what he would cook for their lunch and dinner. He liked the idea of doing nothing all morning. A late lunch of shrimp pasta salad and steak stir-fry for dinner seared itself in his brain menu. Their staff made most of their food pre-prepped for easy cooking and he was grateful that he didn't have to do too much for their meals on the boat.

He rubbed his skin down with coffee and cocoa butter and joined his wife on the couch. The air was cool and the perfect weather for blankets and more cuddling. Yani turned on a viewscreen above the fireplace and binged an American comedy series about an elementary school and their humorous teachers. She laughed a lot and he chuckled a few times.

"That's how you were with me," she said, pointing out a lead character's longing looks at his crush.

"No I wasn't."

"You used to stare at me like that when I walked around the compound. You didn't think I saw you, but I did."

"That dude looks thirsty."

"Like you weren't?"

"I was checking you out."

"You were grinding on me by your third day."

"I was not. Fourth maybe…"

Yani reached back and closed his lips with her fingers.

"Stop lying through your mouth."

"You were doing the same thing to me," he said.

"I had to watch you because you were a bad guy. Auntie always warned me about mercs and their sly ways. You could've been a rapist. I was in a vulnerable position all the time around you."

"Nothing was going to happen to you with me around. That still holds true today, Yani."

He lowered his lips to her neck.

"My protector…always," she said.

He kissed the back of her neck and she turned onto her back to see his face. Her lips were soft and inviting as he pressed his mouth against them. She turned back to watch the show and he curled around her, fondling her nipples through her dress. They were taut and poked through the material. He touched and teased, occasionally dozing between four episodes. She unfastened the ties on the top of the dress and he cupped a breast, allowing her to watch the show as he enjoyed the fullness resting in his hand. She pushed her backside into his groin and he lowered his shorts and lifted up her dress to her waist. He sandwiched his hardening dick against her ass, and her cheeks spread accommodating the thickness pushing against her skin with a light friction. Moving slowly, he acted like a horny teenager afraid of being caught and humped on his wife. His warm breath chuffed against the nape of her neck. She kept watching her sitcom and he continued humping and spilling pre-cum on her heavy rump. Yani whispered titillating things to him.

"You like how it feels on your dick?" she crooned.

"Mmhmm…"

"I know you do…it's all big and soft…your dick is so hard against it. If you're a good boy later, I'll let you fuck me nice and slow."

"Yessss, baby…"

He huffed out a rough breath, the pleasurable sensations rippling all across his dick and balls.

"You want to cum in my pussy again?" she said.

He bit her shoulder and groaned from the bottom of his chest. His nutsack throbbed in anticipation. Her voice became breathy and seductive.

"Fill me up with all of your hot cum…you'd like that, huh Daddy?"

He pushed the covers down to look at his dick against her ass. It was already coated with pre-cum and shiny. The slickness reduced the amount of friction he was able to get rubbing against her. Yani's soft sighs aroused him more, and he continued rubbing against her faster, satisfied with the sensation of his hot dick enveloped in the warmth of her ass cheeks. The softness of her breasts pleased him, their round fullness making him feel proud to have her next to him. She was the mother of his children. Would become the mother of another child in time. Her titties would get even bigger, as big as they had been in St. Thomas when he first met her jiggling around in over-sized t-shirts that couldn't hide the twin blessings he now caressed in his hands. Oh how he missed those afternoon sessions of lying in her lap and sucking milk out of her nipples. Her pussy would be so wet afterwards, hot as lava when he pushed deep inside of her. To be with her from start to finish the next time she got pregnant excited him.

He'd heard from married men back in his navy seal days that pregnant sex was something special. They said their wives hormones were in overdrive and they would be horny as fuck after that first trimester. All he could imagine was palming extra big tits and fucking Yani with a baby inside of her. Some of the most intense sex they had was right before he left her in St. Thomas, and she had been pregnant then carrying their son.

Yani gasped as he dropped his hand down to touch her clit. It was slippery from all of the wetness pouring out of her. Her inner labia were wide open and slicker than oil. She turned her head slightly and he met her lips again, their tongues sliding together amidst groans coming from them both. He fingered her clit like he was strumming an upright bass, plucking mewling sounds from her throat. Gripping his dick, he started beating it against her ass, the hardness exciting him as it smacked against all of her lush rump. He wanted to fuck the sense out of her, but would stretch that need for later in the day. They had all the time in the world to fuck as they wished. To tease as they wished. To indulge in their bodies however they wished.

God, she was soft and warm and pliant in his hands. She would do anything for him sexually and that knowledge made him shout as he came all over her ass.

"Fuck…Yani…baby…"

He squeezed his eyes shut as another thick load pushed through his pulsing tip. His balls throbbed so hard. He had more in store for her.

Yani turned toward him with a frown on her face.

"I'm supposed to cum first. That's the rule," she said with a pout curling on her lips afterward.

"Sorry, baby. That ass was too much for me."

"Lick and kiss my pussy to make up for your insolence," she said.

She didn't have to tell him twice. He burrowed his face between her legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he licked pleasure into her. His lips were glazed with her wetness in seconds and he pushed his entire face against her vulva. All of his fondling and slow caresses on her body had her primed and it only took him fifteen seconds get her off. Her legs shot straight out and she yelped his name. He grinned and crawled across her torso, stroking his dick and aiming it at her face.

"All this pipe belongs to you," he gasped.

She cradled his balls and squeezed them gently and he spurt semen all over her face. He dropped back down and kissed her pussy lips, drawing the kisses into a line all down her ass, before tonguing her asshole. She jerked at the sudden penetration and lifted her legs high so he could get all in it. He paid careful attention to the outer nerve endings. The area was puckered tight and he groaned.

"Can I fuck you in your ass?"

She noticed the begging tone and smirked.

"You didn't follow the rules about eating my pussy first before you came, so no….you can't fuck me there."

She was being playful, but he needed to be in her ass. Her body was splayed out on the couch with her dress bunched up in the perfect sexy way showing off wet pussy waiting to be plundered. Two succulent breasts sat there waiting to be bounced from ass fucking. Denying the king of Wakanda what belonged to him? The fuck?

He asked nicely again.

"Can I please fuck you in the ass right now? You lookin' too fine right now for me not to nut in that ass Yani."

She could see that hard meat waving at her between his thighs.

"No."

She reached across the table next to the couch and plucked out a few moist towlettes and wiped off her face and backside, tossing the used ones aside to throw away later.

"Look at this dick," he said.

"Later. I'm planning to give you a nice treat for teaching me how to use the hoverbike safely."

"Whatchu plan on doing?"

Yani rose up and kissed his dick.

"Making you feel real good."

"You can pre-pay me now. Trust… it will be appreciated even more."

She laughed.

"Such a greedy man. I'm going to change clothes and make us sandwiches. Then we can go riding."

"I was going to make us lunch."

"I got it," she said, bouncing away from him in a cheerful mood. She grabbed the used towlettes

"Baby, don't leave me like this. You know my shit ain't like no average dude."

Yani tossed the dirty tissues in a wastebasket near the stairs. They both heard the mechanism inside that incinerated all trash in the blink of an eye. She returned to stand in front of him.

"Greedy," she said in a sultry tone.

She tapped his shoulders, motioning for him to sit down. She knelt before him and tugged on her dress top so that her breasts were fully visible. Lifting them with her hands, she lovingly placed his dick in between them and slowly titty fucked him.

"Fuck yes!"

He spread his legs wide and she nestled in like the pro she was handling his length. Her lips bunched up when he plucked at her nipples.

"Ohhh…bay-bee…big titties all over this dick…shit you got this dick brick hard. Every goddamn time…fuck!"

She stuck her tongue out to tickle his slit when his dick rose up slightly between her cleavage. Yani had some nice big tits that fit nicely against his girth visually, and watching them slide up and down his meat had him panting as the build-up to release crept on him. He stood up to control a premature ejaculation and his nuts hung for her to lick and suck while she looked up at him the way he liked. She was such a good submissive, and that made him her servant for life sexually. He could think he controlled and dominated his woman, but that gorgeous wife on her knees sucking all over his balls and drawing a huge nut out of him again ruled his soul. She had good pussy, a hot nasty mouth, and an asshole that could bend him to her will. Niggas prayed they had a woman like that. Every time she was on her knees sucking him off, he couldn't think of another woman he had fucked who could do it better than she did. Yani was the whole package. She made porn stars look amateur.

"You promise to fuck Daddy good later?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed on his dick.

"Gon' let me nut as much as I want in your ass?"

A loud popping noise came from her lips as she released his dick to answer. She sucked him so sloppy that saliva ran down her chin.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Lemme fuck that tight little pussy too? Oh fuck! I can't wait to cum inside you. Stretch that pussy and nut all night…nasty little bitch. Keep sucking that dick, yesss, just like that. Good little slut…with them big ass titties…"

His voice had gone up an octave. She was twirling her tongue all around the head and teasing his frenulum. He sat back down quickly and forced her to fuck his dick with her tits again. Fuck! She was doing that shit she did where she pretended to not know what she was doing like some innocent virgin. It never failed to work on him because it brought out the beast in him., like he wanted to spank the shit out of her for playing games with him like that because he knew good and well she could turn a nigga out in seconds like she had done to him over and over and over and over….

"Yani!"

His hips bucked and he ejaculated thick ropes on her neck. White cream decorated her breasts too. More spilled out of his slit in a lazy stream that ran down the length of his dick. He lightly slapped her.

"Clean off my dick with your mouth."

She did so meticulously and spoke nasty things that made him moan. He told her how deep he was going to be inside her and how hard he was going to spank her ass while he fucked her. When she finished, he was so ready to pirate her away to their bedroom loft above.

His chest heaved and he let out a long sigh of satisfaction.

"I'll clean myself up…yet again…and get those sandwiches ready," she said.

She switch her ass in a sassy strut away from him.

"I am one luck man," he muttered.

Instead of going into the second bathroom on the upper deck to clean off, N'Jadaka chose to dive off the back of the boat and swim nude. Backstroking with confident strides, he stared up at the overcast sky and wondered what his children were doing. Umbono lake was wide and vast, almost feeling like an ocean except for the mountain that jutted out in the far distance that led to the inaccessible parts of Wakanda by foot or boat. Eyeing the houseboat, he noticed Yani waving at him.

"Come eat!" she shouted across the water.

He butterfly-stroked back to stretch out his back muscles. Yani wore pink shorts and water sneakers with a pink hoodie jacket. They sat at the back of the boat and ate thick turkey sandwiches with cranberry honey mustard dressing.

Her eyes were shiny with excitement as he uncovered one of the four hover bikes the family kept stored on the boat. He showed her the basic controls she was familiar with and had her sit in the front of it while he held onto her from the back. Yani started the bike up and slowly hovered them above the boat and across the water about fifty yards away. She kept the bike about three feet above the water. Like a jet ski on water encountering buoyant force or a battering of waves, Yani became accustomed to her rides buffeted by air turbulence.

"You got it. Go ahead and shift gears and try out a little more speed," he said.

She did well gliding them across the lake at ten miles per hour.

"Go higher," he said, squeezing her waist and giving her confidence at how well she did.

There was a little hiccup with her gear shifting into more height, but the engine didn't sputter as it adjusted. Twenty feet in the air and she was cruising them like she'd driven one her entire life. She practiced going up and down, hovering in one spot and landing on the water, as well as taking off from water. Once she practiced using the cruise control and turning on the protective rain cover and force field features, he hyped her to go even higher. She rose up to thirty feet and no more. They had gone off a far distance from the boat. It was a speck on the horizon from where they floated in the air.

"Ready to try it alone?"

"I think so…"

He dove off the hover bike before she could protest and made a big splash in the water. She stayed in one spot looking down at him.

"Meet you back at the boat. I'll grab one of the other hover bikes and we can check out that rock island over there," he said pointing to an islet a mile away .

She nodded and flew at a snail's pace. When they were halfway back to the boat, she went a little faster…and higher. Happy with her confidence, N'Jadaka picked up his swimming pace. Yani floated next to the boat and waited for him to join her. He grabbed hydration packs and a couple of snack bars from a bin. Handing a pack to Yani, he eventually started his bike and they took off at a slow pace five feet above the water. The sun broke through the clouds and by the time they neared the lake islet, they could finally enjoy the brilliant hue of the pale greenish-blue water sparkling below them.

"You good over there?" he asked.

Yani nodded and they curved around the island to catch a better view. The islet had a few skinny trees on it that followed along the right triangle shape of the gray rocky formation.

"It's so cute," Yani said.

There wasn't a decent flat space to land the bikes for exploration, but there was plenty to see floating above it. He glimpsed a school of yellow fish swimming close to the surface. The king tapped his kimoyo to identify the species.

"We should move the boat over here, those fish are supposed to taste good in a stew."

"I can make some fish soup with them then," Yani said.

They flew across another section of the enormous lake following along the shoreline. Nature's beauty energized them both.

"Race you back," Yani said.

He grinned and took off before she could countdown. Despite the sunlight appearing, another light drizzle fell on them and they both put up the protective covers to keep from getting too wet. Yani caught up to him and he slowed down so she could beat him. He kept their speed below twenty miles per hour and she zipped ahead reaching a speed of thirty. She could now cross hover bike riding off her list of new things to learn.

He fastened both bikes into their travel racks and covered them up. Yani went to use the restroom and he headed up to the loft bedroom and flopped down on the big bed there. He fully embraced every moment of their day. His wife joined him in bed and they snuggled down for a nap.

"I don't know why you were so scared of using the bike. You did great, baby."

"It's the height and I would feel nervous using it in the city," she said.

"Not everyone flies high and you can always go out to the bush or head to the rivers to ride without a lot of people around."

"I guess so."

He rested his head on her chest and she stroked his locs.

"The kids are going to have a blast out here. Can't wait to see them enjoy all that we've had a chance to do," he said.

Yani lifted herself away from the bed and stripped from her clothes.

"Lay back. I want to give you a little taste of what you're going to get later," she said.

N'Jadaka eased himself flat on his back and she squatted above his face in reverse so that she faced his feet. All he could see was her beautiful vulva. So inviting.

She dropped her ass down and smothered his face and he groaned with happiness. She lifted up again and then began a steady bouncing on his face, letting her ass and vulva nearly suffocate him.

"Drop it on me again," he grunted, feeling his dick stretch in size inside his shorts.

Yani gave him what he wanted, riding his face until he nutted in his shorts.

Good boy.

Sex was going to be the tool Yani had to use to keep N'Jadaka preoccupied so that she could wear him out for a good night's sleep. All day they stayed active and did things that kept him from focusing on her too closely. That seemed to work and it helped her not to act weird in front of him worrying about plotting her escape to Warrior Falls in time to receive Mama Wati's message.

N'Jadaka was so happy that morning and afternoon. She was also happy that she could maneuver the hover bike safely. It was less difficult to control than she had imagined. She was terrified of heights, and riding a machine that held a lot of power scuttled her nerves for the first hour of N'Jadaka's lessons. Luckily that nervousness covered up the other nervousness of plotting a sneaking away in the middle of the night. She would need at least four hours to reach the Falls by hover bike and perhaps another hour to find the Mama Wati statue. To stay safe, she allotted herself six hours, that meant she had to leave the house boat by midnight.

After their return from hover bike riding, she cleaned herself up and used face-riding her husband to keep him sexually drowsy. Some men just had a thing for a woman with a large derriere slamming it on their faces, and N'Jadaka was no different. Before she dated Chez back at her old home, she had an older boyfriend that liked for her to pound her ass in his face. She didn't know why they found it so pleasurable but she did it for her husband and watched him cum through his swim trunks. So far he had ejaculated four times that day. She would make love to him in his favorite position after feeding him a good supper, and then indulge him in smoking some homegrown weed she grew in a part of the royal garden no one ventured into much.

With his belly full, dick drained, and tucked into bed by ten, he'd nod out for hours. All she needed was a large enough head start before he or Bast realized something was amiss.

Guilt shrouded her mind.

She didn't want to deceive him, but Bast couldn't stop her from doing something to protect N'Jadaka and her children.

Yani sat on a stool as N'Jadaka fixed their dinner of stir-fried steak and fried cream cheese puffs. He prattled on about cooking more in the palace once they returned and she sipped on honey wine listening attentively. Piling steamed rice on her plate she held it up for him to cover it with the steak and veggies cooked in a light teriyaki sauce.

"I think we should attend the West African Summit in November," he said, adding rice to his own plate.

They sat across from each other with the galley's table island between them. Digging into their food, Yani nodded and agreed with him.

"If we go to the summit, will Ramonda attend too?"

"She'll be too busy back in the states."

Yani considered how long the summit would be and made a mental note to organize her social calendar in her personal office for the rest of the year.

"You want more?" he asked, offering up the wok he cooked with still filled with food.

"I'm good," she said.

"There's ice cream and pie for dessert."

"Can't eat another thing."

She helped him clear up dishes and put leftovers away. They wandered outside to look at the sunset. The overcast day had given way to a clear evening that doused the last sun rays in dark blues and a small patch of dark orange that reflected on the water. Yani lit up a joint and shared it with N'Jadaka. She made sure not to inhale deep to prevent smoke from going all the way in her lungs. Getting completely high was not on her agenda to execute her plan. Her husband toked and savored the transition into intoxication. He lowered his head to kiss her and she accepted the affection while holding her internal emotions in check. A high N'Jadaka was a less cognitive functioning one and Yani felt secure in luring him to the bedroom. They undressed on the way up and he kept slapping her ass cheeks as she took the stairs seductively, tooting her backside out for him.

She pushed him onto the bed and crawled up his body, joining their lips for slow kissing. N'Jadaka held her face with both hands.

"You make me so very happy, Yani," he said.

She turned on some music and they cuddled, touching lips every now and then.

"I feel like all we do is eat and sleep…and fool around," he said.

"Heaven," Yani insisted.

"What should we do tomorrow? Snorkeling or hiking around part of the lake collecting mushrooms for our next dinner?" he asked.

"Hiking," she said, answering quickly so that her facial expression wouldn't reveal anything false. If her plan went accordingly, she'd be miles away by the time he woke up.

"Okay…turn that down, I want to listen to the night birds call to each other," he said.

Yani turned off the music and listened for the red-throated loons to sing. There…a distinct yodel and a few tremolos that carried across the wide body of water. The bird song enchanted N'Jadaka and he wrapped his arms around her. He smelled so good, like early summer and fresh cocoa butter. His handsome face loomed above hers.

"Tell me you love me," she said.

"Always…I'll love you always, girl."

He was such a beautiful man. His warmth. His spirit. He saved her from an uncertain life and she had to do the same for him.

She trailed her fingers along the side of his shoulder and up along his neck. Fine ass. Plush lips always ready for kissing her. His nose septum gave him a lethal look. The longer locs were tied up in a knot. His feral eyes were narrow from the weed. Yani opened her legs and played with her clit, tugging on her ring piercing. He watched her fingers swipe over plump folds and he licked his lips. She concentrated on pleasure and pleasing him. He reached down and took over fingering her pussy. Tasting the essence from her on his fingers, N'Jadaka smacked is lips and continued his ministrations on her vulva to illicit heartfelt sighs from her.

His lips twisted in that mean way it did when he was ready to fuck. Her pussy sounded sloppy wet and she already knew it was able to accommodate him with a tight grip. She pushed him back and he sat up against the headboard.

"Let me take care of you, Killmonger," she uttered with a calm sultriness that rendered him docile.

Yani threw her leg over his hips and adjusted her position above his already hard dick. He propped it up for her at an angle to help her slide onto him with the best view of his wide dick head stretching open her entrance. Her inner labia gripped the naturally lubricated tip and she added extra clenching to make him feel the good pussy sliding down his length. His mouth dropped open and he let out a shuddery breath. Winding her hips, she gave her husband a special start to her lovemaking prowess.

"Relax, love. I got this," she whispered in his ear, letting her heavy breasts brush against his chest.

N'Jadaka reached out and gripped her ass cheeks, needing to hold onto something as she went up and down letting him feel all of her love. Leaning forward, she continued whispering sweet words in his ear as he watched her ass bounce.

"Fuck me Yani!"

His eyes rolled back and she rocked his shit, listening to him pant, groan, and plead with her to keep going. She wiggled and arched her back so he could see her breasts knocking together from her efforts. That man loved him some big tits and he gazed at the wonders bouncing in his face. He started sucking on her nipples and she slowed down, giving internal squeezes with her walls that made her man weak. His eyes glazed over full of lust and desire, wanting her to go all night. The weed had him locked under her complete control.

Yani kissed his forehead and rubbed her nose against his as she made love to him. Her husband could no longer speak. He held her against his chest and gazed at her ass cheeks. She leaned back and let her breasts cover his face. The girth of his dick tugged on her clit and the wings of her labia stretched around him. He felt so good. So strong. Powerful inside of her. He made her feel powerful…made her feel like a queen.

Yani threw her head back and rode out the wave of tension that sent tingles up and down her spine. N'Jadaka fondled her breasts with tender hands. She peered down at his face and he studied her every expression, the reverence for her fully apparent.

A change came over his eyes. The potency in the gaze revealed the oncoming of his release.

Not yet.

Yani shifted gears and crawled above his face, squatting down to drown him in the taste of them. He moaned against her flesh and she shivered, thrilling to the sensation of the sound vibrating across her vulva. She slid back down his dick again, giving in to the pull and pressure of his fullness inside of her.

"Cum on my dick, baby…cum for me…." he moaned.

Yani fell apart on his dick and N'Jadaka delighted in witnessing her release. She collapsed on him and he rubbed her back with gentle hands.

"You're so beautiful when you cum," he whispered in her ear.

She moved next to him, lifting a leg and he gripped his dick and guided it into her ass. He huffed and grunted while pushing in slowly, checking to see if she was comfortable with his progress. She held onto a large pillow and he covered her vulva with his hand, needing to feel the warmth there as he took her with purposeful strokes.

"…fucking this ass…feels so good on this dick…" he muttered.

She knew it got real good to him when he began shouting her name again, cursing the sensations tugging on his dick.

"Dammit!"

He lifted her leg and pumped faster, crying out to Bast as his dick swelled and ejaculated a gusher of cum. Yani accepted his orgasm with soft sighs. She reached back and stroked his forehead, reassuring him that she was with him in the moment.

Gasping for air, it took N'Jadaka a few minutes to pull out of her. The girth of his dick appeared to not want to go down any time soon. His reflexes were slower and she helped him detangle himself from a hunched over position that put his full weight on her.

"That was so fucking good…goddamn Yani…goddamn…"

She cuddled onto his hot sweaty chest and listened to his breathing become less erratic. He threw an arm around her and she kissed his lips, cooing his deadly nickname until he fell asleep.

Yani stayed next to him for a couple of hours, listening to the steady breathing and watching the rise and fall of his chest. Checking the time, she had an hour to prepare her departure. She showered on the lower deck and changed into a light hoodie and comfortable hiking pants with light hiking shoes. Grabbing a hydration pack and a few snack bars, she pulled it over her shoulders and then uncovered two hover bikes. She programmed one to go remote from her kimoyo beads. She climbed on the other. Stopping for a moment, she listened for any noise from above. N'Jadaka was comatose.

She rode away from the boat five feet above the water and headed toward the shore. If she stayed low and near the land, the Doras above wouldn't pay much attention there, especially when she dispatched the other hoverbike to go around the perimeter she set as a decoy. They would think the king was out riding late at night as he did in Ekuqaleni. She would make sure the inclement weather covering was up so they couldn't tell right away that no one was actually riding the bike around the lake.

Yani's hands shook when she turned off her tracking bead. She focused on safe riding until she reached shore. There was no full moon and the stars looked dull and bored in the sky. She set the other hover bike loose and watched it float away from the houseboat in the opposite direction. Confident that she programmed it correctly, Yani rode low to the ground under the trees to stay hidden from the Royal Talon Fighter and the stinger aircrafts securing their privacy.

Eventually she had to leave the trees behind and follow the Ibukun River. The further south she went, the rougher the dark water looked churning below. Her travel screen mapped the way to Warrior Falls and she finally turned on the headlights of her bike to illuminate her path. Her hover bike was far enough away to not attract attention. She reached a cruising height of twenty feet and kept her speed just under her comfort level. Her heart rattled so hard in her chest that she seemed on the verge of passing out from fright.

Did humans have the right to thwart the future destined for them?

What if N'Jadaka's parents had the chance to do the same? She might've missed her chance at a life with him. She wouldn't have her son, or Joba. She would never have become a queen. As painful and tragic as that past was, Yani was grateful that she could have her husband. What if her unborn child's future had to happen under Bast's watch? Would she inadvertently prevent that child the happy life she now had as an adult?

Yani slowed down the hover bike and let it float in one place. It wasn't too late to return and slip back into bed next to him. She could let the future unfold as is. Skip the day completely and the oracle would have to lose the message. Blinking away tears in confusion, she tried to calm herself. She had to know. Life could follow infinite paths, but she was in a uniquely divine position. It wouldn't hurt to simply listen. It didn't mean she had to act on whatever was in store for her on the other side of Warrior Falls.

She rode on.

One hour ticked by, and then another. She had to pee but was afraid to stop and relieve herself less someone spotted her and reported her wheareabouts. The Queen of Wakanda was not supposed to be sneaking off in the dead of night riding a hover bike above a mighty river. Yani squirmed in her seat. Her bladder had needs. She scouted a spot on another islet in the middle of the river that could hold her bike. Guiding the bike down, she secured it behind a small grove of trees. Relieving herself, she took time to drink water and stretch her legs. She hopped back on the bike and froze. A patrol ship cruised near the islet. Yani was sure they were searching for her, but she noticed a small fishing boat with an old man and a male teenager inside of it floating near the islet. A patrolman used a bullhorn to scold the two and they quickly pulled up a fishing net.

Illegal fishing.

Yani stayed hidden until the patrol boat took off and the fishermen had paddled away before she rode on. She didn't let down the inclement weather protector because it made her feel like she was driving a small car and not a flying bike. Safer that way. She kicked into going faster and felt the wind resistance buffet her course. Keeping below thirty miles per hour, Yani pointed the bike in the direction she wanted. There was nothing she could do to prevent wind drag, so she pushed on.

Another hour dragged by. Still another.

Fatigue set into her arms and legs, but she persevered. One by one the stars faded away. The angry roar of the giant waterfalls were hard to ignore, and Yani hovered below trying to figure out the proper direction to get past them. Tall like unimaginable giants facing each other in battle, the falls dumped tons of water that crashed into gigantic curtains of glowing white liquid against the last of the darkness. Going around either side of the cliff sides they fell from would eat up a chunk of her time and she would miss the rising sun lighting the way from the statue she hadn't even found yet.

Yani was scared to ride high above and over the falls. She didn't think hover bikes were designed to go that high and it was foolish to risk death testing the bike's limits. The cataract and plunge pool at the bottom of the falls looked too dangerous to fly through, even with the protective shield covering the hover bike completely. Her body was drained from riding all night and her mind couldn't shake the fear of what was beyond the thunder of water.

Keep going.

Her own voice in her head pushed her to move along.

She would see how high the hover bike went.

N'Jadaka dreamed he walked through a cavernous room in the palace filled with books containing the history of his people. He was inside the public palace library that housed a magnificent view of Birnin Zana at night. Stars twinkled outside the floor-to-ceiling window and he kept a steady gait moving between shelves stacked with ancient texts. The dream blended into another and he found himself overlooking the Ibukun River at night also. His body felt floaty and out of his control, so he floated in a nebulous cloud of lucidness and a dreamstate.

"N'Jadaka!"

His Wakandan name was spoken with an otherworldly tongue that wasn't human. He turned his head and a tall shadowy figure rose above him, making him seem small and insignificant.

"N'Jadaka…find her…stop her…"

A pressure shifted in his chest and the shadowy figure moved closer to him despite him being unable to make out its features clearly. Upon closer inspection the figure with the disembodied voice was nothing but gray smoky tendrils of dust held together by the will to capture his attention.

"N'Jadaka! STOP HER!"

N'Jadaka gasped out loud and woke up from the sensation of oncoming dread. He reached out next to him.

Yani wasn't there.

He tumbled out of bed with a shaky body and reached for the lights.

"Yani!"

She didn't answer.

He checked his kimoyo. She was nowhere on his tracking app.

"Yani! Baby! Where are you?"

He ran around the houseboat searching for her and checked the lake last. The sky had softened the darkness. The sun would come calling soon.

Yani wasn't taking an early dip in the water. He tapped his kimoyos.

"Okoye…do you see Yani anywhere on the lake?"

He couldn't keep his voice from sounding frantic. His dream still lingered in the corners of his mind and that voice that demanded he look for his wife was Bast. If a god woke you up, something horribly wrong was going on.

"Kumkani, Queen Yani…hold on a second. Security team four has spotted one of your hover bikes, it's heading back your way," Okoye said.

"Thanks, Okoye," he said.

N'Jadaka sighed with relief. She probably wanted to practice more without him so they could ride together later in the day. How she was able to get up at five in the morning after good weed and sex must've been a testament to her youth compared to his. He wanted to crawl back into bed.

Watching the horizon, he spotted the hover bike going along at a good speed. She rode it smooth and he smiled. Tapping his kimoyo again he spoke with a bubbly morning voice.

"Practice makes perfect, huh, baby? How long you been out here?"

He frowned. His kimoyo beads didn't connect to hers and his voice went nowhere. The hover bike zipped past the boat without stopping. He scanned it.

Remote.

She wasn't riding it.

Panic set it in.

"Okoye! Stop that hover bike! Yani isn't riding it. I don't know where she is. Scan this area in a ten mile radius and find her!"

The Royal Talon Fighter shimmered into view five minutes later and used the gravity beam to pull the bike into the aircraft. Stinger ships zipped back and forth across the lake.

"Kumkani, we have widened the search for Queen Yani. She is not within the ten-mile security checkpoint.

"How the fuck did no one see what happened to her? I went to bed with my wife last night and she disappears from under your nose?"

"Kumkani, there appears to be another hover bike missing from your vessel," Okoye said.

The Royal Talon Fighter floated down alongside the houseboat. A ramp was dropped next to it and Okoye ran out with Ayo and Aneka by her side, their spears gripped in their hands.

"No outside intruders broke through our security, and Queen Yani has special clearance to move about freely, so no alarms would alert us to her moving about, kumkani. Perhaps she left on her own?" Ayo suggested.

"Leave? Leave and go where?!" he blasted.

"Kumkani, the hover bike we picked up was pre-programmed to travel around the lake for six hours. The only person who could do that while you were asleep…was the queen. Only your royal codes can be used to run the equipment. I think Queen Yani used one hover bike as a decoy to fool us," Ayo said.

"Fool us for what?"

N'Jadaka took a deep breath and reverted to Killmonger mode. Cool, calm, collected. He paced on the Talon Fighter ramp. Yani had been acting odd the day before, but she was back to her normal self. They had a fantastic day together, made love and made plans to have more fun that morning. Where would she go that would make her program a hover bike to fly around on remote to trick them?

The color on the water changed. Morning had arrived.

He turned and looked toward the mouth of the Ibukun River.

Warrior Falls.

She wanted to go to Warrior Falls.

Bast sent a rush of cool air at the top of his head where she roosted. Her presence was a tremendous pressure on his brain, forcing him to act.

Stop her.

That's what Bast wanted him to do. Stop her from going wherever she snuck off to. His hunch was the Falls. She'd mentioned Bast in her nightmare. Told him in a frightened hysteria that she had to do something that Bast wouldn't like. He'd forgotten about it because the rest of their time had been normal and carefree, as if she never had a nightmare.

"We need to go to Warrior Falls," he said.

He ran back onto the ship still naked as jaybird. In his haste to find Yani, he hadn't bothered to put on clothes. The Doras didn't care. They were used to him being naked at any time when it came to him and his wife traveling or on vacation.

He showered and pulled on a tunic and comfortable pants. When he returned to his Doras they studied his face with questioning looks.

"Warrior Falls, kumkani?" Okoye asked.

"Yani talked about going there first and I denied her from doing so because of the lake schedule. I think she went there in search of something. I don't know what…but my gut is pushing me in that direction. She turned her beads off, so we'll have to search for the hover bike."

Okoye moved to look at the two other bikes. She scanned them with her beads.

"The hover bikes have trackware on them. I've found the code for the one she is riding. As long as it's turned on, we can find her…got it," Okoye said.

She looked at N'Jadaka.

"We'll find her, kumkani. Do not worry," Okoye said.

He followed them into the Royal Talon Fighter.

"Baby, what are you looking for?" he mumbled under his breath.

Bast touched his mind.

Stop her.

Yani rode the hover bike back the way she came for one hundred yards, creating space for her to ascend over the waterfall. Her first two attempts had her aborting and almost crashing into a wall of water. She checked her flight control algorithm and the sensory input from the hover bike's A.I. calculated the correct speed and trajectory point for her ascent. The bike's top speed was forty-forty-five miles per hour. She would have to maintain stability the higher she flew, since the falls were practically mountain ranges in her eyes.

One glance over her shoulder varified the direction the sun would raise itself. The sky was lighter than before.

Blowing out a strong gust of air from her mouth, she psyched herself up and shifted gears with her foot and twisted the throttle hard.

"OhGodOhGodOhGod!"

Yani yelled inside the bike covering and aimed the bike up.

Higher and higher she rose until the first sprays of water struck the covering on the front half of the bike, shoving her out of alignment with her trajectory path to fling herself over the top and keep her there. She overcorrected and commanded the A.I. to take over maneuvers for her to reach safety.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" she yelled as the bike clipped a portion of water wall that had a jagged part of the cliff hidden behind it.

Yani fell fifty feet and the hover bike quickly shifted gears and jetted her like an erratic slingshot over the last section of the falls before falling into the outer edge of the plunge pool. She struck something hard and the hover bike stopped working.

Nothing but angry whitewater touseled her about at the bottom of the falls. The drag of a mean current beneath her threatened to suck her further down, but she ejected her seat. Thrust up at a fast speed, she broke the surface and swam for her life to break free from the plunge pool's powerful drag.

Using the last of strength she had, Yani lunged for the bank along the continuation of the Ibukun River. Gasping and falling onto her back, she shivered from the cold dunking, but thanked God that she was alive. Pain shot through her left wrist. She had smacked it against a boulder under the plunge pool. It was definitely fractured. She awkwardly and with great difficulty took off her hydration pack. Every pack contained a first aid kit and pain killers. She gulped down two pills and her wrist stopped throbbing. It took her a minute to wrap it with synthetic smart bandages that stabilized her wrist and enabled her to keep functioning until she could see another doctor who could do a better assessment at the true damage.

"Fuck," she muttered, noticing she lost one of her hiking shoes. She reached into her pack and pulled out a pair of walking sandals she had tossed in there in case it got too hot on their trip.

Dumping the saved hiking boot on her other foot into her pack, Yani set off to find the oracle once more. She calculated the time from the last time she checked it on the hover bike before it was lost. Forty minutes left to find the statue.

Grateful that the natural trail along the river was flat for the most part, Yani picked up her walking speed and kept an eye out for rocks and other debris. She snacked on a protein bar and drank water from the pack directly. There was supposed to be tributary split heading southeast that would be her signpost that she was headed in the right direction.

The sun began its grand entrance by heralding pastels of soft pink and powdery light blue in the sky first. Yani started running as if she were some desperate vampire seeking shelter before the sun completely showed its face.

She saw the first positive indicator.

A large manta ray statue curved out of the water from its cement base. At least twenty feet high its silvery-black coloring didn't have the chance to show off its grandeur as she hustled by it. She had to find Mama Wati's statue in twenty minutes.

Yani kept her hurt wrist close to her body and listened to the sound of her own pants from all the running she did. Those pants soon turned to ragged exhales of exhaustion. The temperature on her back changed as the warmth from the first rays of light touched her.

Where was it?

Did she miss another turn somewhere that she missed trying to memorize the mapping before the bike went down?

Tears sprung to her eyes and she fell to her knees after curving around a sharp turn that led to a wide pool of water. Yani received her first look at Mama Wati's statue.

It was massive.

The size of two Statue of Liberties stacked on top of each other, Mami Water loomed above the tributary in her seagreen and vibranium blue glory. Manta Ray wings sprouted from her back with a horned crown that matched the color of her seagreen form-fitting dress. Her face was pure Wakandan-birthed glory etched within ebony stone mined from the heart of the River Tribe territory. Her arms were draped at her sides and she looked off into some unknown distance as if she'd been waiting for Yani for thousands of years. Behind her another giant mountain dripped gallons of water from several cracks that fell down its side like joyous tears.

"Show me…please show me the way…" Yani whispered, waiting for the sun to strike the statue. Only Mama Wati could reveal the direction she had to go next.

Sunlight struck the base of Mama Wati's bare feet and inched up her dress minute by minute. Yani kept her eyes glued to the statue, waiting for any directional hint that would lead her to the oracle.

She thanked God that the day was shaping up to be warm and sunny, relishing the increased warmth on her wet clothes and hair. The glint from the statues shine in the sun dazzled Yani's eyes. Mama Wati was maginificent…there! There!

A beam of sunlight struck the center of Mama Wati's crown and a strong ray of light fell at an odd angle toward pale green trees. Yani fretted. The trees were on the other side of the enormous pool. She would have to swim in the water…no!

The light actually struck the side of the mountain rock and hit something shiny and round that bounced the light in a different direction on her side of the pool. Thank goodness! Swimming again was the last thing she wanted to do again in unfamiliar waters.

The light struck another object and Yani headed that way. The light beacon stayed visible for five minutes and disappeared.

"Oh, shit! Shit!"

Yani ran forward faster. Wasn't the light supposed to stay visible until she reached her destination? Even if it wasn't designed to do that, the direction it pointed still wasn't something she could decipher with the density of trees that all looked the same. Had she been too late in getting there?

Fretting and becoming scared that she had failed her family, Yani heard rustling in the trees to her left.

"Who's there?" Yani called out.

She checked for the Mama Wati statue again hoping sunlight would reveal the path again to help her figure out which trees to search for.

More rustling.

She pick up a big chunk of a fallen tree branch and wielded it like a baseball bat hoping to hit a home run.

"I will fuck you up if you try something funny. I'm the Queen of Wakanda!"

Two older men draped in bright forest green robes approached her from behind one of the trees. One was bald and the other had soft white 'fro. The bald man spoke to her.

"Kumkanikazi…forgive us for scaring you. We received the signal from the statue that you had arrived. We've come to fetch you for the oracle. She is waiting for you. Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?"

His kind eyes stared at her bandaged wrist.

"I had an accident coming over the Falls. It's fine for now. I was so afraid that I had lost the path to the oracle," Yani said.

She exhaled in relief.

"You were on the right path. That light path on her crown was for you and us. It helps you keep going in the direction where we can find you," the bald man said.

"What are your names?"

The bald man smiled.

"I am Uyakhusela, and he is my husband, also named Uyakhusela."

"Your names mean He Protects?" she said.

"Correct," they said together.

"Come Queen Yani, follow us please. The oracle is waiting," Fro man said.

She walked behind them as they passed through trees and traveled further into the base of the mountain. Yani glanced back at the Mama Wati statue. She could only see part of the lower half.

"This way kumkanikazi," Bald man said.

They entered the opening of a cave. Yani stopped walking. Her nerves started to prick up. She could feel a vibration emanating from the cave entrance, a humming in lower decibels that her ears could feel.

"What you are sensing is the birth canal, my queen. You are about to enter the womb of the world. Do not be frightened. Mama Wati would not bring you this far to see harm come to you," Bald man said.

"How many have come here before?" she asked.

"Just you, my queen. The oracle rarely interacts with outsiders. This is why we send emissaries to summon those she wants to see in person out in the world. But this time…this time you will have the special privilege of stepping all the way inside. We will ask you to bathe first and will provide you with something to wear in her presence," Fro man said.

"I'm ready," Yani said.

They entered the opening and the sweltering heat inside felt like a womb. Two young women sat near the entrance with drums between their legs and beat out the rhythm of a heartbeat. The old men led her to the front of three sections of water falling from an opening in the cave roof.

"Beyond these birth waters is the path to your future Queen Yani. We wish for you peace and prosperity," they said in unison.

"Wait, you aren't coming with me?"

"We are not allowed to come with you on this journey. Beyond those waters is a bathing pool. Cleanse yourself and put on the robes left there for you afterward. You will know where to go when you are finished."

"Thank you, Uyakhusela,"

Both men lowered their heads and backed away from her.

Yani took a deep breath and stepped through the birth waters.

Chapter 11 HERE.

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[ominouspuff]

what would be on your art creation wish list? something you haven’t drawn yet for whatever reason?

Ohoho, ROOK. This is a difficult question, but I love it.

I have a few private answers, but one I can share is an animation dream. I admire Hayao Miyazaki as an artist, and respect his philosophy. I am very serious about wanting to create traditional frame-by-frame films someday, especially ones that likely would fall under the same ‘genre’ of stories.

At the moment, this is beyond me. I’m practicing frame-by-frame animation, but it will be a long process. Here’s a piece for reference:

I have many animation dreams, some more serious and dear to me than others.

For my current Star Wars interest (and just for kicks and practice) I’d love to put together a short end-credits style piece about my RepGA AU, like a wholesome epilogue, or a happier-ending AU to my AU that may not feature all these happy endings precisely.

A few scenes that would feature:

- Plo Koon stepping out of a train-transport onto what is clearly a foreign planet’s platform, with much alien tropical vegetation, wearing a sun hat and followed by first one, then two, then the entirety of his battalion all decked out for a vacation and parading like ducklings (Wolffe is wearing colorful shorts alongside the equivalent of an incredibly thick, tough mountain shacket and combat boots).

- Ahsoka waving out of a train transport, grinning happily as it comes into the station, and the camera panning to see Anakin and Padme very worn, leaning on eachother with signs of recent hospital stay, and Rex right next to them grinning like a fool and holding both twins in his arms (Anakin has a hand pointedly resting on Luke’s head around Rex’s back, so that he essentially is a hen clutching the entire party to his person, visually).

- Fox and Cody in whatever counts as intensive care with healers in the vicinity. They are bickering about the weird hospital food that transcends all AUs and dimensions.

- Obi-Wan digging through rubble to help with cleaning up the wreckage of a sub-city in Coruscant, pausing to catch his breath while Alpha-17 both makes fun of him and walks over leisurely with a water bottle for him. Nearby, a team effort comprised of engineering tools used in a way not quite intended by the designers and Fordo’s raw strength launches an enthusiastic Wolffe up into a second-floor they were having trouble accessing, through a hole in the wall.

There are more, but they would give spoilers.