#also respectfully try not to go after me for this

[clancy-the-pretty-odd-killjoy]

So while I can't claim the title of "elder emo" (which Franky I've seen so many times that I find it accidentally irritating to hear but that's not the point) I can claim the title of one of panic! At the discos biggest fans respectfully. (All eras)

I don't know if it matters but I'm also a huge fan of the young veins, I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, the brobecks, and all their solo stuff/other artist Collabs/live or recorded covers/unreleased songs etc. I pride myself on panic being one of my favorite bands and one that I know the most about. (To an unhealthy degree quite honestly.) However of course that doesn't make me a specialist on knowing every single thing they've ever said. But anyway my reason for this rant was that I can agree with most of this, however I do feel that is a bit unfair and quite honestly just straight up dumb to say these things if they're in the wrong context.

Allow me to elaborate.

The way I read this it came off as saying that liking early era Ryan ross to a large extent is not okay, but maybe that's just me that perceived it like that. I feel that in my experience the early era Ryan is my favorite most of the time because it's comforting to me to look at pictures of Ryan with his stupid emo haircut and that weird camera he took shirtless pics with. Because he seemed so unafraid to express himself freely. That's inspiring.

And while I completely appreciate his growth as a person and all that's changed, I can still hyper fixate on his myspace profile can I not? Again I may have misunderstood the op but the way I read it seemed mostly like they where against people who focus intensely on the early Ryan ross era. Which as i Said has always been one of my favorite Ryan eras.

However that doesn't mean I'm not just as hyper fixated on his other eras like the young veins, but also it doesn't mean I disrespect his wishes to be away from the spotlight, that's a totally valid want. And I don't go around yelling about Ryden drama that doesn't exist but I am guilty of shit posting about it satirically. So maybe I'm a biased opinion in the slightest. But as I see it, the reason we focus so intensely on this era Ryan ross is because we missed the era and the comfort it brought. The early 2000s for a lot of people who didn't get to experience it is a "comfort culture" as I call it, we look back on the media from that time and it seems like an easier time to just shitposts things to myspace without a million people saying "well actually this happened with that person, so that technically makes you an eleged pedo supporter-" or something similar after someone posts about msi being "Coolio in a rawr XD (Gerard) way" or something, at least to me it feels. Let's face it that the world today is hyper focused on proving people wrong or immoral one way or another. Maybe it's people trying to feel better about themselves, maybe it's just the fact everyone is super sensitive and easily triggered. Either way, you used to be able to shitposts about a band without someone yelling at you for supporting a bad person when you didn't even know there were any allegations.

So anyway, as I see it, obsessing with old versions of people we admire is a coping mechanism, To cope with our own lives or sometimes to hide from them.

Okay, I'm dusting off my OLD emo bandom hat to be real with y'all fuckers for a second. This blog started in 2009 as a Panic fan blog so I know what I'm talking about.

My hot take is these new wave "Ryan Ross" fans don't actually like Ryan as a person, they just parasocially cling to pictures of him from when he was 19 in 2006 because he's "gender" or whatever and put him on this pedestal because he was a skinny white man in eyeliner who wrote some bops over 20 years ago. (When they were literal toddlers.)

But the truth is Ryan distanced himself from that person. By 2007 he wanted nothing to do with his old emo self and his old music. (Hence the hipster makeover.) He was uncomfortable in the spotlight and didn't want to be famous. By 2009 he wanted out completely.

I just have this feeling he would be super uncomfortable with all of this worship of his old self, AND y'all dragging him into this drama by spamming his name at Brendon anytime that man does anything.

Ryan and Brendon have no hard feelings. You're manufacturing drama between two men who want nothing to do with it and you're no better than the fans who were constantly invading their privacy over a decade ago.

Leave Ryan alone. If he wanted attention he wouldn't have logged off social media 15 years ago. Go listen to AFYCSO and have your feelings but STOP with the Brendon death threats and STOP spreading lies about Brendon to make your fave look better.

Ryan has done a lot of fucked up shit to. They were all white teenage boys on drugs in the 2000s who got thrust into the limelight suddenly and had to figure out how to be good people.

IDGAF if you hate Brendon but keep it to yourself. None of the bandmates have hard feelings with one another. Worry about the hatred you have for yourself instead. People who are okay don't act like that.

Love,

An elder emo.

[wildflowercryptid]

something that's been weighing on my mind ever since learning about the situation with ezra / toonimal is seeing how these predators will take the active hostility that is frequently directed towards minors in online spaces to their advantage and use it to prey on vulnerable children. i think that we as adults in online fandom should probably come together and maybe rethink the language / manner we go about interacting with kids bc clearly the way things are rn is causing active harm.

like obviously, if you're an adult and aren't comfortable with minors interacting with you or your content, you should be allowed to set that boundary and should be vocal about it, ( especially if the content you create isn't safe for them to consume. ) but i don't think talking to them like they're a blight on all that is good and holy is the way to go about it. maybe just saying you're an 18 plus account will suffice, you don't have to tell them to fuck off.

[bloodgulchblog]

Respectfully, I have to disagree.

The thing that ONI is most angry with her for is disloyalty to ONI. This is a bit of reading between the lines because Parangosky never comes out and says it, but that's because Parangosky believes her own shit. The thing that she especially guns after Halsey for is cloning she di at ONI's behest 40 years ago, which they would not have ever touched her on if they hadn't been looking for an excuse to hammer her. To be fair, this is in Glasslands and it's a notoriously troubled book, but later Halo never really engages with the issues in the same way to replace it. They just kind of pivoted Halsey to an evil narcissistic eugenicist that thinks her Spartans are "the next step for humanity" and that's why everyone hates her, so we are kind of playing musical chairs with pool floaties by that point.

Halo tends to hinge around the idea of the Master Chief saving the universe by being in the right place at the right time, but I reject the premise that the presence or absence of four Spartan-IIs is of history-altering proportion. Spartans are useful and tough but putting that much weight on such a small number of them is kind of out-of-universe reasoning vs an in-universe perspective. We know the Spartan-IIs are exceptional as Halo characters because we are told cool Spartan-II stories but I think to in-universe people this position is not quite right. I actually would argue that Blue Team's presence or absence at Earth would have had negligible impact because it was so bad at Earth that the only reason Earth made it out was deus ex machina. (I love Halo 3 but Halo 3's writing is honestly so bad.) Halsey's assessment of the situation and the futility of it, especially given her extremely recent lived experience of the Battle of Reach where so many of the Spartan-IIs died to incredibly little gain, also really colors her judgment here and I don't think she's even incorrect.

Halsey going to Onyx is definitely not the best thought out part of the series, I won't argue with you there. But I'll admit I kinda forgive it. I'm always soft on Nylund because of old fondness, I think the larger point he is trying to make about Halsey through it is still good, and also lol we don't know what conditions Ghosts of Onyx were written under but considering that both The Fall of Reach and First Strike were known to be crunch fests cranked out in like two months and some spare change, I would not be surprised if Ghosts was also written just as fast. Anyway, the point of "Halsey knows that the Spartan-IIs will not save themselves and will not agree to allow someone else to try to save them, so she just does it" makes sense for her character. Which leads me to...

I definitely agree that there is always some arrogance in Halsey's assessments, the beating core of her character is "I have been told I am the smartest so long that I genuinely believe that I know best, and therefore it is up to me to ensure that people do what I say to prevent Terrible Consequences." You also see this in Cortana, the mirror confirming the original image, and I even see angles of it inherited in John. "I am told I am exceptional, and therefore it is my duty to give more from myself than any other because I should be able to." This is tragedy. Like, okay, yes there are fucked up consequences, but also Halsey's not real so I can enjoy playing around with the ideas in her character because the story being told understands that she cannot actually save them. Even though she tries, even though she manages to keep some of them alive, the damage Catherine Halsey helped do to the Spartan-IIs as people is something that she, no matter all her cleverness or knowledge or determination, cannot reverse. This is backed up by her failure to get John to accept that what was done to him is wrong in First Strike. Despite how messy Halo is, it manages to have this beautifully painful little story in it about how people who do something awful can have real remorse, but also just because you are sorry doesn't mean you can undo what you have done. And you have to find a way to keep moving forward and living, and remorse has meaning anyway. (....This falls apart in Halsey's story because of how badly they started mishandling her, but the Arbiter's story picks up that thread really well.)

If I can find it in my heart to forgive Sangheili and Spartans for fighting for things that suck because they were preyed upon by the institutions they trusted, I can find it in me to forgive Catherine Halsey for the same.

[fromdove]

HOW I THINK SOCIAL MEDIA IS LIKE IN ㅤㅤㅤㅤ GOTHAM CITY

tiktoks where people are like “day 54 of trying to get batman to notice me by looking helpless and holding a brick outside of wayne tower.” and then like. a day later they upload another one like “guys it worked. i threw the brick at a window and he SWOOPED DOWN AND YELLED AT ME. i think we’re engaged now.”

BATMAN FAN ACCOUNTS. “batm4nslut6969: yall i saw him last night and his thighs were THIGHING. i can’t.” “i want him to run me over with the batmobile. respectfully.” “what does it say about ME that i’m in love with a man who beats people up in alleys.” “he punched my cousin and now my cousin’s life is on track. king.”

you’ll see a tiktok like “get ready with me to testify against the penguin 😘” and they’re curling their lashes like “trial’s at 10 i’m wearing valentino. hope the DA is hot.”

facebook moms in gotham be like “hi!! anyone else’s toddler develop shadow powers after playing near the narrows??? normal or???”

“guys u wont believe what just happened i was literally just tryna get a tuna sandwich and then scarecrow gassed the 6 train again 💀” followed by: “ok but like did anyone else get lowkey productive on fear toxin bc same”

and like imagine those "what's in my bag" videos but it’s like “what’s in my gotham emergency kit” and they pull out like mace, an inhaler, one (1) batarang they found in an alley, a granola bar, and a tiny bottle of holy water just in case it’s some demon this time.

every batman chase has like. three angles. one guy from his apartment, one guy hiding in a dumpster, and one guy who just happened to be doing a GRWM video when batman crashed through the laundromat window behind him like a medieval poltergeist in kevlar.

there’s also that one tiktoker who’s like. always posting “day in the life as a gothamite 🥰” and it’s literally her dodging debris from a police chase while trying to get a matcha. like she’s got wireless earbuds in while the riddler is detonating something in the background. caption: “when i said i wanted chaos i meant eyeliner not explosives 😭😭😭😭”

people be going live from literal crime scenes. like “hey besties so i’m outside ACE chemicals rn and idk what’s going on but i just saw a clown sprint past. anyone know what’s happening???” and everyone’s commenting like “GIRL GO HOME” and “go inside nowwwwww” and “live laugh leave gotham.”

you'd see youtube videos like “i lived in gotham for 2 days and here’s why i left” and it’s just footage of a man watching fire rain from the sky while eating a pretzel in pure silence.

twitter’s a HELLHOLE. people tweeting like “batman knocked over my hotdog stand again. this is the third time. i’m filing a restraining order” and “why does bruce wayne look like he hasn’t slept since 2003” and “if the joker had a podcast i’d listen. just being honest.”

ALSO fancams of villains??? OF COURSE. edits of scarecrow like “your mental health isn’t scary but he is 😍🔥” and joker fan edits with lana del rey playing over it like “he slayed literally. like a bunch of ppl.”

there’s discourse about EVERYTHING. “does batman exploit underage sidekicks??” vs “no they CHOSE to be there 🙄”

imagine gotham love confession tiktoks like “i met him in an alley while harley quinn was robbing a jewelry store” and the comments are like “literally gotham's version of a meet cute 💘💘💘💘💘💘💘”

theres podcasts like “the ethics of vigilante justice” and then they go off topic and start debating if bruce wayne and batman have ever been in the same room and one of the hosts is like “they have different jawlines 🙄”

the gentrification discourse?? YEAH. “just moved to crime alley!! rent was SO cheap!! the vibes are kind of ✨✨ except for the screaming at night. also someone left a human tooth in my mailbox. i think that means i’m accepted into the neighborhood??”

and of course. OF COURSE. the joker thirst edits. like i wish i was kidding. i wish. but someone posts “what if he kidnapped me actually. like what if i let him.” and it’s a picture of him looking crazy with 15 different filters and a caption that says “he’s literally me (i need therapy).”

and GOTHAM INFLUENCERS. OH MY GOD. the way they would be the WORST. “hey guys today i’m doing a billionaire morning routine <3” cue 6 am ice bath in the wayne building gym someone does a house tour and people in the comments are like “i think that’s *insert famous rich socialites name's* old penthouse????”

homeless ppl getting filmed for fake charity clout. omg. “today we’re giving a makeover to this unhoused gotham citizen 🥺”

gotham meme culture is top tier. like they’re actually so funny. because they have to be. it’s trauma response meets terminal irony meets "oh the joker blew up a costco again time to live tweet." they have memes like: “you vs the guy she told you not to worry about” - it’s a pic of bruce wayne (or some rich socialite) in a suit and then batman looking like roadkill in a cape or something like “just got mugged by harley quinn and she said i have bad taste in shoes. kinda valid tbh.” or “why is scarecrow hot now. like when did that happen.” “penguin looked at me sideways in the club. should i press charges or kiss him idk.”

some of them are rich rich. and also literally host giveaways with captions like: “win a week in my tower penthouse if you repost and comment ur favourite crime i’ve survived 💋”

the drama is UNREAL. like gotham reddit?? a cesspool. like there’s this one post every week like : “AMA: i dated bruce wayne for 3 weeks in 2018 and he ghosted me after i found a batarang under his couch.” and then batman side of reddit is like “this guy tried to sell me fake kryptonite at a gas station AMA” and the replies are like “was it the guy in the trenchcoat outside the CVS?? i knew he was shady.” oh and you know there’s a gotham reddit thread called r/gothamCitizenSupport and it’s just “does anyone know how to get joker gas out of your vents” “batman smashed my windshield again how do i file an insurance claim” “my roommate joined a cult and now she glows in the dark?? normal or should i move out?”

you know the “hot takes” girlies?? yeah they’re deranged. “ok but like… what does batman really do for the economy.” or “i’m just saying gotham has more billionaires than public libraries and i feel like that’s not a coincidence???” or “why is no one talking about the gentrification of *xyz place name* just because ivy turned a building into a forest resort spa”

the comments are always fighting for their lives like: “he saved my life leave him alone??” or “girl i got evicted because catwoman turned my apartment into a goth club shut up”

ALSOOOO there are entire sides of gotham tiktok like:

“batman sighting alerts”

“gotham thrift hauls (featuring actual riddler merch)”

“bruce wayne conspiracy theory corner”

“citizen thirst traps featuring blurry robins”

“updates from people who work at arkham: the podcast”

and every time a villain escapes it’s like “uhhh guys. just saw mr. freeze at the bodega. he said he wants vengeance.

"guys...my parents just told me we're moving to gotham because its cheaper...help me what should i expect?"

OH AND BATMAN WOULD HATE IT. and there are so many compilations like “BATMAN GETTING FED UP WITH CITIZENS PART 7” where it’s just clips of him looking pissed af. dramatically because someone asked for a selfie mid-chase or tried to ask him to do fit check in their video.

[apatheticsunday]

Fatherless Behavior

AKA "Danny Fenton is actually Batman and Catwoman's son. He likes his bio mother a lot more than his billionaire furry bio father, and Bruce is just trying to be a good dad to another surprise kid" prompt idea!

I like the idea of Madeline and Jack Fenton being good parents who love their kids so much. Maybe Danny still got zapped by the ecto-portal and died, but he immediately went to his parents and they helped him adjust to being Half-Dead. So, obviously, if he's old enough to die, he's old enough to be told the truth. Maddy and Jack adopted Danny from a woman named Selina Kyle, who's contact information state she's in Gotham City and willing to re-connect with Danny when/if he's comfortable.

Maybe Danny says he's okay, doesn't need to know who his biological parents are, because Maddy and Jack are enough for him. But it's also okay to be curious, right? He's like... seventeen or eighteen at this point. So, he says he's going to tour Gotham-U and maybe, possibly hunt down his birth mother if he has some extra time.

Fast forward to him standing in front of a very posh apartment complex, the doorman refusing to let him in, and he's incredibly embarrassed. There's an older couple coming out the doors. The older man looks like he's going to walk over, possibly intervene, so Danny just begs asks the doorman, "Can you please just call Selina Kyle? I'm her son."

And Bruce, who's having date-night with Selina, nearly passes out. Because under the bright lights of Selina's apartment lobby, this kid looks exactly like the perfect mix of Bruce and Selina. He's got his father's unruly black hair, Selina's catlike blue eyes, and has several dark freckles on his neck like Damian. So... this is a Not Great situation because Selina had a kid behind his back?? Selina's gripping his wrist like a panther with an antelope's jugular and says, "Not in front of the child, Bruce." And if there's one thing Batman is good at, it's keeping his cool (or pretending to).

They all end up in Batburger with Selina and Bruce looking comically overdressed while Danny's in ripped jeans and a NASA hoodie.

Selina is kind. She got pregnant and then Bruce was presumed dead (Batman's Time Stream incident lasted how long?? I feel like 9 months is reasonable, right?), and she wasn't prepared to be a single mother. She also hadn't wanted Danny to have a criminal for a mother ("Wait, what??"), but didn't feel comfortable aborting.

"Our relationship can be whatever you want it to be, Danny. I'm not trying to replace your mom. I'm just here to help if you want." She doesn't try to touch him, doesn't treat him like a kid, just speaks calmly and respectfully to him.

Bruce, unfortunately, isn't as tactful. He begins with: "And I have an extra room in the Wayne Manor. I can pay for your tuition at Gotham-U, get you a job at Wayne Enterprise, and introduce you to my kids. Tim would like you, you're about the same age-" before Selina shoves an elbow into his side. The damage is already done, though. Danny practically shoves from the table (after slipping two Batburgers into his hoodie pocket since clearly Mr. Money-Bags can afford it, the presumptuous asshole).

"I came here to talk with my mother, Mr. Wayne. I don't want your money or to be a nepo baby at your company." Danny snarls a sarcastic little thanks before hauling ass to his hotel, muttering about rude-ass rich folk.

(Selina, still at the diner with Bruce: Look at what you've done! You've scared our son off!

Bruce: Maybe if you told me I had a son, I could've been more prepared for a surprise visit!

Selina: Maybe if you stayed dead like everybody thought you were, you wouldn't be surprised that I had a son. You weren't there!

A squeaky noise can be heard. It's a waitress trying to quietly write on a whiteboard that says "Days Without a Wayne Argument". The tally is changed from 4 to 0.)

Anyway, I want Selina to be more like a Cool Aunt instead of a mom. She gets that Danny already has a maternal figure in his life, doesn't really want someone Mother Henning him, so she becomes a safe space for him to let go. Watches the Neil deGrasse Tyson docuseries, offers him wine during girl's nights, lets him rant about how unsure he is of the future without giving unsolicited advice.

Danny pretty much sees Bruce and is like, it's on sight, old man. Bruce sends an expensive telescope to his house. It gets sent back with a book that says "How to Know When to Give Up: For Dummies". Bruce tries to catch Danny while going to Selina's apartment and Danny screams stranger danger so loudly that Bruce is momentarily worried he accidentally accosted the wrong teenager. Danny makes a comment about "another billionaire frootloop wanting to keep me in his basement" and Bruce is even more concerned now. He responds with, "Daniel, I would not keep you in my basement." Yeah... that definitely didn't help.

Oddly enough, Danny is now also being harassed by Batman and his Bat Cult.

[https-bobreynolds]

bob headcanons

pairing: robert ‘bob’ reynolds x thunderbolts*! reader

summary: just some headcanons of bob, before and after you guys started dating.

author’s note: i love bob sm you don’t even know but WHERE ARE THE VOID X READER FANFICS AT- anyways, should i make any one of these into a short blurb/fanfic? let me know which one i should do <3

before:

bob who always stares at you, no matter who else is in the room

of course whenever you noticed, he always immediately looked away with a blush, “u-uhh, the sky looks so… b-blue today…”

no matter how you looked, he always looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing on this earth, which to be fair, is the truth for him

bob who’ll always try and defend you from the other’s snarky remarks

bob who gets nervous every time you go on a mission, and will wait for you to come back safely, no matter what time it is

if you do come back injured, be prepared for him to wait for you in the medbay UNTIL the doctors have deemed you fully healthy

bob who always comes to your room (he’d knock the door first- obviously) whenever he can’t sleep, bringing his own set of bolsters and pillows

at first, he’d want to stay and sleep on the floor, saying that he just needed your presence- that sleeping on the floor is fine. but when you kept on insisting that it was fine, he just couldn’t resist.

he’d try to be careful, not to touch you or make you uncomfortable. but his efforts are gone in vain when he woke up the next morning, tangled in your limbs

bob who could care less about the mission cause anytime you’d go on missions together, his only mission is to make sure that you’re fine, that you’re protected and safe

bob who puts his book down whenever you come around, doesn’t matter if you talked to him or not, his focus is all on you

bob who blushes at every contact you make with him

bob who secretly gets jealous whenever you laugh at bucky or john’s jokes, wishing it was him

bob who would never confess first because he thought that he wasn’t good enough for you :(

after:

bob who, after you confessed, will never stop telling you how much he loves you

bob who’ll still stare at you, even less subtly now, but with even more love and affection if that was even possible, “you look… r-really beautiful, sweetheart”

bob who always tries and come accompany you on your missions- even though the others would usually reject the idea. at least he tried.

bob who will personally clean up your wounds whenever you come home from those missions, secretly taking first-aid kit lessons on youtube in his free time so he can properly heal you up

bob who now practically lives in your room, he just comes there whenever he can’t sleep, and snuggle you right up

whenever you’re away on missions, he’ll most definitely stay in your room, feeling comfort from your scent, your things, just the feeling of you…

he’ll help clean things up, do the laundry for you, organize your array of weapons, water your plants (which he got for you), and many more- anything that’ll help make your life easier

bob who wakes up early to cook you breakfast, because breakfast is the most important meal of the day according to him

most likely would remind you to eat and drink water every day cause he’s cute like that

he’ll also cook lunch and dinner for you whenever he can, remembering what you like and don’t like

bob who’ll cherish every moment with you, every gift you gave him, he just loves you so much and will always remind you how much you mean to him

bob who holds you in any time and way possible, especially whenever you’re both out in public. he hates loud noises, touching you gives him a bit of comfort

he’ll be extra touchy in private, but respectfully of course, always end up asking, “i-is this okay?”

bob who melts every time he sees you wearing his oversized clothes… which is most of the time

bob who whenever the team would go do movie nights, will always be seated next to you, making sure to cover the two of you under a warm blanket

bob who takes extra care of you when you’re sick or on your period, trust when i say this man will do his research for you

oh how badly he wishes he can take the pain for you

bob who needs reassurance every now and then

bob who can control his other sides best when he’s with you because your presence gives him calmness and solace

on the other hand though, if you are ever in extreme danger just know that his other side will 100% show up because he’ll do anything to protect you

his other sides, being void and sentry, of course, also has a soft side for you

[uzumaki-rebellion]

In Your Arms Tonight by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Annie Moore

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Unprotected Sex, Adult Language, Speculative Elements

Summary: Annie has been asked by her estranged husband Smoke to provide hot food for the opening of his new juke joint in Clarksdale. After seven years apart, their passion and love for each other hasn't waned, but Smoke learns the hard way that leaving his wife alone for a long stretch of time doesn't mean other suitors haven't been chomping at the bit to be with her in his absence.

Word count: 7.2K

"Somebody take me

In your arms tonight, alright

Somebody take me

In your arms tonight…"

Miles Caton – "I Lied to You"

Oh, he was mad.

Big mad.

Full lips all bunched up in a pout. Eyes more narrow than a sewing needle stitching a hemline back in her house. Fingers gripping the rolled tobacco cigarette tight.

Annie Moore watched her estranged husband Elijah "Smoke" Moore pretend to act unbothered on the second-floor, looking down at the mighty fine juke joint he and his twin Stack cobbled together in a day.

That big nigga was fuming up there, all on account of Beau Willie approaching her for a plate of fried catfish, and her mama's red rice recipe carried all the way over from Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

There was plenty of fish to fry, pots of greens to stir, fried potatoes to season, and plenty of people to buy plates and eat them in Club Juke.

Annie wiped her brow with a folded towel next to the fryers and pretended not to notice her man hawking her from above. She gave Beau Willie two big slices of white bread with hot sauce, and pointed out the Irish beer, and Italian wine available to purchase with it. Her best friends Millie and Alberta helped cook and serve, and they all tapped their feet to the music swirling throughout the transformed sawmill. Two of Millie's older daughters stood nearby, watching and learning, and every now and then, the women would let them cook a batch of fish and sell some plates. Grace Chow the grocery store owner, also helped serve and sell liquor while gossiping with them.

"That man keep starin' at you, he gonna have his eyes fallin' outta his head," Millie whispered.

Grace giggled. Annie rolled her eyes and popped the cap of Beau Willie's beer with a bottle opener for him. Handed him the drink.

"There ya go, Beau Willie. You enjoy all that and come back for more when you ready," she said.

"You know I'll be back for your cookin', Annie. Every time," Beau Willie said with a voice deeper than the Mississippi River.

Brawny and handsome, Beau Willie worked the cotton fields like most of the colored people inside the juke. He was her first boyfriend. The first boy to ever kiss her.

Delta Slim belted out some tunes on his harmonica and tickled the piano keys, and Lloyd Allen played the lead guitar. The dancing crowd added the extra percussive beats. Preacher Boy Sammie stood next to the legend and played along with his guitar respectfully, not trying to outplay his elders, just keeping the rhythm steady with his strumming. A fiddler and two sibling banjo players waited offside for their turn to perform.

Annie served a few more plates and propped herself next to Grace against the counter filled with liquor bottles and high-priced hooch. She rightfully assumed Smoke and Stack stole all that shit. Smoke came to her house with pockets so fat and full of cash that she knew he'd been up to no good again. Wasn't no need to question or fuss with him about his criminality. He was going to do what he wanted.

A soft shiver went up her spine.

Lord, that man put it on her earlier that day! Twice. It was like old times with them. Argue and fight, and then fuck the disagreement away.

An undercurrent of disappointment simmered in her blood for his abandonment of their marriage after the loss of their baby. He begged her to run off to Arkansas with him after they robbed several banks in Clarksdale, and she refused to leave their baby behind in the ground they buried her in. That gravesite was holy, and she didn't want to leave her kin behind either. Smoke grew bitter about his pain. Selah, their baby girl, had meant everything to him. He couldn't wait to be a father and the first time he held her, the tears wouldn't stop flowing. They never stopped flowing after her death.

Annie did all she could when Selah grew sick. Asked every ancestor she knew by name and then some for help, wrung her hands with High John the Conqueror root as she beseeched God to grant her one holy favor: save her daughter from a too soon homegoing.

It wrecked Smoke.

He turned bitter, surly, and prone to drinking all day and night. The resentment in his eyes when she could cure ailments in other people, but not her own child, festered like an infection full of pus in his spirit. He said not one word to her, even though she sensed that negative energy clinging to him.

Her sorrow buried itself in her chest and she stumbled around each day numb for many months. They were not good to each other. He got it in his head to leave, like going away would banish Selah from their collective memory. She cursed him out. Beat her hands on his chest. How could he up and leave their child? Who was going to take care of her grave? Talk to her? Let her know they loved her beyond the veil of life?

He didn't skip off in the night when he left. That big gorgeous man looked Annie straight in her face and told her he couldn't stay. If he did, he feared he would turn into his father. A sullen, abusive man.

"Go on then," she said, "You scared to handle your feelings like a man, then leave. I'll stay and honor her and make a life with this pain."

He winced, and she turned her back on him, prepared an herbal remedy for a customer who was due to come by that day.

Smoke left her.

She had the community's support and sympathy. Built a business using the conjuring and medicinal skills she learned from her grandmother and Smoke's mother, Taiwo, both Hoodoo women. Taiwo nurtured her growth of knowledge until her passing two years ago. Annie stayed rooted in her power and fierce determination to keep her people thriving in Clarksdale.

She snuck a sip of the good hooch and squeezed her eyes shut from the burn that scorched her throat.

"Ooh, wee! That is some strong corn liquor," Annie gasped, patting her chest.

Millie cackled and sipped it like a pro, the moonshine sliding down her gullet like water.

"I don't know how you do that," Annie said with wonderment on her face.

"Y'all can't be drinking up the supply," Smoke said.

Annie jumped at the sound of her husband's voice. He'd moved in stealth down from the top floor to the main one. Grace wandered off to check on her husband, Bo.

"You ain't paying enough to be worried about me taking a drink when I want one," Annie joked.

"Thought I paid you in other ways that ain't got nothing to do with cash money," he teased, sliding his tongue across his top lip.

Millie smirked and lifted freshly cooked fish from the fryers and dumped them on some paper to drain. Annie wiped her hands and called one of the teen-aged girls over from the back to take over her spot.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"Going to mingle and let people know we got a hot batch ready. Why you stressing me?"

"As long as you're doing that and not flirting with customers."

"Flirting with who?"

Annie put a hand on her hip. Eyed him up and down.

Smoke glanced around. The crowd wasn't paying attention to him.

"Summa these menfolk might have some amorous intentions toward you that they shouldn't," he said.

She slanted her head and waited for him to continue. He snuck a glimpse of her chest. Annie wore her good bra tonight. Her breasts sat high like mountain peaks and looked voluptuous in her new velvet green dress with the few sparkly sequins she sewed into it. She gave enough cleavage with her beads falling down the center of her breasts guiding inquisitive eyes to the Promised Land. Green was Smoke's favorite color on her. Every man watched her work the floor all evening looking like a Hoodoo queen.

Her heavy hips and high riding backside cast spells on other men as she passed them by, and that worried Smoke in that sexually charged environment. Just because they made love hours ago didn't mean he had her safely tucked in his pocket. And he knew that. He'd been gone much too long to think other men hadn't plotted to scoop her up. It was one thing for her to be out of sight/out of mind while he was up north and not faced with other suitors pursuing her. Quite another to witness it full on in person. That's why he chased the back of her dress every chance he got when she went to wandering in the juke.

His reconciliation with her was still tenuous. By his facial expression, she knew he was having flashbacks of sticking his thick dick in her deep, gushy pussy, and he worried that some other man would dare to wet his dick in it, too. It kept him on his toes. Territorial. He'd already shot two men who tried to steal his liquor when he first arrived in town. If a man tried stealing his wife's pussy…there'd be a funeral in the morning.

Smoke didn't answer her question any further about flirting and cut his eyes away from her face. She slunk around him, draped her arms across his shoulders from the side, and stared up into the brown eyes he once gave their baby girl.

"What you worried about, Elijah?" she purred playfully.

"Ah, woman, get on and handle your business."

He tried to act nonchalant, but his eyes darted back and forth to clock anybody waiting to approach her when she moved away from him.

She kissed his cheek and sauntered off, glancing back to catch him watching her. Sure enough, three other men did the same, grinning at the seductive way she swung her hips. They looked elsewhere when Smoke turned their way, going in the opposite direction of her.

"How you folks doing? We got some fresh fish hot and ready. Some Creole potato salad, too! Don't be shy about getting seconds or thirds…hey Earline! I love that dress on you! Shake it, sis! Casper, let some other fellas get a chance to dance with her…hey Ora Lee! I ain't seen you out in a long time, girl!"

Annie circled the extensive building interior. Smoke's twin brushed past her on swift legs with Mary tailing him in her expensive pale satin dress. The juke stayed turned up, with Delta Slim leading the charge. People drank, ate, and had a damn good time.

Smoke stayed watching her, and she decided to ruffle his feathers.

"Oscar, don't you owe me a dance?"

She tapped a man's shoulder, and he showed all his teeth, so happy to hold her hand and swing her out on the floor. Her left arm casually rested on his slim shoulders, and he loved the feel of her near him.

"Aw, Miss Annie, I been waiting all night for a chance to dance with you."

He was only a couple of years older than her, searching for a wife, and he'd been pestering her to go out even though she told him she was still married…for seven years straight. With no word from Smoke, she started keeping company with Oscar briefly two years ago, but the bones she threw after their third picnic date told her they were not evenly yoked. They also told her Smoke wasn't dead. And if he wasn't dead, he was bound to come home someday. She let Oscar down easy, but he never gave up hope. He dated around, but yearned for her still. It showed in the way he held her while they danced. Annie kept it short and chaste.

"Thank you," she said.

"Why you running off, Annie? You think I'm scared of that runaway husband that showed up out the blue?"

She grinned.

"I got more fish to cook and some money to make," she said.

"Don't be shy coming my way again," he said, winking at her.

His buddy had a different idea.

"Nigga, you oughta be scared. Them Smokestack twins ain't to be tested if you want to stay healthy. You ain't hear about them fellas that tried to steal from Smoke today?" his buddy said.

Annie slipped away from the conversation and checked on Smoke, who still stood up high overlooking the railing. Lips poked out again, but he wasn't taking the bait.

She returned to her post after using the privy outside and washing her hands. Stack's trickster self found himself caught in the middle of a heated conversation within a circle of young women who didn't look happy with him.

"What I miss?" Annie said.

Alberta nodded over toward Mary, who sipped a glass of wine at the far end of the food table, watching Stack like he'd vanish into thin air if she didn't keep her eyes glued to him.

"Stack called those ladies field bitches, and they heard Mary say she'd beat up every one of them over him," Alberta said.

"Oh, Lord," Annie sighed.

One woman wagged her finger in Stack's face and spoke loud enough for Mary to hear.

"Her mama was a field bitch too!"

Millie went over to help get the argument under control. Stack looked somewhat remorseful, but maybe it was because the darker Black women were lighting his ass up. They didn't play that shit.

Alberta inched closer and lowered her voice.

"You see that gal right there? The one fussing the most? She's Grace Latimer's niece. Her sister Jessie left town seven months after Stack left. He was messing with her and Mary at the same time. They say she had two of his babies. Twin girls. Her people carried her off to Pittsburgh and got her married up quick. They were too scared to confront Stack about it. Now that's a rumor, so don't go telling folks you heard that from me."

Annie studied the young woman cursing Stack out.

"Does he know he has children by Jessie?" Annie said.

"Like he would care if it's true. He a rolling stone, that one. I wouldn't be surprised if he got a heap of babies all over the states the way he sweet talks women out they drawers."

Annie glanced over at Mary again. She stayed watching her great love with twisted lips and heat in her eyes. Annie felt bad for her. It made her wonder about Smoke. Were there babies out there in Chicago with his last name attached to them? No, she would've known. Felt it. Her small bag of bones would've told her as well. She prayed for that man to come back home safe, and he did. Took him a long time, but she had him back for herself.

Stack smoothed over the argument, apologized, let the women have free drinks on him, and they rolled their eyes and went about their business partying. He shuffled away to join the rougher men gambling with their Chinese guests in a back room, his gold-rimmed teeth gleaming. Mary huffed loudly, then flounced off into the crowd.

"Whew, I don't want that kinda love coming after me," Millie said, "She sticking to him like a haint in the graveyard."

"She shouldn't even be here," Alberta interjected. "He keeps telling her to go, but she won't leave. What if that sheriff come 'round here to check this place out and they see her? Ain't enough bribery money in this world to keep them crackas from killing him or us if they think she white. Her too. God rest her mama's soul, but she ain't doing us no good being here," Alberta said.

"She knows, but she don't care," Millie said.

Annie fixed plates quietly.

"Annie, maybe you should talk to her. She listens to you. She your play cousin anyway," Millie said.

"Ain't nothing I can say to her that will change her mind. Y'all know I'm married to Stack's other half. I loves me some Smoke, so I know what she's feeling inside. Can't explain it to y'all what it's like being in love with a Moore man. They cut from a different cloth."

"Oh, so they be up in them guts having y'all speaking tongues then," Millie teased.

Annie guffawed and grabbed onto her friend's arm to hush her. The women laughed together and Annie sighed afterward.

"All they got is this one night," Annie said. "We're safe enough in here with our people. Stack gotta decide what he gonna do with her on his own is all I'm saying. I'll talk to her in a little bit. But we got work to do."

Annie supervised the cooking, fanned herself, and chatted up the patrons buying liquor. She couldn't stop grinning at everything and everybody. The festive atmosphere hadn't been in Clarksdale like that for years. People needed the release from toiling in the fields and their troubles.

She took another walk to cool off. The sweat between her breasts and thighs got to her. She fanned herself down in a corner and gazed at the dance floor where folks stomped feet and threw hands up in the air.

The scent of tobacco wafted near her nose.

Smoke found his way next to her. He handed her a small mason jar half-filled with wine. He held another for himself.

"For a job well done," he said.

They clinked the jars together, and she sipped the white wine. He did the same after tossing his cigarette. The sweet liquid tasted good. Not too dry, nor overly sweet.

"You look beautiful, Annie. I meant to tell you that before we got here…but we got busy and…"

"Thank you," she said.

He took their empty jars away and handed them to a young man walking past and asked him to drop them off over at the liquor table to be washed.

"Would you like to dance, Mrs. Moore?" he asked her.

"I would love to, Mr. Moore."

A faint perceptible smile turned up one side of his mouth. She delighted in the rare sight of seeing his dimples. One would think only Stack had them with the lack of smiles Smoke gave freely. So stingy.

He threaded his fingers with hers and purposely walked to the center so everyone would see they were together. The strut in his step gave away his pride at having her by his side. If other men didn't take the obvious hint that she was back with her husband, the gun openly displayed on Smoke's side would deter them.

When he pulled her in close for a down home slow drag, her breasts rested on his wide chest where they were meant to be. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and those muscular ones of his circled her waist. He'd taken off his tweed jacket and the heat from him gripped around her as tight as his arms. They rocked their bodies together and his eyes latched onto hers.

Smoke didn't need words to speak what he felt. He snaked his hips and pressed into her tight.

Love looked right into her eyes through him. So raw and intimate. She almost had to turn away from his intense gaze.

"Baby, you're the finest woman in here," he whispered in her ear.

He let the tip of his tongue swipe the shell of her ear and spoke her name slowly, like an incantation. The hair of his mustache tickled her face the way she remembered, and he rubbed on her Rubenesque shape. Smoke loved him some full-figured women and although she had been a slender teenager when they first met at a church revival gathering, he took one look at her mother and saw the future of what Annie would become. It probably helped that she'd grown plump round titties already, but he'd zeroed in on her like a hummingbird to nectar.

His prediction came true. She filled out in the hips and rump. Her breasts turned buxom. He became an ass man and a lover of big tits.

Smoke liked how snug they were against him in that moment because his dick already poked at her through his trousers. She slid a hand down and palmed that third leg.

"Hey, now," he said, looking around.

"You think your dick the only one hard out here?" she said.

He lowered his hand on her waist and slapped her ass.

"Play around with me, woman, and I'm liable to take you in a room upstairs and bend you over again. You want me to make another big mess inside you?"

Annie covered his mouth with her hand, shushing him.

He pulled it away.

"What? You can talk dirty to me, but I can't give it right back to ya?"

She threw back her head and beamed, feeling tingles all over from the raspy tone of his voice. He gently placed his lips on her neck and sucked on it while stroking her bare arms. His fingertips ignited her flesh and when he finally kissed her, she didn't hesitate to slide her tongue against his. Her heart thumped with the excitement of their lips touching and fired off sparks everywhere on her body. When the man started lifting and separating her ass cheeks, kneading them like he had biscuits to make, she had to shut him down, or else he'd take her right there on the dance floor.

"I gotta get back to work, Elijah—"

"Mmm hmmm."

She pulled his hands away from her backside reluctantly. He slapped her rump again playfully.

"When we get back home, I'll get them big legs around me again," he teased.

He grabbed onto his dick and showed her the bulge ready for her. She waved a hand to shoo him away, but he held her from behind and pressed his temple against hers, swaying to the music. He gently tugged on the soft abundance of her belly and held it while putting his tongue in her ear again.

"You my woman, understand? My wife."

"Yes."

He patted her rump, and she meandered over to the food, playing with her protective haint blue beads, and giving herself time to collect her thoughts about Smoke. She grinned until her cheeks hurt; her husband's touches still lingered over the skin of her arms and midsection.

"Love looks good on you, Annie," Millie said.

Annie patted her friend's hand and calculated the amount of food left to cook. Plates were moving, but the liquor not as quick while folks danced. They would have to lower prices on the booze. Smoke wouldn't like that. The man wanted to make a profit, not break even…or worse. Surveying the crowd, if Club Juke could maintain its current capacity week after week, they would be alright.

She checked the trays of uncooked fish left. Not enough. Millie and Alberta noticed it, too. There was a tub of extra fish on ice in Smoke's truck.

"We need to get the rest from the truck…Hampton, come help me bring the fish in," Annie asked a young man standing idly by the table watching the dancing.

"I can get it for you, Annie," Beau Willie said.

He tossed a bottle of Irish beer into a waste bin.

"That's alright Beau Willie, Hamp can help me—"

"I got it," he said.

He headed out the side door, and Annie followed. She paused at the door's threshold and glanced over her shoulder. Smoke and Stack spoke to each other on the landing of the stairs leading to the second level.

She slipped outside and the balmy fall air felt hot and sticky on her skin.

"The truck's over there," she said, pointing.

He ambled over and she followed behind him.

A crow sat on the truck. Annie stared at it. The bird's eye shine announced its presence. It was odd to see a lone crow like that at night. Normally they did communal roosting hidden away. They preferred safety in numbers, and the anomaly of seeing one crow wide awake and watching her sent Annie's intuition into overdrive.

A pale white moon attracted her attention, and she turned to look at Club Juke in its entirety, surrounded by dense trees. The music bubbled out from it, and so did all the laughter inside. They were isolated from everyone in Clarksdale. The sawmill was the perfect property to buy.

The crow kept watching her.

It stretched its wings with a couple of loud flaps and then settled into observing her and Beau Willie. She touched her beads. The crow seemed familiar to her, like from some dream she had recently, one that woke her up in the middle of the night panting. Smoke had been in the dream with her. It had been so real that she could smell his skin and the cigarette smoke on his clothes. The crow spoke to her like a friend in that dream and told her not to worry. Her man was coming home soon.

Annie shook her head. Focused on the task at hand.

"It's up in there, Beau Willie," she said.

He pulled the tarp back and climbed onto the truck. He picked up the heavy tub of fish Smoke bought from Bo Chow and left it on the edge before jumping down on the ground.

"Thank you for helping me," she said.

"No problem, Annie. Always happy to help."

Beau Willie peered at her with softness in his deep-set eyes. Recently widowed, he cared for his four young children with his mother's help. His grown face still held the boyish charm she fell for as a teenager.

"Annie, can I ask you something personal?"

"What?"

"Is he staying for good this time?"

Annie wiped the back of her neck and turned to head back. He clasped her hand and held her in place.

"I'm not tryin' to be disrespectful to your husband. We both know who he is and what he does. You deserve better, Annie. Someone who won't run out on you when things get tough or even when bad things happen. I loved you first. He stole you from me—"

"Nobody stole me, Beau Willie."

"Then why him? Huh?"

"You and I were so young when we dated. You had plenty of girlfriends after me and married a good woman—"

"They weren't you, Annie. I've had you in my heart for a long time. If he doesn't stay this time like he didn't before…then give me a chance to rekindle us. I can give you a family already. I work hard…look after my kin. I ain't never stopped loving you. Even when you chose him over me, I held you here…"

He touched his heart.

"He's my husband. What you want, Beau Willie, is what I caint give. Maybe…maybe if Smoke never came back…maybe if he'd been killed or thrown in prison and stuck on a chain gang for life…maybe if something like that happened…our bond would be broken. But that man is a part of me and planted so deep in my soul that there ain't nothin' that you or any other man in that juke can say to change my mind different. I would walk through hell with him. Do you hear me?"

"He already put you through hell, Annie. Left you all alone, for all those years—"

"But he back now," she said, shifting her weight onto one foot.

She hated Beau Willie in that instant. He had the audacity to bring out the niggling twinges of doubt into her mind about Smoke.

The click of a revolver behind them snapped them to attention.

"You heard her, Beau Willie. I'm back now. I suggest you take that fish into the juke and stay the fuck away from my wife," Smoke said.

Beau Willie blinked rapidly and stepped back from her.

"No need to have that out, Smoke," Beau Willie said.

"Why not? I come outside and see another man propositioning my wife to leave me, and what am I supposed to do? Let that shit fly? I should blast holes in you right now, but I got a business to run. Pick that fish up, nigga, and go."

Beau Willie glared at Smoke. He didn't dare look at Annie again. Smoke aimed the gun at the man's head.

"I can take you out clean or painful. Your choice," Smoke said.

Beau Willie lifted the metal tub of iced fish and trudged back into the juke.

Smoke holstered his gun and faced Annie.

They stared at one another in silence.

"How much you hear?" she asked.

"Everything."

Her tongue worried the roof of her mouth as her eyes welled up.

"You really staying, right?" she said.

"You let that nigga get in your head?"

Annie closed her eyes. Tilted her head back slightly so no tears would fall.

"I'm staying," he reassured her.

She nodded her head once, afraid the knots in her stomach would find a way to take root in her chest.

"You believe me, dontcha, baby?"

"Like you told me back at my place. I believe what I can see," she said.

She left him outside and returned to the makeshift kitchen to oversee the cleaning of the fish. Smoke did his rounds on the floor, and she fought the anxiety of worrying about him and his plans. Her grandmother always told her people showed you who they were, and she could believe in what Smoke did. Not what he said.

Delta Slim beckoned for Sammie to take center stage with pride in his voice. The young man was finally getting his chance to sing.

"Tell them who you are…" Delta Slim said.

Sammie shyly and sweetly introduced himself, and Annie couldn't help but smile at how precious he was to the Moore family. He was her family, too, and he glanced at her briefly. She nodded her head for him to show the world his gifts and Sammie started singing something he never shared before and the hairs on her neck and arms raised up.

Immediately, a tunnel vision warped her reality and Annie pushed out her breath to keep herself from having a panic attack and passing out.

Sammie.

His guitar.

Annie stared at the walls as Sammie wailed out the blues with Delta Slim perched on stage like a proud Poppa. She could see the people shouting and encouraging Sammie to let loose, and when he held a long note, his voice ripped through the ceiling and Annie sensed there were more people in the sawmill than the ones she could physically see. Some unseen entity darted past her skin, touching her like bird wings fluttering in the air. High above, perched on a rafter, the crow from outside gazed down at her. The surge of power in the room engulfed the entire juke.

Smoke looked in her direction, just as shocked by the music and Sammie's voice and also by the triumphant way the people danced. Grace and Bo also twirled in time to the blues music that wrapped everyone in a cloak of revelry and freedom to be who they be.

Annie gasped, wildly overstimulated by the unseen. She touched the top of her head, feeling the sensation of an overwhelming presence.

It freed her.

She locked eyes with Smoke far across the room and he strode forward, zigzagging through the crowd on a direct path to her. The weight of Sammie's music slowed everything in her mind down and her husband's movement seemed even slower. She moved from around the counter and lunged for him, pushing through sweaty people, needing to get to her man.

Smoke reached for her, and she cradled his face.

"I need you. Here with me," she said.

"I ain't going nowhere."

Their lips crashed together, tongues battling to subdue the other in a frenetic exchange of energy and desire. He entwined their fingers and pulled her through the crowd, heading for the stairs. The music had risen to a crescendo that vibrated on her skin with an intensity that should've burst into flames.

Smoke pulled her up the stairs and into a room that he used for himself, that he planned to make his office if the juke proved profitable. He slammed the door shut behind them.

He spun her around and helped her take off her dress, unhooked her bra, and pushed her onto an old cot covered in a coarse blanket. Smoke undressed quickly, and the music rose through the floor.

"Somebody take me…in your arms tonight…!"

Sammies mature voice thundered below them.

The only thing Smoke had on was the mojo bag she made for him and his metal dog tags from the war. His dick pointed at her and dripped pre-cum. He barely gave her time to pull off her panties before his erection parted her slick labia and sank into her.

"Oh…Jesus!" Annie shouted.

Her man was down in that bottom.

He cradled her breasts and stretched his mouth around her areola, sucking to his heart's content. She wrapped her thighs around him and he gave her more of the deep dick she'd been craving for seven years.

"This is my pussy," mumbled into her ear.

The weight of him smothered her in scorching heat and his steady heartbeat.

He dropped to his knees and spread her legs, licking his wide tongue against her labia, giving extra tender care to her clit. Daddy was hungry and made her a sopping wet mess. He took his time until there was nearly a puddle under her.

"Turn over," he said, helping her move into the position wanted.

She placed herself on her hands and knees. He plunged his tongue inside her entrance and she squealed. Rubbing on her ass, he stood and inserted that thickness between his legs back into her, grunting and cussing up a storm. Her pussy felt exquisite to him by the sounds he moaned out. She was as hot and gushy as he wanted. He angled himself so he could watch her titties hang and smack together with each powerful thrust. Annie was so wet that her pussy sounded like it was having its own conversation taking his dick in the small room.

He climbed on the cot with Annie and pulled her onto her knees. She spread her thighs wide. He took back shots, holding her arms behind her, and Annie's tits bounced like crazy, forcing throaty moans from him. The pounding of the rhythm below them matched the pounding Smoke gave her pussy. The frenzy of his dick going in and out pulled lustful cries of pleasure from her lips. He palmed her breasts and rolled his fingers across her big nipples.

"You coulda been getting this pussy all the time," she said.

He clutched onto her tits, squeezing them, before gripping her arms tight, delighting in her titties shaking and arousing him more.

Annie squeezed her walls around his girth and he shouted her name.

"Pussy so good…Annie…"

She took control and pulled away from him.

"Whatchu doing? I need that shit…" he gasped.

She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. Her thighs spread and wedged against his hips. Her breasts rested on his chest. He fondled them and stared up at her.

"I love you, Elijah. I never stopped loving you. All these years…I never once wanted any man the way I wanted you."

He thrust up, and she snapped her eyes closed. He stretched her like no other, and it felt incredible.

"Elijah…"

He thumbed her clit, allowing the slick wetness from her pubic hairs to coat the button every man wanted to push on her since Smoke had been away. She lowered her head and kissed him. His lips were so fluffy and soft against her mouth. The taste of her pussy there pleased him. He licked his lips as she tasted herself.

"I love you…hear me, woman? I love you. Don't let one of these niggas get killed tryna take you from me."

"No one can take me from you."

"You sure?"

She stopped moving.

"You think I'd want anyone else?"

She spread her hands on the wide planes of his chest. Traced two fingers down the path below his belly button of soft hairs that led to the wild pubic bush surrounding his dick.

He didn't answer, trusting the sincerity in her eyes.

"All I ever wanted was you…just you, Elijah. And when you left me…"

He lifted himself to face her and held his hands around her waist and backside.

"Shhh…shhh. Don't cry, Annie. Baby, please…I don't ever want to make you cry again. I promise."

He kissed away each teardrop that fell from her eyes. The soft pecks built up her confidence in him and she breathed easier. His voice stayed soft.

"I told you I missed you and wanted to be with you…I also want us to try for a baby again. Build our family," he said.

"You do?"

"Yes. That is…if you want that, too."

She hugged him tight.

"I do…I do!"

She wept so hard her eyes blurred. Smoke gave her one of his rare smiles, and her heart nearly burst with joy.

Annie rocked on him, pleasuring herself and him. Smoke held her breasts and sucked on her nipples.

"Oh…damn…Elijah…you're making me…oh Jesus!"

Annie came hard, and it rocked her world. Smoke massaged her breasts and watched her face transform with the rapturous climax. He grazed his teeth across a nipple and she shuddered, exalting in the sensations cascading all across her skin.

"We can try for a baby right now," he said.

He flipped her back over onto the small cot and she yelped as he tossed her legs over his biceps.

"Will you let me put another baby in you, Annie?"

"I sure will," she gasped, nearly out of breath.

His dimples melted her. He got down to business, too. Touching her skin all over, kissing her throat and whispering words of love in her ear. He licked on her nipples and stared at her fullness.

"Touching you is like touching the beauty of the night sky, Annie. You my jewel…my most precious thing in this world. Without you…I ain't fit to live."

"Hush now…"

"Nah, I want you to hear me."

"I want you to show me."

He grinned and pumped that thickness into her slowly, letting her feel every inch. Her mouth parted, and he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Ooh…Elijah…baby…"

Her pants came faster, and the groans from him aroused her to new heights. He hunched over her and every muscle flexed for her. Their sweat mingled and his strokes curled her toes. He lowered her legs and thumbed her clit, watching his dick go in and out. His lips poked out and his face carried a serious expression.

She recognized that look.

He was about to cum.

"Annie…baby…I'm getting close…"

She fondled her own breasts, and it created more tension for him. His eyes darted from her pussy to her tits. The way his eyes narrowed, she knew it was going to be a big load.

"Annie!"

"Yes!"

"I'm cummin'!"

He threw his head back and roared her name, his thumb faithfully rubbing her clit until she spilled over into a new release. His dick throbbed inside her and she matched the pulses squeezing her walls around him to milk every drop of cum.

"Fuckkkk!"

His hoarse cry drowned out her whimpers of pleasure. Her pussy kept throbbing around him until the last surge of her orgasm quieted down enough where she could move again.

"Elijah?"

His eyes watered. Tears fell down on her. The tone of his voice trembled.

"I'm sorry, baby…for everything…"

"My love…it's okay…you're here with me…we're here together," she said.

"I can't give you back those seven years…"

"Shhh…stay with me here…in this moment… in the right now."

He twisted his head to the side in shame. She pulled it back to look at her.

"We here," she said

He kissed her forehead.

Smoke snuggled around her until they were in a tight spoon together. He played with a breast and listened to her breathing calm down. The music below them kept going and Annie didn't want to leave his arms ever again. She shifted her position, and Smoke rested his head on her breasts. Stroking his hair gently, she snatched that tiny moment of peace for themselves, forgetting about everything and everybody in the juke.

Annie cleaned herself up as best she could with the buckets of water Smoke brought up from a well out behind the juke. No one paid attention to him or questioned why he needed to tote water and clean rags upstairs. He cleaned himself up, too, and they rejoined the dancing below.

She floated.

Making love to him grounded her and pushed away any doubt.

He was going to stay with her.

She hoped they had conceived a little one. Lord knows he put enough semen in her over the course of a day to open a whorehouse. She laughed at the thought.

Smoke made his rounds, checking in on everything before he slipped his hand over hers to dance one more time.

She nuzzled her face against his cheek, pulling an open smile from his face. It was such a shock that even Delta Slim had to look twice to make sure it was real.

She hooked her arms around her husband's neck, swayed with him in time to the music and their own internal rhythm. Part of his mojo bag peeked out from his vest. She touched it. Early that morning, she had fed it, prayed over it, recharged it with her love and that of her ancestors to protect him.

"Blood of my blood…bone of my bone…," she whispered.

"You putting a root on me, woman? I told you… I'm home for good. Forever," he said.

"Forever ever?" she teased.

"For always."

"Ashe," she affirmed.

"What that mean again?"

"And so it is."

"I like that."

"Me too."

"Annie?"

"Yes, Elijah?"

"I love you."

He kissed her softly. Kissed life back into her.

The music played on, and for a few hours, it did seem like forever.

A.N.:

Wanted to put out a short Smoke/Annie fic to practice getting Annie's voice for another fic. I plan to write more about these two. How they met. Had their first child etc. This short is connected to my "Choose One" longer fic. You may recognize a speculative figure lurking in the story if you've started reading "Choose One." Enjoy!

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[hoshifighting]

Bodyguard

— Synopsis: During a trip defined by your father, you, in an act of provocation, choose Seungcheol to be your personal bodyguard. — WC: 8.8k — WARNINGS: Smut, reader makes Seungcheol do push ups in front of her, choking, "ma'am calling", squirting, mentions of gun, reader gives Seungcheol lots of filthy hints, pussy eating, fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex and etc.

You walk in your high-heeled shoes inside the basement, their echo reverberating through the dimly lit space. As you enter, you're greeted by a straight line of men, all dressed in black suits, their expressions solemn and focused. Their posture straightens as they catch sight of you, a clear indication of respect.

You stop by the side of your Dad, crossing your arms as you survey the group before you. "Sweetheart, those are the recruited soldiers recently," he informs you.

You tilt your head slightly, analyzing the men in front of you, before deciding to approach one. Your eyes land on a particular soldier, his black eyebrows thick and striking. Without hesitation, you walk towards him, your gaze sweeping from his feet to his head.

"What's your name, soldier?" you inquire, your tone firm but not unkind.

The soldier meets your gaze, his expression composed. "Seungcheol, Ma'am," he replies respectfully.

You nod, considering him for a moment before asking for his last name. "Choi, Choi Seungcheol, Ma'am," he responds promptly.

Curiosity piqued, you pressed further. "Have we met before?" you ask, searching his face for any sign of recognition.

The man shakes his head slightly. "No, Ma'am," he replies, his voice steady.

Lie.

You continue your line of questioning, wanting to learn more about this soldier who has caught your attention. "How old are you?" you inquire, noting the maturity in his features despite his youthful appearance.

"28, Ma'am," he answers without hesitation.

You consider him thoughtfully for a moment before nodding, acknowledging his response.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," you command, your voice firm and authoritative.

He promptly moves his gaze to meet yours, finding your cold expression unwavering.

"Which department were you placed in?" you inquire, your tone sharp and demanding.

"East patrol, Ma'am," he responds promptly, his voice steady despite the intensity of your scrutiny.

Nodding to your Dad, you signal for him to make a readjustment regarding the department of Soldier Choi.

Your Dad, slightly puzzled, asks, "Which department should I put him in, Sweetie?"

You tilt your head slightly, squeezing your eyes as you continue to analyze Soldier Choi. After a moment of consideration, you respond with a decisiveness that catches everyone off guard.

"My private security guard," you declare, your tone leaving no room for argument.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he struggles to suppress the urge to gag. The soldiers standing beside him also try their best to conceal their reactions, but the shock is evident on their faces.

You need to contain the bubbles in your chest, which wants to make you laugh in his face. 

You and Seungcheol hated each other. 

Everyone at the agency knew about this tea, apparently, only your father didn't know.

You give them a last look, and they bow respectfully before you turn to Soldier Choi. "Meet me in two hours," you command, your voice leaving no room for negotiation. "In the storage room on the fourth floor," you add, glancing at your wristwatch, noting the time.

Soldier Choi nods in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as he absorbs your instructions.

"With packed suitcases," you continue, your tone leaving no room for questions, "We are going to Japan."

With that final directive, you turn on your heel and stride purposefully out of the basement, leaving behind the line of soldiers and the curious glances that follow you.

You couldn't shake the bitter taste in your mouth as the name Choi Seungcheol echoed in your mind. Years of working with the FBI had honed your instincts for identifying potential threats, and Seungcheol's sudden appearance in your life triggered a flood of memories.

Training years ago had brought you face to face with him, your Dad decided that he wanted you to follow his lineage, two young adults embarking on a journey into the world of espionage. You had formed a light camaraderie with him, feeling a connection that bordered on friendship. 

But everything changed when Seungcheol made the fateful decision to follow the path of another spy agency. It felt like a betrayal, a sharp sting that left a lingering bitterness in its wake. 

And when he came back to your Dad agency, because the other agency simply rejected the bunch of young men at their door, you couldn't forgive him. 

Japan, 8h34 p.m. 

You sit back in the plush armchair of the hotel room, arms crossed casually over your chest as you watch Seungcheol sweat it out with a series of push-ups. His muscles flex with each repetition, a testament to his dedication to maintaining his physical prowess.

"Are you tired yet?" you quip, a playful glint in your eyes as you observe his exertion.

Seungcheol pauses briefly to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling with each heavy inhale. "No, ma'am," he responds between breaths, determination etched into his features.

You raise an eyebrow, impressed by his resilience. "Are you going to give up anytime soon?" you tease, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

He grits his teeth and resumes his push-ups, a low groan escaping him as he pushes himself to continue. "No, ma'am," he grunts, his voice strained with effort.

You chuckle softly, finding amusement in his unwavering determination. "Well, don't strain yourself too much," you jest, leaning back further into the comfort of the armchair. "Wouldn't want you collapsing from exhaustion before our next mission, now would we?"

Seungcheol shoots you a playful glare, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips despite his physical exertion. "Not a chance, ma'am," he retorts, his resolve unshaken.

As Seungcheol's arms tremble with exhaustion, you can't help but savor the view of his determination. Despite the strain evident in every muscle, he continues to push himself beyond his limits. It surprises you just how strong he still is, a testament to his resilience and unwavering dedication.

"Still going, huh?" you remark, a playful grin tugging at your lips as you watch him struggle through each push-up.

Seungcheol's breaths come out in heavy pants, his movements slowing as fatigue sets in. "Can't... give up..." he manages to groan out between labored breaths.

You chuckle softly, impressed by his tenacity. "Oh, I see," you tease, leaning forward slightly to get a closer look at his struggling form. "I guess I'll have to find someone else to carry me around then."

His response is a strained grunt as he forces himself to push through another repetition. The effort is evident on his face, and you can't help but admire his determination, even as his movements become slower and more difficult.

You can't help but tease him further, enjoying the sight of his struggle. "Oh, come on, Seungcheol," you taunt, feigning sympathy. "You're looking a bit shaky there. Don't tell me you're starting to feel your age."

With great difficulty, Seungcheol manages to retort, his voice strained but determined, "You're...in the same age...as me."

Touché.

Your smile falters for a moment, caught off guard by his response. Despite the playful banter, his words hit home, a reminder of the passage of time and the challenges that come with it.

"Alright, that's enough," you concede, your tone softening as you watch him collapse onto the ground, panting heavily, his arms sore from the exertion.

As you approach him, Seungcheol sits on his knees, catching his breath, his gaze fixed on the ground. 

"Choi Seungcheol..." you say slowly, drawing out each syllable as you watch his reaction closely.

He meets your gaze with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, wondering what you have up your sleeve.

"You thought you could hide from me, didn't you?" you continue, your voice laced with amusement as you lean in closer, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

He shifts uncomfortably under your scrutiny, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he schools his expression into one of mock innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ma'am," he replies smoothly, though there's a hint of tension in his voice.

You chuckle softly, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease him. "Oh, please," you retort, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "You can't hide from me, Seungcheol. I always find my targets, no matter how hard they try to evade me."

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "You just love to make my life difficult, don't you?" he quips, in feigned annoyance.

"Wouldn't be much fun otherwise, now would it?" you reply with a grin, leaning back in your seat as you revel in the banter between you.

You grab Seungcheol's chin roughly, forcing him to meet your gaze as you shake his face slightly. "How pretty," you remark, a hint of sarcasm in your tone. "Wanting to work with me again, hmm? I bet you've missed me, haven't you?"

His jaw tenses under your grip, but he maintains his composure, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of defiance and apprehension.

Releasing him abruptly, you let him stumble backward slightly before continuing. "Well, since you seem so eager to work with me again," you say, your voice dripping with disdain, "you better act like the good bodyguard they recruited you to be. Or else..."

Seungcheol arches an eyebrow, a silent challenge in his expression as he waits for you to elaborate.

You lean in closer, your voice low and menacing. "Or else," you continue, "the feedback about your image within the FBI will be ruined. You wouldn't want that, now would you?"

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Seungcheol's features at the mention of his reputation being tarnished within the agency. Despite the facade of confidence he wears, you can see the doubt creeping into his eyes as he weighs the consequences of defying you.

With a satisfied smirk, you straighten up, knowing that you've effectively reminded him of the stakes at hand.

"Now come on," you say, your tone lightening as you change the subject, "I'm craving the pasta from the restaurant down the street."

Seungcheol gets up slowly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features as he adjusts the gun at his hip. He follows you begrudgingly, his expression revealing his dissatisfaction with your little revelation.

You sit across from Seungcheol at the restaurant, the aroma of freshly cooked pasta filling the air. But instead of digging into his meal, he sits with his arms crossed and a bratty expression on his face, his untouched food growing cold in front of him.

You can't help but coo at him teasingly, your voice dripping with mock concern. "What's the matter, Seungcheol? Not hungry?"

He hears you, but refuses to meet your gaze, instead opting to scoff and look away, his stubbornness evident in every line of his body.

You lean forward slightly, your playful demeanor not faltering in the face of his resistance. "Come on," you cajole, reaching across the table to nudge his plate closer to him, "don't be like that. You'll regret it if you let this delicious food go to waste."

But Seungcheol remains unmoved, his bratty facade firmly in place as he continues to sulk in silence. During dinner, you convinced him to eat the meal in front of you, after much insistence.

As you walk in the direction of the elevator, a mischievous glint sparkles in your eyes as you suppress a smile, preparing for the best theater of your life. With a dramatic flair, you pretend to stumble, a hand flying to your forehead as if you're about to faint.

Seungcheol reacts immediately, his reflexes kicking in as he reaches out to steady you, his strong arms wrapping around you to prevent you from falling. You suppress another laugh at his quick response, marveling at the effectiveness of your little performance.

"Oh!" you exclaim, feigning distress. "I suddenly feel terrible. These heels are killing me."

Without missing a beat, he scoops you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style as he heads towards the elevator.

You tease, unable to resist the opportunity to poke fun at Seungcheol's expense. "Wow," you remark with exaggerated admiration, "even after millions of push-ups, you can still carry me around like it's nothing. Oh! Seungcheol, you're so strong."

He lets out a slight blush, rolling his eyes at your playful comment. "If you say one more word," he warns, his tone tinged with mock irritation, "I'm going to let you fall."

You smirk in response, unfazed by his threat. "Sorry, Seungcheol," you retort teasingly, "but it's not you who gives the orders around here."

With a playful twinkle in your eye, you lean back comfortably in his arms, reveling in the banter between the two of you.

After a leisurely soak, you emerge from the bathroom feeling rejuvenated, a soft towel wrapped snugly around your body. With a contented sigh, you begin to apply cream to your arms, the familiar routine calming your mind as you focus on the simple task at hand.

But as you turn towards the bed, you can't help but burst into laughter at the sight that greets you. Seungcheol is sprawled out on his bed, his face buried in the pillow and his back turned to you, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

You shake your head in amusement, unable to resist the urge to tease him. "Looks like someone had a long day," you quip, your laughter bubbling up uncontrollably.

Seungcheol stirs at the sound of your voice, turning his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder. "Oh, please," he mumbles groggily, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Don't remind me."

Your phone rings suddenly, shattering the peaceful atmosphere of the hotel room. With a quick glance at the caller ID, you see that it's your father on the line. Without hesitation, you answer, a sense of urgency creeping into your voice as you listen to his instructions.

"Dad?" you say, your tone tense with anticipation.

His voice crackles over the line, his words coming in fast and urgent. "I need all the bodyguards down at the hotel right now," he announces, the seriousness of his tone leaving no room for argument.

You end the call, your mind already racing with possibilities as you turn to face Seungcheol, who is still lying on the bed, his face buried in the pillow.

"Well, Seungcheol," you say with a wry smile, "it looks like it's not the best time for you to catch up on your beauty sleep."

He lets out a soft whimper, throwing the pillow away and scrambling to his feet. Rushing to put on his suit.

As Seungcheol opens the door to leave, his hand hovering over the handle, he pauses and turns to you with a commanding tone. "Don't. Leave. The. Bedroom," he orders, his voice firm and authoritative.

You can't help but laugh at his seriousness, a playful glint in your eye as you tease him. "Aren't you forgetting something?" you ask innocently, raising an eyebrow.

He raises his gaze, and his eyes widen as he realizes that you're still standing there in your towel, holding his gun in your hand. With a sigh of exasperation, he closes his eyes briefly, his frustration evident.

"Oh my god, get dressed," he mutters, extending his hand to retrieve the gun from you.

You can't resist teasing him further, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "What's the matter, Seungcheol?" you tease, waving the gun teasingly. "Afraid of a woman only wearing a towel?"

He grunts in response, his cheeks flushing slightly as he takes the gun from you. "Just... don't leave the room," he repeats, his tone slightly exasperated, before abruptly closing the door behind him.

You had made a split-second decision to disobey Seungcheol's orders and follow your father's soldiers, the urgency of the situation outweighing any concern for staying put. Now, you find yourself in the midst of the action, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you navigate the streets, your senses on high alert.

Spotting Seungcheol in a corner of the alley, you can't resist the opportunity to tease him. Sneaking up behind him, you lean in close to his ear and whisper, "Boo." you murmur teasingly, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Fancy meeting you in a dark alley like this. Are you up to no good again?"

Before he can respond, Seungcheol reacts with lightning-fast reflexes, pushing you against the nearest wall with surprising force. Your arms are pinned behind your back, your face pressed uncomfortably against the rough bricks, as he restrains you with an iron grip.

Wide-eyed, Seungcheol freezes as he realizes his mistake. "Y/N?" he exclaims, his voice laced with disbelief as he spins you around to face him.

In that moment, the realization dawns on him, and his expression morphs into one of sheer horror. He's just smashed the daughter of his boss's face into the bricks, mistaking you for a suspect in the chaos of the moment.

Seungcheol turns you around, his expression a mixture of relief and frustration as he finds you with a sly smile on your face. Before he can say anything, you tease him, your words dripping with mischief.

"If you can handle me that roughly, too-" you quip, your voice muffled by his hand as he clamps it over your mouth, cutting off your words.

"Shut up," he hisses, his tone urgent as he scans the alley for any signs of danger. "What are you doing here?"

You remove his hand from your mouth with a playful smirk, unable to resist teasing him even in the midst of the tense situation. "Oh, just thought I'd see if you could handle a little rough handling," you quip, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, his patience wearing thin as he struggles to keep his composure. "This is no time for jokes, Y/N," he scolds, his voice tight with exasperation. "You could have gotten hurt."

Seungcheol's frustration is palpable as he glares at you, his voice tinged with annoyance. "I told you to stay in your damn room," he says through gritted teeth, his eyes scanning the alley for any signs of danger.

You can't help but laugh at his exasperation, finding amusement in his frustration despite the seriousness of the situation. With a teasing glint in your eye, you retort playfully, "Oops, looks like I missed the memo. But where's the fun in following orders, Seungcheol?"

His jaw clenches in frustration at your nonchalant attitude, but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as well. Despite his annoyance, he can't help but appreciate your daring spirit and the playful banter between the two of you.

"Stubborn as ever," he mutters under his breath, though there's a hint of fondness in his tone as he shakes his head at your antics. "Just… stay close."

You cross your arms, watching as Seungcheol patrols the area with a vigilant eye. The tension in the air is palpable as you wait for any sign of trouble, knowing that the safety of your father's operation depends on the diligence of every member of the team.

As your dad's voice crackles over the radio, announcing the end of the patrol, Seungcheol holsters his gun at his hips once again. He turns to you with a stern expression, his eyes narrowed in admonition.

"Come on," he says briskly, gesturing for you to follow him. "You could've gotten me into some serious trouble if your dad found out you weren't in bed."

As you walk back towards the hotel with Seungcheol, you can't resist teasing him about the earlier incident in the alley.

"If my dad finds out you manhandled me in that alley," you retort with a smirk, "you'll be in some serious trouble."

Seungcheol turns around, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern as he quickly shushes you. "Sorry, okay?" he says, his voice hushed but earnest. "I thought you were a suspect."

You can't help but chuckle at his apology, enjoying the way he squirms under your playful teasing. "Oh, I'm sure you did," you reply, a mischievous glint in your eye. "But you know, Seungcheol, I kind of like it when things start to get rough. Are you this rough in bed too?"

Seungcheol's eyes widen in shock at your bold remark, his cheeks flushing slightly as he turns around abruptly, continuing to walk towards the hotel without another word, his eyes darting around to make sure no one overhears.

[...]

The next day, Seungcheol's sole function seemed to revolve around being around you, and you found yourself enjoying his presence more than you anticipated.

While the other bodyguards were out on a mission, Seungcheol had taken it upon himself to ensure your day was filled with activities. You had gone for a refreshing run in the park in the morning, followed by a leisurely shopping excursion in the afternoon.

Now, as you laid in the hotel bedroom, meticulously painting your nails, Seungcheol observed you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. He rolled his eyes as you swung your feet back and forth while focusing on your manicure.

"Oh, come on, Seungcheol," you cooed teasingly, glancing up at him with a playful grin. "You'd rather be in the midst of a mission, fighting off bad guys, than having a relaxing day with me? I saved you from an exhausting day out there!"

Seungcheol sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his efforts to appear unaffected by your teasing. "I never said I preferred being in the middle of a fight," he admitted, his tone teasing yet genuine. "But sometimes your idea of a 'relaxing day' is a little... unconventional."

"Oh, right, because fighting with guns and shit is way more cool," you quip, your focus still on your nails as you glance at Seungcheol with a playful smirk.

Seungcheol lets out a chuckle at your remark, unable to hide the amusement in his eyes. "Well, I can't argue with that," he replies, his tone light and teasing. "But there's something to be said about the thrill of a good Yves Saint-Laurent high heels.."

You roll your eyes playfully at his response, shaking your head as you continue painting your nails. "I'll take a relaxing day over dodging bullets any time," you retort with a grin, enjoying the banter between you.

Seungcheol lets out a scoff at your comment, but his expression softens as he watches your hair fall loose from your bun, knowing it's bothering you as you try to focus on your manicure.

Without hesitation, he gets up from his seat and moves behind you, his hands deftly gathering your hair into a ponytail. You can feel the warmth of his touch as he gently ties it back, securing it in place with practiced ease.

"Thanks," you murmur, grateful for his assistance as you return your attention to your nails.

Seungcheol chuckles softly, his fingers lingering for a moment longer before he steps back, his task complete. "There you go," he says with a smirk, his tone light and teasing. "Now you can finish your masterpiece without any distractions."

You grin at his playful remark, unable to resist teasing him in return. "Who knew my personal bodyguard was also a hairstylist?" you quip, your tone filled with mock surprise. "Maybe I should start charging extra for your services."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes at your teasing, but there's a hint of amusement in his gaze as he settles back into his seat. Despite the lighthearted banter, you can't help but appreciate his thoughtfulness and willingness to lend a helping hand, even in the most unexpected of situations.

After finishing your manicure, you eagerly show your hands to Seungcheol, a playful grin on your face as you ask for his opinion.

"What do you think?" you inquire, wiggling your fingers for emphasis.

Seungcheol inspects your nails with a critical eye before shrugging nonchalantly. "I don't like red," he remarks casually.

You can't help but raise an eyebrow in disbelief. "What?!" you exclaim, mock indignation coloring your tone. "But I distinctly remember you saying red was your favorite color!"

The smile that Seungcheol had been suppressing finally breaks free, transforming into a hearty laugh at your feigned outrage. "Alright, alright," he concedes between chuckles. "I guess I'll make an exception for your nails."

"You should," you retort with a playful glint in your eye, enjoying the banter.

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Oh, so my opinion is important now?" he teases, his tone laced with amusement.

You nod, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. "Yes, it is," you reply, your voice tinged with mock seriousness. "Because these red nails are going to be on your back tonight."

His eyes widen in surprise at your bold declaration, and you can see the shift in his posture as he processes your words. "Uh..." he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly as he clears his throat. "Maybe we should stick to talking about nail polish and colors-"

You shoot Seungcheol a playful smirk, enjoying the way his cheeks still hold a hint of color from your earlier comment. "Not feeling so bold anymore, huh?" you tease, nudging him gently with your elbow.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but there's a spark of amusement in his gaze as he meets your playful challenge. "Hey, I can be bold when I need to be," he retorts with a grin, his confidence returning as he meets your gaze head-on.

You chuckle at his response, appreciating the way he's able to bounce back from your teasing with equal parts wit and charm. "Oh, I have no doubt about that," you reply, unable to hide the fondness in your tone.

You watch as Seungcheol leans in closer, his expression curious as he questions your sudden change in behavior. Tilting your head in confusion, you furrow your brow as you meet his gaze.

"Why did you suddenly choose me to be your bodyguard?" he asks, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. "You used to hate me, and now you're even flirting with me."

You can't help but laugh at his incredulous tone, finding amusement in his confusion. "Isn't it funny how things change?" you reply with a playful grin. "Besides, it's quite entertaining having you do everything I ask."

Seungcheol scoffs at your response, clearly still puzzled by your sudden shift in attitude. "Flirting with me doesn't make any sense," he insists, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You simply shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, I don't know," you reply casually. "Angry sex is way better when you're doing it with someone you hate."

You glance at him through your lashes, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips as you watch his reaction. Seungcheol's mouth goes dry, and you can see him squirming uncomfortably in his seat, clearly taken aback by your boldness.

"Cat got your tongue?" you tease, leaning in closer to him.

Seungcheol shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his expression torn between desire and restraint. "We can't do that," he finally manages to say, his voice strained as he wrestles with his own demons.

You bite your lip, unable to resist the urge to push him further. "And why is that?" you press, your voice low and seductive.

Seungcheol hesitates, his gaze flickering between you and the floor as he struggles to find the right words. "It's unprofessional," he finally murmurs, his tone tinged with regret.

You can't help but chuckle at his response, finding amusement in his attempt to maintain his composure. "Oh, come on, Seungcheol," you tease, reaching out to brush your fingers against his cheek. 

His eyes darken at your touch, and you can see the internal battle raging within him. "This isn't the time or place," he insists, his voice strained.

You bite your lip, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you lean in closer to him. "But if it wasn't because of that," you murmur softly, your breath ghosting over his lips, "would you fuck me?"

Seungcheol inhales sharply at your bold question, his resolve crumbling in the face of your undeniable allure. For a moment, he's silent, his eyes locked with yours in a silent exchange of longing and desire.

So he abruptly gets up and heads to the bathroom, you watch him go with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. Leaning back on the bed, a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you revel in the realization that Seungcheol isn't entirely immune to your charms.

Finally allowing yourself to relax, you let out a soft sigh, feeling a sense of victory wash over you. Despite his attempts to maintain a professional demeanor, you can't help but notice the way he reacted to your teasing, the flicker of desire in his eyes betraying his attempts to resist your allure.

[...]

As Seungcheol stirred from his sleep, a sense of concern gnawed at him, prompting him to glance over at your bed. He looked once, relieved to see you there, but when he looked again, you were gone. Panic surged through him as he quickly scanned the room, his heart racing as he realized you were nowhere to be found.

With a curse under his breath, Seungcheol threw off the covers and sprung out of bed, his mind racing with worry. He searched every corner of the bedroom, his movements frantic as he called out your name in a hushed voice, hoping against hope that you would respond.

But there was no sign of you, and Seungcheol's frustration boiled over as he cursed under his breath, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a lead weight. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "This girl always manages to get me into trouble."

As you made your way to the rooftop pool, a mischievous grin played on your lips. You weren't actually in need of a breather; rather, you saw it as the perfect opportunity to play a little game with Seungcheol, to remind him of the importance of staying vigilant in his role as your bodyguard.

Settling into a lounge chair by the pool, you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself as you imagined the look on Seungcheol's face when he realized you were nowhere to be found in the room. It was all in good fun, after all, and you were certain he would appreciate the lesson in staying alert.

Suddenly, you felt hands wrap around your waist, and you were swiftly turned around to face Seungcheol, who looked both relieved and exasperated. "Are you crazy?" he exclaimed, his voice edged with frustration as he took in the rooftop's empty expanse, save for the two of you.

You couldn't help but maintain your composed demeanor, a smirk dancing on your lips as you met his gaze. "Seems like you found me," you remarked casually, teasingly raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Seungcheol's frustration boiled over at your nonchalant response, and you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "You think this is funny?" he demanded, his voice tinged with irritation as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Seungcheol's frustration was palpable as he confronted you, his voice edged with exasperation. "You could have chosen anyone, why me?" he demanded, his tone tinged with a hint of desperation. "You're so hard to handle! Did you know that?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his words, finding amusement in his exasperated state. Sliding your hand across his cheek in a teasing gesture, you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eye.

"Why not you?" you countered with a smirk, your tone teasing as you brushed off his question. "After all, who else would be able to handle someone as difficult as me?"

Seungcheol's reaction was immediate, brushing your hand away with abruptness as if your touch had burned him. His frustration boiled over as he demanded to know what game you were playing, his voice tinged with a mix of irritation and confusion.

His eyes blazed with rage as he leaned in closer, his frustration evident in every line of his face. "What the fuck do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger as he searched your face for answers.

You met his gaze head-on, your expression unreadable as you replied calmly, "I just needed some fun."

His eyes narrowed even further, his frustration boiling over as he leaned closer to you. "Your idea of fun is putting my serious job at risk," he spat out, his voice trembling with pent-up rage. "And let me tell you, it's not fucking fun for me."

Undeterred by his anger, you leaned in even closer, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "You mad?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you egged him on.

Seungcheol wraps his hand around your neck, his hand pressing you against the border of the building, his rage palpable in every movement. "Listen to me," he growled, his voice low and menacing as he struggled to maintain his composure. "You need to start taking this seriously. You're not just playing games with me—you're putting yourself in danger."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." he replied sharply. "Because if everything goes wrong, you're still going to be the boss's daughter, and I'm going to be dead."

Your expression darkened at his words, a frown forming on your lips as you felt his hand tightening around your neck. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you couldn't help but feel a thrill at the intensity of his grip, the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

But instead of backing down, you met his gaze with defiance, refusing to let him intimidate you. "I wouldn't let them do that to you," you declared boldly, your voice tinged with determination.

"I wouldn't let them touch you," you continued, your voice low and husky, each word dripping with determination. "Not before I—" you paused, the sensation of Seungcheol's body pressed against yours and his hand tightening around your neck sending shivers down your spine. "—not before I fuck you," you finally breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear.

A sudden moan escaped your lips as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed you, the rush of adrenaline heightening your senses and fueling the fire that burned between you and Seungcheol.

He widened his eyes in surprise at your unexpected reaction, clearly taken aback by your excitement in the midst of the tense situation. "What—" he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to comprehend your response.

You smirked, a wicked gleam in your eye as you leaned back slightly, your gaze locking with his as you reveled in the raw intensity of the moment. "What, you didn't expect me to enjoy this?" you teased, your voice dripping with amusement as you watched his expression darken with desire.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal coursing through you, the electric tension between you and Seungcheol igniting a primal urge that refused to be ignored.

Seungcheol's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of surprise and desire flickering in their depths as he struggled to process your bold declaration. "You... you're serious?" he asked, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, finding amusement in his stunned expression. "Dead serious," you replied, your voice laced with a hint of mischief as you leaned in closer, the heat of his body radiating against your skin.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Seungcheol's lips as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Then what are you waiting for?"

As you and Seungcheol moved with urgency and desire, your kiss deepening with each step, the tension between you reached its peak. From the rooftop to the hotel hallways, the elevator serving as a brief respite before you continued your passionate embrace, the heat between you only intensified.

Finally, as you reached the hotel room, Seungcheol threw you onto the bed, a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, your heart racing with excitement as you met his hungry gaze. With a playful smirk, you propped yourself up on your elbows, reveling in the desire that burned in his eyes.

But as his gaze traveled over your figure, lingering on the delicate camisole that barely covered your curves, a flicker of disapproval crossed his face. "You walked around the hotel like this?" he muttered.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, the heat of his gaze sending shivers down your spine as you teased, "Don't like it? Then take it off."

The challenge in your words was unmistakable, and you watched with anticipation as Seungcheol's desire flared, his hands moving to grasp the sides of the camisole. With a swift motion, he ripped the delicate fabric down the middle, exposing your bare breasts and lacy panties to his hungry gaze.

You gasped at the suddenness of his action, a thrill coursing through you at the raw desire burning in his eyes. "Seungcheol," you moaned, your voice husky.

As Seungcheol's lips trailed along your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses, bites, and licks in their wake, you couldn't help but squirm beneath him, your body responding eagerly to his touch. His fingers toyed with your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making you moan with delight.

"It's so difficult to hold myself back around you," he confessed, his voice husky with desire as he continued to lavish attention on your sensitive skin.

Your breath hitched at his admission, a surge of arousal coursing through you at the raw honesty in his words. Feeling your arousal pooling between your legs, you moaned softly, unable to contain the overwhelming sensations that consumed you.

Unable to resist any longer, you whispered, "Finally, you admitted it,"

Seungcheol's lips curled into a smirk as he felt your body respond to his touch, reveling in the intoxicating mix of desire and arousal that filled the room. "Oh, so you were waiting for me to admit it, huh?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement as he continued to explore every inch of your skin with his lips and hands. "Well, now that I've admitted it, what do you plan to do about it?"

With a smirk of your own, you whispered, "I plan to make sure you don't hold back anymore," your voice dripping with desire as you pulled him closer.

As Seungcheol's hand ventured lower, his fingers slipping beneath the delicate fabric of your lacy panties, you couldn't help but inhale sharply, your breath catching in your throat at the sudden contact. A surge of electricity shot through you as his fingers made contact with your slick folds, the sensation causing you to jolt in pleasure.

He chuckled softly at your reaction, his lips pressing gentle pecks along your jawline as he continued to explore your arousal. His eyes locked with yours, a mischievous glint dancing in their depths as he teased you with his touch.

With a deliberate slowness, he slid his fingers deeper, exploring the wet heat between your thighs. As his digits entered you, you couldn't suppress the loud moan that escaped your lips, your mouth falling open in ecstasy as pleasure surged through your body.

As Seungcheol's fingers pumped in and out of you, you found yourself overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body. The sound of your wetness mingled with the filthy sounds of his fingers plunging into you, filling the air with the heady scent of arousal.

With your vision blurred by pleasure, your hands fumbled with the buttons of Seungcheol's shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling suffocating against your skin. You needed him closer, his bare chest pressed against yours as his fingers plugged deeper in your cunt.

As you struggled to undo the buttons, your fingers clumsy with desire, you let out a shaky moan, the sound a symphony of your arousal filling the room. "Seungcheol," you gasped, your voice thick with need as you tugged at his shirt, desperate for him to be as exposed and vulnerable as you were in that moment.

A shaky moan escaped your lips as Seungcheol's fingers found your sweet spot, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through you. Your body trembled under his touch, the pleasure building to dizzying heights as you tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin against yours.

Seungcheol's lips curled into a smirk as he watched you struggle with the buttons of his shirt, the desire burning in his eyes mirroring your own. "Having a little trouble there, sweetheart?" he teased, his voice dripping with playful arrogance as he continued to pleasure you with his skilled fingers.

You let out a frustrated groan, the need for him overwhelming your senses as his touch drove you closer to the edge of ecstasy. "Just shut up and help me," you demanded, your words laced with a hint of desperation as you tugged at his shirt, your fingers trembling with anticipation.

With a low chuckle, Seungcheol obliged, quickly undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt before tossing it aside, his toned chest revealed in all its glory. "Better?" he asked, his voice husky with desire as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a searing kiss.

"Much better…"

Seungcheol wasted no time in pulling your panties down, his eyes fixed on yours as he spread your legs apart. You squirmed beneath him, craving his touch as he caressed your inner thighs.

Rolling your hips in search of more, you let out a needy whine, biting your lip in anticipation. Every fiber of your being was aflame with desire, and you couldn't wait for him to give you what you needed.

As Seungcheol's warm tongue made contact with your wet folds, a jolt of pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch your back and scream his name in ecstasy. His smile against your pussy only added to the sensation.

His strong arms held your hips firmly against the mattress, preventing you from squirming away as his tongue worked its magic. Each flick of his tongue against your sensitive bud sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you unable to do anything but moan incoherently.

"God, yes," you mumbled, your eyes rolling back in your head as he continued to suck and lick you with increasing fervor. The intensity of the pleasure was overwhelming, and you found yourself lost in the bliss of the moment, completely at the mercy of his skilled touch.

As he teased and tantalized you with his tongue, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge of release. With each flick and suck, he pushed you further towards the brink, until finally, with a loud cry of pleasure, you tumbled over the edge, your body shaking with the force of your climax.

Seungcheol continued to lap at your wetness, prolonging your pleasure until you were completely spent, you cried out in ecstasy, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Gripping his hair tightly, you pulled him closer, eliciting a low moan from him as your actions only fueled his own desire.

Your legs trembled uncontrollably as the intensity of the sensation threatened to overwhelm you, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of another climax. With each flick of his tongue, the pleasure intensified, sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you in relentless waves.

But, Seungcheol got up, leaving you whining with need, you couldn't help but watch in anticipation as he removed his shorts and underwear. His mouth and chin glistened with your arousal, evidence of the pleasure he had just given you, while his big pink cock stood proudly, already wet with precum.

Taking a moment to appreciate the sight before you, you let your eyes roam over the lines of his abs, the bulging muscles of his arms, and the strong, muscular thighs that spoke volumes of his training and dedication. He was every inch the epitome of strength and masculinity, and the sight of him standing before you left you breathless.

With a teasing grin, you commented on his impressive physique, "Fuck, you're so hot." causing his cock to twitch in response and his cheeks to flush with arousal. You knew the effect your words had on him, and you reveled in the power you held over him in that moment.

As you almost jumped on him, eagerly positioning yourself on top, you wasted no time in reaching for his throbbing cock, your hand wrapping around it firmly. Seungcheol let out a sharp hiss in your ear, the sound sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

With a wicked grin, you began to stroke him slowly, teasingly, relishing the way his breath hitched in response to your touch. Seungcheol's grip tightened on your hips as he struggled to maintain control, his arousal evident in every gasp and moan that escaped his lips. "God, yes, Ma'am." he groaned, his voice thick with desire as he surrendered himself completely to the pleasure of your touch.

Your movements grew more urgent, more insistent, as you stroked him faster and harder, your own arousal building with each passing moment. "You're so fucking hard for me," you whispered, your breath hot against his skin as you continued to pleasure him with skilled hands.

Seungcheol stopped your movements abruptly, grabbing both of your hands and pressing them firmly against the top of your head as he held you in place. A sly smile played on your lips as his cock tapped against your eager pussy, causing you to squirm with anticipation, desperate to feel him inside you.

"Please," you pleaded, your voice filled with longing as you begged for him to fill you completely.

Seungcheol's grin widened as he teased you, drawing out the anticipation until you were practically begging for release.

You waited with bated breath as he slowly began to thrust himself inside you, savoring every inch of his cock as it filled you completely.

With each movement, you could feel him stretching you, filling you in a way that left you breathless with desire. Every vein, every contour of his cock sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity.

You moaned softly as he buried himself deep inside you, your walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to hold him close.

As Seungcheol finally entered you completely, his pelvis pressed tightly against yours, a wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel every inch of him buried deep inside you, his cock curved perfectly to hit your g'spot with each movement.

With a soft moan, you arched your back, pressing your body closer to his as you reveled in the sensation of being filled so completely. Your hands were tied in his, holding on tightly as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment.

Seungcheol moaned in response, the tightness of your grip and the warmth of your wetness driving him to the brink of madness.

Seungcheol teased you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he remarked, "You've been wanting this since the beginning of this trip, haven't you?"

You scoffed playfully, shaking your head as you countered, "You're wrong. I've wanted this since our training days."

His grin widened at your confession, and without missing a beat, he thrust deeper inside you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he relished the feeling of you tightening around him.

You nodded eagerly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment. "Yes," you moaned, your words barely audible as you lost yourself in the sensation of being filled so completely by him.

As you warned Seungcheol that you were about to cum, he swiftly turned you onto your chest, pressing your upper body onto the bed while lifting your ass up. With a primal instinct, he thrust his cock back inside you, eliciting cries of pleasure from your lips.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you whimpered, the sensation in your stomach growing so intense that you knew there was no turning back. And when his hand began to draw perfect circles on your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a loud scream, you felt yourself climaxing, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm as you squirted all over him and the bed, coating your thighs and his in your ecstasy. Seungcheol's jaw went slack at the sight and sensation, his own arousal reaching new heights as he watched how incredibly horny he had made you.

Seungcheol's breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, his voice husky with desire, "I'm not done with you yet."

Your body trembled in oversensitivity, the waves of pleasure still rippling through you from your earlier climax. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper as you pleaded with him to give you a moment to recover.

But Seungcheol had other plans, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he began to thrust into you once again, his cock driving deep inside you with each powerful movement. You gasped in surprise, the intensity of the sensation overwhelming as he continued to pound into you relentlessly.

"Fuck," you moaned, your words barely coherent as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with sensation as Seungcheol pushed you to the brink of ecstasy once again. "Seungcheol, w-wait," 

As the slickness of your arousal connected your bodies, the sounds emanating from your wet pussy echoed in the bedroom, filling the air with the intoxicating symphony of your passion. Seungcheol closed his eyes, throwing his head back in ecstasy, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation.

Your pussy was so wet, so tight around him, that every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body. He could feel the creamy ring of your arousal coating his cock, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with each thrust.

But you were too much, your insatiable desire for him driving him to new heights of pleasure. As your pussy throbbed tight around him, merciless in its grip, he couldn't help but surrender himself completely to the overwhelming sensation.

As Seungcheol continued to thrust into you, he spoke to you in a low, husky voice, urging you on to another orgasm. "That's it, Ma'am," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered sweet nothings to drive you wild with desire. "I want to feel you cum for me again."

You tensed under him, the sensation of his words sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Your body responded instinctively to his touch, every nerve ending alive with anticipation as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of the moment.

And then, with a final cry of ecstasy, you let go, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Your pussy clenched around him, milking him for all he was worth as you rode the wave of pleasure until it consumed you completely.

Seungcheol rolled his hips, his eyes squeezed shut as he savored the feeling of your cunt wrapping tightly around him. It was deliciously intense, and he relished in the sensation of being completely engulfed by you. With each movement, he felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him—it was his, and his alone.

As he neared the edge, he couldn't hold back any longer. With a low groan of pleasure, he released himself inside you, his hot cum painting your walls white. He held onto your ass tightly in his hands, anchoring himself to you as he rode out the waves of ecstasy.

Lost in the moment, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he reveled in the intensity of the pleasure coursing through his body.

As Seungcheol lay there, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, you couldn't resist teasing him a little.

"Look at you," you purred, tracing a finger lightly along his chest. "All worn out already?"

Seungcheol cracked open one eye, giving you a playful glare. "I could say the same about you," he retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. "Oh, but I'm never too tired for round two," you teased, winking at him.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Is that a challenge?"

You grinned, leaning in closer. "Maybe," you replied, your voice dripping with mischief. "But you'll have to catch your breath first."

Seungcheol chuckled, pulling you closer to him. "Challenge accepted," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing kiss.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny no longer has a haunt. So… he decides to find another one. And while he technically has a whole world (other dimensions aren’t an option because he’s going to stay near where Jazz’s grave is, damn it) there’s only a couple of other places with enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. Nanda Parbat, Tokyo, and Gotham.

Nanda Parbat had a weird old musty immortal that kept trying to summon him and exchange power for the ability to “take a worthy body and rain as much destruction” as he’d like. As if Danny would need a body to bring the world to its knees.

Tokyo… it’s too far from Jazz’s grave. He could ask Wulf or even open his own portal but when Danny tried it out, Tokyo was too peaceful. Obviously there’s crime, but nothing… nothing big like Danny’s used to.

Danny ends up picking Gotham, even if the sewer zombies and the weird group of rich fruit loops with an adoption problem creeps him out. So, he destroys the portal, packs up his parents’ house and sells it, and hauls ass to the cesspool calling his name. His family’s stuff is stored respectfully in a vault located on the deepest parts of his personal haunt in the Infinite Realms.

And honestly, he’s doing better. Sure, he’s got a shitty apartment near another revenant’s almost-haunt and he feels like he’s drowning all of the time, but Danny isn’t in danger of turning into Dan, he’s catching up on royal paperwork, and he’s got like a job as a barista. In his own coffee shop that paid for using his parent’s money (who, despite their hazardous everything, made a crap ton of money off of their more normal inventions).

Gotham’s got some pretty interesting local gangs, most of which respected the sanctity of Danny’s cafe. Sure, they tried blowing it up and tried extorting money from him in the form of “protection costs” but after three months of failure, they gave up.

(Really, the local gangs gave up when they saw him take three shotgun shells to the chest and continued to work.) (They didn’t know it never hit him. Intangibility is extremely useful.)

The Rogues, on the other hand, just gave Danny flashbacks. Their gimmicks are different, sure, but after years of Box Ghost, Skuller, Lunch Lady, etc., Danny’s more than done with costumed villains. They don’t bother him either. Some of the reason is probably due to Harley and Ivy, who had walked into the cafe and (because they were bruised and scratched up from a fight) triggered Danny’s mother hen tendencies. They were promptly fed and watered and caffeinated and their hyenas were also similarly taken care of. They declared the cafe under their protection and that was that.

Red Hood stops by, and begins to interrogate him. But when Danny met his… helmet eyes? The crime lord paused, paid for his coffee, and sat in a corner table of the cafe for the rest of the day.

And he kept coming back?

But Danny figures it’s because Hood was a revenant and people who had come close to death tends to feel more comfortable around him.

(Considering this is Gotham where people almost die every other day? Yeah, he’s pretty much friends with everyone. Or at least, less likely to get shot.)

(Hood does stay because of the King’s presence and the Pit calming itself, but also Danny’s hot and he’s got a sleeper build and Hood definitely did not imagine himself in the place of the heavy box he saw Danny lift effortlessly onto a table. No.)

But of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. But by then, Danny was so antsy, he welcomed the trouble with open arms.

It starts with a clown. Danny knows who he is. He knows who Danny is.

So, Danny has no idea why the clown thought it would be a good idea to aggravate the owner of Gotham’s official neutral grounds. See, Clovkwork? Danny’s learned how to gauge his own political importance!

“HAHAHAHAHA! COME OUT, DANNY-BOY! LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE!”

Danny comes out and grabs a chair, and with a flat expression, says, “you’re not funny and I hate clowns.”

And then he swings and slams the chair into the Joker’s face. Over and over again until Danny’s sure the clown won’t get back up. The thing about Gotham’s outdoor chairs is that they’re mad out of steel and are bolted down to the ground to prevent undedicated thieves (dedicated thieves can and will steal the bolted down steel chairs). The Joker’s hired muscle just watched this scrawny twenty-something year old yank the steel chair and take some of the fucking ground and the bolts with it and beat the fuck out of their boss who is the literal Joker.

They surrender on the spot and is taken to jail. Danny just smiles at the officers who come by and since he’s got pretty privilege and they don’t want to mess with the guy who, again, owns one of Gotham’s official neutral ground and also beat up Joker without breaking a sweat, the officers just lets him go with a warning.

And then the bats comes, and wow, Danny’s playing mentor to a formally dead person again!

But before that, the Red Hood asks for an autograph on the Gotham Gazette article with a picture of a tired Danny standing over Joker’s prone body. Then Hood stammers through asking Danny out (which Danny said yes to because he’s tired, not blind, and Hood is built like a brick house and HOT).

Batman interrogates him. Danny, who can tell that this man needs therapy and is Sad TM, tells Bats that Danny’s died before and that’s why he’s like this. He also calls Batman a furry, but like in a nice way. And then he kicks Batman out with a coffee and a file on Nanda Parbat.

Now, Danny’s got a date to prepare for and he realizes that maybe this is what Jazz wanted for him- to be happy and mostly safe and happy. (Or, happier, he thinks. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy, but this might be a good start)

[bruisedfig]

What do u think Deans main kinks would be?? Tbf though I feel like he’d be into pretty much everything 😭 he’s a slut and we love him for it

you’re so real, that man loves sex and we do love him for it!!!! i personally hc dean as a switch, so i think his kinks would probably be quite general and would depend on his partner, but he’s definitely up for trying new things! 18+

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— praise.

that man is heavily neglected when it comes to compliments and gentle touches. his eyes would light up at every little “you feel so good” or “good boy”. it doesn’t even matter if he’s praising you or the one being praised, he just loves seeing you happy and hearing how good he’s making you feel. he definitely sees sex as a way to relax and have fun with you, so he’d be all about wanting to make you feel beautiful and desired through praise and compliments. he shows his love through physical touch and gentle words.

— manhandling.

now hear me out with this. dean wouldn’t be big on being rough with you in the bedroom, considering how harsh the hunter life is. he’d want to be gentle with you, although he wouldn’t be super opposed to some choking or a cheeky little spank here and there. however, he’d love it if you got a little rough with him, like shoving him against a wall or onto the bed, just taking what you want. he’d definitely love when you get a little confident and grab him by the jaw to make him look at you or tug on his hair as he goes down on you. he just likes you touching him, even if it’s in a rougher way, it gets him all giddy and excited.

— teasing.

we all know this man is a brat. dean loves making inappropriate jokes that make you squirm and shoot him disapproving looks in public or touching you in teasing little ways, just to get you riled up. seeing you get all whiny and needy in the bedroom would make him go crazy, though he wouldn’t mind also being teased. in fact, he’d kinda love it. he’d love it if you’d walk around in tight little clothes, taunting him almost, or doing provocative little things just to mess with him. it’d be how you get him back. dean is definitely whining and begging if you tease him, “please, baby. i can’t take it anymore. need you so bad,” that kinda thing. he’d never tell you, but he loves it.

— roleplay.

dean would go crazy for a little roleplay with you. his favourite would definitely be cowboy x damsel in distress, although you playing naughty nurse would be a close second. initially, he’d be nervous about bringing up his lil fantasies with you. he’d wait until he knows you’re both comfortable enough with each other and your sex life. naturally, you wouldn’t be able to wipe the dopey grin off his face as you walk in wearing whatever silly little thing he asked you to. he’d just love it.

— breeding.

dean is a family man. he’d die a thousand times for sammy, for cas, for his parents. so it makes sense that filling your pussy with his cum would make his head go brrr. the idea of starting a family with you fills his chest with a warmth he can’t even begin to describe. the idea of putting a baby in you, watching a life grow inside you, a life that he helped create, he’d lose his damn mind. if you weren’t already on birth control, he’d (respectfully) beg you to go on it, for the sole purpose of cumming in you. he also just really loves watching it pour out of you. to him, it’s the hottest thing in the entire world. again, his head would just go brrrrrr.

— cockwarming.

dean definitely is making you cockwarm him as soon as he gets back to see you after a hunt or something. just sitting in the deancave with his cock up your cunt as you watch some cheesy horror movie, neither of you bothering to move, just completely happy with feeling him inside you. of course, it would eventually lead to him pounding in and out of you, but at least for a while it’d be sweet and innocent.

— somno. (both consenting with prior discussion abt it)

this might be another hear me out, but considering dean is a slut, he’s up for sex just about anytime he can get it. he’d be extremely hesitant to try anything with you when you’re half asleep or fully unconscious (he just doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable), but he’d be completely okay with waking up to his cock in your mouth or you using him while he’s half asleep to get yourself off late at night.

— mutual masturbation.

dean loves the idea of you touching yourself to the thought of him, so he’d definitely beg you to let him watch as you play with yourself. it’d start off slow, until his pants are so tight he has no choice but to let himself spring free and jerk himself off in front of you, while you’re busy trying to get off in front of him. he’d melt at that and the way you call his name when you cum. after that one time, dean’d beg you to let him watch again and again and again.

— edging.

this one’s definitely more-so for himself. dean’s definitely jacking it in motel showers when he’s on hunts, just edging himself in there to the thought of you. he’d be so close every time, your name on his lips as he strokes himself, but he’d pause his movements right before cumming, just teasing himself for as long as he can take it.

— public sex.

dean’s no stranger to a quickie in the impala or even perhaps in the alleyway behind a dingy little dive bar. the thrill of getting caught would drive him absolutely wild. he’d be gripping your jaw, whispering in your ear telling you to keep quiet and be good. public sex would probably force out a more dominant side of dean. he’d wanna have fun with you, whilst also making sure he’s in control of the situation just in case you actually do get caught.

— toys.

i’m not sure if i’d consider this a kink, but i’ll list it anyway. dean is definitely the kinda guy to see toys as an aid to better sex, instead of his competition. he’d love to see you writhing underneath him with a vibrator pressed against your pussy or perhaps even some handcuffs thrown into the mix (again, he’s not fussed on who’s being cuffed). he loves the idea of you using toys on your own when he’s away on hunts. he’d definitely be begging you over text to send him videos of you using them.

— other.

none of these are really kinks, but i do wanna mention them.

i fully believe at some point in your relationship, dean would bring up the idea of making a sex tape with you. it would be exclusively for yours and his eyes only, and he would definitely watch it and get off to it during hunts when you’re not there.

i also think dean would be a little cheeky and steal your panties to take away with him on longer hunts. sure, calling you and receiving pictures and videos helps when he’s away, but nothing beats the physicality of holding your panties in his hands, wrapping them around his cock and cumming into them. maybe this is something he does without telling you, but you’d know when a pair would go missing and then return when dean does. it wouldn’t take you long to figure out. and you wouldn’t really mind.

i believe anything to do with him causing you pain or distress would be a hard no for dean. he loves you and wants to make you feel good during sex, not see you all marked up and sore because of him. he wants you to feel safe and comfortable. he’s definitely the kinda guy to check in with you constantly, “does that feel good, baby? you want me to keep going?” or “tell me what you want”.

your comfortability and pleasure is number one priority for dean. always.

A/N: ahhh such a fun request. these are my personal headcanons for dean. idk how popular these opinions are but i see that man as a LOVER if he’s in a relationship!! <3

[minnnoru]

I Rate My Chances in a Fight: AFTG Edition (I’m delusional but self-aware)

Neil Josten: 0/10 Listen. I wouldn’t even try. The man has that "nothing to lose" energy and the reflexes of a caffeinated raccoon. He will bite. I fear no man but that thing scares me. I don't think he knows what self-preservation is. I’m not fighting him. I’m surviving him.

Andrew Minyard: 4/10 Yes, he's a tank. Yes, he could break me in half like a glowstick. But he's also, respectfully, 5'2 on a good day. I like my odds if I keep my distance and throw snacks like Pokéballs.

Kevin Day: 7/10 Tall? Yes. Built? Sure. But he's also one bad pass away from a mental breakdown. I’m going straight for the knees and the injured hand. Bonus points if I throw in a “your stats aren’t even that good.”

Jean Moreau: 0/10 I would lose. But let the record show it’s because I willingly allowed the hot, brooding French man to pick me up and throw me against a wall. So yes, 0/10 but spiritually 10/10.

Jeremy Knox: 9/10 He’s sweet, he’s sunshine, he’s going down. I’m taking one clean sucker punch and that golden retriever is chasing balls in another dimension. This one's mine. Sorry sunshine, go shine somewhere else.

Aaron Minyard: 5/10 Technically a twin to Satan himself. Has anatomy knowledge and would absolutely know where to hit so it hurts. But let’s be real. Med school and Exy? That man is running on caffeine and sheer academic pressure. I’d wait until he blinks too slow and sweep the legs. Strategy, babes.

Riko Moriyama: 8/10 Physically? I could yeet him. Emotionally? He terrifies me. One solid palm to the forehead and he’s windmilling like an angry little NPC. I win but I don’t sleep well after.

[madelynraemunson]

Valentine’s Day is coming up and I can’t help but wonder how ex!husband Eddie would handle it. Would he break my heart? Break my back? Please Maddy I NEED to know 🙏

a/n: HE’S BACKKKK i’m clutching my chest 🫶🏼 how about some wholesome heartbreak for valentine's day? i tried to incorporate aspects of the original ST universe into the universe that is ex-husband!eddie. i hope you sweethearts enjoy ♥️

“valentimes” day

ex-husband!eddie x ex-wife!reader

summary: you and eddie share a dance when your wedding song unexpectedly comes on the radio…just like old times :)

contains: fluff, mutual-pining, topic of divorce, co-parenting

“if you’re lost, you can look and you will find me — time after time.”

divider from: @strangergraphics

word count: 1.4k words

‘Valentimes’ Day.

It’s what Junior likes to call it. At first you tried to correct him, telling him to drop the M and replace with N, but you decided to partake in the innocence. After all, nothing lasts forever.

Like the muddy footprints on the light wooden floors.

"I'M RIGHT ON YOUR TAIL!" Junior roars, chasing after his siblings with candied pretzels in his mouth. "GET READY TO FEEEEEL... MYYYYY... WRAAAAATH!"

You know what does seem to last forever though? The sugar high your kids are getting from their Valentine's Day candies.

“Walk, kiddos,” you scorn. “If we’re gonna get ourselves dirty, please take it outside.”

You watch as your Mini-We's respectfully pile out the door, marching in a single-filed line in their crowns and capes their dad had made for them not too long ago. And as you continue to cook, a hearty stew for a heart-filled day, you hear a jangling of keys at your front door.

The only other person who has direct access to your house is Eddie; and assuming he's adhering to the family tradition, you expected no one else.

A familiar sing-song whistle sounds from the entryway as Eddie makes his grand entrance. You smile as your ex-husband comes into sight — hands full with presents you couldn't quite make out yet — ready to greet you how he usually does every Feb 14th for the past few years.

“Yo.”

“Hello, hello!” you chime. “Look who’s become a one-tripper.”

“I know, I’m gettin’ better and stronger by the day,” Eddie chuckles. He closes up the space, welcoming you in his bubble with a hug and offerings for the day. “Flowers... for you…"

You blush in flattery, welcoming the Thanks-For-Having-My-Kids floral arrangement into your arms.

"Aaand chocolate," Eddie adds. "obviously.”

“Ooh, nougat."

“Uh huh," he smirks, proudly. "Everyone loves a nougat moment. I also got these teddy bears with wicked Rock-N-Roll soundboxes for the kiddos. Left them on your couch though. It's a surprise."

Eddie's always been such a stellar dad. No matter the occasion, he always made sure the kids felt included, and always made sure you felt appreciated for all your efforts. He shows out every Valentine's Day, and Mother's Day too. Just because you two have separated doesn't mean your past has been erased. Eddie wants you to know that this commitment is for a lifetime, no matter what it may look like to others.

"Thank you."

You walk over to the island to set your gifts down, then gesture for your ex-hubby to sit so you two can engage in some small talk.

Also, 'cause you’re nosy.

“Any plans tonight?”

“Eh, it was just to drop these off,” Eddie shrugs. “Might go to the bar later with some old high school friends. Try to talk up some ladies...”

“Groovy,” you smirk, eyebrows dancing.

“What about you?” Eddie inquires.

“Mama’s having a night in,” you sigh, taking a bite of some nougat. “Gonna pour myself a glass of wine and read a spicy novel before bed.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums. He crosses his arms, leaning forward to meet your gaze. “The one about the long-haired-adonis-with-steel-pecs-and-a-popped-linen-collar who comes to save the day?”

You cock an eyebrow. “You snooping through my book pile, Fabio?”

“No, you’re just predictable,” he teases.

♡

Your kids remain occupied, playing "beach" in the sandlot, away from the intimacy of the two of you.

Junior is using his disposable camera to take pictures of birds. Beside him, Elijah is digging a hole of sorts, and your daughter Aubrey is off in the corner, making faint heart-shaped etchings in what's left of the sand.

She sighs in dismay.

“I like candy and balloons, but this holiday makes me sad,” Aubrey frowns. “I used to be happy when Mom and Dad were together.”

“But they weren’t happy,” Elijah points out. “Now they are. It’s better this way, Aubs.”

“I wish there was a middle for everyone, though,” Junior says. “Like a halfway-happy.”

♡

Back in the kitchen, you and Eddie continue to catch up. You talk about the kids and how school and clubs are going. Elijah has a crush on a girl in his PE group. Aubrey wants to do cheer. Junior wants to perform in the talent show, but he's having trouble rallying some friends.

And you... well, you were burning through your book piles and watching grandiose Hollywood dating shows, sometimes also dancing around the kitchen to whatever Grocery Store-esque song comes on the radio.

"Can't believe you still have this thing," Eddie tsks, taking the rusty vintage boombox in his hand.

"It still plays the good tunes though," you shrug. "Why would I retire it now?"

Eddie shrugs in agreement, putting the boombox back where he got it. The song currently playing soon fades into the background while the radio host's voice comes back into focus.

"Another great hit from KISS!" the host announces. "I hope everyone is having a beautiful V-Day so far. We're gonna slow it down for you, Hawkins! Here's some Cyndi Lauper for ya — this is Benny and you're listening to WSQK Radio."

A nostalgic tune fills the air, the melodic, dreamy atmosphere reminiscent of a much simpler time.

You and Eddie look at each other in shock, hold the gaze for a few seconds, and burst out laughing.

<< Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you >>

"Of course," you shake your head.

"What are the odds?" Eddie blushes, lightly punching the island with his fist to ease the tension. "Our first dance song."

It was a beautiful ceremony, your wedding. Wayne had too much to drink and was waddling around giving everyone hugs. The "kids" you grew up watching took a dramatic plunge into Lover's Lake at the end of the night. And during the dance, it was if, only for a moment, you and Eddie were the only ones on the dance floor, redefining the fabric of time because while it felt like an eternity, it seemed to have passed by in a second.

<< Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind >>

Time is a thief. That was nearly a decade ago.

"C'mon," Eddie encourages, grabbing your hand.

You're instantly launched back to present day. "What?"

"We're doin' it."

"Doing what?"

"Dancing."

You allow Eddie to take the lead, just how he always does when you two would embark on adventures. He whisks you away from the island and towards the dinner table for enough space to move.

"Eddie..." you stumble into him, chuckling nervously. "Really?"

"I mean..." he says, his chocolate eyes a-gleam. "Why not? For old times sake. While the song is on... while the kids are busy..."

His hands seek your hips and find them immediately. Your breath hitches as you take in the glory of him, his timeless face, and the aroma of petroleum from his day job. He's still the same Eddie. His love is pure energy. Never destroyed, just simply transformed. And you can't wait to explore more of this new form of love.

"I'd love to."

You two begin to sway, the essence of your wedding night illuminating through the dimming kitchen. Eddie smiles into you, his forehead nestled against yours, a strand of his wavy hair tickling your eyelashes that sit prettily against your lids.

<< If you're lost you can look and you will find me Time after time >>

Before you know it, the late winter sunset melts into nightfall and your kids, with chattering teeth, begin to pile back inside.

"Brother! Help me with my shoes!" pleads Junior.

"Please," Elijah reinforces.

"Please."

Suddenly, Aubrey gasps.

"Look!" she whispers to her brothers, pointing with an excited finger. "Mom and Dad!"

<< If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting Time after time >>

"So beautiful," Eddie murmurs into you as you two sway in each other's arms. "You always have been...so damn beautiful."

The warmth was like Christmas morning... a belated gift for the kids to watch two homes become one, for just a brief moment. You and Eddie are too busy wrapped up in one another to notice the biggest smiles on your children’s faces, hope flickering in their eyes as if their worlds were right-side up again.

“Halfway-happy,” Junior whispers breathlessly.

It was their (and your guys’ too, let’s be for real) happiest “Valentimes” Day in a while.

tag list 🏷️: @highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @bloodibambiidoll @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @meetmeatyourworst @b-irock @spencerssatchel @yes2476 @comeonatmebruh @bendoverncry @only4wakingup @wiltinglovers @sweetsweetjellybean @fromasgardandback @r4fe-cam3ron

[goaskangel]

dad's bestfriend!nanami x reader

a/n...had really good ideas 4 this and it kinda WORKED OUT??? i fu want more lmk!! im a sucker for older dudes (and ONLy them) nanami will save us all EEK. also i see hiromi as y/n's father, that's what i had in mind writing this!!! THIS HAS SLIGHT CORRUPTION STUFF, LIL GUILT STUFF, LOTS OF KISSIINGGG

you usually paid no mind to the people your father brought over. mostly colleagues or just a few friends to drink and converse with in your shared apartment. one friend he’d seem to bring over a lot had caught your eye. as if his ever-changing ties and snug khakis weren’t enough to make you grin, his mannerism was much too attractive. greeting you respectfully, listening and chuckling to your rare comments and jokes to their discussion over drinks in the kitchen. getting comfortable to just speak to you while your dad’s out or busy with something, always listening with intent. 

it’s so sexy, you think, your hands up to your face as you lay to your side in bed. dreaming conscious thoughts of what his big hands would feel like on you, or the same breath he smokes out against your neck. your guilt no longer dragging you down after all this time. 

once, you sit close to him, smiling and trying to make your staring of his ringless finger unnoticeable. he wonders, aloud, how don’t you have a boyfriend? you shrug, “jus’ not very interested.” you smile when he chuckles, most likely at your thought process. part of you hopes he doesn’t ask what you're looking for because you’d go straight to overworked suited-men. skip over the blonde and big traits just to seem more vague. of course you were interested, you were interested the moment he mentioned he had no family. no wife, no kids. just focused on his work and drinks, a few cigars and baked goods. the absence of your father to run a quick errand wasn’t helping, your eyes zigzagged down his undone tie and exposed blue button-up, his blazer down beside him. you’d thought about taking the garment or increasing the loft’s heater just to see him get all worked up and hot but being this close to him gave you the same thrill. the topic of marriage came up.

“you shouldn’t wait too long, i waited too long.” he says with sincerity. 

“hehe. with all truth, mister, i think you’re doing it on purpose. you are handsome.”

he sits up at the title, a confused smile at his face, “yeah? i could say the same thing about you, pretty.”

god, if you were any worse, the first time he’d use that petname you would’ve pounced on him sooner. “dad says guys my age are after one thing and i agree. you wouldn’t disagree with my dad, would you?” your head tilts and waits for a response to your bratty remark. “well, i suppose your father knows a thing or two.” he nods, crossing his arms. your eyes trail again, watching the toned muscle flex casually against his rolled sleeve. you swallow the pool of spit in your mouth. 

“he’s strict, though. haven’t you noticed?” you get up from your seat and walk to pour yourself another glass of water, “doesn’t ever let me have anybody over.” 

“uh-huh.” his brown eyes stare at you intently to understand your point. 

“it gets lonely, mister.” instead of sitting back down, you stand right in front of him. placing your glass on the glass table. his arms now rest out on the table as he traces delicate circles on the rim of his half empty cup of whiskey. “i obviously can’t tell my dad that so i’m telling you and i just know you’d understand.” your hand rests atop his and slowly curls under his big palm.

he clears his throat of the sudden nervousness, “well, yes. i know that feeling all too well.” you hum a response when he turns his body to face you better. you mumble gently, “my dad won’t be home.” your hand squeezes him tighter. you notice how his brows furrow just the slightest bit as he lowers his head down, letting out a small sigh. but he doesn’t oppose it. doesn’t move when you lead his hand down to your hip, the tips of his fingers riding up your shirt. so pliable, his other resting hand now being guided up, up, up your shirt. his warm palm against your much softer skin. “won’t tell anyone, nanami.” 

his breathing is shaky and his eyes seem to have gotten heavier, but he scoots almost off the seat, to get closer. his vision glued onto the bump of where his hand is underneath your shirt, beneath the wire of your bra. 

“i’ll let you do anything you want to me.” fucking hell, you made this so fucking hard. 

“you’re damn irresistible.” he slurs through his teeth, swearing to himself that his mouth dried when you gripped his hand to squeeze the fat beneath your breasts. you feel dizzy, so good that he’s not resisting, that he can’t resist. he kneads and gropes the side of your hips and thighs, getting closer to your ass. impatiently, he stands and manhandles you closer to his bigger frame. you hear how his breathing’s stabilized but heavier, his expensive cologne finally hitting you when you lean up against his neck. he damn near groans when he gets his hands on you properly. dragging his hands on your back, pushing your body right against his much warmer one. your knees grow weak, if his grasp was any looser, you could’ve collapsed right on him. you take your arms and wrap them firmly against his broad shoulders and thick neck, moaning quietly against the veins under his ear. he feels his khakis getting tighter with every breath you take. a smile grows against your cheeks when you feel the slight stubble at his jaw, you kiss at it. 

still moaning between kitten licks against his mature skin, he turns to press his lips to yours. quick little pecks between breaths, he savors each one and quickly returns for more. the sour taste of his bitter whiskey intoxicating you from his much sweeter mouth.

“been..wanting..this..nana–mi..!” you can’t contain your grown obsession to which he shushes you. nodding slowly against your mouth while he keeps your head in place. when you pull away, you take his hands and lead him into your open bedroom. the idea of your father coming home slowly fading the closer you got what you wanted. you got so eager when he sat you on the edge of your bed, standing between your hanging legs. your hands wanting to hold onto his belt, to slowly unbuckle it but he caught them beforehand, kissing and sucking on your soft wrists and forearms. his lips find their way to your neck and ear where he whispers. 

“it's wrong, i know. so, so wrong, but my god…” he holds onto your neck and carefully grinds himself into your clothed cunt, making you arch your back and buck your hips into him, whining. you could cry from all the teasing he’s doing. “shouldn’t be doing this, sweetheart…dad can’t know, okay?” he keeps his now firm bulge against you. you moan another cry and kiss him again a bunch, nodding, rubbing tongues and messing up the gel in his blonde hair. the very open door reveals the sound of clinking keys and chains, doors opening and closing. too dizzy and much too dazed to even frown, you just stare into his soft brown eyes. they get farther away as he gently lets you go, kissing your temple for good measure before heading to the bathroom, leaving you with shaking legs. hopefully his plans of staying over stays the case.

masterlist

[tinyyoruichi]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ?

featuring : gn!reader + Zoro, Mihawk and Ace

warning : none

masterlist

Roronoa Zoro

His heart suddenly beats more rapidly whenever he sees you smiling, laughing, or even doing the most random thing. On top of that, Sanji's overly complimentary remarks towards you make him want to reach for his swords. No, this can't be. He's stared death down a thousand times, cut through countless enemies. Yet, this new feeling blooming for you – it's terrifying.

Zoro coming to terms with his feelings for you? Buckle up, because it's going to be a hilarious journey. Denial will be his middle name for a while, trust me. This dense swordsman will be in for a wild ride before he finally connects the dots.

Thanks to Nami's interrogation skills (and a little sake), the whole crew knows Zoro has a thing for you. Now, expect endless teasing from Luffy and Usopp, who'll probably try to spill the beans before a certain mosshead gives them his best glare.

Zoro finally figuring out his feelings for you? Great! Now comes the real test: talking to you about them. Because let's be honest, under that tough-guy act, he is probably a nervous wreck, sweating bullets at the thought of rejection.

Zoro's not exactly the Romeo type. So expect a confession that's straightforward, maybe a bit awkward – but heartfelt nonetheless. If you feel the same, a weight will lift from his shoulders. But if not, he'll respect your decision and try to keep things smooth between you.

Dracule Mihawk

Don't be fooled by Mihawk's stoic facade – because he is quite aware of his feelings for you. Years have honed his instincts, and unlike his pupil, he has no time (and he is too old) for childish denial. His emotions are clear, even if unspoken.

That man has a very calculating mind. He'll dissect every interaction, every glance, searching for a sign that you love him as mush as he loves you. Despite his solitary nature, his mind might already be constructing a future by your side – a future dependent on your response.

Mihawk is probably one of the few men in One Piece who are very romantic (Oda told me so). His brand of romance is subtle yet charming. Imagine leisurely strolls through his gardens or watching the sunset with a glass of wine by his side. A subtle offer of his arm, a hint of a blush from you – that might be all the encouragement he needs to take things a step further.

Once confident your feelings mirror his own, Mihawk will approach things in an (VERY) old-fashioned way. Be prepared for a carefully crafted dinner invitation, where he can formally request the honor of courting you. His pride lies in being a gentleman, and rushing into things is simply not his style. He prefers to court you slowly and respectfully, allowing your relationship to develop naturally.

After a series of thoughtful dates, Mihawk will finally take the next step and ask you to be his partner (Perona and Zoro might have placed a bet on the timeline, of course). Like everything he does, Mihawk will approach this new chapter with utmost seriousness. Your well-being will always be his top priority.

Portgas D. Ace

Ace isn't the denial type. The ache when you're gone, the quiet competition with Marco and Izo for your laughter – these are the clues that tip him off. Ace falling for you? It's written all over his flustered face. He stutters and turns red like a tomato when speaking to you unexpectedly.

The entire crew is a nuisance and teases him constantly about his love for you. They have grilled him mercilessly – “When will you confess?” they ask, convinced you feel the same.

Denial ? Once again, not Ace's style. But baring his heart, admitting his love for you ? That's a terrifying vulnerability he fears more than anything. On top of that, I believe he is also afraid of losing your friendship by making things awkward if you don't feel the same about him.

Thankfully, Marco, ever the voice of reason, is there to guide this lovestruck dummy. And honestly, this old man is tired of watching you two pining from afar. A stern talk from Marco might be just what Ace needs to understand that silence could lead to a missed opportunity for a great relationship.

Ace's confession? A masterpiece in the making, at least in his head. Daily mirror pep talks and a meticulously planned romantic gesture – that's how he plans to declare his love. Just imagine the blushing, the stammering, the potential for minor explosions (caused by Ace's nervousness, of course).

Dinner over, Ace reaches for something hidden in his pocket. His nervousness is palpable, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he throws caution (and the letter) to the wind, ready to confess his true feelings directly from the heart.

[iamumbra195]

School Bus Graveyard incorrect quotes because I'm bored

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Taylor: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway.

Ashlyn: I'm gonna get vertigo.

Aiden: I'm a Virgo!

Tyler, deadpan: No, you're a virgin.

...

Aiden: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Tyler: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Aiden: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ASHLYN WITH ME

Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Taylor: Why is Tyler so upset?

Logan: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Taylor: And...?

Logan: He got Aiden.

...

Ashlyn: What did you do with the phantom's body?

Aiden: What didn’t I do with the body?

Everyone:

Aiden: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the phantom respectfully.

...

Aiden: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Logan: Aiden, no.

Ben, with text to speech: Mistlefoe.

Logan: Please stop encouraging him.

...

Taylor: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Tyler: You’re a hazard to society

Aiden: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

...

Emma, trying to be nice to Ashlyn's new friends: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Mike, excited for his daughter: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

...

Logan: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Ben: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Aiden: Smad.

...

Ashlyn: Why are you on the floor?

Aiden: I'm depressed.

Aiden: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ben, please.

...

Taylor: Aiden and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Ashlyn, sighing: What did he do?

Taylor: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Aiden: Who wants a steering wheel?

...

Aiden: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

Logan: How am I supposed to know?

Tyler: You say that as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Logan: ...You wouldn't be trapped.

...

Ashlyn: Tyler, keep an eye on Aiden today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see him get punched.

Ashlyn: Try again.

Tyler, sighing: I will stop Aiden from getting punched.

...

Aiden, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Tyler: You did WHAT–

Ben: William Snakespeare

...

Ashlyn: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Taylor: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Ashlyn: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Aiden: edible

...

Taylor, whispering to Aiden, who’s on the phone with Ashlyn: Ask her something!

Aiden: How are you feeling?

Ashlyn: Fine.

Taylor: Something personal!

Aiden: At what age did you start hearing voices?

...

Aiden: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Logan: If?

Tyler: Great, the only party I’d actually go to and he might not even die.

...

Logan: We need a distraction.

Ashlyn: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Aiden, whispering: My time has come

...

Tyler: Where are you going?

Taylor: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Tyler: I'll come with

...

Mike, buying a whole bag of knives, guns and other weapons like he's going to war on a random Tuesday: I can explain

Jacob (shop owner): Can you?

Mike: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

...

Taylor: Heads up, if you try to make a candle with food colouring, it will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food colouring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food colouring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter.

Tyler, sighing: What did you do?

Taylor, wailing: A MISTAKE

...

Mr. Thomas: What are your goals?

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs.

Mr. Thomas: No, I meant your goals for this trip.

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs in Savannah.

...

Logan: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Ashlyn: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?

...

Taylor: Aiden isn’t answering his phone

Ashlyn: I’ll call

Taylor: Ben and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Aiden: Hello?

...

Aiden: I was arrested for being too cool.

Tyler: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

...

Aiden: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much

Taylor: You’ve been to jail?

Aiden: Once. In Monopoly.

...

Mike: You love me, right?

Emma: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

...

Aiden: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Ashlyn: Okay

Aiden: And make out during the scary parts.

Ashlyn: The-

Ashlyn: The scary parts?

Ashlyn: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

...

Ashlyn: How petty can you get?

Tyler: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Taylor: I KNEW IT-

...

Aiden: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Logan: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

...

Mike: So what’s for dinner?

Emma, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's all for today!

[ethe-realfantasy]

"I don't need time, I need you." (Part V)

(ANGST, slow burn, another man tries to touch you at a work event and you call Simon for help…

also the next part will be the last and I thought about incorporating some soft nsfw?? would you be ok with that?)

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The city is already dusk-blue by the time you step out of your apartment. You decided to wear the long, low-backed navy dress. The neckline’s soft, the fabric velvet-like, hugging and skimming you in all the right ways. You hadn’t planned on going initially, not until Emma practically guilt-tripped you at lunch yesterday.

“You can’t keep going from work to home and back again, y/n. Come on. Just for an hour. Dress up and have a drink,“ she said with pleading eyes.

What really pushed you to say yes, tough, wasn't the party or the networking that comes with it. It was the thought that you'd forgotten what feeling like yourself even means lately.

The venue is all low light and clean glass, warm chatter echoing off modern lines. People from the firm are already milling about with wine and small plates. You shed your coat near the entrance, suddenly feeling bare in the dress, like it’s a little too honest about your shape. Your skin hums with sudden awareness. It's not shame, but vulnerability.

Emma finds you quickly, complimenting you on your dress, while she grabs your arm and pulls you toward the crowd. There aren't many people you know on a deeper level... it's more of a networking event. But then there’s Shawn.

He’s at the bar, sleeves rolled, collar undone like he’s in permanent soft-focus. He notices you immediately and you see it, the slight double take. The look that says, Oh.

And then he walks over.

“Wow,” he says, handing you a fresh glass of wine without asking, eyes sweeping once down, then respectfully back up. “You look like you’re trying to ruin people.”

That catches you off-guard, but you smile politely. “That's dramatic.”

“It's observant,” Shawn counters, taking a sip of his wine. “I was starting to think you might ghost us tonight. Emma said you needed convincing to come.”

You shrug, trying not to look toward the entrance again. “I'm here, aren't I?”

“Let's see for how long,” he teases.

You don’t answer. Instead, you press out a grin and take a sip of your wine.

Shawn shifts a little closer, not inappropriate, but enough to be noticed. The bar is getting crowded and the music shifts into something with a pulse. He leans in, voice pitched low near your ear.

“You know, I was gonna ask if you wanted to grab a drink sometime…,“ he says with a grin.

There’s nothing wrong with Shawn. In fact, on another night, in another life, maybe you would even say yes. But you feel it like a pinched nerve: this isn’t that life. That man isn’t yours. Your man is someone else, somewhere else. Your man kissed you in your kitchen two nights ago like he’d die if he didn’t.

And right now, you can’t stop wondering where he is or what he’d think if he saw you like this, lit by low lights, dressed like a temptation and a man leaning just a little too close. You're dressed in a way you only ever used to dress for him. Your spine straightens a little.

You smile at Shawn, gracious but vague. “This drink’s enough for me tonight,“ you say, trying to make it sound like teasing.

The evening drags along with meaningless conversation and Shawn trying to impress you at every opportunity that presents itself. You've been sipping the same glass of wine for over an hour now.

Shawn hasn’t overstepped, he’s charming, polite and he laughs when people laugh, listens when he should. But every time you catch him watching you, there’s a possessiveness in his gaze that tightens your shoulders. It isn’t him that repells you, but rather what he represents. A direction you aren't walking toward and never will.

You drift away after a while, slowly and quietly. It’s not hard. Shawn is caught in conversation with one of the senior partner and you use the moment to vanish into the moving tide of laughter and cocktails. You find Emma near the buffet, chatting with two other women.

“Hey,” you say and Emma lights up, clearly relieved.

“There you are. I thought Shawn had swept you into some corner office,” she teases, elbow nudging gently.

“Thankfully not,“ you say as you smooth your hand along your arm, fingertips brushing goosebumps you can’t quite explain.

Emma tilts her head, noticing something shift behind your eyes but not pressing it. “Do you want me to stick with you?”

But it’s too late, Shawn's voice carries across the clink of glass and buzz of music, loud enough for you to flinch.

“Honestly, can you blame me?” he says to one of the corporate guys and though he doesn’t name you, everyone knows who he means. “I mean, look at her. She shows up looking like that and expects me to act normal?” A few light, male chuckles fill the room.

You stiffen immediately.

It’s not overtly crude, but it cuts. He said that... publicly. You're public now, being looked at and talked about. Suddenly your dress feels more revealing than confident.

You don’t say anything, you don't even turn to look at Emma, you just move, quickly.

You haste through the crowd, past the main room, toward the hallway that runs behind the event space. There’s a quiet alcove near the kitchen, it's low-lit and stacked with storage crates. It’s not a hiding place, but it’s private enough for you to catch your breath.

You lean back against the wall, while your hands grip the edge of the small service table beside you. Your heart is thudding, not because of Shawn's comment, but because of the storm it brings up inside you.

Suddenly, you think of Simon. The way he had firmly said, that he didn’t want to see you near that man again. And now you're here, in a tempting dress, standing in a hallway, hiding, because Shawn looked at you like you were his to want.

You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in slowly. You wish Simon were here. You don’t know what he’d do or what he’d say, but you know that you would feel... safe.

You focus on your breathing. In, then out, slow and controlled. Your spine now presses flat to the cool wall behind you, trying to anchor yourself in the stillness, to let the discomfort of the humiliation wash off.

You don’t hear him at first. The sound of his steps is unsteady, too quiet to be casual, too deliberate to be harmless. But it isn’t until you see his silhouette at the edge of the hallway that your body tenses.

Shawn sways a little in the soft light, one hand braced on the wall as he looks at you, that same look he’s had a few too many times now. Lazy, half-lidded and possessive.

“There you are,” he says, voice slurred at the edges. “You kinda ran off on me.”

You straighten a little, but you don’t move. Your fingers curl around the hem of your dress. “I just needed a minute.”

He grins. “What, from me?” he says, laughing like it’s a joke, like it’s charming, but it isn’t. His steps bring him closer, too close.

“Shawn," you say, tone low and measured, “maybe you should go back to the party.”

But he doesn’t, he keeps walking until he’s only a breath away. You flinch slightly, almost imperceptibly, but he sees it and misreads it entirely. His hand reaches out, fingertips brushing your arm, then sliding too confidently to your waist. He slips it lower and it rests on your inner thigh.

Your body locks immediately.

“You look really, really good tonight,” he murmurs, leaning in and his breath is hot against your cheek, the press of his fingers insistent, uninvited. “You know that, right? Don’t act like you don’t know.”

You turn your face away and your hands press against his chest instinctively, not hard, but there’s resistance there. “Shawn,” you say again, firmer this time. “You’re drunk.”

He chuckles, low and stupid. “Not that drunk.”

His other hand lifts and you see it coming before it happens, the way his gaze drops to your mouth and the way his body angles forward. You jerk your face to the side again, but his hand is already forcefully sliding up toward your jaw, his thumb grazing the edge of your cheek. His other hand presses dangerously close to your…

“No,” you say, sharper now, a tremor of fear rising in your chest.

He doesn’t listen. Instead he pushes his body against yours and leans in for a kiss. You can feel his erection on your thigh. That’s when you push him away. Hard, with your flat palms to his chest.

“Stop it," you breathe out and your voice cuts through the corridor, quiet but hard-edged. It's final.

He stumbles a step back, blinking in surprise. You're shaking, but your eyes are clear. You stare at him: disgusted, disappointed and done.

“Don’t touch me,” you say with a firm voice, it's trembling only at the end. “Don’t ever touch me.”

Shawn blinks, clearly registering, finally, what just happened.

You slip past him fast, your body buzzing with adrenaline. Behind you, you hear him call after you.

"y/n, wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..,“ he mumbles, but your heels click sharply against the marble floor as you continue walking away. Your skin is still crawling from what just happened.

You don’t know where you're going, not yet. You just need to get away. Maybe outside to get some fresh air, maybe even...

God. A thought slams into you like a wave. Simon‘s voice and the weight behind it, when he said, “I better not see that man near you again.”

You hadn’t listened, you hadn’t known. How could you possibly have known?

Now you do. Now you ache for the one man who would’ve never let anything like this happen. For the man whose presence alone would’ve sent Shawn ten feet in the other direction. You swallow back the tightness in your throat.

The moment you step outside, the cold hits you like a slap. You don’t notice it at first, not with your heart still hammering in your chest, your palms damp and your breath coming in uneven bursts that fog in the night air. But when the shiver finally hits you, it does so all at once, crawling up your spine, setting your teeth on edge.

You slowly wrap your arms around yourself tightly, as if that tiny embrace could shield you from the world. The city hums, taxis pass and people laugh just around the corner.

Your mind races and you not only think about what just happened, but what could have happened. The look in Shawn's eyes... it was clear what he wanted to do. You still feel his hand press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to the part of you that screams Simons name for over three months now.

Your stomach turns and a fresh wave of nausea rises. Your body just won’t stop trembling. He touched you. God. He was going to... You swallow hard, dragging in a shaky breath, but it feels like your lungs won’t expand, like the moment is still trapped in them. Your skin still feels tainted with his hands. You pace a few steps, but it won't do. Nothing helps to stop the shaking.

You fumble in your purse with numb fingers, digging for your phone like it’s your lifeline. Your vision blurs for a second and you don’t even realize you're crying until you feel the wet chill on your cheek.

There’s only one number your mind reaches for and you don't think. You just call. The line rings twice, then you finally hear his voice and your body relaxes.

“y/n?,“ his voice is rough with sleep. It's so familiar and grounding, you close your eyes for a second.

You don't say anything, you can't yet. You hear him sitting up and the rustling of the sheets.

“’s almost midnight,” he says gently. “You alright?”

„Simon…,“ you plead, voice breaking.

The silence that follows is immediate and sharp. He’s alert now. Fully awake.

“Something...,“ you say as your throat tightens. “Something happened. Can you... I... I need you.” You can’t even string the sentence together. “Can you come get me?”

His answer is instant. “On my way," he says, no questions, no hesitation.

You exhale loudly, like you've been holding your breath for hours. He hears it through the phone and tenses.

“Where are you?”

You give him the name of the place and he hums in acknowledgment, already moving. You hear him putting his jeans on by the sound of his belt.

“I’ll be there in ten,” he adds and his voice is tense with that quiet urgency that only ever comes out when it’s about you.

The call ends and you're left frozen in place, arms hugging yourself tightly again, but the fact that he's coming is enough to keep you grounded.

---------

Seven minutes later he parks half up on the curb, barely cutting the engine before he’s out of the car.

You stand there under the streetlamp, shivering with your arms crossed. Your lips are pale and your eyes are blinking like you're still coming back into your body. The wind picks up your dress, but you don't seem to care.

Simon’s boots hit the pavement hard as he strides toward you. He doesn’t speak at first. He reaches out for you and the moment he's close enough, his hands find your arms with a gentle, concerned touch. He still doesn't say anything, he's simply scanning you.

He’s checking you for injuries. His eyes travel over your face, your arms, the shape of your collarbone, the way your dress clings too tightly to your body. His gaze sharpens as he zeroes in on a red mark at the edge of your jaw. His body stiffens.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low and controlled. “Anywhere?”

You blink up at him, eyes glossy. “No. I.. no, I’m okay.”

But you're not okay. Of course he knows that. He sees it in the way you're trembling and in the way your voice cracks around the edges.

“I just didn’t know who else to call,” you add, voice shaky.

The steel around his expression softens instantly and his eyes lose their edge. He's wearing the mask.

“You don’t ever need a reason to call me. Y'know that," he says gently but urgently.

You want to explain, but you cut yourself off with a small, choked sound. Your arms wrap tighter around yourself and he notices the way your shoulders shake.

Without a word, Simon pulls off his hoodie, one of those soft, oversized ones he always wears, warm from him still. "Here," he says, as he guides your arms through the sleeves. It swallows you completely.

“Better?” he murmurs.

You nod with big, glossy eyes.

He adjusts your hood gently. "Smell's not too bad?" he asks, half trying to get a smile out of you.

You shake your head quickly, burying yourself inside his hoodie. He knows you love his smell.

“I was sleeping,” he mumbles. “Didn’t even take much time to change. Just… came straight ‘ere.”

Suddenly you start mumbling.

“I... I didn’t think it’d be like that,” you blurt with a shaking voice. “It was just a work event but he... he was... he followed me into this back hallway and I told him no, I pushed him away but he... he still tried, and I...,“ you stutter.

Simon’s face changes, like a switch being flipped: His jaw tightens again, his shoulders straighten, his breath deepens. That low, quiet fire behind his expression, it’s there again, hotter than before. It’s a version of him you've only seen a few times before. The one that comes out when you're in danger or when someone crosses a line.

“He still in there?” he asks. He's calm... too calm.

His body is already angled towards the building, as if he is getting himself ready. You step forward quickly, grab his arm and shake your head slowly, with teary eyes, as if to say: Please don't go inside. Please don't leave me here alone.

You feel his pulse and his heart is pounding. His body feels so unbelievably hot and you feel it, how he is vibrating with restraint. But when he looks at you again, all of that tension eases just slightly. You're still trembling and your eyes are still too glossy to fake composure. You're not okay and he knows it. So instead of turning toward that building, he turns toward you.

“Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s get you in the car.”

You let him guide you across the sidewalk and to the car, with one hand pressed gently to your back. He opens the door for you and shields you from the world with his massive frame, as he waits until you're seated before closing it with quiet finality.

When he slides into the car, he doesn’t start the engine right away.

“Want me to drive you home?” he asks softly, his hand already on the wheel.

You nod, throat tightening. “Please,“ you whisper.

The car hums to life and as Simon shifts into gear, you lean back into the seat, wrapped in his hoodie, the sleeves too long, the scent of him wrapped around you like a shield. For the first time tonight, you feel warm and safe.

Beside you, Simon drives silently, with a storm raging inside his mind. He doesn’t let go of you once the car stops in your driveway.

"You sure, you're alright?", he asks, one hand still on the wheel and the other resting on his thigh.

"Mhm," you breathe, as you reach for the door handle with a shaking hand. He's obviously not convinced.

“’m walking you up,” he says, his voice low and final, but never sharp. It's a tone you've come to trust completely. A tone you're grateful for tonight.

You lean slightly into the handrail as you climb the stairs, his hand hovering just near your elbow. He's not touching you, but he is close enough to catch you if need be.

When you reach your apartment, you fumble with the key. Simon gently takes it from your hand, unlocks the door and opens it for you like he’s done a thousand times before. Inside, the familiar dimness of your apartment finally folds around you.

He settles you on the couch without a word, grabbing a blanket from the armrest and draping it over your knees. Then he just stands there by the door, big and awkward in your small apartment, like a shadow that doesn’t know where to rest. His hands hover at his sides and his eyes flick over you again. Scanning again, looking for signs of injuries.

You try to smile. “I’m okay. Really. You don’t have to worry, I.. I already feel bad for calling you this late.”

His mouth tightens, but he doesn’t move. “Don’t,” he cuts in. “Don't feel bad. I mean it.”

You look away, rubbing at your wrists, but he sees your shoulders still shaking slightly. How tense they still are.

He crosses the room slowly and sinks down in front of you, kneeling. His knees brush the carpet, while his hands reach up and gently take yours.

His touch is so careful. His palms warm and his fingers are curling around yours like muscle memory.

“y/n,” he starts and looks up at you, his voice is almost too gentle. Your core tightens when his thumb strokes across your knuckle. “You really okay with being alone tonight?”

Your gaze flicks back and forth between his eyes for a moment, searching. Then you nod a little too quickly. "Yes,“ you whisper.

He watches the way you say it, like you want to believe it. Still, he nods in agreement.

“Alright,“ he breathes out and stands up slowly, releasing your hands only when he absolutely has to. And then he turns, stepping toward the door, already planning to sleep in his car, already ready to pace the sidewalk outside like a silent guard dog.

You watch him walk toward the door with his back to you. Your eyes glide over his massive frame, broad shoulders and strong back. Suddenly you feel nauseous at the thought of him leaving you.

He’s just reaching for the doorknob when your voice catches in the air.

“Simon," you cry out more desperately than you meant to.

He turns instantly and his eyes meet yours.

“Can you stay?” you whisper, eyes pleading. “I don’t… I don’t feel safe. Not without you.”

For a moment, he just stands there. Then he takes off his boots silently and moves toward you. He quietly pulls the blanket higher over your knees and sits down on the edge of the couch. He doesn't touch you, but he's close enough and you close the space by leaning your head gently against his arm.

You don’t say much after he settles in beside you. It's just past 2am now. The room is dim, the only light coming from the soft golden glow above the stove in the kitchen. The air is warm and still heavy from what happened hours earlier, but it's slowly loosening its grip.

Simon sits still on the couch, legs stretched out slightly, his body still humming with vigilance. At first he doesn’t lean back fully, not until he sees you stand up quietly, barefoot, taking of his hoodie and tugging the zipper of your dress down with trembling fingers.

You turn away, not out of shame, he's seen your body a thousand times before, he knows it like his own, but out of instinct. Then you slip out of the dress. It falls to the floor in a rustle of fabric. You put his hoodie back on, sleeves long past your fingers, the hem brushing your thighs and breathe in his scent again. You don’t say a word about it, you simply fold the dress neatly and place it on the armchair. When you return to the couch, you move slower, like your limbs are heavier now that you've let the pretense go.

He lifts your blanket without thinking and you slip under it. Then you’re splaying the blanket over him too and tucking yourself into his side without asking. Simon shifts slightly to make space for you, one strong arm wrapping around your shoulder, tucking you in with care. Your legs draw up, your bare feet nudging his jeans and you exhale. Your cheek rests just over his heart and he wonders if you can feel how fast it still beats.

Neither of you speaks and after a while, your breath starts to slow.

At one point, you murmur something too soft to make out and he hushes you gently, fingertips brushing your hairline. You settle again, your face nuzzled into the collar of his shirt. You smell like your perfume and something cold, like the night air still clings to you.

Simon’s eyes stay open. His gaze is fixed on the front door, sharp and unblinking. Every creak of the building, every shift of wind outside draws his attention. His body is still alert, coiled around you like a shield. He doesn’t trust the world right now. He doesn't trust what could find its way back into your life.

But slowly, after long minutes, your warmth and the rhythm of your sleeping breath starts to weigh on him. His hand around you loosens slightly and his jaw unclenches.

Finally, only once he’s sure you're deeply asleep he lets his head fall back against the couch, the tension bleeding from him in quiet waves. He falls asleep watching the door.

--------

The morning stretches slowly across the apartment. The city outside stirs faintly, but in here, it’s still. Simon is already awake.

He hasn’t moved much, not wanting to disturb you. You're still curled into his chest, your legs tangled with his under the blanket, your head tucked beneath his chin. The oversized hoodie has slipped slightly off to the side, exposing the curve of your collarbone to the morning air. His hand, large, calloused and still as stone, rests gently along the dip of your waist, guarding you.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d meant to watch the door all night, but sometime after the quiet of you breath evened out and your fingers stopped twitching from whatever haunted you earlier, he must’ve slipped under with you. And now, he just… doesn’t want to move.

You stir faintly and a small sound escapes your throat as you shift against him, face nuzzling into his chest like it’s instinct. You feel his hoodie, his scent and you're still warm and sleepy, wrapped in the echo of safety.

“God… I have to go to work," you grumble.

Simon’s eyes drop down to you immediately. Your lips are brushing the fabric of his shirt and he feels it like a spark across skin. His jaw clenches.

Work? So that guy will be there?

He doesn’t say it, he doesn’t even blink, but it flashes across his mind in jagged, hard-edged shapes: the image of that man’s hand on you, the way you shook last night, how fragile your voice had sounded on the phone.

Instead, he clears his throat. “I’ll drive you.”

Your brows furrow against his chest and you lift your head slowly, bleary-eyed. “You don’t have to..”

“I know,” he says, cutting you off gently. “Still gonna.”

There’s no room to argue in his tone. He's never aggressive with you, but it’s that quiet, immovable kind of firm that says 'don’t fight me on this'. He’s already untangling himself from the blanket, hands moving carefully to make sure you're warm before he slips out from beneath it. You watch him silently. Suddenly you feel a warmth erupt in your chest. Yesterday.. he's shown you again that he's the only person you have ever felt safe with.

Simon doesn’t say anything about Shawn, but it’s written in the tension in his shoulders, in the flick of his gaze as you get ready for work. Its in the way he keeps watching the clock. He's protective and devoted in a way that doesn’t ask for praise or attention. There is only one thing he demands: No one touches what’s his. Not ever again.

[Part VI]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist:

@preeyas-world

@succulambb

@izzycstairs

@mindsofjade

@simonexxx1

@lovelycurls

@clara-geekhime

@kylies-love-letter

@fruitymoonbeams-blog

@syphlno