#and then we get back to present and I’m like “wait yeah I’m mad at you for leaving us Din! 😠” get so lost in the sauce (writing) lmao

[luveline]

omg i love ur pregnant reader x hotch esp the flangsty ones…

maybe him and reader get into a little argument and the fighting plus the hormones plus the constant discomfort makes her leave to stay at a friend’s house for “space” (maybe someone in the bau hehe) then he shows up and grovels and they kiss and make up <333

ty for requesting! —hotch and pregnant!reader make up after a fight (neither being quite as mad as they’d claimed).

“Your boyfriend’s outside.” 

You raise your tired head from the couch cushion. “Who?” 

Morgan grins at you. “Hotch, mama. He’s at the door.” 

Hotch is your husband, not your boyfriend. You’ve got the ring to prove it. 

“You didn’t let him in?” 

“He said you might not want to see him.” 

You want to see Hotch more than you’ve ever wanted to see another person. It is absolute torture to be so heavily pregnant with someone’s baby and to worry they don’t want you anymore. If he’s here at such a late hour, he must’ve forgiven you for being grumpy. Right? 

You sit up and let Morgan help you into a standing position. He pulls your blanket tight around your shoulders. “Should I let him in?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You drop your voice to a whisper, “But don’t let him know I’m eager.” 

He gives you a knowing smirk. “Course not. Stay here, okay? I’ll bring him in.” 

Morgan starts back down the hall. You stand in his living room wondering what Hotch is gonna say, if he’s still mad, if you’re still mad, and if he’s strong enough to carry you back to the car. You don’t wanna sleep in Morgan’s bed, as much as you love him. You want your bed, your Hotch, his baby boy snoring in the room across the hall. You love your life (most of the time, when you aren’t carrying the weight of a bowling ball on your abdomen and the hormones aren’t making you sick). 

“Hello,” Hotch says, still in the suit he’d been wearing when he got home that evening, strangely and obviously nervous where he stops in the doorway. 

“Hi. Where’s Jack?” 

“He went with Jess. I needed to talk to you.” 

“Could’ve brought Jack.” 

“I didn’t want to upset him if you stayed here.” 

You nod. Hotch —who’d cringe if he knew you still called him that in your head, though it’s the name he went by when you fell in love, so what are you supposed to do?— gestures for you to sit, not demanding, only concerned. “It’s late,” he says. 

You can’t be bothered to lower yourself awkwardly into the cushion nest you’d made. “Morgan offered me his bed. He has a California king.” 

“But you stayed on the couch.” 

You glare at him half-heartedly. “Maybe I was watching TV.” You’d been waiting for him to call, but it’s not his business.

He doesn’t seem perturbed by your reaction. He's about to apologise anyways. “I’m sorry for getting mad. I know how stressed you are, and I should’ve done better.” 

Your glare softens. 

“I’m sorry I upset you,” he furthers, the ever present pinch of his brows particularly severe. His eyes are dark like clouds full to bursting with rain. 

You don’t want to say it’s okay. You want him to cross the room and cuddle you up like you’re fragile, the way he does, his nose pressed to your temple as his hands grasp up your achy shoulders. 

“I’ll be better,” he says. 

“You really wound me up, you know? I already feel like I have cabin fever.” 

His eyes cast over you, sympathetic and sorry down to your stomach and up again. He’s pleading without speaking. 

You’re not mad anymore, anyhow. “Can you do that thing for me, please?” you ask quietly. 

Hotch crosses the distance between you and encourages you into his side and under his arm. Careful, he bends into your back, pressing his hand under the round bottom of your bump and pulling up. It takes some of the weight from your hips and spine, alleviating a certain heavy pain and discomfort, while also closing the sour gap between you both. 

“Aaron,” you say, a little shy, mostly relieved, “you should’ve brought Jack. You know I’ll come home if you ask me to. I wasn’t even that mad by the time we got back here.” 

His breath is a shudder by your ear. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You look out toward the hall. “Where’s Morgan?” 

“He said he’d go for a walk.” 

“He's a good friend.” 

“He’s a great friend,” Hotch agrees, rubbing the side of you with his other hand before he pulls away completely. “He told me you can always sleep over when I’m acting like your drill sergeant.” 

You laugh under your breath, leaning in with arms held up to slide over his shoulder. He lets out a sigh as your chests touch, your bump smushed, like he’s finally been cut from a trap. To think he’d be so clearly relieved at having your forgiveness has you emotional all over again, but not with the same red passion you’d been angry with before. “I’m your drill sergeant,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“You’re my sweetheart,” he says, so quiet you’re sure it wasn’t him, so out of character to admit something like that on a random day. There’s a hint of joking under it, but enough sincerity simultaneously that you melt in his hold. “You are, and I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t sleep in your own bed.” 

“It’s not like I’d have been put out. Morgan’s got a California–”

“So you’ve told me.” His palm stays flat to your back, his fingers patting you gently. His voice mellows into that silken gentleness to match, the tone that drew you in and has you in such a terribly emotional position to begin with. “I couldn’t leave you here. I know you’d be more than comfortable, but I couldn’t sleep the night without you.” 

“Imagine how I feel when you’re away.” 

“I know. I know.” He kisses the skin shy of your eye. “Should we go and get Jack before bedtime?” 

“Can we get something to eat, too?” 

His answering smile is a curve on your cheek. “Mm-hm,” he hums. “Let me just say thanks to Morgan. Then we can go wherever you want.”

[leth-writes]

Yandere! Batfam x reader

Tried a different format for part 3.

You ran, down the hallway and thundered down the stairwell, sneakered feet slapping against the harsh concrete. You could hear Tim giving chase, racing after you. Yet, you didn’t stop. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be soulbound to someone you stole from, let alone someone who was threatening you right before you found out! You just knew that it would be an unpleasant experience, especially considering the animosity his family no doubt had for you. You burst out into the lobby, Tim close behind, and skidded to a stop. There, standing directly in front of you, was Jason Todd.

He was leaning against the wooden, warped table, leather jacket unzipped to expose his tight muscle shirt. His hair, complete with the little tuft of white at the front, was expertly styled to look perfectly messy. You had to admit he was cute, even if he was part of the now duo threatening your peaceful, if stressful, experience. His eyes flicked up from where they had been staring at his phone, which looked tiny in his hand, then widened in shock as yet another bond snapped into place in your chest. Your ring finger’s string, thick and jagged, now glowed a blood red, leading directly to his now slack hand. You stood halfway between the door to the stairs and the door outside, with Tim now standing just behind you and to your left.

“You feel it too?” Tim asked his brother, jerking his chin in your direction. His dark hair was mussed from the chase, though he remained poised, with not a bead of sweat on his forehead. You turned to face Jason fully, warily taking a step away from both of them, inadvertently putting yourself in a corner.

“Yeah. She our thief?” Jason murmured, eyes still locked on your own. You averted your gaze at the reminder of your actions. Shit. Of course, even when you met your soulfamily, you had to mess it up by stealing from them! You wouldn’t blame them if they rejected you completely and asked you to stay far away from them.

Tim nodded in response to his brother, stepping closer to where you now stood cornered. Jason loomed in the background, now texting and periodically lifting his gaze as if to check you were still present. “We aren’t mad. We just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting too… cocky. I mean, at first Bruce was ecstatic that someone was savvy enough to take some money. Work on uncorrupting the relief funds is slow going, you know? But this month you took so much that he was sure you were moving from relief to scamming.” He explained, hands raised as if to calm you.

“Listen. I’m sorry, I just needed enough to help cover rent for the building. Our new landlord hiked the rent up and no one can get jobs and we’ve all been so stressed…” You found yourself slightly tearing up. Jason clicked his tongue, pocketing his phone and striding forward to place an arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge. Why don’t we head to a cafe and you can tell us all about your new landlord?” he moved you forward with his arm, waving lazily at Tim in a gesture to follow. 

“Jason, we need to head back to the manor. If anyone spots her, it could put her at risk-” Tim started, looking irritated. “We’ll just go out for some coffee and get an explanation. We need to sort out the landlord situation, even if they won’t be living here anymore.” Jason interrupted, once again waving lazily. He seemed quite relaxed, a direct contrast to Tim’s tightly wound posture. “Wait- no! I’m sorry for stealing but I can’t leave my apartment!” You burst out, pulling away.

“You don’t need to apologize. Not like Bruce is missing a couple thousand. He’s got more than enough to be set for life. Let’s go chat at the cafe, I’ll buy you a bagel; you look hungry and you didn’t get to bring your groceries in.” Jason tugged at your arm, marching you forward as Tim rushed to walk next to the two of you.

You didn’t miss the implication that they had been watching you and were aware of your actions that day, but knowing they had been aware of you since the beginning, it no longer surprised you. You supposed that going to the local cafe, indulging in a treat you hadn’t had since long before you been working at that convenience store all those months ago, wouldn’t be too bad.

Not running was your third mistake.

[inurnctdreams]

00:00 - l.dh

idol!haechan x gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, drabble

warnings: swearing, suggestive, mentions of sex, pet names (baby, hyuckie)

wc: 0.7k

“happy birthday dear hyuckie, happy birthday to you!”

“hi baby, thank you.” donghyuck’s voice is quiet and slightly raspy. nothing you haven’t heard multiple times before, but not what you’d expected when you’d called your boyfriend at exactly midnight in his current time zone.

“did… did i wake you up?” you frown, and your voice must betray your disbelief if his cute little chuckles over the line are anything to go by.

“maybe, i fell asleep like twenty minutes after i ate dinner.”

“were the guys not with you?” you pout. you’d at least taken some comfort in the fact that he’s surrounded by the rest of the dreamies for the start of his birthday if you can’t be there.

“they’re here.” he says. “our intention was to stay up.”

“and you all fell asleep? that’s actually really fucking funny.” you can’t help the giggles that escape you at the thought of all seven of them crowding in one hotel room to see donghyuck’s birthday in, only to not make it to midnight.

“yeah, i guess we were all pretty tired.”

“wait, does that mean i still got to be the first person to say it?!” you say excitedly. it’s not yet his birthday where you are, but you’d be damned if you were gonna let a silly thing like time zones come between you and making sure your boyfriend started off his day showered in love, albeit virtual.

“uh-huh.” he smiles, leaving out the fact that he’d been planning on answering your call before anyone else could wish him happy birthday anyway. you’d been so cutely adamant that distance wouldn’t stop you from being the first. “i miss you so much.” you almost don’t hear the whisper. if you didn’t know him so well, you’d chalk the voice crack up to him only just waking up.

“i miss you too, baby. twenty-one hours.” you let yourselves sit with the bittersweet feeling for a moment. tears begin to form in your own eyes but you blink them away. “i cannot wait to give you your presents, i think i’ve outdone myself this year!”

“all i need is you.” he elongates the vowels in ‘you’, trying to match your cheery tone.

“ew, stop being so greasy! plus, you love presents and i’m still mad my master plan to have them sent to you was ruined.”

“management did have a point about the shipping time issues, plus this way you can see me open them properly.” he reasons. “i can’t wait to hug you again.”

“just hug me?” you smirk.

“this was supposed to be a cute, innocent birthday call, not phone sex!” he gasps dramatically, sending you both into another fit of giggles.

“okay, okay.” you relent. “i guess the whole point of birthday sex is to do it in person.”

“tease.”

“we did not need to hear that.” another voice chimes in, clearly muffled and far away.

“why are you even on the phone so late?” mark questions, sounding closer than jaemin had. “oh shit dude, happy birthday!”

“is it already midnight?” jisung’s voice is muffled, and then you hear rustling and yells for the other boys to wake up.

“i’ll let you go, have fun with the boys!” you smile.

“no!” hyuck immediately whines.

“it’s okay baby, have a good morning and let me know when you’re boarding and landing, yeah?”

“fine.” he sighs, and you can hear the pout in his voice. the mental image of him, bedhead and traces of sleep, has you mourning the fact that you can’t squish his cheeks or kiss his forehead. yet, you remind yourself. “i’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you as soon as i get back.”

“i’m holding you to that.” you smile, ignoring the fake gagging sounds in the background.

“get some rest too, i know you have work in the morning.”

“i’ll try.” you knew it would be difficult to settle your restless brain but he was right, you did have work, plus the stuff you’d planned for when he got home that you had managed to keep a surprise. “happy birthday, hyuckie. i love you.”

“i love you too.” you glance down at your phone when the call ends.

twenty-one hours.

[the-prettiest-teardrop]

🍄‍🟫 and 🕷 with luke castellan maybe? Have a good day! ❤️

“REALLY?”

Pairing- Luke Castellan x reader

Warnings- Kissing, angst, crying, hiding emotions, hurt/comfort.

A/n- Sorry if this feels a bit rushed, I was struggling with trying to end this!

“C’mon, you gotta admit it, you and Y/N would make a good couple.” Chris comments. Chris, Luke, Clarisse, and you were all hanging out on the dock. Luke was layed down beside you, propped up on his elbows, head occasionally resting on your side. The comment caused your heart to flutter, your unspoken feelings for Luke coming to mind.

“No offense, but I’d never date her, we’re friends, and I wouldn’t want anything else.” Luke says with a light scoff, causing a pit to form in your stomach. Your sudden upset must’ve been somewhat present on your face with the way Clarisse immediately raises her eyebrows and then looks between the two of you in a knowing gesture. You quickly stifle a laugh, trying to make it seem as if you weren’t upset.

“You sure? Not like you’re pulling all the ladies.” You tease in an attempt to hide how upset you truly were.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He shoots back, making you sit up right, Chris and Clarisse also now paying more attention. “You know the new girl? Emma? We’ve been talking and I think we might start dating.” The news shakes you. It was one thing if he didn’t reciprocate feelings, because then he’d treat you as he always had, but a girlfriend could change your relationship. 

“Dude, that’s awesome, took you long enough.” Chris finally says, breaking the seconds of silence that had fallen over the group. 

“Yeah, I’m glad you’ve got someone now.” You say with a laugh, hoping he doesn’t hear the sadness in your tone.

“Aww, you happy that you’ll finally get to be alone for once?” He jokes back, push you lightly, causing you to rock a bit. You laugh, not quite knowing how to react.

It was hard watching the two of them walk around, the way she looked up at him, smiling at his laugh, hands on his chest. It burned, watching her get to do everything that you should be doing with him. He had been ignoring you in favor of her, acting as if you didn’t exist.

 Well, that was until a knock came at the door of your cabin. It was just you in there, sitting on your bed, reading your book. When you open the door, you’re met with Luke, his face red, hands shaking lightly.

“Can I come in?” He asks quietly, a tremor in his voice.

“Um, sure.” You reply, tone matching his own. The two of you move to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it.

“She- she said we couldn’t ever be together, I wasn’t good enough for her.” He says, turning to wrap his arms around you. You could tell he was trying not to cry, which broke you.

“Luke, I- I’m so sorry.” You say quietly, you wanted to be mad, but with how sad he was, you didn’t have it in you.

“I thought someone finally wanted me.” He whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck as you held him in your arms. You could feel the tears warm your skin as he cried.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here for you.” You soothe, but you desperately wanted to pour out your feelings to him, to tell him you loved him, wanted him. 

“Can I just lay with you?” He asks timidly, picking his head up to look at you with glistening eyes. You nodded softly, moving to lay down in the small bed with him, tugging a throw blanket over you two. 

As you laid there, you began to find some sort of confidence, pulling it from somewhere inside you to finally tell him.

“Luke- I- fuck, I can’t believe I’m actually saying this out loud, but I- I love you.”

“I love you too.” He replies, not understanding the depth of it.

“No- I love you, like, more than a friend.” You breathe out, finally saying what you’d waited so long to say.

“What?” He says, moving away from you in bed and sitting upright. Your heart stops as he moves away from you.

“Listen- just forget I said anything. It just hurt to hear you say that you didn’t think anyone wanted you when I’ve wanted you for years and years.” You explain, also moving to sit up and meet his eyes, searching in them for some sort of reaction.

“No, no, I’m not mad at you, I- I just didn’t think you’d feel the same way.” He says, releasing a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

“Really?” You ask in breathy tone, not believing him, even as he moved forward, placing his large hands on your cheeks. He moved forward, and finally, his lips pressed to yours, all the love, sadness, and anger the two of you had been to poured into the way your lips moved against each other. The feelings hidden for years finally revealed.

[obsessedwithspiderman2099]

Can you please do a Miguel O’Hara scenario where F!Reader is his Deadpool and even though he finds her irritating sometimes he has a soft spot for her?

A Spider-Man and A Mercenary

Pairings: Miguel O’Hara x fem Deadpool Reader

Word count: 776

Synopsis: A familiar Deadpool variant manages to break into the spider society again…

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting!!! This was such a fun dynamic to write between Miguel and us as Deadpool 😋

It was just like any normal day in the spider society. Anomalies were being dealt with, and no spiders were bothering Miguel as he got to stand in his office looking over everything.

Suddenly on one of the security monitors, He spotted a certain Deadpool breaking into the building. Miguel groaned, not you again. If any regular Deadpool broke in, normally he would just ship them back home. Easy. But no, of course the most obnoxious one was located on earth 2099.

“Ay, Dios mio…” Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, already hearing your loud voice echoing through the already busy hallways of the spider society. He sighed, turning off the intruder alert and resting his hands on his hips as he waiting for you to stomp into his office to torture him further.

You had done this continuously, annoying him with your constant yapping and endless flirting.

Miguel finally heard the door open, signaling your entrance.

“What do you want.” He grumbled, refusing to look at you and instead focusing his gaze on the numerous yellow screens surrounding his office.

“Heyyyy, how’s my favorite Spider-Man doing?” You say, waltzing into his office, or what you call his spider-cave ( he never got the reference).

“You know you’re not supposed to be in this building.”

Miguel crossed his arms, finally looking at the familiar red leather suit you’re sporting.

“How many times do I have to kick you out before you get it?”

“Guess you’ll just have to do it again.” You say, giving him a wink before strolling further in. He scoffed, glancing at his screens for a split second.

Meanwhile, you immediately begin to look around the large dark space, pushing random buttons and causing havoc.

“Hey-HEY!” Miguel pushed himself away from his desk and quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled you back from the buttons that were connected to important multiverse things. “Why do you insist on being such a pain in my ass?” He glared at you with his usual scowling red eyes, the lack of sleep present underneath them. “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you look mad?” You smirk, looking up at him.

The height difference between the two of you was comical.

“You. All the time. It’s infuriating.” Miguel said bluntly, narrowing his eyes down at you.

He lets out a tired sigh, obviously frustrated by but also oddly used to your antics. “Can you just stop moving and causing chaos for five minutes and just act like a normal Human??” “We both know I’m not.” “I’m fully aware of that…” He scoffed, pulling you a bit closer to him.

His fingers curled around your wrist, keeping you from trying to wander off again.

“Oooooo, feeling handsy today are we?”

He rolled his eyes at the comment. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m just trying to keep you from touching something you're not supposed to.”

Despite what he was saying, he kept you close. His fingers gently caressing the red leather surrounding your wrist. Your annoying energy and presence alone was exhausting to deal with, but a part of Miguel couldn’t help but be drawn to you. Something about you.. just made Miguel’s heart beat a little faster. (And sometimes made his face red)

You start tapping on his arm, bringing him back to the present. “Yeah riiiiiight.” You tease, and he finally comes up with the bright ideas to try getting you out of his office.

“Are you hungry?” Miguel asks, noticing the way your face immediately shoots up to meet his. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“If I take you out to lunch will you stop bothering me and breaking into my office??”

“Awww, you're finally taking me out on a date? Took you long enough!”

You bat your eyes at him, again trying to poke his buttons.

“It’s not a date. Don’t get any ideas.” Miguel responded quickly, activating his mask to hide the slight redness that covered his cheeks.

“Can we listen to wham on the way?” You say, already skipping to the exit at the thought.

“You just can’t make this easy for me, can you?” He said, rolling his eyes at your request.

“Fine, whatever. We're listening to wham, just promise you won’t try to start anything else.”

“Can’t make any promises spidey.”

The familiar cheeky smile on your face beaming. He sighed, a mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. “Of course you can’t..” He followed after, opening the door for you. “After you.”

“What a gentleman.” You happily walked out, taking his hand in yours. He saw this, and couldn’t help but give the tiniest smile.

Maybe this ‘date’ wouldn’t be as long and grudgingly annoying as he thought.

[mountttmase]

Little Bean

Note - happy Friday, here’s just a tiny something I wrote yesterday after we were talking about pregnancy cravings 🩷 feedback would be appreciated as always 😌

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 986

Warnings - fluff

‘So you want peanut butter and… pickles?’ Mason asked, a questioning tone to his voice as if he thought you were mad but you’d been craving the strange combination all day.

‘Maybe some chocolate chips too? Oh and the really cheap fluffy white bread, none of that 50/50 crap’ you told him.

‘You’re absolutely sure that’s what you want?’

‘It’s not what I want Mase, it’s what our little bean wants’ you told him, your hand falling to your rather large belly. Truth be told your little bean wasn’t so little anymore but it was yours and Mason's first nickname for your baby and it had just stuck so whilst you were still deciding on names the pair of you always referred to them as your little bean.

‘You want a drink or anything else?’

‘You know what I really fancy a vimto’ you told him, watching him shake his head with a laugh before kissing your forehead as he got up.

‘Okay well I won’t be long’

‘Thank you, Mase. I really appreciate you going to get it for me’ you told him sincerely but he was more than happy to do it for you.

‘Well it’s my duty as a dad’ he laughed. ‘You’re giving me a baby, the least I can do is go buy the love of my life some pickles and peanut butter at 11:30 at night’

‘Don’t forget the vimto’ you called as he got closer to the door and the loving smile he sent your way made your heart race.

‘I won’t baby. I’ll be as quick as I can, yeah? Love you’

‘Love you more’ you called, blowing him a quick kiss that he adorably caught, putting it in his pocket before leaving the room.

The small Sainsbury's was only a few minutes away and Mason kept his hat on and head down the whole time he was in there. Laughing to himself as he picked up everything you’d asked for and even getting a multipack of vimto just in case you wanted more tomorrow.

When he’d asked you earlier on if you fancied a snack he was expecting you to say ice cream like you had been for weeks but this new concoction had him stunned and confused. You were giving him the greatest gift he could ever ask for though so as soon as your order was in he was off to get it for you.

The shopping trip went without a hitch and he was home within 15 minutes. Unpacking his little haul before he got to making your special sandwich of peanut butter and pickles with chocolate chips and an ice cold vimto on the side. Nearly gagging as he placed it all together on the plate but if that’s what you wanted then that’s what you were getting.

You were sat up and waiting for him when he returned to your room, eyes lighting up and the sight of him and your heart thumped at the way he presented you your creation with a proud smile on his face.

‘Thank you, Mase. I really do appreciate you’ you told him. Kissing his cheek quickly as you took the plate from his hands and as soon as he set your glass on your bedside table he was undressing himself and getting back into bed next to you.

He watched on in what would only be described as fascination and slight horror as you took your first bite. Thinking maybe it had been a joke this whole time but there you were, eyes rolling back in your head as you munched away and as much as mason wanted to ask how it was he didn’t want to disturb your moment.

‘God that hits the spot. It's better than I thought it would be’ you told him after your second bite, looking over to him to find him trying to hold back a laugh. ‘You know what? The chocolate chips really set it off, I’m a genius I swear’

‘Yes you are baby’ he laughed, kissing your shoulder before he started to shuffle down and lay next to you.

‘You want a bite?’

‘You know what, I’ve got training early so I best not’ he told you, but you knew it was just an excuse. ‘Maybe tomorrow’

‘I’ll have one waiting for you when you get home’ you joked, watching his face scrunch up in disgust causing you to laugh loudly.

‘Can’t wait’ he chuckled, settling himself down next to you. ‘You gonna be able to sleep after all that sugar?’

‘I’m six months pregnant Mase, of course I’ll sleep’ you told him. Reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, your heart racing as his snuggled into your thigh and wrapped his arm around your leg. ‘Just let me finish and we can cuddle’

‘Fine but I wanna be the big spoon. Not sure I want pickle peanut butter breath in my face all night’

‘I’m gonna clean my teeth you big baby’

‘Doesn’t matter how much you clean them, I’ll still know’ he teased and you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

‘You’re insane’

‘Says the one eating something i could find in a bin’

‘Hey, stop being mean’ you laughed. Polishing off the last of your sandwich as he kissed your thigh as an apology. ‘I’ll be back in a sec yeah?’

‘You want a hand up?’ He offered sweetly but you just shook your head and stroked his hair.

‘I’m good, thank you though’ you laughed. Getting yourself out of bed to clean your teeth but you stopped as you got to the door so you could look back at Mason all curled up in bed waiting for you. You heart thumping at the sweet man you got to call your own with tonight only confirming to you once again he would be the only man you’d ever need.

[vctrvn-ls]

Treat Me Better

note: shld I make this a series typa thing? also first time posting not from the app lmao, hopefully this’ll post properly. warnings: swearing, angry sharky (not typical)

wordcount: 1.1k

part 2

part 3

———————————————————————

You slammed the door of your apartment with a low and annoyed groan.

You were wet, freezing, hungry and tired.

With shaking hands and a quivering lip you untied your shoelaces, you didn’t know if you were cold or on the verge of a breakdown.

You dragged your feet from the hallway to the living room couch, not even bothering to take off your soaking wet jeans and socks. 

Another groan left your lips, this time it was more genuine and sad. You curled up on the couch, hugging your knees and screwing your eyes shut, remembering how terribly your day went.

After taking your first set of mock exams this morning, you realized how much you don’t know. And despite all your efforts and sleepless nights of studying, you felt like giving up hope to achieve those high grades you so desired. 

You were just about to rethink how you got caught in a storm with your broken bag and torn umbrella, when you felt your phone buzz. 

You took it out of your back pocket. It was cold and damp, with drops of water smeared on the screen. How was it even working?

You looked at your messages seeing “Sharks ❤️” on the screen. Usually you’d smile, but today it was if you had no energy to do so. Before you could reply, your phone lit up and began vibrating. He was calling you.

“Fuck,” you whispered. After a quick practice of your fake happy voice you answered the call.

“Heeeyy,” you tried to sound as bubbly as you could.

“Hey baby, howd the mocks go?”

You stayed silent.

“I saw you haven’t been online since this morning. You alright?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah I was just,” your eyes darted around as you tried to make up an excuse.

“Just what?”  

“Just…needed to get something done and didn’t have the chance to pick my phone up.” 

“You have any plans for the weekends?”

“Studying. My second set of mocks is on Tuesday.”

“Oh, right.” He sounded a little disappointed “Well I hope everything’s alright. If you feel like it, maybe we can go out tomorrow?”

You let out a sigh. It was more of a breathe than a sigh really, but Sharky misunderstood the tone of your breath and took it in as annoyed.

“Or- Well we don’t have to. I was just making a suggestion…haven’t seen you in ages.” 

You frowned without replying.

After a few seconds of silence you finally said “Could you…come over?” You even sat up, shocked by your spontaneous suggestion.

“…Really?” 

You hummed.

“I-I mean yeah of course I’d love to.”

“It’s late.” You said as if reminding him.

“So? It’s not like I wake up early or I have somewhere to be.”

“Then I’m waiting.” You laid back down.

Half an hour went by and you didn’t even notice. You were so burnt out that you couldn’t even find the motivation to look at least a little presentable for your boyfriend’s arrival. Realization only hit once there was a timid knock on the door.

You cursed under your breathe and got up, walking over to the door, unlocking it.

“You okay, baby?” Was the first thing Sharky said.

“Wha-Do I not look okay?” You got a little irritated by his question.

“N-no I was just asking.”

There was a second of silence. You had a mad look on your face and Sharky could tell something was up.

“Can I maybe come in?” 

You stepped aside with a quiet ‘sorry’.

“You want anything?” You asked.

“Just you.” He smirked as he hung his coat. You rolled your eyes.

“Jeez what’s wrong?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Nothings wrong!” You exclaimed, a little louder than you intended to.

He stared with disbelief. He didn’t say a word.

“What?” You leaned forward, feeling stupid under his gaze, which made you even more mad.

“Wha- Okay, is there anything you want to tell me?” He avoided the question that previously got a surprising reaction out of you.

“No?” You replied bitterly.

“Should I go? I don’t really feel welcomed right now.”

“Maybe you should.” You sighed. You didn’t mean that. You really didn’t.

Sharky’s face dropped. He knew he asked the question, but he didn’t think that he would hear what he heard.

“Are you for real?” He raised his eyebrows.

You shrugged.

He scoffed and laughed, looking up and shaking his head “Unbelievable.”

You observed, leaning on the wall with your shoulder and your arms crossed.

“Un-fucking-believeable.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t know if you could handle a fight right now.

“You are so,” he paused, trying to think of the right words “So… annoying.”

“What?” 

“Look, I know you probably had a hard day yeah? And whatever the fuck happened, happened. But if you ask me to come over you should at least tell me! Why am I always here to support you, yet I still get treated like shit most of the time.”

“Sharky I-”

“No you know what,” he raised his hands up “You have a problem. Like some serious issues.”

Your heart dropped. Never in your life have you ever heard Sharky talk to you or to anyone like this. He was pissed. Something you didn’t know Sharky was capable of.

“How the fuck do you expect me to help you through a hard time when you don’t tell me shit?” He whispered.

“I-”

“And when do I finally get the feeling of fulfillment that the relationship I’m in isn’t one-sided? Why are you so abnormally cold all the time? I spend so much time, so much effort to make you feel good, to make you feel loved. Will I ever get that? Will I ever experience that feeling from you? From fucking anyone?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but tears filled your eyes and your throat tightened.

“Oh and you’re gonna cry?” He laughed “YOU!?”

You sniffed and quickly wiped your eyes.

“Great. Amazing. Just great. You know what? I will leave. And I’ll leave leave cause I’m tired. Tired of wasting my energy on you.”

“I didn’t know I was such a burden,” you said in a raspy voice “Didn’t know it took that much effort to love me.”

“Yeah. It fucking does.” He grabbed his coat.

“Fuck you.” The sentence came out more like a question, rather than a confident statement.

“Yeah.” He looked at you with the saddest eyes. The most heart wrenching eyes. Eyes that spoke more than his mean words.

“Sharky, I’m sorry.” You said as if your instincts kicked in and your brain suddenly started working.

“Save it. I dont care how sorry you are. Bye. Have a nice life. And good luck tryna find someone who’ll deal with your bullshit the way I did.” He turned around and slammed the door.

You bit your thumb, sliding down against the wall to the floor.

You weren’t crying or sobbing.

In fact you didn’t make a single noise.

You just stayed there.

———————————————————————

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

heart-shaped pancakes

pairing: chris redfield x reader

cw: dd/lg, age gap, p in v, oral, alcohol, breeding kink, daddy kink

a/n: i'm sorry i couldn't do sweet sex like i did w leon (chris does something to me). anyway, i imagine this as re8 chris, but also maybe a lil bit of di/vendetta chris.

wc: 4.1k

Chris shouldn’t be as surprised as he is when you broach the subject to him. He’s pushing 50 and you’re barely 21. Daddy issues. Neither of you grew up with present fathers, and maybe that’s what makes you the perfect match. He can be the man his father never was, he can be the man your father never was, Chris can be your daddy. 

You’re tipsy off Ciroc and lemonade - you can order top-shelf liquor since you drink on Chris’dime. Chris tries not to drink too much because he has to supervise you. He practically carries you out of the bar when he decides you’ve had enough. You can pout and cross your arms at him all you want, but he won’t budge. He struggles not to laugh at you because you look silly when you’re being stubborn. Other patrons probably already think he’s your father. 

When you get into the car, he buckles you in while you babble all your complaints. “You’re so strict. I was just having fun.”

“I’m trying to protect you,” he says, hand on the gearshift because he’s taking you home despite your protests. 

“Okay, dad.” You roll your eyes. Chris can hear it, even though his eyes are on the road. “Sorry, I mean, Daddy,” you say, half-laughing because you’re half-joking. Only half. You’re half entirely fucking serious. Chris almost crashes the car on the way out of the parking lot. 

“Think you’re funny, don’t you?” He’s amused, not aroused according to his brain wherein his better judgment lies. His brain’s not the only organ in his body responsible for his decision making. Blame all the bad decisions on his dick. 

“No, I think you like it,” You taunt. He can feel your eyes studying him. You’re oddly perceptive. It almost disturbs him sometimes. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you say, all sing-songy - thank God it wasn’t karaoke night. “Daddy’s making me go home because I’m his baby girl, and baby girls can’t stay up past bedtime.”

It’s the voice that really gets him. All breathy and light. Sharp inhale, long exhale. Do not play her games. He needs it tattooed on him Memento-style.

“Don’t distract Daddy while he’s driving.” It shuts you up. Neither of you are sure how committed he is to playing the part. His voice is stern - and not quite in the ‘Daddy’s going to spank you’ way. He’s being serious. Either way, you’ve written the word ‘Daddy’ in every corner of his mind in bold Sharpie lettering. He can’t get away from it. 

Chris deposits the car keys on the counter and flops down onto the couch with a sigh. You stand there, waiting, looking lost in your own home. Chris raises his eyebrows at you and pats his lap. “Come here,” he says, looking smug now that he’s gained the upper hand. 

You scurry across the room and sit in his lap awkwardly like you’re taking a picture with Santa Claus and telling him what you want. 

“Do you think we need to have a talk about what you said back there in the car?”

You try to squirm away, but he has a firm grip on your hips. His voice in your ear is still mocking, but his lips are sweet from your cherry-flavored chapstick. From when? Memories blend together when you're lost in the smell of his cologne.

“I was just trying to provoke you.”

“Provoke me to do what?” Yeah, exactly. You’re caught, sweet cheeks. “Did you accidentally reveal a little secret about yourself?” His face is nuzzled into your neck now and he places a kiss to the nape. It’s so unfair, he already has you in his grasp, now all he needs is a confession. 

“And what if I did? Would you be mad at me?” You want so badly to be a tease - you already look the part, wearing a skirt that's dangerously short - but your shyness makes you sound defensive.

“Mad at you? For what?” Your pink cheeks melt his stoic facade so easily.

“I don’t know.” You look down at your hands, you’re fidgeting. “It’s weird, right? I mean, I feel weird that I wanna call you ‘Daddy’.”

“It’s a little weird-”

“See? I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“-but it’s not weirder than anything else you do.”

“Huh?”

“You've got a bed filled with... those whatever you call ‘em… marshmallows?”

“Squishmallows,” you correct him. 

“Thank you. Your squishmallows hog the bed until you wanna have sex, and then they can’t be there because ‘you don’t want them to see anything inappropriate’.”

“Baby Yoda’s too young to see things like that.”

“Baby Yoda’s not real, honey.”

You frown. 

“I’m sorry. He’s real, you’re right,” he concedes when he hears a sniffle come from you. 

“You can apologize to him, not me.”

“Remind me when we go to bed, okay?”

You turn yourself sideways in his lap, so you can snuggle up to him. “So you wanna be my daddy?” You’re quick to adopt your role. He tries to think of a way to tell you he’s not sure, he’ll think about it, but his cock twitches and the decision is made. “I think I already am your daddy, baby girl.”

“Mm yeah,” you mumble and nod. With your head pressed into him like this, you’re rubbing your cheek against his chest like a cat does with its owner - affectionate and adorable, though you end up leaving glittery eyeshadow on his good shirt. “Can we go to sleep?” 

“Yep. It’s way past your bedtime.” A bedtime which has yet to be set. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, knowing he’s going to pick you up and carry you. 

When you’re drunk, Chris usually has to help you put your pajamas on. This isn’t anything new. It’s new when he has to help you into your clothes the next morning, when you’re sober. Tonight, your tank top and shorts are a soft cotton, covered in pink flowers. You fall asleep only after your face has been scrubbed of makeup - Daddy's orders.

You make a face when the damp towelette touches your skin. 

“I know you don’t like it, but you’re gonna be mad if you get makeup all over your pillowcase,” Chris reminds you. (You suck it up for the sake of the pillowcase.)

Before transporting you to bed, he pinches your freshly-washed cheeks. Your skin is soft and the apples of your cheeks are round when you smile.  “You’re so cute,” he says. The truest words he's ever spoken.

“Love you, Daddy,” you mumble as you fall asleep. It’s so sincere and delicate, it sounds adorable when you say it. He could get used to hearing it.  

It’s a good thing Chris is used to lack of sleep because you toss and turn, moving him around like he’s a ragdoll. You push him onto his back and splay yourself across him like a dead starfish, then you turn onto your side so you can hug one of your squishmallows that’s half the size of your body, and you grab Chris’ arm, pulling him with you, so he can be the big spoon. 

You’re a heavy sleeper until he tries to move. If he flips over, so do you. You’re stuck to him, like a sea urchin. He told you that once and you cried. “No, I didn’t mean it like that, baby. You’d be a cute little sea urchin,” he said. 

You wake up bright and early without a hangover. At Chris’ age, you always wake up feeling kind of hungover - achy body, foggy brain, a vague sense of regret. It’s Saturday, which means that Chris is supposed to be able to sleep in for a couple extra hours. His alarm goes off in the form of your mouth on his dick. 

He sits halfway up, balancing himself on his elbows and sees your head peeking out from under the covers. You lock eyes with him, and he squints like he’s trying to read small print. 

“Good morning, Daddy,” you chime. Oh yeah, guess that whole ‘Daddy’ thing wasn’t a dream. 

“Daddy’s trying to sleep,” he says in between yawns. 

“I wanna play,” you say. Your pink lips are dripping with your own drool which you haven’t bothered to wipe off. Does Daddy have to buy you a bib? 

“Have at it,” he says and pats your cheek, giving you the tiniest smile before lying back down. 

For a little girl, you really know how to suck cock, he thinks. You take him as far as you can down your throat. You almost choke. Chris’ eyes open again to see tears in your waterline. 

“C’mere” he says, hoisting you up, so that you’re lying on his chest. He wipes the tears from your eyes before they can fall. 

“Was it not good enough?” His heart breaks hearing your faltering tone. 

“No, no, you were doing so well, baby, but you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing it like that.”

Daddy knows best. He never wants to impose rules on you, he can’t be strict with you. He doesn’t control your screen time or force you to eat dinner before dessert. Despite your feisty attitude and tendency to be naughty, you’re a good girl. Though, maybe he does need to limit your daily intake of dick since you continue to push the limits of your windpipe. 

“Kisses?” You look like you’re going to cry if he denies you - not that he would ever do such a thing. 

“Always,” he says before giving you a soft kiss on the lips. It doesn’t take long for an innocent kiss to turn into a full-blown make out session. 

The growl of your stomach interrupts the moment. 

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” you lie.

“It’s not nice to lie to Daddy.”

Too bad sucking cock is a reward not a punishment. You get a lot of rewards.

“Get up,” he says, giving you a light slap on the ass.

Your smile dares him to do it again. When he does, it only encourages your bad behavior.

He convinces you to get out of bed with the promise of pancakes. You sit at the kitchen counter, kicking your feet, waiting impatiently. 

“Can you make them into shapes, Daddy?”

“A circle is a shape, honey.”

“I want heart-shaped pancakes.”

He sighs, ignoring your complaints. “Syrup?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little bit disappointed at the fact that your pancakes will not have an extravagant presentation. Your frown is quick to disappear when your pancakes arrive. They’re on a frog-shaped plate. The two pockets at the top (the eyes of the frog) hold syrup and blueberries. 

“Can you cut them up?” You hold out your fork and knife. Oh, he forgot, babies can’t have knives. 

Chris walks over silently and does as you ask. He feels more like a butler than a Daddy. 

“Thank you. I love you, Daddy,” you say as he turns to walk away. 

It takes very little to make him smile - at least, when it comes to you. “Love you, too, cutie,” he says. He gives you a peck on the lips and an extra kiss on the forehead, for good luck.

Chris likes being your Daddy, and you catch on fast. 

Daddy. The word becomes a weapon. 

Chris tries not to let you see how much it affects him when you say it, especially in public. You got an earful for saying it within earshot of the cashier once. He already looks old enough to be your father, and he really doesn’t want anyone thinking that’s the case, especially when you’re so handsy - you’ve gotten in trouble for that too. You cannot grope Daddy in a crowded park in broad daylight. 

You’re in line at the pharmacy, getting the essentials: condoms, nicotine gum, and apparently, a giant bag of starbursts. 

“Mm-mm.” Chris shakes his head. 

You pout and thrust the bag at him. 

“I’ve already put on weight. I’m too old to eat all that candy.” It's not like anyone's forcing him to eat it, but he knows himself by now - he will eat the entire bag.

“But, Daddy, please,” you whine and look up at him with your big dewy eyes.

And that’s it. That’s all you have to say. The last time you said that you were begging to blow him. It’s all he can see now. The blood rushes downwards and he knows arguing with you is pointless. He snatches the bag from you and buys it without another word.

You reach for the plastic shopping bag so you can have a snack on the drive home, but Chris puts them out of your reach.

“Bad girls don’t get candy,” he says. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Bullshit. 

“You’re lucky it’s day time because I’d park the car on the side of the road and tell you to prove to me how sorry you are.”

You perk up at that, it seems like you’d like getting on your knees in public. Better take back that threat. 

He lets you off the hook because you have him wrapped around your finger. He’s ‘Daddy’ in name only, you wear the pants in the relationship. 

The protector role he takes on as Daddy comes naturally. He’s lost almost everyone he’s ever loved. The fact that you like him watching over you and keeping you safe makes his life easier. It makes him less paranoid. Now he only has to worry about all of his other loved ones. He makes Claire text him once a day to let him know she’s alive. The one time she forgot - had a very fun night out with her own man - he almost had a heart attack. Jill negotiated her contract down to once a week minimum. 

You effortlessly play the part of baby girl. You were already cute, the only difference is you pretend to be innocent now - you’re awful at acting, but it makes you even cuter when you try. Your favorite activities are coloring, watching cartoons, and taking dick. You’re allowed to watch one episode of whatever show you want before bed on weeknights. Daddy is only strict about bedtime because Chris is exhausted. He nods off while you’re sitting in his lap unless you’re constantly chatting or trying to get in his pants. 

“Daddy, you’re not paying attention,” you say, tugging at his sleeve. 

“We’ve already seen this episode. I don’t need to pay attention.”

“You fell asleep last time. That’s why we’re watching it again.”

He tries desperately to keep his eyes open. The fact that you constantly “readjust your sitting position” and your ass - which peeks out of your pajama shorts - rubs against his dick. You have to keep him hard to keep him awake. 

But, Daddy needs a cat nap on the couch so he can prepare for what becomes the typical bedtime routine: a story. 

“Tell me a story.”

“About what?”

“You.”

“You already know everything about me.”

“Nuh-uh. What about a long time ago? Before I knew you.”

“When? I’ve been alive a long time.”

“When you were my age. What were you like?”

That was over 20 years ago. You were born 21 years ago. He feels ancient when he thinks about it like that. He sighs. “Do you want to hear about my time in S.T.A.R.S. or the Air Force?”

“Both of those sound kind of boring.”

“You asked for a story about me, not an interesting story.”

“What about any escapades? Tell me a story about a rendezvous from the olden days?” 

Whoa there, Baby Einstein, you’ve got quite the vocabulary for a little lady like yourself. Chris considers pulling up a dictionary on his phone and reading you that since you wanna be a smart girl it seems. Maybe he can recite the preamble to the Constitution, that’ll put you to sleep.

“The olden days?” He’s almost offended at your remark, “I’m not that old.” There’s a pause. “Fine. I’m old and I need a minute to come up with something.” Oh God, his memory might be going. Daddy’s early onset dementia is showing.

You wait patiently.

“When I was around your age,” Jesus Christ. He sounds like a father. “I had more than a few hook ups in the back of a cop car.”

“As a cop or a criminal?”

“A cop, dumbass.”

“Did you fuck criminals?”

“Not that I know of. I wasn’t one of those corrupt cops.”

“Yeah, you were! You were having sex on duty.”

“Yeah? I’ll remind you of that the next time you call me at work, begging me to come home and fuck you.”

“Fuck is a bad word.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“You said it first.”

“What do you want me to call it? Intercourse? Making love? ‘Getting it on’?”

“Practicing making a baby,” you suggest.

“Oh? Is that right? You wanna make a baby?”

Bedtime has been thrown out the window. Chris has you pinned - literally, caged in by his body. He forces you to meet his eyes.He doesn’t give you a chance to run from the implication. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. 

“What if we just pretend? For practice," you say.

“Sure, practice.” He’s all sardonic about it, but he’s dying to put his dick in you. “Swear you’ve been taking those pills?”

“Pinky swear. Girl Scouts honor.”

It’s rare that you’re able to break his composure, but he has to stifle a laugh. You’re quick to make the transition from being shy to impatient, squirming when you don’t get what you want. Chris moves his hands from your wrists to interlock his fingers with yours. 

“Can you be a good girl?” He asks.

“Yes, Daddy” you say, but your coy grin and shifty eyes betray you. Obedience is boring. You’ll push the envelope until you get fucked face down into the mattress. 

Chris scoffs and rolls his eyes - you’re a liar, and he’ll still fulfill every wish of yours. You moan into his mouth when he kisses you and lift your hips, trying to get any friction. Being greedy only gets you further from your goal. 

He takes off your top and leaves your shorts on. When you pout, he mimics your expression and starts sucking on your tits until the pouty lips are parted and your eyes are screwed shut - he teases you until he’s too hard to think straight. 

Maybe you don’t wear the pants in the relationship. At least, not for long. He yanks your shorts down like a warning for how rough he’s willing to be with you. And you love it. Daddy’s little girl can take dick like a champ. You don’t need practice ‘making a baby’. 

You’re wet. No, that’s an understatement - you’re soaked. It’s okay, though, because Chris planned on ruining your panties anyway. He’ll feel less guilty, knowing that you made a mess of them first. He pulls the fabric to the side and pumps two fingers in and out. You moan and he retracts them. 

“You’re so mean,” you whine. 

“You’ve been naughty for the past week, and I’m still rewarding you. I’m not mean.”

You scowl, and he leans in and whispers in your ear, “And, I know you like it.”

You can’t argue with that. 

You’re practically salivating watching him get undressed. The way he pulls his shirt over his head is one thing, but the sound of his belt buckle, the button pop, the zipper pulled down, you could get off on that alone. 

Chris’ underwear comes off and your fingers travel to the hem of yours in response. He gently takes your hands away. “Nope.”

At first, you think he’s going to tease you. Maybe he won’t even fuck you tonight. Maybe it’s a punishment disguised as a reward. No, you realize, he’s going to fuck you with your panties still on. He drags the tip of his dick along your folds and you moan pathetically. It’s cute, really. 

As wet as you are, it takes you a moment to adjust to the size of him. You grab hold of your flannel sheets - (your favorite ones, with snowmen on them despite the fact that winter is long gone) - bracing yourself for the stretch. “Being loose” is definitely a myth because you’re tight every time. Your lip quivers, but your pussy flutters.

You are being good. Until you get greedy. Daddy fucks you slow and deep, the way he likes. You’re needy, still young enough to want a quickie, especially when you’ve got multiple rounds in you. It’s easy when you’re not the one doing most of the work. 

“More, Daddy,” you whine. You get what you want - sort of, it’s always ‘more, more, more’ until it’s ‘too much, Daddy’. 

“Shh… thought you were gonna be a good girl for Daddy. You’re gonna get us in trouble again.”

“I promise I’ll be good.”

“I don’t believe you. Remember how loud you were last time?”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Oh really?”

You nod, pouting. 

He sighs. He can’t even punish you because you get off on that, too. 

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he says, halting his thrusts. You try to force him to keep going with your legs around his hips. “Ah-ah,” he chides you, “pay attention.”

Reluctantly, you do as he says. 

“If you can’t behave, I’ll pull out.” That's the only thing he can threaten you with.

You’ve forced his hand. “No…” you say meekly.

“Yes, and you know what,” he says, moving your legs so that you no longer have a grip on his hips, “I’m gonna give you more, but you’re gonna flip over for me.”

He pulls out and for once you obey, flipping yourself onto your stomach. You point to the pillow you want. He grabs it and slides it under your hips. He lifts your hips and slides his cock inside you. You feel the intense pressure of being stretched out and you whimper into the pillow. 

“Aw, baby can’t take it? Thought you wanted this?” Chris doesn’t slow the pace of his thrusts. 

You shake your head, and he swears he can hear a muffled “I can, I can”, but your voice gets lost in the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Regardless of your sobs, you don’t use your safe word. 

“What is it, baby?” He leans down and whispers into your ear with mock-sympathy, “Crying ‘cause you like when Daddy fucks you like this?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan as you clutch the pillow under your head. You’re getting wetter by the second, your walls clench as you struggle against the pleasure. “Daddy,” you cry, lifting your head a bit to make sure he can hear you. 

“Gonna cum? I know you can. Just let go, I’ve got you.” His tone is gentle, despite the frantic pace of his hips, pounding into yours. You’re holding back on purpose, waiting for a promise. 

“Daddy’s gonna put a baby in you. That’s what you wanna hear? ‘Cause it’s true. Gonna cum inside you, gonna get you pregnant.”

You gush around him. That sent you over the edge. His words were for your pleasure. Or so he thought. 

But you’re coming down from your high and he can’t help but tell you about how he needs to get you knocked up. His thrusts get erratic and his grip on your hips tightens. He cums deep inside of you. A reward for your good behavior. Yeah, sure.

Chris’ real reward comes the next morning when he impresses you with his culinary skills. 

Chris eventually learns how to shape your pancakes into hearts. He swears he can do more with a spatula now than with a gun. He deposits your plate - this one is shaped like a pig - in front of you, and you look at him like he’s performed a miracle. 

“Daddy,” you say, “you did it.”

You hop down and run to the bedroom. “Be right back,” you holler as you fly by him. 

You’re on a mission. You have amassed a large collection of stickers. You insist on decorating everything down to the knobs on the kitchen cabinets with glittery rainbows and Care Bears. When you return, you stick a gold star to Chris’ chest, patting it down to make sure it stays. 

“Good job, Daddy!”

It should feel stupid, maybe patronizing, but you’re strict about your stickers - where they go, who can have one, which ones can and can’t be touched. When he receives your approval in the form of a star-shaped sticker, it makes him melt. It also makes him a little bit hard. Or maybe it’s the way your lips redden as you eat strawberries and the way you wipe off excess juice that falls from your mouth and lick it from your fingertips. 

“What do you wanna do this morning?” He asks, leaning his elbow on the counter casually, pretending not to have an end goal. 

“I wanna play with Daddy,” you say with a smile. 

He's unsure what your angle is - until you wink and run towards the bedroom. It’s his turn for breakfast. Pussy is on the menu. 

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 11:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Angst. Canon violence

--------------------------------------------------

Three days had passed since the argument with Hunter that sent you storming from the Marauder with anger blazing hot in your veins. Two days since you’d left the planet, intent on putting all your focus towards the job Cid had given you.

One day had turned your anger into a suffocating heaviness of guilt and grief. Now it was something else - it felt strange and unnatural - or maybe it was just nothingness. Whatever it was, you wished the anger would come back. Anger was tangible, it gave you something to hold onto. Anger had a conviction - a purpose. Whatever it was that you felt now, slipped numbly through your fingers, floating aimlessly and as silent as the vortex of hyperspace you currently traveled through.

They didn’t come for me.

---

You had waited around Cid’s for a full rotation - unsure what for.

Did you really think they’d come looking for you?

Did they even want to?

“Give it up, kid.” Cid advised as you’d found yourself glancing over at the door for the thousandth time, “Dark and Broody ain’t coming after ya.”

You looked at her sharply. How did she know?

Cid shrugged, “Don’t look at me like that, Hotshot. I’m not stupid, you know. I’ve seen the way you look at him.” She smirked, “It’s the same way he looks at you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Then tell me why he hasn’t come.”

Cid threw down her washrag, looking annoyed. “You’re the idiot who ran away. He’s smart enough not to bother a woman who’s mad at him.” She scoffed, “Or he’s stupid enough not to go after the woman he obviously cares about.”

That’s when the anger came back, flashing brightly like the flame of a candle exposed to the air just before it fizzled out again. “You’re wrong. He’s not here because he doesn’t care. None of them do.” Disappointment settled like a boot on your chest.

Cid let out a bored sigh. “Then quit moping around and do something! I’ve got plenty of jobs around here and no one to do them. Might as well get paid if you’re just going to be miserable anyway.”

You looked at her quizzically then groaned. “Alright… where do you need me to go?”

---

The ship shuttered as it dropped out of hyperspace, pulling you back to the present as you came into orbit around the moon Cid’s coordinates had directed you to. You chuckled bitterly.

Well joke’s on them. I don’t need them either.

---

“Omega, come on! We need to make a supply run in town,” Hunter called down the ramp as he slung his pack over his shoulder. He frowned as she made no move to get up, though he was certain she’d heard him. He set his pack down and walked over to her. She sat on the ramp, resting her arms and chin on her knees, as she looked blankly out at the empty road.

“Omega..” he sat down beside her.

“It’s been three days, Hunter. Where is she?” Her muffled voice broke his heart. She’d been crying and he had no words to comfort her.

There had only been two times in his life that Hunter found himself with no idea what to do.

The empty numbness that dug its relentless claws through his skull screamed at him in an overwhelming self-hatred after their first real mission failure which left Wrecker clinging to life.

Failure. Coward. Pathetic.

It was the same feeling now that spread through his bones. I should’ve run after her. Now it’s too late. Mission failure once again.

The gut-wrenching flood of emotion that came with being a parent and falling in love was more unyielding than any enemy he’d faced before. It’s the one thing they didn’t train us for. At least when an enemy combatant refused to cooperate, there were many ways to get what you wanted out of them. Hunter didn’t know how to react when it was his own thoughts that refused to comply.

“I don’t know, Omega.”

“She’s coming back though, right?” She looked up at him but he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.

He spun his vibroblade anxiously. “I hope so.”

“Wrecker went out looking for her, you know.”

Hunter straightened in surprise, turning to look at her. “He did what?”

Omega wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sat up. “Yeah. He left this morning. He said he was gonna find her and make everything better again.”

As if on cue, Wrecker came barreling down the road, skidding to a stop just shy of the ramp panting and out of breath. Hunter stood up as Omega dashed to his side.

“What is it, Wrecker? Did you find her!? Is she okay?!” Her eyes were wide and Hunter was glad to see some of the hopeful spark return. He just hoped that whatever news Wrecker brought wouldn’t snuff it out again.

Wrecker collapsed onto the ramp. “Phew… I’m never running like that again!”

“Well?” prompted Hunter, still nervously twiring the blade through his fingers.

“Huh? Oh yeah! I found out from some scumbag that Cid sent her on a mission. Said it was real dangerous.”

“What.” Hunter tensed. Suddenly that pitiful feeling of futility was gone, replaced by something he was all too familiar with. He slid the vibroblade back into its sheath with a deadly click, mouth set in a fierce line of determination.

“Did he say anything else?” Omega asked.

Wrecker laughed. “Yeah. When I hung him upside down from the roof, he cried.” He turned towards Hunter and his smile faded into a growl. “Hunter, he said it was a suicide mission. He said nobody gets outta there alive. That’s why I ran all the way here.”

Omega gasped, “Hunter we have to go after her! She might not know it’s a trap!”

Hunter had already strapped on his pack and secured his blaster.

“Tech, Echo! Start the ship.” He called out. “I’m gonna go have a little chat with Cid.”

Loosened by the adrenaline as he ran, a sudden moment of clarity fell upon him. He’d been thinking about this all wrong.

You were not a mission in which to succeed or fail. You were a part of him - the missing link in his short mess of a life - and he would do everything it took to get you back.

The door to Cid’s Parlour opened with a slam. Cid nearly dropped the glass she was cleaning as she looked up to see Hunter striding over to her, fire in his eyes. The only two patrons in the room fled, feeling the mood of the room sour almost immediately. Cid set the cup down in obvious annoyance. “Hey! You can’t just storm on in here, scaring away my customers like that! I’ve got bills to pay here.”

He didn’t seem to hear her as he pointed a sharp finger in her direction.

“Where is she?”

Cid smirked, deciding to play coy. This could get interesting, she thought as she dried her hands, making sure to look as unbothered as she possibly could.

“Where is who? You gotta be more specific.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes, “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

She tapped a finger on her chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… I really don’t think I do.”

Hunter sighed, exasperated. “I don’t have time to play your games, Cid. Tell me where you sent her.”

Cid sighed, suddenly bored of whatever ruse she’d cooked up to mess with him. “Fine.”

Hunter clenched his teeth. “I need to know, Cid. Now.”

“Cool your jets, Dark and Broody.” Cid rolled her eyes. “Your girlfriend’s fine. She asked me for a job and I gave ‘er one.”

Hunter’s face darkened. “Where. Is. She.” His white knuckled fist slammed down on the counter. “I promise you I won’t be so nice if I have to ask you again.”

Cid raised her hands in a mocked surrender. “Look, I promised her that I wouldn’t tell any of you lot where she went. She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Hunter's hands shot across the bar, vibroblade suddenly poised in a violent threat at her throat. His voice was dangerously low. “She could be in real danger. Tell me where you sent her. Now.”

Cid gulped, backing into the wall, knocking a bottle onto the ground where it shattered. She glared then raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright fine! Put the knife down and I’ll tell you!”

Hunter lowered the knife. Cid nervously rubbed her throat. “Geez… I can see why she likes you so much. I sent her to a small moon in the Sullest system. Doesn’t even have a name. Hardly anybody goes there at all.”

Hunter glared daggers.

“Relax, Dark and Broody. She’s not in any danger. It’s just a simple snatch and grab. The mines over there are full of stuff worth a ton to the right people.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Just give me the coordinates.”

Cid sighed, “Already done. Get outta here, lover boy.”

Hunter rolled his eyes as he turned to leave.

“Hey!” Cid’s voice called after him. “You owe me for that bottle. Corellian Whiskey is hard to come by these days!”

--------------------------------------------------

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[guitarstringed-scars]

how to lose a guy in 10 days- t. oikawa

masterlist

warnings/notes: mentions of throwing up, slight mention of drinking, angst

day eight

you spent most of the day searching for a suitable dress to wear. you’ve heard of the sports gala, a dinner put on with all of the athletes and alumni to fundraise for the sports programs in the university. tetsuro attended last year, with the reasoning of covering an important event in sports, when really he just wanted a free fancy meal. he’d be attending this year as well, again just hoping for a free meal.

the two of you stand now fighting over the countertop space in the small cramped bathroom. you are perfecting your outfit, and kuroo is struggling to make his hair look presentable.

“is this good?” he asks, turning to you with a panicked look on his face. you grimace slightly.

“i mean, it just looks how it does every day?” you aren’t sure if this is a good answer.

it clearly isn’t, because kuroo lets out a loud groan before collapsing dramatically over the counter.

“i can’t go!” he exclaims, bumping into your side.

“you literally begged akaashi to let you cover it.” you roll your eyes at him, before exiting the bathroom. kuroo follows you into the living room. his tie is a bit crooked, and koushi fixes it in passing. yui is sprawled out on the couch.

“i’m so jealous of you two! i wanna dress up and go to a gala!” she complains.

“you could go in my place. i feel like i’m gonna throw up.” you say, putting your shoes on.

“oh whatever, you’re gonna have fun.” koushi chimes in, getting himself a snack in the kitchen.

you and tetsuro wave your goodbyes and head to the gala. you meet up with toru in front of the building. he’s leaning on the wall of hotel, dressed in the same suit he wore to dinner with you, hitoka, and kiyoko. he looks just as good in it now as he did then. he greets you with a hug, and a handshake for tetsuro. then, the three of you enter the building.

tetsuro quickly splits off from the two of you, finding akaashi on the far side of the room. you and toru waltz around the ballroom, greeting alumni and other donors. toru then splits off from you to get some drinks, you are approached then by someone you approach a tall man, recognizing him as koutaro bokuto, one of torus team members.

“hi, i’m y/n, i write for the tokyo weekly.” you say, shaking his hand.

“oh! nice to meet you, i’m bokuto!” he greets cheerfully. “have you seen toru oikawa? we kind of have a bet going and i’m looking for him to check up on it.”

a bet. what kind of bet? you think, confused.

“oh? what’s the bet?” you ask, digging for information.

“well, he bet 30 bucks that he could make any girl fall in love with him in less than 10 days, and i bet him 30 bucks he couldn’t, so we picked out a girl, and he apparently brought-” you cut him off, gesturing toward the general direction you watched toru go.

“he’s somewhere over there.” you feel sick to your stomach as you escape the conversation, rushing into the bathroom.

tetsuro finds you outside of the bathroom, and the two of you escape from the hotel, standing out on the street.

“shit, i forgot my bag inside.” he says, clutching his head in his hands. “i’ll be right back, i’m gonna run and get it. wait here.”

he rushes back through the doors, and you sit down on the side of the building. you are wrapped in tetsuros suit jacket, staring off into space, when a pair of dress shoes approach you. its oikawa.

“are you leaving?” he asks. his voice is sharp. sharper than you’ve ever heard it.

“yes.” you look back down into your lap. you feel like a child being scolded.

“so what was i? some guinnea pig? that you could just, mess around with to see if i’d fall for it?”

you stand up now, facing him.

“yeah, and i was just some girl that your friends picked out in a bar.”

“well i guess now you can use it as a twist in your story.” he’s mad. your stomach aches. you let out a weak laugh.

“hey, that’s a great idea, maybe we should bet on it.”

it’s quiet now.

“you did your job y/n. you wanted to lose a guy in 10 days, well you just did it. in a record 8. congratulations, you just lost him.” he turns and walks away from you.

“no i didn’t toru.” he stops and turns around. “cause you can’t lose something you never had.”

toru shakes his head, and fully turns around again, walking away. you sit back down at the hotel, tears starting to form in your eyes. tetsuro comes out of the hotel, his bag in one hand and stolen food in the other.

“lets get home.” he says, helping you up from your seated position.

a/n: short and sweet!! lie of the century this is not sweet lol.

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[purrplegyuu]

The best for both of us | Choi Beomgyu

Pairing: Writter!oc (named Seoli), animator!Beomgyu

Warnings: penetrative sex, oral (fem receiving), clitoris stimulation, unprotected sex, overstimulation, poor plot, gaslighting, non corresponded love, toxic Beomgyu, soft som Beomgyu, sub reader, lemmie know if im missing something.

Word count: 2,6k

Masterlist

“We’ve already read your book and it’s amazing. We also saw the animations, and we all thought they are perfect for our style. However…” he stops talking.

“However, it’s too disturbing for anyone under fifteen” says his boss. The woman, the owner of the video games company, who wears an expensive suit that screams everywhere she’s a squared closed box. I don’t really know how she manages a video games company. “Which wouldn’t concern us if we didn’t want the money, but we need this project to be suitable for all ages”

“I talked about this before, I have already rejected various contracts because I’m not interested in any project in which my art is changed” I say.

“Well, as I already said before, we need this to be suitable for all ages”

I stand up, taking my documents from the table, and when I’m about to leave, Beomgyu takes my arm, forcing me to sit down.

“Well, why don’t we listen to their proposal?” He asks, looking at me with killing eyes, which I don’t really understand since he’s always been on my side when I rejected last projects for the same reason.

“Yeah, sure. We just thought it would be better if Kira’s enemy isn’t her mother but her father. This way, we can avoid some future problems with angry mothers” one of the workers points out in the presentation, the part where all of the changes appear. I frown, disgusted. “We can also make her boyfriend the good guy instead of just another enemy—you know, for the love scenes we need to create a fandom” A good boyfriend? In real life? I cannot help laughing sarcastically at this, to which Beomgyu hits me with his elbow on my arm. “And she might also change a little bit—see, this is Kira before, and this might be her after” the picture on the presentation shows the draw Beomgyu made with my instructions. I told him to use only black ink, and draw it very messy. I remember the day we decided that this art style was just perfect for my book. When I created Kira I was thinking of the worst part of the world, I even got inspired by my own life. She’s too thin because she had very poor eating habits, she’s tall, her hair is messy and greasy and the clothes she wears are made for someone bigger. Which makes a big contrast with the whole new character they made—this Kira is short, and has a big pair of round boobs, a tiny waist and big thighs; her hair is pretty and… she just seems like another video game girl character.

“We will skip her eating disorder, and she will not die at the end. There’s obviously more changes to do, but those are the most important ones”

Everyone looks at me while I try to do as much as I can in order to not explode there and then. I feel just so offended that I cannot even speak. Even if I open my mouth, nothing comes out.

I stand up, take my papers and get out of the office, not even worrying if Beomgyu tries to hold me once again.

After an hour or two of getting back home, I finally start to calm down. That’s exactly when Beomgyu enters home too.

“Fuck, you could have waited for me, you know?” He wasn’t mad, that’s just his usual behavior.

“Seoli, we need to talk” I do not turn around to face him, keeping up on reading the instructions of the new bedroom lamp I just bought. “Seoli” he takes my hand, forcing me to turn around. “Why do you keep rejecting any minor change in your books?”

I turn my eyes. “You should know that, Gyu. My books are all too personal. If I write something is because I feel it, and I don’t like it to be changed”

“Yeah, I understand that, but you cannot keep rejecting every opportunity you have” he sighs. “See, babe, I think this is the best company you’ve been contacted by, and if you want to succeed, you should sign with them”

I frown. “Why do you like this company that much? I’ve rejected thousands of companies before, and you always supported me”

“I’m just looking for the best for both of us. We’re twenty now, but soon, we’re gonna be thirty, and forty, and fifty; we need to make money for the future… this isn’t a big company—small enough for you to be important and ask for almost everything you want, but also big enough to succeed monetarily and as an artist. This is just what we need”

“I don’t care about the money, everything I care about is being loyal to myself. I won’t sell myself and my art to some shitty company. The things they said to me in that reunion were almost insulting! How the fuck am I supposed to be fine while seeing one of my deepest books being thrown away this bad and be happy with it because I MIGHT get two hundred dollars a month from now on?! Specially in this one book!… this is almost my own autobiography…” the last words were almost audible, very low in contrast with the rest of my screams. It hurts my heart as I said it.

I see some kind of compassion in my colleague’s eyes. We never talked too deeply about it, but I did tell him that most of my books have some kind of self insert somewhere, but never as important as this one.

He takes my body in his hands, hugging me so comfortably as one only time before—when I confessed to him, and he said sorry because he couldn’t correspond to me.

He moves apart without letting me go, and unexpectedly, takes the back of my neck and kisses me. He only touches my lips with his once, moving away just a little, and then kisses me deeper when I take the back of his neck also with my right hand and his shoulder with my left hand.

He’s gentle at first, only leaving some close mouthed kisses on my lips, until he notices I’m more eager, and then, he devours my mouth whole like it's the last thing he’s gonna do on earth.

His hands travel all over my body as he starts kissing the side of my neck, sucking on my skin, biting and then licking, to which I cannot do anything but hum in pleasure—he touches my back, caresses my waist and pushes the hem of my gray shirt up.

I squeeze his shoulder when he take off my shirt and starts kissing my clavicles, and scream of pleasure as he bites the bone.

While devouring my torax, he manages to take off my black bralette, and kisses all of the skin of my small breasts, making me wonder if he actually likes the curvy girls he shows me of it it’s always been nothing but a façade in order to no look like a pervert.

He takes my hand from the back of his neck, moving away from me, unbuttoning my low-rise jeans and lowering my panties, then guiding me to sit on the couch. I oblige, and soon he’s kissing my body again, my abdomen, my pelvis, my thighs—which he takes and puts them over his shoulders before looking at me, right in the eyes as if looking for consent, but keeps going without a second of thought.

I scream when I feel his muscle exploring all of my cunt without a warning.

“Gyu-“ I moan while tapping his back with the tip of my foot.

He notices I got more sensitive everytime he stimulates my clitoris with his tongue, so he decides to do precisely this while one of his fingers caresses my entrance. A second finger enters, and he starts scissoring as if measuring if something will be able to come in.

My hand found its way on Beomgyu’s fluffy hair, which I take strongly trying to move it apart but also trying to keep it as close as I can.

Once he positions himself on the perfect way to have me screaming his name once and again and again, he starts doing it nonstop, faster, and holding my body by my pelvic area so I don’t move too much. My whole body trembles from pleasure, and I feel the knot on my lower abdomen tightening so much I feel it’s about to break.

And within thirty seconds morr, my whole body spasms under his, while I scream nonesenses and cry his name. He keeps on licking my whole cunt, cleaning me from my orgasm, making me cry at the oversensitivity. I try to push his face away, however, my strength after an orgasm is always null.

He goes back to the same speed as earlier, to which I scream: “Too much, gyu!”, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his pace becomes even faster, making my head spin as I unexpectedly orgasm once again, faster than the first time.

He caresses my pelvic bones, licking my juices from his face. He stands up and kisses my lips once again, letting me taste my own cum.

I hear his right hand unbuttoning his jeans while his left hand helps him hover over me. I hear his clothes fall to the ground, and then, his tip touches my left thigh. I move away from the kiss for a second, moaning as I mentally prepare myself for having sex after one and a half large years of not being active.

“I know it’s always been hard to go through changes, babe,” he mutters in between kisses. “but everything I’m doing is looking for the best for you. You’re really successful with your books, but you don’t know if it will ever change as you grow up” the contrast between his lovely words and his condescending voice tone, and his hand lifting one of my legs up to my ribs making me go crazy. “Besides, you can ask for any change you want, and as long as it doesn’t make the game too disturbing for kids under twelve years old, they will accept it” the tip of his cock touches my clitoris at first, and then, he explores my whole cunt, looking too casual in contrast with my high expression. “Seoli, I will always be by your side” and suddenly, that option didn’t seem like trash anymore.

With that, he puts the head of his cock inside my entrance, to which I scream squeezing his shoulder. He goes back to kiss my clavicles while going on until he bottoms out. Feeling his tip against my spongy point, the deepest part of my cunt, makes me forget about all of the doubts I have, and I already know that the second I wake up tomorrow, I will be calling the company and ask for them to meet again.

He doesn’t give me time to get used to his big size, and starts moving immediately after he bottoms out, at a savage pace that makes my head spin. The way he’s hitting my cervix strongly over and over again has me cumming after less than two or three minutes. He doesn’t stop there though, and doesn’t even slow down. The second orgasm comes after maybe five minutes more, much more intense and piercing. My legs tremble, and he chuckles while taking my other leg and lifting it up to my chest also, making his cock go even deeper.

He holds both my legs up with one hand while the other stimulates my clitoris in circular motion, nonstoping, without giving me time to recover.

I cum once again, and my whole body feels so tense I feel like I'm about to break.

“Gyu-yu, I can’t anymore” I cry, the tears spilling from the corner of my eyes as I take his shoulders, trying to move his body away from mine. “please”

“I know, sweet, but you’re gonna help me cum too, right? You’re not a selfish princess, right?” His face is not close to mine now, and my legs find their way on his shoulders while he prepares himself for fucking my cunt faster and stronger than before.

I squeeze the silk of the couch, while my tears run down my face and all over the couch, and I scream his name over and over. His pace becoming even more animalistic as I feel his cock twitch inside of my vagina, the heat inside of me making me feel like I’m about to be torn there and then. The feeling is so unbearable, but also addictive. At this point, I don’t even understand myself.

He cums inside of me with a guttural growl, and keeps fucking his cum in for some seconds before using his hand to try to put his cum in when it tries to escape. I cum on his fingers one last time, and he leaves a kiss on my forehead.

(…)

I fix my lanyard with my work ID on my neck, holding my drawing tablet and the handmade sketches I’ve made.

“Oh, see! There’s coffee over there!” Beomgyu says amazed.

“Every company has coffee for workers, Gyu”

He goes to get a cup while I look for the office. The boss asked me to meet her once I accepted working with her. I signed the contract a week ago after making her accept the clause of letting my opinion be the most important one over there.

“Oh, Seoli!” That voice… it’s just impossible to forget it. “Oh my god, I’m so excited to see you again! Ever since high school I knew you were gonna succeed, you’re so talented!”

We went to high school together, and after we graduated, we also went to the same college. She stuck to me since then, but I never liked her a lot. She wasn’t a bad person, I just didn’t match her energy. However, I did everything I could in order to separate her from me in college, right after I realized Beomgyu liked her. Beomgyu and I met at college—the three of us decided to study an art major—, and it took us only one semester to start living together as roommates, and two more months to start working together on the animation of my books. We left college so we could put all of our time on making money with the animations, and luckily, that was enough for Beomgyu to forget her. At least that was what I thought.

“Dami? Do you work here?” I ask.

“Kind of. My mother is the owner of this company, and she likes me to participate on all of the projects. We’re gonna be a team! Just like in college!” She says with a big smile. “Where’s Beomgyu, by the way?”

Everything makes sense suddenly, why did he get so excited when I received the invitation to this company, and why was he so eager for me to come, and why did he want me to stay here.

I turn around slowly, and as soon as I find him with a scared expression, I feel my eyes ache.

He fucked me so he could get a chance with the one girl he likes.

How dumb.

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Part 5

Parting Ways

Part 1 | Part 6 | Table of Contents | Read this on A03

Characters: Ace x reader WordCount: 3.1k CW: alcohol, drunk reader, one quick drunken kiss

Whitey’s arm around you made it a little difficult to start the day. You had been awake for thirty minutes now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move in fear of waking her up. She had been kind enough to let you sleep with her last night, the last thing you wanted to do was interrupt her rest even more. 

“Y/N?” Whitey’s groggy voice broke through the silence, and you felt her shift.

“Morning,” you replied. “Sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Whitey laughed. “You’d think two people in this tiny bed would make it hard to sleep. But it wasn’t bad. But why’d you end up here anyway?”

“I spilled beer all over my bed.” You had been thinking of a lie since you woke up, and it came effortlessly now. 

Whitey gave a laugh at that and sat up in the bed. “Believe it or not, I’m actually really glad that happened.”

“Oh yeah?” you gave her a perplexed look. “Why’s that?”

She gave a nervous laugh and rubbed at her face. It was clear she had something to tell you, but she seemed to be working up the courage to do so. 

You sat up, concerned at alert. “Whitey? Everything okay?”

“I was going to tell you,” Whitey said. Her voice was thick, like she might start crying. “I swear I meant to tell you the moment you got back, but things started happening so fast.”

“Whitey, tell me,” you insisted. “What’s wrong?”

“Look, don’t be mad, okay?”

“Whitey. Tell me.”

“I’m getting my own ship,” she said. “Becoming a Subordinate Captain. A few of us are getting our own crews. I’ve got a group of about 20 people.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You weren’t sure what you expected Whitey to tell you, but you it wasn’t this. The two of you had dreams when you were younger about having your own pirate crew, but you had grown out of those dreams. You had just assumed she had as well.

“When are you leaving?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Tears welled in her eyes. “Three days. We’re supposed to land on an island with a shipyard, and pops is giving us ships to send us on our way.”

Three days. That was all you had left with her. Your chest ached at the thought of not seeing her every day again. You had missed her the most while you had been in Wano. 

“I really want this,” she said. “Need this, even. I’ve been talking with pops about it for a month or two, but I told him I wanted to wait until you got back before I left.”

“Where will you go?” you asked. You could feel a lump rising in your throat. 

“Pops assigned me to protect a few islands back in Paradise with Brew and Epoida, so we’ll-”

“Brew and Epoida are leaving too?” you asked. You couldn’t help it now, your eyes started to water. 

Whitey’s eyes got wide as she realized what she had just done. 

“So everyone is just leaving?” you asked, tears starting to spill out now. You wiped them away, angry at yourself for getting so emotional. 

“A lot has changed since you left,” Whitey said softly. Her hand reached out to comfort you, but you smacked it away. 

“But we swore to stick together!” you said. You could feel your face growing hot, the magma churning beneath your skin. 

“You can come with us,” Whitey offered. “You can join my crew.”

“I can’t,” you squeaked out. Even if your best friends were leaving, your family was still aboard the Moby Dick. You couldn’t abandon them. 

“Look, Y/N, I know you feel like you have an obligation to your dad, but loyalty-”

“You don’t know anything about loyalty, Whitey,” you hissed, jumping up from the bed and storming out of the room. 

You weren’t sure where your feet were taking you until you were at his door. Your fist slammed against the wooden door as tears fell from your eyes. The door opened a few moments later, and you didn’t even try to make yourself look presentable. 

What a poor sight you must’ve been to Portgas D. Ace. You were standing there, sniffling and sobbing. You were still in your pajamas and hadn’t even bothered to brush your hair. Tears were running down your cheeks, and your eyes had to be red and puffy at this point. 

And yet, when Ace saw you, he only looked at you with concern. He quickly scanned your body, looking for any signs of injury. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, scanning your face. “Did someone hurt you?”

“Did you know?” you choked out, wiping the tears from your cheeks. 

“Know about what?” he asked. 

“Whitey,” you sobbed.

Ace sighed, running his hand through his hair, and he shut the door behind you so you could cry in public. 

“The division commanders voted on the subordinate captains about a month ago. I knew her name was on the list.”

 “You knew she was leaving and you didn’t tell me.”

Ace’s face was full of pain. “It wasn’t my news to share.”

You punched his chest. You heard him gasp in surprise, but you didn’t care. You punched him again. You wanted him to fight back, to yell at you, to do something. But he just stood there and took it. So you punched him harder. 

“Stop it.” Ace flinched as your punches grew hotter. But you were so angry, you couldn’t stop. You punched him again. 

Ace grabbed your wrist. “Y/N, stop,” he said more firmly. 

You used your free hand and kept punching his chest until he grabbed that one too. You started squirming, trying to fight him, until he pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you in an embrace. 

You stopped fighting then, and he held you as you cried into his chest. His hand rubbed your back, trying to soothe you. 

“It’s not fair,” you cried.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, but you didn’t pull away until you had stopped crying and your breath had steadied.

You wiped any remnants of tears from your cheeks. “That was embarrassing,” you sniffled, your voice still thick. 

“You’re allowed to be upset,” Ace said. He grabbed a tissue and held it out for you. 

“I just don’t want her to go.” Your vision started to blur again, and you blinked a few times to clear your eyes. 

“It’s been her dream for a long time.”

You sniffed and wiped your eyes with the tissue. Ace was right. Whitey had always wanted to be a captain, ever since she joined the Whitebeard Pirates 7 years ago. 

“It’s not like you’ll never see her again,” Ace continued. “Pops has always worked closely with his subordinate captains. I’m sure she’ll still be around. And you can still talk to her on the transponder snail.”

“We should have a going away party,” you said softly.

“Try to say that with a little more enthusiasm, maybe?”

His comment made you laugh, and he smiled in return. 

You sighed. “I need to apologize to her.”

“Probably.”

You turned to go find Whitey, already trying to think of what you’d say to her. As you opened the door, you realized you should say something else to Ace before you left. 

“Ace?” You turned back to him as you walked out. “Thanks for letting me beat you up.”

Ace gave a cheeky smile. “Anytime, love.”

Love. That’s what he had called you. Love. You had left before he had a chance to see your reaction, but you could feel your body steaming, and the air smelled of burnt hair. Your burnt hair. He was a smooth bastard, and you hated that you loved it. But now wasn’t the time to focus on your stupid commander. You had to apologize to Whitey. 

You found Whitey in your bunkhouse, packing up her things. When she realized it was you, she froze, trying to decide what she should say or do. 

You decided for her. You rushed to her, wrapping her in a hug. “I’m sorry,” you said, blinking away fresh tears. “I’m so happy that you get to live your dream.”

“No, I’m sorry!” Whitey cried. “That was a really shitty way to tell you.”

“It’s okay, I promise.” you pulled away from her and wiped at your eyes. “I was just being selfish. God, I’m going to miss you, Whitey.”

“I’m going to miss you!” She was wiping tears from her own face as well. “I wish this was easier.”

“We’re going to have a goodbye party,” you said. “For you and all the other new subordinate captains.”

Whitey laughed and returned to packing her suitcase. “One of your parties is the last thing we need,” she said.

“I have two days to plan it.” You smiled mischievously. “Prepare yourself.”

“Y/N!” Whitey called after you as you bolted out the room. “Don’t go over the top!”

The next two days went by in a whirlwind. You spent your days begging and bargaining crew members for booze, ordering the chefs to make the most decadent meals, and hanging decorations you had made. 

When a strategist plans a party, they think of everything. Which is why your parties were always so notorious for getting out of hand. You thought of drinking games, picked out the perfect musicians, and always had a backstock of alcohol. You hadn’t planned a party in years, but it’s clear that it’s reputation had lived on while you were gone. 

As the sun was setting, the deck was so crowded with people that it was hard to move around. You were always touching someone, and it became almost claustrophobic to stand. You chose to leave the main deck area and headed towards the bow of the ship, trying desperately to escape the crowds. You found a spot where you could stand without touching someone else, and leaned against the railing to watch the sunset, enjoying your drinking. 

“Hey!” Whitey called, stumbling over to you. She was already drunk, though that was partially your fault. One tankard of ale did a lot more to her than it did to you. “Come back to the party!”

“I will. Just enjoying the sunset for a moment.”

Whitey pouted. “You plan this whole big party and you’re not even enjoying yourself.”

You smirked, staring at the sea. If you looked at Whitey, you were fairly certian you would break out into tears. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Of course! But you should have fun too!”

It was kind of hard to enjoy yourself when your best friend was leaving. You had been diligent in pushing that fact out of your brain, but now as you watched the sunset, you realized this would be the last one you’d share with Whitey for a long time. 

“Can we just be sad while we watch the sunset?” you asked, tears starting to rise.

Whitey wrapped her arm around you and leaned her head on your shoulder. “I’m kind of scared to be a captain,” she admitted, her eyes watching the sun slowly sink behind the water. 

“New people, new horizons,” she said. “What if I make the wrong call? I won’t have Pops to back me up. It’s scary to think that I’m going to be alone.”

“You won’t be alone, though. You’ve got a lot of good, trustworthy people to back you up.”

“Yeah.” Whitey didn’t say anything more until the sun was almost gone from view. “You’ve got good people here too. Make sure you don’t isolate yourself. Do stuff with them. Have fun. Okay?”

“Alright.” You wiped the tears from your cheeks and finished off the rest of the ale in your tankard. “Let’s party.”

“Yeah!” Whitey cheered. She grabbed your hand and pulled you back to the party. People had seemed to spread out a bit more now, and it was easier to breathe and move around. 

Shots of liquor were your least favorite way to get drunk, but it was the fastest. Still, you found yourself questioning the choices that led you to this moment, where you were lined up facing five large shot glasses of rum. You had already won the game once, and you could feel the alcohol starting to flow through your veins.

“Whitey, are you trying to make me puke?”

Whitey stuck her tongue out at you. “Did your time abroad soften you?” she taunted. 

“Whitey-”

“Who will challenge her?!?” Whitey declared, holding up your arm as if you had just won a boxing match. 

You looked around the crowd and found Ace and Marco, watching your predicament with smirks. You shook your head and mouthed “Save me” to them, but they only laughed at your misfortune. 

“I’ll do it!” a voice called out, someone shuffling through the crowd. 

“A challenger has appeared!” Whitey yelled, dropping your arm and allowing your to return to your station. 

A young man appeared, one you didn’t recognize. If you had to guess, he was about your age, maybe a little older. He had red hair and piercing blue eyes that were full of rebellion and spunk. He was cocky too, because he looked at you and winked, and you almost looked away from him in embarrassment. 

He was handsome, you had to admit. You weren’t sure how you had missed his presence since you had gotten back. He seemed a bit too over the top for your liking, but he was the kind of guy who would make a good drinking buddy. 

“Uzzo,” he said, holding out his hand. 

You took it, giving it a firm shake. You opened your mouth to introduce yourself, but he cut you off. 

“Don’t worry, darling.” He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your skin, shocking you into silence. “I know who you are.”

You quickly yanked your hand away, trying to push down the bubbling feeling you were getting in your stomach. 

“You know the rules folks, first to finish all five shots wins!”

“What do I get if I win?” Uzzo asked, looking at you mischievously. 

You rolled your eyes, tired of this long introduction. You wanted to get drunk already. “Bragging rights. Now get ready.”

Uzzo frowned, humming in disappointment. “How about a kiss instead?”

You laughed in his face. “Ask me again if you win.”

He smirked, satisfied with your response. You both readied yourself, and then looked to Whitey.

“Ready, Set, Go!” she cried, throwing her hand up in the air to start the race.

You were winning until the fourth cup. You heard Ace laugh from the crowd, and your concentration broke as your eyes searched for him. He was there, laughing with Marco. His arm was wrapped around a girl’s shoulder, and you could feel your stomach churning with envy at him being so close to someone else. 

You barely started your fifth cup by the time Uzzo finished. He watched you down the fifth cup as the crowd cheered for his victory. 

“So,” he said, watching you place down your last cup. “How about that-”

You didn’t wait for him to finish. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him across the table, your lips smashing into his. You could hear the crowd freeze mid applause, everyone surprised by your actions. But you made out with this stranger in front of a crowd, not caring who saw. A piece of you even hoped certain people would see you. 

Blame it on alcohol, blame it on jealousy, blame it on wanting to wipe that smug look off his face. It didn’t matter why you did it. You didn’t even like it all that much. You had kissed several boys before this one. He wasn’t anything special. 

You finally pulled away, and saw you had succeeded in your goal. His cocky grin was replaced with shocked, widened eyes. You could see the crowd watching you, and you resisted the urge to look over at Marco and Ace. 

“Congrats on your win,” you said. You gave him a quick wink and turned and walked away without another word.

“Holy shit,” Uzzo murmured behind you, and the entire crowd erupted into cheers once more. At least you looked confident, even if you didn’t feel that way.

You went to find a keg of beer, needing to wash down all the rum you had just consumed. The ten double-shots you had just taken were starting to catch up. Fast. 

“You are quite the graceful loser,” Marco said, taking your cup from your hand and filling it up at the keg. 

“Marco! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“It’s only been two days.”

You clutched your chest overdramatically. “So long. It’s been so painful.”

Marco chuckled. “You’re very drunk.”

You took your drink back from him, nodding enthusiastically. “Blame Whitey.”

“Looks like she’s having a good time at least,” Marco said, his eyes watching your friend. “You threw a good party.”

“Hey Marco, I couldn’t find-” Ace stopped talking when he realized you were standing with his fellow commander. 

“Ace,” you said, your lip pouting out at his name. 

“You take over keg duty, I’ll go look,” Marco said, quickly passing the spout to Ace and bolting away. 

“Hey! Marco!” Ace called after him, but Marco was already gone. 

There was an awkward silence that hung in the air. If you were sober, you would’ve let it hang there. But drunk you was a lot more chatty.

“Are you enjoying the party?” you asked, looking at Ace. 

“It’s fine.”

“Just fine?! Rude!” you scoffed. “I worked hard on this party!”

“Then you should go enjoy it,” Ace snapped. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to entertain?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You rubbed your tankard against your cheek, giggling. “Just booze.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ace mumbled, grabbing a guy's drink and refilling it for him. 

Your eye twitched. “What’s your problem?” 

“Nothing.” He was managing to look everywhere else on the ship but at you.

You scowled and stepped in front of him to block his view. You could feel your skin growing hot with your anger. “If you have a problem with-”

“Hey!” Marco cheered, and you turned to see him. “Come on! We're playing Commanders and Strategists up on the roof of the Captain’s Quarters!”

You squealed in excitement, already forgetting your squabble with Ace. Whitey’s reminder rang in your ears. You refused to isolate yourself. You had always loved Commanders and Strategists, so you took off towards the roof of the Captain’s Quarters, eager to see what kind of trouble you could get into next. 

tags! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity (if you'd like to be included in the tag list, just comment or send me a message!)

[worldofheroes]

A New Approach

tom cruise x girlfriend!reader

summary: during filming, you want to try something that ends up making the cut and becomes the most talked about scene.

warnings: fluff, hint of angst in the beginning if you squint

wc: 680

a/n: based on this request by @rveyjules ! ❤️ hope you enjoy!! My fluffy fics are always so short, hope y’all aren’t too mad! I also couldn’t find a pic/gif I liked so here we are 🫣

Tom and McQ were always in their own world when filming. It was difficult for anyone to break through their thoughts and bring them back to reality.

You were missing your boyfriend. You knew there was work to do, but everything had been so serious for the past week of filming. You were tired of it.

You’d go home at night and Tom was occupied with thoughts of how to film something differently or where the story should go. Most nights, you slept alone in your shared king-sized bed as Tom spent all hours in his office working.

You desperately wanted his attention, and you knew just how to do that.

The upcoming scene between you and Tom was emotional and ended in a tight hug between the two characters. Maybe, just maybe, you could convince Tom and McQ to let you do something different with the scene.

“I wanna try something else for this scene,” you tell Tom and McQ after a take.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” Tom asks you, half paying attention to you.

“I just… wanna try something, okay? If you don’t like it, fine,” you say.

Tom looks at you, mind coming back to the present.

“You wanna try something?”

McQ looks over at Tom.

“If you don’t like it, fine. I just want to do one take, that’s all,” you tell them.

“Let’s do one take,” Tom says.

“Okay,” you beam at the two men.

McQ calls action, and you and Tom go through your dialogue.

When it’s time for the hug, you practically leap at Tom, causing him to stumble backwards a couple steps.

Tom instinctively wraps his arms tighter around you as he recovers from the sudden move.

“Cut!” McQ calls out, holding back laughter.

“That might’ve been a little too much, y/n,” Tom chuckles.

You finally have your boyfriend back, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “Just wanted to try something new.”

Tom smiles and kisses the top of your head.

A few months later, you are curled up on the couch flipping through the tv channels as Tom works on post-production for the movie.

You hear the door to your condo open.

“Hey sweetheart,” Tom calls out.

“Baby,” you say, getting off the couch immediately to greet him.

Tom wraps you in a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you mumble into his chest.

“Remember that take we did where you jumped at me?” Tom asks you.

You laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

“We decided to keep it in the film.”

“What?”

“We just loved that take the most, so we kept it.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Tom smiles, kissing you.

“I just did that for fun, nothing serious.”

“The scene needed something like that. It’s gonna go over well with the audience, I promise you.”

You study Tom’s face. “I guess you’ve been producing films longer than I have…”

“You haven’t produced even one,” Tom teases.

“Hey!” you laugh, smacking his chest.

“Just wait, I promise it’ll take well.”

Months after that conversation with Tom, the movie finally released and you were doing a press tour with the cast.

One night in your hotel room, you’re scrolling through social media as Tom finishes getting ready for bed.

As you scroll through the movie’s hashtag, you see the same clip popping up all over the place - the clip of you lunging at Tom.

Every post is saying “if this isn’t how you hug me every day, I don’t want it”.

“Tom,” you say.

“Yes?” he replies.

“People are going crazy over that hug.”

“What did I tell you?”

You smile, setting your phone down and scooting across the bed to watch Tom in the bathroom.

“I know,” you say.

Tom walks out of the bathroom to you. He kisses the top of your head, and taps your legs, wanting you to move.

You scurry into a seated position next to Tom, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” he tells you.

“I love you too,” you reply, reaching up to give him a kiss.

[reidslovely]

there were two things that came to mind the first being peter yelling at her and he’s never done that before so reader trying to avoids him for the rest of the day and when she does interact with him she’s silent or acting almost robotic

the second one that came to mind was them getting into a fight and her trying to quit

i see your second thought being super plausible honestly, but let’s combine them. peter is very particular about his schedule and follows it to a t for the most part. the fight started the first or second week she works for him. all over a missed appointment and she swears she wrote it down, but peter is upset because he doesn’t have time for this meeting. he’s got lab time, and a presentation today. he doesn’t have time to meet with this potential investor today.

“what do you mean you missed a appointment!” peter yelled. the slight raise in his voice shocked her as well as him. he cleared his throat and left his suit jacket on the back of his desk chair. “can you not operate the shared calendar i swear doll it’s like you’re completely helpless sometimes.”

that comment strikes a nerve, and it doesn’t help she’s already on the verge of tears from him yelling. peter’s never made her feel so small. in fact he’s only ever been encouraging. and supportive of her she wasn’t helpless, she was learning the ropes of this company still. and her boyfriend being who he was didn’t help, everyone else just assumed she batted her eyes and but her lip to the position.

“well i’m sorry pete.” she jokes dryly lightly trying not to show her hurt. “we can’t all be a super genius”

“yeah but i expected better from you.” all over a calendar

he walks away annoyed. she doesn’t know if it’s with her or the situation but the tone of his voice alone makes her sick to her stomach. she brings him his lunch quietly and doesn’t bother to eat with him like she usually does. she keeps their interaction short and firm.

“doll can you make a call for me?”

“sure.” she nodded not even looking at him as she takes the paper.

“doll.” his voice sung out later, “will you get these filed for me?” he kissed her temple hands on her shoulders squeezing. she shrugged him off nodding.

“right away mr. parker.”

he was thinking of a way to apologize. sending flowers to her desk probably wouldn’t do much and may insight a few scoffs from other employees. not wanting to embarrass her he settled on waiting till they were alone in the building to formally apologize.

but she comes into his office a few hours later before they leave to go home with her two weeks in shaky hand.

“doll..what’s this?” peter asked reading over the paper, hand reaching out for her shaking one pulling her closer to him.

“i don’t wanna work for you. i’m..i’m scared it’ll ruin our relationship.” she mumbled out tears threatening her eyes. peter’s heart swelled in his chest feeling lodged in his throat. “and i really like being your girlfriend and i love you and i don’t..i don’t want you to yell at me over a stupid google calendar.”

“oh doll..no. i was upset earlier i didn’t mean it. i wasn’t even upset at you it was just time stress.” he sat her on his knee. arm wrapping around her waist holding her in place to look at him. “i wasn’t mad or disappointed at all. i know i said something really hurtful and i’m very sorry. and i’m even more sorry for yelling at you.” she sniffled as he spoke, her hand resting on his chest flattening out some wrinkles. he whispered softly to her his free hand rubbing her side.

“i want you here. okay? but if you want to quit i understand and i won’t stop you but i’ll be sure to use my words more carefully and i will never raise my voice again. i am so sorry and i’m going to do better.”

the care in his voice made it easy to believe him, that and his big doe eyes staring into hers assuring her this was the truth.

“don’t ever yell at me again and i’ll stay.” she bargains. peter laughed bobbing his head.

“deal.”

“and i want a raise. for dealing with you here and at home” peter laughed this time throwing his head back.

“i’ll talk to human resources about the ethical standards about that.” he responds standing her up off his lap. as he packs up his office for the night.

“m.j.’s your human resources officer i think she’ll agree with me.” you hummed turning the light off as they left the room.

[fluentmoviequoter]

20-David on a Plane

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: 20-David flies to Washington DC, and along the way, you learn why Deacon can comfort you so easily.

Warnings: fluff, brief mention/description of nervousness, hints of anxiety, meddling and teasing, quick TSA-related terrorist joke

Word Count: 3.2k+ words

A/N: We are once again pretending Annie doesn't exist. This idea came to me while watching The Middle episode 2x16 ("Hecks on a Plane") during my recent trip! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

Picture from Pinterest

“It’s about me,” Luca taunts. “I know I should have told you, but I’m getting promoted.”

Street snorts as he closes his locker. “Sure. And Deacon’s got a hot date.”

You try not to laugh at the comment, but it slips out before you can stop it. Slapping a hand over your mouth, you see Deacon shake his head in your peripheral. His smile is still present, so he can’t be too mad.

“Luca, if you’re the reason we’re all getting called into Hicks’ office, I doubt it’s a promotion,” Hondo points out, slapping his shoulder. “I just hope the lecture is enjoyable.”

You sit on the bench behind your locker, leaning over toward Deacon.

“Ten bucks it’s none of the things they’ve said,” you whisper.

“You don’t think I’ve got a hot date?”

Turning your head quickly, you ask, “Do you?”

“I don’t appreciate the implication that it’s impossible.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” you rush to say. Deacon presses his lips together to suppress his smile, and you lower your brows to glare at him. “I think Deacon’s getting moved to Rocker’s team,” you announce, “I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

Deacon shakes his head, throwing a jacket toward you as you walk away, taking cover behind Hondo.

“Guys!” Hondo yells with a chuckle. “We really do need to go, he’s been waiting.”

“As long as he’s not as impatient as Molly,” Street says under his breath.

“Dude, you’re so whipped!” Luca replies.

“What do you think it is? He doesn’t call all of us for a private meeting very often,” you ask Deacon as you walk out behind your team.

“Probably a congratulations from City Hall, or something equally rehearsed.”

You nod, unconsciously matching your steps to Deacon’s as you stay by his side.

“Close the door, Deacon,” Hicks requests once you’re inside. “I know you’re busy, but this should be quick. This team has done some incredible work in the last year, and the people of Los Angeles are lucky to have you protecting them.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Hondo offers.

“We can drop the formalities; this is good news. 20-David is being awarded a Medal of Valor.”

Street and Luca cheer, silencing when Hicks raises his hand.

“Not from the L.A.P.D. though. This one is coming from Congress by the President.”

Your jaw slackens, and your mouth falls open in shock. The rest of your team is similarly surprised, silent for once while taking in the good news.

“And, because of the mission last month, the President wants to award the medal himself. You’re flying to Washington DC to participate in the ceremony in the Rose Garden.”

“We’re going to DC!” Street cheers. Luca adds, “We can explore the DC food truck map!”

“Free trip,” Hondo says happily, looking toward you and Deacon. “But I need first class, I got long legs.”

“Yeah, about that,” Hicks interrupts. “We had some scheduling and budgeting issues, so you’re all flying coach.”

“No!” Hondo groans, tossing his head back as Street, Tan, and Luca continue talking about the food trucks in DC. “Can’t I pay the difference?”

 “You’d have to leave the day before, the flight you’re on is booked.”

“What’s so bad about coach, Hondo?” Deacon inquires. “Too sophisticated for economy?”

“Yes,” Hondo says as if it’s obvious. You shake your head, and he points at you to argue, “You don’t want to either.”

“I could be duct-taped to the wing of the plane, Hondo. It’s an all-expense paid trip to receive a once in a lifetime award,” you point out.

“Which deserves once in a lifetime treatment.”

 “Then fly out the day before,” Hicks says again. “Just let us know what you’re doing. We’re doing our best to get the return flight upgraded.”

“Coach,” Hondo mutters to himself, “like a normal person.”

“You’re certainly not normal, Hondo,” Deacon says, winking at you when you turn around to hide your smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

You walk into the terminal at Los Angeles International, LAX, expecting to meet your team on the other side of security.

“Good morning,” Deacon says as he walks to your side.

“Morning,” you reply, glad he’s the first one you run into. “How long have you been here?”

“Couple minutes. Hondo just texted that he, Street, Luca, and Tan are almost here.”

You nod, your fingers fiddling with your backpack straps. A few people look at you and Deacon, dressed in your uniforms and carrying tactical backpacks.

“You alright?” he asks quietly, concern in his brown eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just tired, a little nervous.”

“Well, as soon as you’re sitting in a row between Street and Hondo with no escape, you’ll feel worse.”

You laugh, and Deacon smiles, glad he was able to distract you if only for a moment.

“Nervous about the flight?” he asks.

“No,” you begin.

“Deac!” Luca yells, cutting you off as he says your name and tosses his arm over you. “Morning, guys.”

Deacon’s eyes stay on you, but you send him a small smile and a nod to let him know you’re alright. Luca drags you and Street along as he talks and walks simultaneously, one arm over each of you until he reaches the security line.

“IDs,” the TSA agent says, holding a hand toward your team.

You let Street, Luca, and Tan go first, hanging back with Deacon and Hondo until your turn. As you walk through the metal detector, the female TSA agent on the other side asks you to step to the side for additional screening.

“Ooh, someone’s been bad,” Hondo taunts as he walks past.

Deacon keeps his eyes on you as he grabs his backpack from the conveyor belt, pulling yours to his side as he waits for you.

“Never fails,” you tell him, smiling as you take your bag. “Apparently I look like a terrorist.”

Deacon rolls his eyes, gesturing for you to walk by. When you turn the corner, Hondo puts his hands up in surrender.

“Do you feel violated?” Street asks dramatically.

“Should we tell Hicks about how a government official had to search you for…” Luca lowers his voice to finish, “weapons.”

“Right now, you’re the only people who should be afraid of me,” you answer with a cheerful smile.

They look at Deacon for help, but he shrugs and mutters, “You started it.”

“Dad,” Tan and Street groan together.

Deacon shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you as if asking, ‘Can you believe what I have to deal with?’

“Who has the boarding passes?” Tan asks.

Hondo raises his hand, digging into his backpack before pulling an envelope out. He looks at the names one each before handing them out. Deacon looks over at yours with furrowed brows.

“What row you on, Hondo?” he asks.

“Six,” Hondo replies. “Exit row with extra leg room. Hicks pulled through.”

“Me too,” Street, Luca, and Tan answer.

Deacon looks over at you with his head tilted.

“What?” you ask.

“Did you ask to be that far away from us?” His eyebrows raise as he chuckles.

“Where are you?” Street asks, pointing toward you with his chin.

“Seventeen.”

Hondo’s eyes widen, shocked at the idea of sitting so far back in the plane.

“We can ask someone to switch,” Deacon tells you.

“No, it’s completely fine. You guys can… enjoy yourselves.”

Deacon starts to argue, but he’s cut short by an announcement.

“Flight 1239 with service to Washington DC has been delayed. Remain at the gate for further updates,” someone says over the speaker.

Hondo nods as if he expected as much before falling back into a seat. Luca, Street, and Tan follow his lead and get comfortable.

You remain standing, tapping your foot to dispel some nervous energy. After thirty minutes with no updates, you sit beside Deacon and lean toward him, pushing your shoulder against his. He doesn’t mind; he invites your presence at his side.

“Flight 1239 to Washington DC will begin boarding in ten minutes.”

Several people cheer, and Hondo stretches before standing. He sees how close you are to Deacon but only raises his eyebrows, a knowing look in his eye even as you shake your head.

Because you’re sitting further back, you board after the guys and have to ignore their comments as you walk past them on the plane. When you’re in your seat, you settle in and start reading, hoping to distract yourself from your racing thoughts.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Good morning, folks, this is your pilot speaking. Sorry about that boarding delay, but we’re going to get you in the air and to DC in just about four and a half hours,” the pilot announces. “Now, I do hear that we have some of LA’s finest on board. A soon to be decorated S.W.A.T. team, so on behalf of Los Angeles, thank you for keeping us safe on the ground, and let us return the favor in the air.”

Several passengers clap, and you smile as one of the flight attendants speaks to you on his way down the aisle. The man across the aisle introduces himself, thanking you for your service as he shakes your hand. You nod and return to your book, grateful for the sound of takeoff drowning out the voices of people talking about the cops on board.

✯✯✯✯✯

“No way, DC would be the first to go,” Street argues.

“Los Angeles always gets taken out first,” Tan adds. “Haven’t you watched a movie?”

“DC is just a bigger target. It’s not first, but it’s more important,” Luca says, leaning forward to join the conversation about the argument.

“In Independence Day, LA is gone long before they even think of DC.”

Deacon closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the headrest. He’s been listening to a different version of the same argument since boarding. They started talking about fighter jets, which turned to fighting aliens. Now, the argument is about which cities aliens would take out first to dominate the world.

“First class,” Hondo says wistfully before putting his earbuds in.

When Tan starts ranting about how aliens don’t have to come from the sky, Deacon decides he’s had enough. He stands, stepping around Luca before walking down the centre aisle. Several people nod at him, while others keep their heads down. When he reaches your row, he stops beside you until you look up at him, your finger holding your place in your book.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Is that seat empty?” Deacon asks, pointing to the one between you and the woman in the window seat. You nod, and Deacon mutters, “Not anymore.”

He steps over your legs and sits beside you, taking a deep breath as he revels in the quiet away from Street, Tan, and Luca.

“Tired of alien invasion debates?” you ask quietly, turning your attention to the cover of your book.

“You can hear it back here?” he asks incredulously.

“No, but word travels fast when tactically trained police officers are discussing alien movies.”

Deacon nods, looking out the window. You start reading again, sitting upright in your own space, despite Deacon’s arm on the armrest between you. Initiating contact with Deacon has never been a problem for you, and he likes that you trust him enough to be vulnerable and comfortable with him. Your attention is easily drawn away from what you’re doing, which is another unusual thing for you.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, leaning toward you.

You nod, but your harsh swallow tells a different story.

“You can talk to me, you know that.”

“I’m really nervous,” you admit.

“Flying?”

You shake your head, leaning forward to put your book in your backpack. When you sit back up, Deacon takes your hand between his.

“Then what’s going on?”

“The award,” you begin, looking at his hands. “I don’t deserve it. That raid was successful because of you guys, not me.”

“Hey,” Deacon says, using a kind hand to direct your face toward his. “We’re a team, and we did that as a team. Together. Every one of us, including you, deserves this award because we saved lives.”

“You saved lives. That little girl would have died without you.”

“And I couldn't have saved her without you,” Deacon reminds you. “We were under attack, and you kept us out of harm’s way. You deserve this, just as much if not more, than the rest of us.”

You nod, turning your head away from Deacon to rest against his shoulder. He pulls your arm over him, encouraging you to get comfortable. Deacon is a comforting person to be around, but being this close provides a feeling that you can’t get anywhere else.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gently holding his wrist.

“In an alien movie, they’d kiss after she saved his life,” Street says, sitting on his knees to watch you and Deacon.

Luca and Tan nod their agreement before turning back in their seats. They’ve witnessed several quiet, tender moments between you and Deacon, but don’t know where they lead. Hondo has advised them to mind their business, but that isn’t as much fun.

✯✯✯✯✯

The flight attendant who spoke to you right after learning you are a police officer seems to enjoy visiting your row. Every time he walks down the middle aisle, he stops to ask if you need anything or talk to you about your job. Since Deacon moved to your side, it has happened several times. He’s just as tired of it as you are.

Still comfortable in Deacon’s arms, you sigh against his shoulder when you hear him walk by again.

“Can I get you two anything?” he asks.

“No, we’re good, thanks,” Deacon answers, polite but firm.

You tighten your grip on his arm in thanks, glad to not have to speak or move. Your nervousness is seeping out as if Deacon is absorbing it and pumping comfort and peace back into you. It seems impossible to be upset around Deacon, especially when your source of discomfort is of your own making.

“I think he likes you,” Deacon whispers against your hair. “Which should be enough evidence that you don’t look like a terrorist.”

You laugh against Deacon, not expecting him to bring that up again. His shoulder shakes under you as he laughs too.

“The seatbelt sign has been turned on for your final descent into Washington DC. Flight attendants prepare for landing," the pilot says.

“Oh no, now your friend can’t visit,” Deacon says, smiling as you sit up.

“You’re my friend,” you reply, matching his smile. “Thank you for everything, Deacon. Seriously, I couldn’t do all of this without you.”

“I love to do it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Once you land in Washington, someone hands Hondo an envelope with your return tickets. He opens them quickly, crossing his fingers that they’re first class.

“Two. Two of them are first class and the others are the first exit row again,” he says.

“Give ‘em to the lovebirds!” Luca yells.

Street and Tan nod before clapping in your direction. You turn toward Deacon and press your face against his shoulder.

“How am I going to survive this weekend?” you mumble.

“With me,” Deacon answers, a gentle hand on your lower back.

✯✯✯✯✯

Being the only woman on the trip, Hicks reserved a room just for you. Someone knocks once you’re dressed, ready, and growing nervous again. Deacon’s eyes widen as you open the door.

“You look beautiful,” he says, walking in. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Thank you. You look just as handsome as always. And, mostly; I’m a little nervous but I’ll be alright.”

“We’re with you the whole time,” Deacon reminds you. “Do you want to do anything specific when we’re finished?”

You shrug. “Some sightseeing, I guess. I don’t really have anything specific I have to see.”

“There’s one place I think you’d really like. If you’re interested, we could go together. Then do some sightseeing.”

Without hesitation, you agree to spend the remainder of your time with Deacon. He’s been at your side through the good and bad, and you’re happiest when he’s there.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’re going food truck hunting, want to join?” Luca asks, loosening his tie.

“Maybe later. I’ll call when we’re done and we can meet somewhere,” Deacon answers, slipping his hand into yours.

“I see,” Luca says, smiling at your joined hands. “It is the city of love.”

“That’s Paris,” Tan says.

“It can be anywhere,” Street says through his teeth, gesturing toward you and Deacon.

“Oh! Yeah, love… it’s everywhere,” Tan corrects.

Deacon fights an eye roll, waving as he leads you away from 20-David.

“Where’s Hondo?” you ask.

Deacon shrugs. “Who knows. Nichelle probably gave him a list of things to see.”

“And what are we seeing?”

“You’ll find out.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The Georgetown Historical District is beautiful, and as you explore the cobblestone roads hand-in-hand with Deacon, there’s an overwhelming sense of home. At the end of a particularly appealing garden, Deacon pulls you to a stop, turning you against his chest.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“For what?” you ask, raising your free hand to rest on his shoulder.

“Reminding me what it’s like to feel this.”

You know what he means, or you hope you do. Nodding, you lean closer to him.

“This is what you make me feel. You’re home, even in the middle of the desert or the beginning of a shootout. Wherever you are, there’s calm, there’s peace, and there’s a beautiful woman who’s impossible not to love.”

Your smile grows with each word, and you duck your head under Deacon’s chin when he finishes. Looking back up, you see the reflection of the street behind you in his eyes, but there’s also so much more.

“I love you, Deacon. You’ve been my comfort since joining 20-David, and any minute spent away from you feels like an eternity.”

Deacon smiles, his eyes shining like a porch light leading you home after a long time away. He releases your hand to grip your waist, pulling you closer as his lips meet yours. Moving with Deacon, you hold his shoulders as you keep him close, letting his kiss and presence speak to you like they always have. Pulling away, you cup Deacon’s jaw.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

 “I love you. I didn’t say it back before.”

“You didn’t have to,” you point out, pulling him close again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You kissed,” Hondo accuses as soon as you reach his side.

“Is that a problem?” Deacon asks.

“It is a huge relief, brother. Congratulations.”

He taps Deacon’s back before pulling you into a quick hug.

“I’ll expect to be the best man, right?”

Deacon presses his lips together and looks at you, smiling when you laugh.

“Hey, sorry we’re late, got caught up at this amazing custard truck,” Luca apologizes as he arrives.

Street looks at you, then Deacon, then your joined hands. He closes his eyes and raises a fist in victory. Tan smiles as he nods at you. Luca remains oblivious as he talks about Wisconsin-style custard and chicken sandwiches.

“But what did you guys do?” he finishes.

“Something we should have done before,” Deacon answers.

Luca furrows his brows, and Street claps his back before saying, “You were right. We’re gonna give the first-class tickets to the lovebirds.”

Luca’s eyes widen in surprise, but before he can congratulate you Hondo exclaims, “Whoa, now, they were good in coach.”

Bonus (because I love Deacon and Hicks' friendship):

"Commander, we wanted to discuss inter-team relationships," you begin.

Hicks raises a hand to silence you, looking toward Deacon.

"You finally did something?" he asks.

Deacon nods and Hicks smiles, bringing him into a hug and extending an arm to let you join them.

"About time!" Hicks cheers with a pleased chuckle.

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: Reunion

The Great Shift is a well known event that had swapped over 90% of the world’s population! However, after the initial fallout and chaos, a few years later people began to acclimate to their lives. Though there were still moments where people were confronted with just how much they’ve changed.

“Ok Ned Nuno. No one is gonna remember you as Ned the know it all. It’s been years. People are mature and have their own lives.” Ned said to himself in the mirror. 

The young man looked back at his model like reflection. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe it was him. Only a few years ago he was looking at his own bespectacled face with his receding hairline. Sure he’s what some would call cute and charming. He always had a knack for intelligent conversation. After college he embraced his intelligence even more and had the luxury to travel as he got older... but he couldn’t deny that his former body wasn’t turning any heads romantically. They’d haver to notice the 5 foot tall waifish man for that to happen. 

But now... that was no longer the case. All those years ago he was traveling at an airport when the Great Shift happened. One moment he was departing his plane, the next he was in a boarding area waiting to be seated!

Needless to say it was a shock. He’d gone from a smaller and dark skinned to a clearly white and very in shape young man! He later found that this guy was named Connor Duval and was  just 21 years old at the time! Still in college too. And... well those first few days he certainly had a lot to learn about his new form. 

However he couldn’t reminisce any further. He needed to get ready for his school’s 10 year reunion. He wasn’t the same timid nerd that people would pick on. He was braver! He’d seen the world! And wasn’t afraid!

- One ride to the school later -

“Ok. I’m afraid! Jackie! Are you here yet? I know this is the 2nd message I left for you on your phone, but I don’t want to be the only one here I know! You were always my best friend and I’m sorry I’m so nervous and-” Ned was pacing nervously outside of the building he once learned at, waiting to go in with his friend.

“Easy there poindexter. Your bestie is back.” A deep voice says spooking  Ned as he jumps.

“J-Jackie?” Ned asks nervously seeing the towering muscular figure beside him.

“In the flesh. I though I told you that I shifted into that big Ukrainian construction worker? I mean all the better for it right? None of your old bullies ever messed with you when you butch lesbian bestie was at your side.” Jackie said with a flex.

“I know. I know. You were always so open and brave with yourself It’s honestly inspiring. I’m sorry i was so shocked. I’m just nervous and it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. I hope your girlfriend is taking it ok.” Ned offers sympathetically.

“Yeah she loves it. She swapped into this bi goddess of a woman and works out with me a lot. Good thing too! I’m still only attracted to women and I have the best one sucking me off every night!” Jackie bragged. Previously her normal crude humor always let out a laugh from Ned, but now Ned trembled a bit as Jackie sounded just like those macho straight guys that bullied him.

“Aren’t you a little under dressed without um... a shirt?” Ned asks.

“Ha! Well you know. I thought about going nude. But I did pack a polo so i can be decent. Aren’t you over dressed Ned?”

“What!? I  couldn’t decide what to wear! I just chose one of my body’s outfits that still fits...” Ned blushes in his nice suit. Sure he was a 6 foot tall model with abs, but his indecision in outfits was ever present.

“Neverminded that anymore. Let’s get in there! You’re a tenured professor for Pete’s sake. And I’m a well known LGBT author. We got a lot to talk about.”

Jackie pulled Ned in with his surprising strength and they began to hear the music and mingling. Inside they were given name tags and soon saw the crowds of people that none of them recognized! One of the perks of the shift was that no one was ever mad when they didn’t recognize one another. In this case though Jackie and Ned’s eyes zeroed in on a few key people.

Stacy Skarsgaard was always known as the head cheerleader and total B. Her platinum blond hair and perky breasts getting her through life and landing her a cushy secretary job somewhere in the city, from what Jackie had heard. Now once again, as she was so many other times, she was blasted drunk and taking her top off. Only this time it revealed a powerful dark skinned chest with curly black hairs. Her perfectly shaved face saying, “And like. I”m already on my 4th husband and he totally worships me. Takes care of the kids and still tops me like a champ. Like. I totally see why gay guys do it all the time. I can’t stop. Any more martinis?”

Jackie snorts. “Where was that open mindedness when she tried to get student council to take down the LGBT Support Club? Freaking hypocrite. Their eyes then drifted to three men chest bumping and laughing.

“Are those guys Chad, Thad, and Grad?” Ned asks surprised. “Weren’t they... like the biggest guys on the football team?” Ned recalled the days when those beefy fat bodies would pound through the halls and shove him against lockers.

“Oh yeah. I heard they were working as assistant coaches at some college and ended up swapping with their respective school’s freshman swim team. They... certainly lost a lot of that freshmen 15 that we saw them with in university.” Jackie laughed admiring how they both towered over their former bullies, though Ned once again felt insecure about how much their abs looked better than his. Those three guys kept messing around but in different ways. Instead of belching and arm wrestling they were doing some handstands and showing how flexible they were. 

“Ok. Ned. Stop sulking and start catching up. You wanted to prove to yourself you could stand up to your past. Now is your chance. Next person to walk through that door is gonna be a new person you have to say Hi to ok?” Jackie commanded.

Ned gulped and looked at the door nervously and was in awe of who stepped in.

“Paul Bailey?” Ned said astonished. He’d recognize that familiar leather jacket anywhere.... he could still smell it as the closeted athlete wrapped his arms around him all those years ago under the bleachers after a big game. Neither have them had mentioned the night since, but that hadn’t stopped Ned from cherishing that memory.... as well as stalking him occasionally on social media seeing who he swapped with. 

Ned hadn’t realized he’d been staring that long as Paul immediately saw him and walked over. “Holy... Ned? Is that you. Wow you sure changed.” The man joked. His voice was different... but still so deep and smooth Ned nearly swooned.

“H-hey Paul. Guess we all have since the switch. You’re um... looking good.” Ned admitted, blushing. He missed his previous heritage that made these embarrassing actions less noticeable with his former darker skin. 

“Thanks. I guess I traded in my older pasty body for a new more bronze kind. I wasn’t expecting to swap with an Asian bodybuilder, but hey I was at the airport. Right or wrong place depending who you ask for the shift.” 

“Really? I was at the airport too when I shifted. It was kinda funny. I’d been traveling a lot since I got tenure as a professor, but the first thing I did when I shifted was trip. I guess no amount of travelling prepares you for suddenly having size 14 feet.” Ned laughs.

“Really? They do look big... dang. Those are like twice the size of your old ones.” Paul laughs too!

“Y-you remembered me that well?” The nerd felt touched.

“Of course,” Paul replied as it was his turn to blush. “Though hey! I got you beat with these size 17 wide feet. With these heavy muscle I nearly took out an entire cart of luggage.”

The two continued to laugh, comparing bodies, stories, and catching up. Jackie suddenly took her leave to be ogled by all of the female attendants.

Ned and Paul were having a great time walking around, having fun, and enjoying each other’s company.

Ned didn’t know that their bodies had met previously. That Connor was on the way to visit his boyfriend at the time... that miles away their original bodies were holding hands and laughing too... Ned couldn’t know that Paul had also been secretly keeping up with Ned after feeling bad about kissing and never calling...

But there are some things a know it all doesn’t know. Maybe it’ll be fun for him to start learning again. This time with someone both old/new.