#gods gift yeah the gift of being a menace

[owlarchimedes]

Do yourself a favor and DONT google the meaning of Jean and Nathaniel because WDYMMM they're named "God is gracious" and "gift of God" because they were always meant to be forever partners but in the end did it even fucking matter? God's gifts to the Court only to be used and discarded and thrown away (is God truly gracious?) and for Nathan's gift to be stolen away by Mary (God's gift revoked)

[hyunsvngs]

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! - stepdad!bang chan x fem!reader

wc: 10.2k

cw: chan is your mother's boyfriend and you want to fuck him, chan is 30 and reader is described to be younger & in college, lix is a menace, changbin is a moral compass, you do not care about morals, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?

a/n: it's so here <3 my first commission! i hope u all love it <3 smut warnings under the cut ofc. i also tried a new format with this fic so pls let me know what u think?!?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: dirty talk, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, cumplay if u squint?, humiliation if u squint?, anal fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), edging maybe briefly, sex with feelings

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You hated going home for the holidays.

You were a rich kid, to put it simply. Your mother loved to leech off the men that she was with, marrying them quickly and trying to suck as much money as she could out of them in gifts and straight up cash before they eventually clued on and left her. It had been why your father had left when you were a mere infant, but you’d always lived in luxury due to the incessant payments that he was forced to give. You’d never met him, but there was a plus side - he was paying your college tuition, where you met your best friends.

Perhaps if you thought about it a bit more you’d realise that the only reason you went to college was to get away from your mother. She pissed you off, sauntering around the house in silk kimonos with a maid trailing behind her, pausing to look in mirrors so that she could choose where her next round of botox would hit. She frustrated you beyond belief, but you still had to go home for Christmas. Annoyingly early, too, because she had a surprise for you.

Okay, well, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d FaceTimed you a week earlier, an irritatingly wrinkle-free face popping up on the screen as she sipped mulled wine and revelled in your absence. She had a new boyfriend, she said. You’d love him, she said. Your opinion matters most to me, she said. The last one you knew to be a lie. God, you hated her. 

Still, you lugged your suitcase through the front door and huffed, booting the side with your foot to try and shake some of the snow off. No surprise, she hadn’t helped you in from your taxi. She hadn’t even come to get you from the airport a mere twenty minute drive away. You dropped the suitcase on the floor, giving it another kick just for good measure, and then you were trudging into the kitchen. You’d heard voices from there, so it had to be them.

“Oh, honey!” Your mother chirped upon seeing you. You couldn’t see the face of the man washing dishes behind her, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and back facing you. You didn’t care anyway. “You made it home safe, then.”

“Yeah. The taxi driver was super nice and let me call him mum,” You quipped. She furrowed her eyebrows, lips pursed. 

“Okay, you’re being weird already,” She mumbled, and then shook her head, shrugging it off. She walked to the man by the sink, spinning him around by his slender waist to display him to you. “This is Chan!”

You felt silly, stood in the kitchen doorway in oversized clothes and covered in ivory snow. The man’s eyes found you, shocked by your mother’s harsh manoeuvring, and he blinked with surprise at your figure. You blinked with surprise, too.

Chan was hot. Incredibly so, actually, and he looked young. Younger than your mother, with a big nose you wanted to ride and plush lips parting as he raised one hand to wave at you, still wet with soapy dishwasher. You wanted to lick him clean. The white shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were fit to burst around incredibly toned biceps. You allowed your gaze to wander down, eyes focusing on the thick thighs in the black dress trousers he wore. 

There was no way this was real. “Okay,” You burst out laughing, eyes darting between Chan and your mother. “And, who is Chan? A friend? A colleague? He’s not your boyfriend.”

Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, I am. I’m your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart.”

His voice was deep - too deep, deep enough to haunt your dreams and those late night sessions you had in your bed with your trusty vibrator. This was going to be trouble. You were going to be trouble.

“You’re shitting me,” You couldn’t get the amused smile off of your face. No fucking way. Your mother hadn’t bagged that. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. Mum, he’s closer to my age than he is to yours.”

“I’m thirty, actually,” He mumbled, looking sheepish. Your mother stared at you in shock, jaw dropped at your brazenness. 

“I rest my case,” You concluded, nodding decisively. When the two of them just continued to stare, you bristled slightly, starting to hop from one foot to the other. Awkward. “You… are you actually together?”

“Yes, honey,” Your mother confirmed, still looking shocked. You scoffed.

“Okay, I really need to go, actually,” You gushed, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I’m- I’m going to my room. Really nice to meet you, Chan, really.” 

Shooting upstairs, you completely ignored your suitcase still leaking snow all over the hardwood floors and darted into your bedroom. It still looked exactly how you’d left it, band posters all over the walls and teddies littering the end of your bed. You threw yourself on top of the mattress, fingers yanking your phone out of your pocket and clicking the button on the most recent group call on FaceTime. Immediately, your college best friends picked up.

“There’s already a problem?” Felix scrunched his nose up, face way too close to the camera. Changbin was on the other side, face looking confused in the little square designated to him on your phone screen.

“I just met my mother’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, right, how did that go?” Changbin questioned, tilting his head to the side. You caught sight of your face in your own little square, flushed and appalled.

“He is thirty years of age, Changbin,” You began. Felix gasped, tiny hand moving to cover his mouth. “He is thirty years of age, and he is really fucking hot.”

“Oh my god,” Felix mumbled, muffled behind his hand. “Oh my god, you have to fuck him.”

Changbin choked on air. “She has to- No, Felix, no!”

“No, I can’t do that. It would be fucked up,” You mused. Or.. “Wait, would it even be that fucked up? He is closer to my age. I hate my mother.”

Felix’s hand fell, and he giggled before speaking in his trademark goblin voice - “Fuck him.”

“Don’t!” Changbin shrieked, his phone shaking in his hand. “I really think this is a bad idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Felix grinned, looking smug. “I’d do it.”

“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do,” Changbin retorted. Felix stuck his tongue out at him. You, however, were silent, musing on the situation and staring at your wall. Could you do it? Changbin noticed, sighing. “Baby, please no.”

You licked your lips, nodding. You could do it. You wanted to do it - needed it, even. Those biceps were going to plague your life forever otherwise. “Operation fuck my mother’s boyfriend is a go.”

Felix screamed in delight. Changbin ended the call.

SATURDAY

It was time. Your mother was out at brunch with some friends, and you had plans to invade Chan’s personal space because you had a feeling he’d be too polite to tell you otherwise. You knew he’d set up the spare room as his own home studio, because your mother had delighted in telling you how Chan was a super successful music producer and was often tinkering away in there these days. You were going to let yourself in, try to get to know him a bit.

The knock you landed on the door was anything but subtle. Your fist rapped on the door and you heard a little hum in response, so you swung open the door, eyes landing on Chan hunched over his desk. He looked even younger like this, beanie pulled down over dark curls and headphones positioned on his head. He continued to stare at the file on his computer, head bobbing absentmindedly, so you strode up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around on his computer chair, blinking confusedly at you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” You beamed. “Sorry about last night. I was rude. I was feeling kinda weird, y’know, with the travelling.”

“No, I completely get it,” Chan put his hands up as if to diffuse the atmosphere. You nodded, still smiling. Chan stared at you when you didn’t respond instantly, and you crossed your hands behind your back, pressing against the plaid pattern of the dress you’d chosen for today. It was all part of the plan - the tight, short dress was perfect for seduction. He looked down at your chest, before clearing his throat, reverting his gaze to your eyes. “Um… did you need something, by the way?”

You gasped, as if remembering. “Oh, yeah! I did. My mother told me you were a music producer, and I was really curious. I was wondering if you’d show me some stuff…?”

It was Chan’s turn to smile, nodding excitedly. “Of course. Here, put these on.”

He linked two fingers around his headphones and handed them to you, to which you obediently put them over your ears. He was quieter now, but you could still slightly hear him mumbling as he found a spare chair for you to sit on. Your eyes scanned the files, eventually fixating on a file titled Drive. That one had to be dirty.

“Okay, so. I have this one, it’s my most recent one, and-”

“I want to listen to that one,” You cut him off, pointing at the song. When you turned to look at him, he was biting his lip nervously, pink tinting the ends of his ears and his cheeks. “What is it, Chan?”

“You- that one is a little, uh… heh. A little inappropriate.”

Unsurprisingly, you darted over his desk to grab the computer mouse and double click on the file. Chan squealed, but you ignored him, listening to the song. You were right. It was dirty, the two singers crooning about something that was a thinly-veiled innuendo about driving. It took you a second and then you clicked. One of them was Chan. This was Chan singing, on a song about sex. God, could he get any hotter?

You slid one of the ear cups off of your ear, turning to Chan with a shit eating grin. “This is you singing? You’re really good, Chan.” You weren’t lying. He was really good, and it had you wondering why he was a producer and not singing.

“Yeah, well, it was just an experimental track. Me and my mate were just messing around,” Chan mumbled shyly, hand scratching the back of his neck. You tried to avoid staring at the way his biceps tensed in his tight t-shirt at the movement. He was still blushing, but you had to kick it up a notch.

“It is kinda inappropriate, though, isn’t it?” You chirped excitedly. Chan’s lips parted, as if he was looking for something to say. His eyes stared into your own, piercing and dark and all-consuming. “I think you’re a little dirty, Channie.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed at your use of the nickname. “That’s- you can’t say that. That’s inappropriate.”

“What?” You feigned shock-horror. Play dumb. “I can’t call you Channie? Why not?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan groaned, pointing an accusing finger at you. You giggled anyway, jumping up and slipping the headphones back onto his head. You made sure to trail your fingertips down his neck after doing so. He shivered noticeably. You smiled.

“That was super good, Channie, thank you.”

You didn’t miss his groan of disbelief as you bounded out of the room. You had him, and it was easier than you’d expected it to be.

SUNDAY

Something was happening. You weren’t sure what, just yet, but something was happening. Chan was acting a little weird after what happened the day before, and you’d already caught Felix and Changbin up on the nonsense plan you had. 

“I think you need to accept that this is just down to you having a fat crush on him and severe daddy issues,” Changbin mused, and you gasped. He was right though. This wasn’t completely about getting back at your mother in a sick, twisted way. You wanted him.

Phase two of your plan was underway as soon as you caught sight of him on the sofa. He was watching some cheesy Christmas movie, your mother tinkering away in the kitchen - when had she ever cooked? - so it was prime seducing time. He had one of the thick throw blankets over his lap, fingers playing with the fluffy fabric absentmindedly. You hopped into the living room in your short pyjamas, frowning at Chan when you felt the goosebumps on your legs.

“Whatcha watching?” You asked, making him jump when he realised your presence. He smiled nonetheless, motioning to the seat next to him, and you took it. You perched and ensured that you left no room between you both.

“Some cheesy film. The woman’s marrying a prince, I think.”

“Sounds awful. I can’t wait to watch it,” You smiled, and Chan chuckled, relaxing on the sofa. You managed to make it five whole minutes before you were rubbing your hands up your legs, trying to create a semblance of warmth. 

Chan turned to you, frowning. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You whined, pulling your legs up into your chest. “‘S cold in here, right?”

“C’mere,” He mumbled, reaching for the end of the blanket and throwing it over your lap. You hummed contentedly, inching a little closer under the guise of the cold weather. The blanket was warm. You were kind of jealous he’d been in such comfort this whole time while you’d been thinking of ways to get his cock inside your mouth. 

“Thanks, Channie,” Chan only nodded, continuing to watch the film. You had a feeling he was pretending to be so focused on it, given you weren’t sure he even knew the plot before your arrival. 

You squirmed on your seat, thrashing each way until you found yourself comfortable, hand splayed over Chan’s knee. He tensed under your touch. 

“You’re touching me, sweetheart,” He warned, his voice low and deep. You shivered, turning to him.

“Am I?”

“You are. You’re touching my leg underneath the blanket, aren’t you?”

You hummed. “Is that okay, Chan?”

Chan turned to you, his eyes not even holding any sign of shock. He knew what game you were playing, you realised, and maybe he was playing along. He licked his lips, head back against the sofa, and then he shrugged dismissively. 

“It doesn’t bother me.”

You left your hand there for the whole film. 

MONDAY

The showers at home were something you’d missed. The ones in college didn’t quite cut it - not even now that you lived with Changbin and Felix in your own student home. All three of you were young adults, after all, and that came with you being a little too messy.

At home, you didn’t have to worry about mess. Your mother had cleaners employed with your dad’s money anyway. Admittedly, you realised you were being a little spoiled, so you’d learned to clean up after yourself. The showers were still better, though. Bigger, and the water pressure hit you just right. 

Especially when you detached the shower head and pressed it to your clit. You felt pathetic. You’d only tried to seduce Chan for two fucking days, and there you were, legs shaking at the thought of him. Maybe it was the chase that got you feeling hot, or maybe it was the fact that you might actually be getting somewhere - you might actually be getting close to fucking him, muscles bulging as he ploughed into you. 

It had you pressing the shower head harder, your spare hand coming up to pinch your nipple. You whined, bucking your hips into the water stream. The steam was all over the bathroom by now, staining the shower with condensation and making your skin feel pruned and flushed. Or did you feel flushed from the thoughts of Chan? Maybe he’d fuck you the way you liked. He must have experience, you assumed, being a few years older than you. You thought about how he’d make you feel, how he’d touch you, and how you’d feel in his arms. You thought about how you’d feel when you came, and what it would be like to be with him. You wanted to feel him so badly.

Was he as big down there as he was everywhere else? Sure, he’s not too tall, but he’s every part a man. That much was clear. Would he bend you in half, pushing you into a mating press and fuck you raw the way you liked, cumming inside and letting you call him daddy and-

You wailed, legs trembling with one last buckle before you were cumming. You felt wet, too wet even just from the shower, and you belatedly realised you’d have to wash again. Ugh. This plan needed to end, like… yesterday. 

Coming out of the shower freshly washed, you wrapped a towel around your figure and checked the time on your phone. Your thumb slipped around the screen from the condensation in the bathroom, but the plan was going well. If you left the bathroom now, then hopefully Chan would be heading to bed, and he’d catch you in your towel. Ideally, he’d be so hot for you that he’d just have to have you, and then you could get the thoughts of him out of your head.

You burst out of the room in a flurry of steam and movement, almost tripping over your own feet when you noticed that it had actually fucking worked. Chan stood stock still at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixated on the way the towel wrapped tightly around your chest, at risk of falling. You smiled, waving innocently, and he stalked towards you. He was seeing red. You could tell from the way he cornered you, crowding around you with the small advantage he had on your height.

“You need to stop this,” He mumbled, eyes looking at your mother’s bedroom door. He was playing a dangerous game. You were, too, and you both knew it. “I’m dating your mother. You need to stop this, sweetheart.”

“Stop what?” You tilted your head, acting confused. “I just had a shower.”

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking heard you in there.”

Oh. You couldn’t hide your smirk that time. “Yeah, I missed that shower head. Why were you perving on me, Chan?”

Chan rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing a beanie today, only a hoodie and baggy joggers. You liked it. You could see his hair like this, dark and curly and frizzy on his head. He looked cute. Wait, what?

He took a deep breath. His eyes moved to fixate on you, tongue running over his teeth. “Why would I be perving on you?”

“Oh, don’t lie,” You crossed your arms over your chest. Chan’s eyes moved down to stare at where your tits bulged over the towel. “I bet you stood there for ages, cock hard in your cute joggers, listening to me moan in the shower. That’s a little fucked up, no? Thinking about your girlfriend’s daughter like that-”

You were cut off by him pushing you to the wall, lips slamming into yours. He bit into your mouth instantly, letting out a deep groan and hands moving to grab your ass through the towel. You let your lips part in a whimper, pushing your tongue into his mouth and running your hands through his hair. It was a filthy exchange of tongue and teeth, and by the end of it, you were gasping, grabbing him by the waist and trying to pull him closer. You pulled away, breathing heavily and your eyes still locked on each other. You both stood there, not speaking, as you both processed what you had just done. You both knew it was wrong, but you wanted it so bad.

Chan stepped back, breathing out a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You watched in shock as he turned around, walking into your mother’s bedroom and leaving you there. You were wet again. This was getting ridiculous now. 

In your room, Felix screamed so loud you had to turn the volume down on your phone. Changbin choked on air again. 

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen Chan all day. You presumed he was in his studio, working away on another track while your mother was in work. You were bored. Felix had been spending time with his family, and Changbin was out doing rich kid things that you could sympathise with. Thrashing around on your bed, annoyed and huffing, you decided you were just going to go and annoy Chan. It was your newly favourite pastime to get under his skin.

Stalking down the stairs to his studio, you paused when you heard a voice. Not just one voice, two voices. Was your mother there? No, no way. She never goes into that room, it’s his work room. You’d been in there though. You tried to suppress a grin at that realisation. 

The other voice was a man’s. Chan had a call on speakerphone, judging by the tinny effect covering the unknown male’s voice and Chan humming every so often. Who was the other man? A colleague, or just a friend?

“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate,” Chan groaned. You could barely hear him, and you held your breath, coming closer to the closed door. “I want her so bad, and it’s so wrong. I- I kissed her last night, Minho.”

There were a few yells from the other end of the phone. “You kissed her?! Chan, you fucking animal. You want her so bad, just fuck her. She’s clearly hoping that’s the outcome here.”

You grinned. You were.

“She’s- it’s outrageous. She walks around in practically nothing, and she’s got such a tight fucking body, man. She makes my dick so fucking hard, I’ve never felt anything like it before. Even when I met her, in the kitchen, she was-”

Chan cut himself off with a sigh. ‘Minho’ hummed, waiting for him to continue.

“She’s so bratty. She’s exactly the type of girl I would’ve gone for, before I met her mother.”

“Seriously?” Minho questioned, and Chan agreed. “You have to do it.”

“Minho-”

“No, Chan. I’m serious,” Minho’s voice was firm. “If she’s fucking you up this bad, you can’t have liked her mother that much, yeah? Just do it. You know it’s going to happen anyway.”

“It’s-” Chan began. You could imagine him rubbing his temples in distress behind the door. “She’s younger than me. I don’t want her to feel as though I’m taking advantage, y’know? The ball’s in her court.”

The ball has always been in your court.

“It sounds like she wants you to take advantage, to be honest,” Minho erupted in a fit of giggles, and you found yourself almost laughing along. Minho was annoyingly right. You only hoped he could get rid of that stick up Chan’s ass and get you a good dicking down.

It meant it was time for the next phase of your plan. You assumed Chan had wanted you, embarrassingly so, but you weren’t quite sure until he’d kissed you the day before. After hearing this conversation? Well, you had to do it.

You returned to your room, scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper. If Chan found this, which he would, it meant that he’d come to your room tomorrow night and you could maybe talk about what the fuck was going on. The sexual tension was too much for you, and now you knew he felt the same. Why were you beating around the bush? You had to make something out of this.

You ignored the stuttering of breath you heard when you slid the note under his door, and returned back to your room with a cocky grin.

WEDNESDAY

Chan hadn’t mentioned the note. You didn’t think he would, but you felt disappointed nonetheless. You’d woken up in the morning, eaten breakfast with him and your mother - cringing when he kissed her on the cheek when she left for work - and you’d even done the dishes yourself, letting him slip off to do some work in the studio. It was prime time for him to mention what you’d written, and he hadn’t. It was pissing you off.

Still, good things come to those who wait. You were confident. Felix had been egging you on all day over text, Changbin had been sending random upset emojis. It was perfect. 

Settling on your sheets at night, you felt a little pathetic. You’d lit a few candles, left the curtains just right on the window so that the moonlight billowed in, and Chan hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t received your note. No, there was no way - you practically heard his response through the door when he saw it slid under. He got the note. Perhaps you’d made him uncomfortable, made him withdraw from you despite all the progress you’d made. Why had you put in so much effort? You didn’t like him, not like that. Or did you? You felt ridiculous, almost like a child waiting for-

A knock on the door brought you out of your self-loathing thoughts, and you jumped up, swinging the bedroom door open. Chan immediately crowded inside of your bedroom, pressing the door shut softly. You stood there in silence, taking him in. He looked cosy, in a baggy hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms. It was hard to believe he was dating your mother, especially when he looked so vulnerable like this - dark, curly hair still slightly wet from his shower, and his eyes blown wide with an unreadable emotion while he looked at you.

Chan sighed. “You’re really playing with fire. Do you know how this could look, me coming into your room at night? Do you know how wrong this is?”

You faltered. For the first time since meeting Chan, you felt as though he was angry at you. “I- I heard you on the phone, Channie. I thought you wanted me too.”

You watched in awe as Chan crossed your bedroom, groaning and throwing himself onto the bed. He was hard, erect in his bottoms. You blinked confusedly. He was hard just from being in here?

“I do want you,” Chan said, but it was muffled, hidden behind his hands that he had placed over his face in distress. He let them fall to his sides, staring up at the ceiling. “I want you so bad that it’s pissing me off beyond belief. I know what you’ve been doing too, trying to seduce me. It’s so pathetic it makes me feel hot, y’know?”

You giggled, following his journey across the room and settling next to him on the bed. You sat cross legged, comfortable in your long pyjamas. The candlelight flickered, casting a glow over his face, and he turned to look at you. He licked his lips, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous-”

“It’s ridiculous that you haven’t fucked me yet,” You responded, quick as a flash. Chan leaned up on his forearms, raising an eyebrow at you. Now was the time. You had to say it. “You know how bad I want you. I touched you up on the sofa, and you let me. You wanted me to, I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but-”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’re not wrong,” Chan admitted. You could see the blush on his cheeks despite the dimly lit room.  He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want you, too.” 

Chan shot across the bed, leaning in and kissing you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. It made you wet beyond belief that he just felt like he knew what he was doing, hands travelling down to your waist to softly press you into the sheets. His tongue swept into your mouth, pressing against yours and you whimpered, making him groan into the kiss. When his hands went up to your hair, he intertwined his fingers in the strands and pulled, making you gasp and let out a heady, hot breath. He pulled away, lips parted when he stared at you. 

“You are such a horny little thing, it’s so hot,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your neck. He bit your skin sharply, making you keen and spread your legs, allowing him to position his hips between your thighs. The movement pressed his bulge into your core, and you tried not to shift and move your hips in a rhythm of pleasure. His fingers traced over your skin, and he chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made your heart race. He pulled back, leaning back on his legs and staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

You paused. “What?”

“I want to know what you like. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow night. How’s that sound?” He was propositioning you, teasing you, and you were falling for it - hook, line and sinker. 

You gave him a nod. Right. Touching yourself for him - that was something you could do. This was just another Wednesday for you, you loved putting on a show, especially for a man who was rock hard and obviously desperate for you. But with Chan… why did you feel so fucking nervous all of a sudden? You'd spent your whole day waiting to fuck him, and he’d taken back the power, thrown a wrench into your plans.

You leaned back on your bed. How did you sit sexily? You were stuck in your own head.

Chan moved backwards, hand moving over his clothed erection. He’d spread his legs, thick thighs parted for you to see the promising bulge between them. "Pretend I'm not even here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blown wide with lust. You almost rolled your eyes. Easier said than done, when he was sitting there with his dark curls and his thick, kissable lips and his impossibly huge bulge. “Touch yourself like you’ve done before. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow, I promise.”

Fuck it. You'd never let an attractive man break you down yet, and that wasn't going to change. You nodded timidly, hands moving to grip your breasts through your shirt. It made you sigh, and Chan responded with a noise of his own when you impatiently rucked the fabric up to above your chest. Sucking two fingers into your mouth, you whined when you traced the wet digits around your pebbled peak teasingly. 

“Ah, ‘s- I’m sensitive there, Channie,” You mumbled, and he nodded as if he was making a note for it for later. You trailed your fingertips across your nipples, pinching and twisting them almost painfully just to make your hips cant up into thin air. You were too impatient to do this how you normally would, so you scratched your fingernails down your tummy and shoved a hand in your pyjama bottoms. You were met with slick, wet folds, fingers sliding around in the mess you made. 

“Show me,” Chan said, eyes trained on where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric. “Show me that pussy. You’re meant to be showing me everything, remember?”

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” You huffed, and Chan shook his head in disbelief, grinning. You were shocked to see he actually listened, though, pushing his joggers down to his thighs and letting his erection spring out. It was impossibly hard, pearlescent drops accumulating on his cockhead and you licked your lips subconsciously. “I wanna-”

“No,” Chan cut you off, hand moving to wrap around his cock in a tight fist. He was long, thick and heavy between his thighs and you felt your pussy clench sadly around nothing. “Show me your pussy. I’m not asking again, let me take a look at it.”

You whined, pushing your pyjama bottoms down to reveal your slick core. Your clit was swollen, throbbing with need just from a few kisses and Chan’s general presence, and you could feel a rivulet of wetness sliding down between your lips. Chan groaned in approval, hand quickening on his cock just slightly.

“Spread it, show me your hole,” Chan said, and you moved your thighs further apart for him. Reaching down with two fingers, you moved them into a v-shape and spread your folds for him. Your hole quivered under the inspection, leaking more wetness and Chan’s eyes were hyper fixated on it. “Oh, baby. That looks tight. Has no one ever fucked that little pussy right, huh? Tell me.”

“N-No,” You shook your head, thighs quivering when you finally let two fingers rub over your clit. You started with a blistering pace immediately, making your toes curl into the sheets and your back arch upwards. “No, I- it’s only boys from college, I don’t-”

“Ah, I see. You need someone older, yeah? More experienced?” Chan questioned, his breath coming out heavy with every tightly fisted movement on his cock. You whined, nodding, and then you were breaching your hole with two fingers immediately. The stretch made you groan, head falling back against the pillow. “Is that why you tried to seduce me, yeah? Wanted to have my cock stretching you out just right, wanted to call me daddy while I made you cry?”

God, he’d got it. He was right on the mark. “Yes, y-yes, I- I wanted to, oh, I wanted to call you daddy, and- and feel you inside me, and oh, Channie, please-” You cut yourself off with a moan, perhaps too loud as you curled your fingertips up against your g-spot. Chan threw his head back, letting out a grunt as he pinched his cockhead almost painfully. 

“Say it then, baby. What’s stopping you?” He polished the head of his cock, moaning before he took it into his tight grip again. His precum served as lubrication, his hand now making wet slick sounds on his thick length. You gasped when he moved his free hand to his balls, rubbing calloused fingertips over them and letting out his own gasp. “Beg me for my cock. I know you want it, look at you. Fuckin’ desperate, yeah? Beg daddy for his big cock.”

“Oh, daddy,” You whined, moving your free hand to rub over your clit. Everything was so wet, sliding around your pussy and you were honestly surprised you could feel anything - but it felt so fucking good, having him watch you like this, learning what you liked so he could replicate it. “Fuckin’- daddy, daddy, please, can I have it? Been good, doin’ what you asked, I- hnnng, daddy, oh my god-”

“No,” He smiled, a cocky grin while he rubbed one hand over his cock and the other over his heavy balls. “No, baby. Not tonight. Make yourself cum tonight, and daddy will help you tomorrow.”

“I- need more, need more, I-'' Chan surged over the bed, leaning over your figure to press his lips against yours. His tongue dominated your mouth again, and you could feel his closed fist hitting your stomach as he worked himself to his orgasm. The sensation had you whining against his plush lips, fingers thrusting quicker into your pussy and your other hand sliding around your clit messily. When he pulled away, lips digging into your bottom lip teasingly, his lips were quick to move to your neck to suck some dark purple marks into the skin. You felt yourself trembling, your body tense as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your fingers stroked your walls faster, pussy fluttering around your digits in delight, and your mouth opened in a gasp as you felt your body tense and tremble with pleasure. “I’m g’na- g’na cum, gonna cum, please, can I? Can I, daddy? Can I cum for you, please?”

“Yeah, baby,” He huffed, eyes rolling back into his head. He was practically drooling onto your skin, lips parted against your neck as you whined and thrashed on your bedsheets. “Cum for me. Been good for daddy, haven’t you? You can cum, baby, c’mon. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

You fell apart around your own fingers, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. Your thighs tensed with your orgasm, your pussy clenching down impossibly tighter around your hand and flooding down to your knuckles with your cum. You begged and pleaded, your voice a barely audible babble as your body shook with the sensation. 

Finally, when you’d just felt like you were coming down, Chan pulled your wrist away from your pussy. The movement left you empty, your walls still clenching down except now it was around nothing, and you whined, bottom lip quivering in need. 

“Hands off,” He sighed, hand slowing down on his cock. He was trying to last longer for something - you weren’t sure what, but you let your other hand drop from your clit obediently. “Daddy’s gonna cum on this wet little hole, baby, okay? You gonna let me cum here, mark you as mine?”

“Yes,” You moaned, nodding. You couldn’t think of anything better, actually. “‘M yours, I’m yours, daddy, gimme.”

“Dirty thing, perfect little girl,” He grunted, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your hole. With a few more movements, increasing in speed, you watched as his face screwed up in pleasure. His hips bucked, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt his cum drip down your hole as he groaned through his orgasm, thick white cum plastering your pussy. It was definitely the sexiest thing you’d experienced, but you still felt a little disappointed - why couldn’t he have just done it inside you?

“Wan’it,” You whined, pulling your legs back. Chan chuckled upon seeing the pout on your lips. “Why couldn’t you- in me, wanted it in me, daddy.” 

“Greedy bitch,” He mused, and then he was delving down to your core. Your mind went blank when his tongue licked fat stripes up your folds, collecting all of his cum and your wetness in his mouth. You briefly thought you could cum from this, very quickly judging by the way he knew what he was doing, but he simply leaned over you and grabbed your jaw. 

Oh. You let your lips part, tongue lolling out of your mouth obediently, and he spat the mixture of your cum into your mouth. You felt him lick into your mouth again, groaning at the taste of your pussy and his load. He smiled against your lips and pulled away, your eyes wide as you tried to process what had just happened. 

Chan’s lips curved in satisfaction at your state, your chest still heaving with a blotchy rash that bore the truth of what you’d been up to. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and then he was standing up and leaving the room, bottoms barely pulled over his hips. You laid there, feeling an intense mix of pleasure and confusion.

What the fuck just happened?

THURSDAY

You hadn’t even processed what had happened last night. In all honesty, you’d run out of the house in the morning under the premise of a coffee date with friends you didn’t even have. You just sat in the cafe on call with Changbin and Felix and screamed way too loudly for a public area. The whole cafe knew of your predicament by the end of it.

Upon your return home, you’d beelined to your room and kicked the door shut as quietly as you could. Unfortunately, your foot slipped on the floor and you’d ended up face down with a groan.

Turning over onto your back, you huffed at the offending item that had caused your decline to the ground. A piece of paper met your eyes, neatly folded and written on with what looked like black Sharpie when you’d finally unravelled it.

Three words. Three words that changed your life and let you know that what occurred the night before had really happened. No, not ‘I love you’ - it was simple, a scrawled ‘your room, tonight’. It did happen. You touched yourself in front of Chan, and he was planning on coming back to your room to continue what you’d discussed.

You wanted to squeal and kick your feet, but beneath it all, you felt panicked. This plan had gone too far, and you’d perhaps started to think about spending time with your mother’s boyfriend - actual time, not just sexually charged meetings. It hurt a little bit, a pang in your chest when you remembered that what was happening really was just sexual. Your little arrangement being anything else just wasn’t fathomable.

Chan was interesting. He was a fucking music producer, for god’s sake. That was just straight up cool. That, and he was older than you - you did have raging daddy issues like your friends had said, after all. His friend had sounded funny on the phone, which meant he had to be funny, too. 

All things serious, you didn’t really know much about him, but you wanted to know. Felix had encouraged you to find out, and you felt like you owed it to him - or yourself, you weren’t sure. 

The knock on your door once the evening fell brought you out of your reverie. Chan didn’t wait for a response, swinging your bedroom door open and walking straight in as if he owned the house. You huffed at his demeanour, yet your eyes were still fixated on the way he walked over to your bed with intent. You threw your phone to the side. Felix would have to wait for your half-typed text message. 

“Back again so soon?” You quipped, and he raised an eyebrow. He was only in grey joggers, the thin material highlighting his thick dick imprint between his legs. The fabric hung low, showing off the body that you knew he worked so hard for. His chest was honey toned, yet covered in light, sparse freckles - you wanted to make yourself acquainted with every single one. You felt a little overdressed in just an oversized t-shirt and shorts.

Seeing the frustrated expression on your face, Chan’s own face fell. “Do you not want me here?” He said, voice no more than a whisper. “I can go, if you don’t want to see me tonight. I just thought-”

“I do,” You nodded, finally raising yourself from your position lying down to sitting up cross legged. Chan laid on the bed in front of you, one arm propping his head up. He gazed at you for a few moments, and you could see the relief in his eyes at your words. “I do want to see you tonight. I want to see you like… a lot. Don’t you think it’s weird though? I’m your girlfriend’s daughter, Chan, and we’ve kissed and- and done other stuff, and-”

He scooted over so that he was next to you, and you leaned into him subconsciously. He pulled you in with his arm around your shoulders, broad and muscled. You felt content, comfortable and most of all safe. It was a feeling you’d never felt before.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Chan hummed, his chest vibrating beneath where you’d landed when he pulled you in. He chuckled, then, his hand moving to your hair comfortingly. “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. I’m just very interested in you. I know you heard me on the phone to Minho, and yes, you are my type - I want to know more about you. Like, even beneath the sexually charged tension, heh.”

Oh. You licked your lips, eyes fixated on a random spot in your wall. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You raised your head, surging over Chan’s body to press a kiss to his lips. His hair was soft when you ran your hands through it, despite random curls getting caught in your nails and causing him to groan at the pain flooding through his scalp. His hands went to your waist, licking into your mouth while he effortlessly pulled you on top of him. The show of strength had you whimpering into the kiss, hands moving down to his jaw. It clenched and unclenched while he had full control over your mouth despite you being on top. 

You pulled away with a wet sigh, moving downwards to kiss at his neck. He groaned underneath his breath at the sensation of your lips on his skin. Your bed squeaked awkwardly as you moved down it, too quick for the old springs to handle. It felt naughty, kissing him like this in your childhood room - it felt even dirtier than the night before had, and you hadn’t done anything yet.

“I need you, Chan,” You whispered, nipping at his collarbone. “Need you. Please.” 

He gasped as he felt your tongue trace the outline of his collarbone. He flung one bicep over his dark eyes with a deep sigh, allowing you to kiss and bite all over his skin. He looked like he was trying to control himself. You didn’t want him to.

Your hips started to grind against him, and you placed your palms flat on his chest. Both of Chan’s hands moved back to your hips with a surprised noise, but he didn’t stop you. His dick was hardening in his joggers, and it was providing the best clothed friction to your aching, needy clit below your pyjama shorts. You saw how big it was before, yet the length of it still shocked you when you slid your clothed core up and down the shaft.

“Daddy,” You whined, hips starting to buck frantically. You were sure that you had never felt this needy in your life. “Daddy, daddy, I want you so bad. You turn me on so bad, make me feel so hot, please-”

“Baby,” Chan groaned, his head falling back against your pillows. The soft pink bed sheets juxtaposed completely with what you were doing, and juxtaposed completely with him - Chan, the muscled man with dark hair who wore black and grey clothes constantly. It was as if he was corrupting you, and he was in a sense, being so much older. “Baby, c’mere, come and lay on the bed. Let daddy eat you out, yeah?”

“No,” You shook your head, hips still moving on his erection. Chan’s chest had started to accumulate a thin layer of dewy sweat, slick on his skin and making you want to lick it off. “I want your cock. I don’t wanna wait, I don’t wanna wait, please, just put it in, I’m wet enough, I promise.”

He knew you were babbling, incoherent in your haze of lust, but he still entertained you enough anyway. You spread your legs wider when his hand met your thigh, and then he was pushing two fingers beneath your shorts. He was met with your slick folds, and you gasped at feeling the touch of his fingertips, calloused from years of working with music.

“Oh, fucking hell. Dirty girl, dirty fuckin’ girl,” Chan moaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, baby. All we did was kiss. Are you that much of a slut for me? Are you that much of a slut for your mother’s boyfriend? That’s filthy.”

“Yes!” You wailed, nodding. You reached down, canting your hips backwards a little bit so you could spread your thighs wider before hooking your fingers in your shorts and pulling them to the side. The movement revealed your pussy, clit swollen at the top of soaking wet folds, covering your drippy hole. “I wan’it so bad, so bad, so bad, please, please. Just push it in, make it hurt, I don’t care-”

Chan shoved the fingers of his spare hand between your parted lips, effectively shutting you up. “Shut up. You’ve got to prove to me you deserve it, baby.”

With those words, he was pushing a finger past your entrance. It breached your hole easily, the digit sliding through your wetness and curving up past your g-spot. Chan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and then he was pulling his finger out. With a quick movement, he’d yanked his joggers down and let his cock spring out. The coarse hair was trimmed above his long, thick shaft and you couldn’t help but imagine the type of friction that would give your clit - you couldn’t wait.

“You were right. That slutty pussy is wet enough,” He mused, pulling your hips over his bare cock. Your pyjama shorts were slightly in the way, and you pulled them aside even more, letting your folds leave wetness over his shaft. “Lower yourself on it. Stretch yourself out. Slowly.”

You did as he asked, lowering your body onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately. You moaned, loud and ringing off of your walls. You didn’t give a shit if your mother heard. Fuck, you needed this. You wanted to bounce all over his cock until there was nothing left and your hole could do nothing but remember the tight fit. Trying to sit down quicker, Chan grabbed your hips, stopping you while only half his length was in you.

“You're gonna hurt yourself like that, sweetheart. That hole is so tight around me.”

“Please, daddy,” Your head fell into the nape of his neck. You wriggled yourself in his tight hold, trying to get more of his length in your pussy. He shook his head against you, chuckling.

“You want it? Fine, but don't fucking cry to me when it hurts,” Chan said, letting go of your ass. You realised he'd been holding you up, and within a millisecond you'd slammed down onto him. You wanted to scream, the stretch more than you could take. He laughed again, raising his eyebrows at you mockingly. “Too big?”

"N-No, perfect," You retorted. He moaned, spreading his legs and placing his feet flat on the mattress. More. More. Fucking more. You began to raise on him, expecting to ride that perfect cock, but he started to thrust up into you at an unrelenting place straight away, his balls slapping against your ass. You moaned incoherently, almost babbling, hands digging into his toned biceps. He leaned up to nip at your neck, and then he was pulling your t-shirt off of your body.

“No fucking bra?” Chan laughed in disbelief. His mouth went straight to your nipples, biting and sucking on the hard peaks. You jostled on his lap with his thrusts. You wanted to rub your clit, but you felt like he probably wouldn't let you. “Knew you were fucking filthy, sweetheart. You didn't even care about me going raw, did you? You want my load in that dirty hole. And now I find out these pretty tits were only one layer away from me…”

His voice trailed off. You whined, leaning down to try and kiss him again. He shoved his two fingers back in your mouth, making you suck on them. His bruising sucks caused your nipples to hurt, and you fucking loved it. You knew he was marking you up and you'd just have to deal with it.

You tried to start riding him. He didn't let you, manhandling you off of his cock.

“Daddy!” You whined in protest. Chan chuckled. He lifted you and manhandled you so your back was facing him on your bed, and you immediately repositioned yourself so you were face down, ass up. He reentered you in one swift thrust, causing you to jolt in surprise.

“Fucking tight pussy,” He groaned, thrusting into you with the same vigor as before. You almost screamed, but managed to just moan incoherently. The mattress creaked, the sound of old springs ringing around the room. “Fucking dirty hole. Listen to that, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet your cunt is for daddy's cock? For your mother’s boyfriend’s cock?”

You tried to stop whining and moaning to hear what he was pointing out to you, hearing wet slaps. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, fingernails digging into the mattress. You knew you were dripping for a fact now. You could hear it, you could hear everything, his balls slapping against your clit as well as the wet noise of his heavy cock reentering you. 

You threw your ass back against him, trying to get the tip to hit that special spot inside of you. 

“I think that asshole needs me too, sweetheart,” Chan laughed mirthlessly, his hands resting firmly on your ass, encouraging your bouncing. You moaned in response, clenching your pussy tight. He was going to ruin you for everyone. You'd have to just keep coming back for more. “You want daddy's finger in there? You want me to finger your asshole?”

Oh, yes. “Please, daddy, need to be full,” You said, wiggling your hips against him. You vaguely registered him reaching around you and making you suck on the fingers that had previously been in your mouth. He was going to fill both of your holes, and he moaned loudly at the sight of you sucking his fingers. There was no way that the whole house hadn’t heard you both by now. You hoped they were sleeping.

You sighed in ecstasy, feeling the fingers begin to move inside your ass. His thrusting was now hitting your g-spot in your pussy, given the added pressure from being full in both holes. You felt the orgasm finally begin to build. You liked the way he wasn't rushing you to cum, not like those younger college boys. He was taking care of you and just having good fucking sex. “Feels so fucking good, daddy. Feels so good.”

You were now semi-incoherent, your words all joining together in one long moan. Chan loved it, judging by his moans. His cock was pulsing inside you. You wondered if he was close. You wanted him to fill you up to the point where it was dripping out of you. 

He pulled out of you again, grabbing your leg with one strong hand and flipping you onto your back. You were out of breath from the exertion, despite him doing all the work, and he looked fully composed save for the thin sheen of sweat on his body.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked, looming above you. You squirmed feeling your sweaty back rubbing against the blanket uncomfortably, but you nodded anyway. You wanted to please him. He looked down at your writhing body, letting out another groan. “So fucking sexy. You don’t know how much you fucking killed me, teasing me like that. Touch that pussy for me again, show me.”

He started pumping his shaft quickly, still staring down at you. You reached down with one hand and immediately pressed two fingers against your entrance, collecting the slick gathering outside before diving straight in. You curled your fingers against that spot inside of you, whining out. It wasn't enough. Not after having that fat cock in you. He definitely had ruined you for everyone else, including yourself. Nothing was ever going to feel the same again. 

“Mmm. Looks so wet, sweetheart. Daddy wants a taste, is that okay?” Chan questioned, moving back onto his knees. You pulled your fingers out and tried not to cry at the loss.

“Please, daddy. Wanna cum in your mouth,” You slurred out, pushing his head towards you. He moaned into your pussy, taking his fat tongue and licking one wet stripe up your slit. He pulled your pussy back, exposing that throbbing clit to him, and placed one lick directly onto your button. "Fuck, daddy, feels so good! Suck it, please, suck it. I - please - need to cum so bad!"

“Need to cum, huh, sweetheart? I'll make your little pussy throb for me and then I'm putting my cock right back in that tight hole, where it belongs,” He spoke. He thrust two fingers into your slit, much thicker and longer than yours. You spread your legs, holding them up against your chest. You literally almost purred when he started moving his fingers, curling them up into that spot and sucking on your clit whilst he did so. It wasn't going to take long. The man was clearly amazing at every part of sex. 

You focused on the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing up against your clit and writhed, feeling closer and closer to the edge. He knew what he was fucking doing. Your thighs started to shake, taking everything in you not to just let them go from your hold and clutch around Chan’s head. You wanted him to permanently live between your thighs. Your eyes clenched shut, a deep sigh leaving you. 

“Fuck, I'm g’na cum,” You mumbled out, chest heaving and flushed a shade of crimson. Chan pulled away, causing you to whine. You pouted, reaching up to grab his shoulders. "No, no! You said I could. You said you would help me.”

“What I said was that I'd make it throb for you and then I'm sliding back right in here, sweetheart. Be good for daddy, you'll get to cum,” He positioned his length at your core again, sliding right back into home. You both moaned, and he was fucking you in a mating press this time, almost as if you were a couple in love. You wished you were, and realised this was definitely your favourite position so far. The man fucked like an animal and now he was fucking you like he was going to breed you, and you loved it. He reached down with one hand to rub your clit rapidly, trying to bring you to the edge. “This is my fucking pussy. My favourite fucking pussy, my only girl, the only pussy for me, okay?”

“Fuck!” You cried of overstimulation, hands still wrapped around your legs. “G’na... getting close again, gonna-”

“Cum then, sweetheart, flood my cock. Make a mess for me, come on, do it," Chris encouraged, breathing heavily next to your ear. His eyes were focused on where he was entering you over and over again, taking note of the white ring of slick that had formed around the base of his cock, soaking the hair that rested there. You scrunched your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed with bliss. “That's it. That's my good girl.”

White hot ecstasy overtook your body. You wanted to squirm, but with the pressure of the muscular man on top of your body, you had nowhere to go. You focused on the feeling of his slick chest rubbing against your sensitive nipples, whining and moaning as the orgasm coursed through your body and made it feel like you were being electrocuted. 

“Fucking clenching on my cock, shit,” Chan groaned, his hand falling away from your clit once your breathing had began to calm slightly. His hands went down to grab your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips up and fucking you senseless, treating you like a toy. “W-Wanted to be soft with you for our first time, sweetheart. I'm not normally like this, not at all, but this fucking pussy is driving me insane, fuck... I need to fill you up. Will you let daddy fill that pussy with my cum, sweetheart? Let me breed you, make you mine?”

You nodded quickly, unable to speak at this point. Your hole felt raw, sensitive and fucked open, but you needed his cum in you. You thought you might die if you didn't get it soon. His tip jabbed into your g spot incessantly, almost causing you to cum again, but you subconsciously knew you couldn't take another orgasm at the same level as the previous one. You might die. 

“Fucking- g’na breed you, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine. G-Gonna give you a baby, g’na fill you up, fuck!”

With an animalistic growl, Chan’s head dropped to your neck, biting into the skin there and definitely leaving a mark. You felt his hips still and cum flooded out of the tip of his length, flooding your hole with a new sense of wetness. You sighed with content and laid there until Chan’s breathing calmed, his body weight fully on top of you and yet not uncomfortable. 

“I have to be honest about something,” Chan sighed. You looked up at him from your position on his chest, and he looked down at you with an apprehensive look. He looked a lot shyer than he did moments before, when he was fucking you senseless and calling you a slut - he was blushing now, embarrassed. You were sure that’s what you liked about him. “You’re- it’s like you were made for me. I don’t know what the fuck to do, heh. I’m falling for you, I think.”

You blinked, leaning up to rest inches away from his face. Got him. You’d got him. “Well, that’s okay, Chan. You’re closer to my age anyway, right?”

[see-arcane]

I have been possessed by a stronger than average craving for tinkering with Jonathan Harker's genders (Jonders). Jonathan Harker is undeniably and forever my favorite gothic heroine. But, being that there is so much to chew on regarding his potential fluidity when it comes to gender roles within the story--the classic damsel, the willingly submissive half of the couple, the vengeful berserker, etc--it's got me thinking.

Let's take the metaphor out. What would happen to the Dracula narrative if Jonathan Harker was...

First thing's first--she almost definitely gets shouldered out of the Important Solicitor's position due to reasons of Being Girl. But she still has to get to Transylvania to be menaced by Count Bat Bastard. How?

Hawkins! Johanna is working at the firm as a secretary and personal assistant to a still very paternally mushy old Peter Hawkins. When Dracula's request comes around, he can't give up such a lucrative client over his gout and there's no one he trusts to pass it to. He has to go. And it'd only be right to treat his surrogate daughter to a paid scenic vacation have his aide along on the business trip. Especially when she hunted down Carfax Abbey herself! What a lovely outing they'll have.

...or not.

True to form, Count Dracula is very much not to be trusted around pretty young things of any kind. Considering his canon habits, things aren't about to go any easier for Miss Harker. But at least she has Hawkins watching out for her in-person! It all makes for some very tense talk when discussing anything other than the estate purchase; which Hawkins seems as keen to rush as Dracula is to dawdle over. But at least they'll be out of here soon. What's a couple of awkward nights, right?

One in particular has Johanna nervous as she goes to bed. Hawkins had taken Dracula aside with a hard smile, insisting there was a 'delicate matter' he wished to speak with the Count about. The last time a 'delicate matter' was brought up was when he nearly lobbed a typewriter at one of his ex-solicitor's heads for some distinctly unseemly behavior in her direction. She hopes there isn't a storm brewing under their host's roof. She hopes harder that tomorrow they'll be heading back to the Borgo Pass.

Instead:

Oh.

Oh no.

Between this and one requisite nightmare-week in which the joys of womanhood come and go--let's leave it unspoken whether her set of bloodstained cloths stay in her possession or not--Johanna gets put through the wringer. Per usual. But eventually..!

Yeah. No shock there. Deep calming breaths, Jack. Don't let the wonderful diary concuss you.

Part of being one of two (gasp) G I R L S in the Scooby Gang, Van Helsing and company vote Johanna and Mina out of the dirt hunt. Except. Well. Johanna is still necessary to have on the ground here. She's the only one with the location intel--and a surprise willed gift of inheritance and the firm from poor Hawkins, who the Transylvanian locals all vouch for as being 'slain by wolves,' leaving Johanna free of blame--so she's still running around for the crew.

Even so, odds are high that she initially gets sidelined with Mina. Which isn't overly awful. It is good to be side-by-side in this timeline! No needless sequestering from each other! Johanna is already planning to see Mina back to their new house before they have to sleep another night in an asylum.

And then comes the 3rd of October.

Van Helsing: "Madam Harker, is it not somewhat attention-catching to wear trousers in public? We are meant to be unremarkable while we wait on th--"

Johanna, has already smoked through two cigars, kukri in her lap, playing a game of chicken with God: "Do you think I scaled a mountain in three layers of skirts, Professor? No? Then I will not do the same if the rancid bastard tries to escape out the window."

Van Helsing, aside: "Friend John, can you speak sense to her?"

Jack, melting off the side of the bench: "I think I hauve consumption"

Anyway. She very much does get to the Dracula head chopping. And there will be much rejoicing. BUT all that grimdarkness aside, there are other, more hijinks-flavored opportunities to think of with this particular set up. If only because I genuinely believe that Lucy and Art, having two spare best friends on hand and a general vibe that radiates 'ooooh what if triple wedding???', would come up with the following master plan. Some truly Shakespearean folly kind of shit:

Thankfully, Johanna and Mina nix the idea pretty quick. Case in point:

And, last but not least, my final word on the range of Jonders that exist within my very best gothic heroine friend:

ha ha I do that

[machveil]

follow up from this post about Kyle and his aunts and uncles

Kyle who’s thrilled when you meet his parents, of course, but is absolutely buzzing at the thought of you meeting his aunts and uncles. as much as he wants his parents to love you, he really wants his aunts and uncles absolutely smitten with you. why? he loves spending time with them while he’s on leave, they’re his favorite relatives. he desperately wants to invite you to their small dinner parties and game nights - nothing high pressure, a good mix of both cocktails and mocktails depending on what you want. a comfortable atmosphere where you can relax by his side

Kyle who knows you’ll be treated like royalty by his family. he’s the golden child, he’ll deny it til the day he dies, but he does get a little spoiled compared to everyone else. you being his significant other? guilty by association, you’re going to be smothered with love. Kyle can’t wait for the day his aunts gush over you, the way he knows his uncles will crack silly jokes to make you feel comfortable. he can’t wait for them to learn about what you love, because you’re already part of the family and they’d want you to feel loved - be it little gifts they picked up because they thought of you or wanting you to join them for an event, Kyle knows his aunts and uncles will adore you

Kyle who gets you in on the family gossip before meeting them. he’s giving you a mini run down on all his relatives, means well and it’s all in good natured fun. of course, this backfires on Kyle when his aunts start spilling his embarrassing childhood stories to you, “Hey— hey, auntie, that’s not really what happened!”. god, he’s happy they don’t have his photo album. Seeing you smile and laugh over the stories makes his heart beat a little faster, a dopey smile plastered on his face. yeah, he can live with you hearing about him being a little menace if it means you’re enjoying yourself, “Did I tell you my uncle over there almost set our kitchen on fire?”, Kyle will just tell embarrassing stories about his family in retaliation

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hii! Can we get a fic with how would it like to be if the reader was basically douma same personality appearence etc. With Alastor? I REALLY WANT TO SEE HOW IT WOULD GO.

Oh my fucking god. This Duo— it’s this duo and Discord with Alastor, I think would mesh well! Haha! Anyway! I am definitely trying this out, thank you, loves! Hope you enjoy!

Alastor- Rainbow Irises

Ah… a cannibalistic murderous cult has rolled into the Pride Ring. Alastor isn’t surprised when he hears over the new Overlord being the Eternal Paradise Cult leader. He’s heard worse

Though… her eyes are a mesmerising rainbow. A gorgeous, colourful, almost hypnotic swirl of multiple colours and the way she has presented herself to the Pride Ring… menacing yet elegant and cool-headed. Dressed like a fancy old-fashioned Japanese woman and wielding golden sharp fans

You’re an entire walking-talking red flag of a person. Speaking smooth and doting to everybody you meet but raising your fangs to their neck. You’re possibly even worse than Valentino. You trick everybody into thinking you’re polite and considerate and playful but you have a VERY ugly monster under those rainbow eyes

You have that charisma and friendliness Alastor uses regularly, coming off as upbeat and you greets all the Overlords politely but the proclaims you make… the way you eat other sinner demons with no problem and even brag about putting heads of decapitated men in pots. You have everybody in the room’s spines shivering in both disgust and intimidation at how you’re like

Alastor respects the way you establish yourself and getting his full respect is hard. You are intimidating, you are menacing, it’s a sign of how strong you actually are. The second strongest Overlord in Hell’s history(right behind Alastor). You regularly loom over Alastor and enjoy sweet-talking him

Alastor can recognise when a psychopath is talking so he never falls for your tricks nor your innocent act. You’re dangerous and twisted, specifically targeting and only eating men, hence you’re only-men member cult. He won’t let you even try take a finger off him

Alastor is basically our Shinobu, except Al doesn’t beat on us

Alastor doesn’t like you just touching him. You’ll reach out and touch him, solely to annoy him. He isn’t scared of you but he can tell why the other Overlords are so tense around you… you’re the most perfect cult leader, a inviting aura and a sensual voice that screams illusionary safety

Alastor has to hold his breath around you. When you’re angry, you turn ice cold and you don’t mind making the air too frozen for anybody to breathe in. So, he is quite careful with you. Juggling inbetween cold treatment and warm treatment, he feels like he is handling a spoiled brat when he talks to you

Alastor ignores the ‘gifts’ you make or get him. The lotus ice statues are wonderful but he knows what you’re trying to do… he may compliment your work but he won’t let you talk him into anything

But that doesn’t mean, Alastor doesn’t find your work nor your power impressive. He is very impressed and he rewards you for all you’ve done with your little cult and rising up to the rank to being the second strongest Overlord ever known in Hell. It’s a grand feat that he will clap to

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Aren’t you even a little bit worried about me, Lord Alastor~?”

“Darling. Kindly do not touch—“

“You don’t know how dreadfully worried I was. Since you all are cherished comrades of mine. I’d be heartbroken if I lost any of my comrades~”

Alastor finds your Japanese voice and language irresistible in a way, since it reflects your English and ‘nature’ very well but once again… he won’t fall for how often you say you like him. He knows people like you, he’s one of them. He’ll just commend what you’ve done as a Pride Ring Overlord

Alastor HATES the ‘Lord Alastor’ nickname you give him and always address him under… yeah. You give it to every other Overlord, he isn’t the only one who is called ‘Lord’ but it feels so condescending and in reality, it is…

“Silence, my dear. The adults are speaking… now, calm down that temper of yours. We don’t need anymore aircon in this room”

[of-pale]

If Nero has 200 IQ, this is the phone he’d gift to the twins.

Yep, the myth, the legend, the one and only indestructible force in the universe - Nokia 3310. I think it would be hilarious if Nero gave the twins one phone, because:

a) they need to learn to share

b) by combining their singular brain cells together into a rich commonwealth of two, they might just figure out how to work the phone

Of course, the indestructibile nature of this phone is a necessary feature. Now, you might be wondering why?

Nero decides to give the twins a call, maybe invite them over for dinner. After only a minute of waiting, Dante picks up. The background echoes with gunshots, exclamations of 'schum’ and menacing demon screams in a clear indication that the twins were out on a job.

“Hey, what's up, kid?”

“Uh sorry, you busy?”

“Never too busy for my favourite nephew.”

“I'm your only nephew.”

“Doesn't make it less true.”

“Suuure. Look, can you pass the phone to Vergil? I need to ask him something.”

“Aw, you're breaking my heart. Here I thought we had something special.”

Next, Nero hears demon screeches growing louder. A loud crack. Some shuffling noises before Vergil calmly answers the call.

Now it's time to play a game of ‘guess what the hell happened there’!

If you guessed - ‘Dante, being Dante, decided to showcase his phone-passing skills by bouncing it off a demon’s skull over to Vergil’ - then you're correct! A clear example of why the twins need a phone that can endure some serious beating. I'm also a firm believer that the Nokia could double as a weapon of great destruction in the field. I doubt getting hit with that brick on the head was easy to shrug off for the unlucky demon.

Real question though, what would the twins set Nero's ringtone as? And vice versa, Nero's ringtone for twins? (I know, I know, Nokia 3310 doesn't have a custom ringtone feature, but shhhh.. Nico works her miracles on the phone.)

Depeche Mode - Personal Jesus?

I mean, teeeechnically the twins are sons of a god? Or could it be Vergil referring to Nero as his son?

Guns N’ Roses - Sweet Child O’ Mine?

Need I say more? Although it would be hilarious if Nero set it as a ringtone for the twins.

He sighs deeply upon hearing the familiar ringtone, knowing it could entail anything from a world-ending cataclysm to another petty squabble. So he pauses his conversation with a Fortuna resident, saying, “Sorry, I gotta get this. Kids are calling.”

“Awww, and how have the orphans settled in?”

“Huh? No, my other kids.”

The Fortunan looks at him in confusion just as Nero finally picks up the call and starts pacing.

“What's up, dipshit?”

“Sounds like a you problem to me.”

“What? No, I won't talk to Vergil for you. What are you, five?”

“Look, you fucked yourself into that problem; you can fuck yourself out of it.”

Nero quickly drops the call and turns back to the person he was speaking to. “Sorry about that.” The resident only gives him a weird stink-eye, and Nero finally catches on to what's the issue. He coughs awkwardly and tries to smooth the situation, “Forty-year-old children, am I right?”

Ghostbusters theme?

Depends on how common knowledge demons are. The Sparda's might be ‘ghostbusters’ as in the myth catchers for hire.

Yeah, I'm gonna stop this long rambling shitpost here. Otherwise, I could keep listing ringtones on and on.

[dancingtotuyo]

“come here often?”

Javier Peña x female reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: fucking men in bathrooms of dirty bars isn’t your usual cup of tea, but sometimes you make exceptions.

Warnings/Tags: strangers, alcohol consumption, sex (p in v), unprotected sex (wrap it up), mirror sex, dirty bathroom, rough sex, mentions of bruising, hair pulling (reader has hair long enough to pull), degradation, 1 slap on the ass, Javi is a menace, Javi touches reader in flirtatious ways without consent, hints of exhibitionism, use of “good girl���, dirty talk, aftercare, soft! Javi at the end. Let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: I’m hardly the first to write Javier fucking you over the bathroom sink of a bar, and I hope I am not the last. If I had a list of all the wonderful fics I’ve read with this scenario, I would supply one, but alas, my capacity to keep track of fics does not exist (believe me, I’ve tried).

This little fic came from a silly little writing game I’ve been playing with some friends. Thanks @wannab-urs for giving me the spark of inspo that started this. I also took inspiration from @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and her fic, hand in unlovable hand, on this one! Shoutout @fhatbhabie for giving this baby a once over! @janaispunk for helping me sort out tags. @saradika for the dividers. And all my other amazing encouragers! You know who you are 🫶 ILYSM.

Words: 1171

You sit at the bar, swirling the whisky in front of you. You’re bored and in need of something to do on the hot summer night. Sweat collects in little beads across your skin, and you finish off the glass.

In the heat of the night, you don’t think you’d notice the presence of another behind you, but you do. It’s heavy and brooding. You feel it across your entire back as the person leans in beside you. His broad shoulders cover your frame.

“Ever heard of personal space?” You cock an eyebrow

He chuckles at you. A dark, thick mustache sits above his upper lip, highlighting his perfect teeth.

“A whiskey for me, and another for the lady,” he says to the bartender.

It is the least he could do.

He doesn’t move, keeping his eyes on you, letting his eyes roam across your body. He’s less than subtle about it. He catches a bead of sweat as it falls from your neck, tracking it down between your breasts, exposed in the sundress you wear. Finally, it slips out of his sight

He licks his lips, letting his forearm rest against the bar. “Come here often?”

You want to roll your eyes at the cliche words, but his lips are right at your ear, breath fanning over your bare skin. It sends a jolt straight to your core

You meet his gaze with stubbornness shining in your eyes. “No, I don’t tend to enjoy being eyed up by sleaze balls”

He chuckles deeply again, fingertips tracing your shoulder gently. “Good thing I’m here to keep them away.”

The bartender sets the drinks in front of you, giving you a look that asks if you want him to chase the man off. You shake your head. You can take care of him

“What are you? God’s gift to humanity?”

He smirks. “Some say that, yeah.”

You roll your eyes.

“C'mon, Hermosa. I think you’ll like it.” You brush him off, yet, he draws closer “I think you like sleaze balls like me making you feel good in seedy bars.”

“What makes you think you can make me feel good?”

“I like a good challenge” he winks

And god, if that doesn’t work. Your core clenches. Your stomach drops. You want to melt. Throwing down the whiskey, your eyes dart around until you find the sign for the bathroom. You don’t say a word. Adding a sway to your hips, you saunter off, heart pounding a million miles a minute.

You enter the bathroom. The door doesn’t even have a chance to close before his hands are on your hips. He kicks the door closed, making sure it’s locked. He pushes you forward, and your hands find purchase on the basin sink

The bathroom is small. It’s dingy and disgusting, but you don’t care.

“You are a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” he whispers in your ear, biting down on your earlobe

You let out a soft moan, tossing your head back. He cups your breast through the thin material of your sundress, and your nipples harden.

“Please” you stutter

“Please what, Darlin?”

“Fuck me” you moan.

He downright growls, shoving your hips into the sink. It hurts, but you can’t help but love it.

He flips your dress up to find your aching cunt dripping for him. “Just what I thought.” He clicks his tongue. “Such a good little slut. All this for me.” He runs his fingers through your dripping folds and then brings his finger to his nose smelling your juices before sucking his fingers clean. “Taste and smell so good for me, Hermosa.”

You whine.

“Just for me, right?” He says, running a hand over your ass, giving it a nice squeeze. You whine, core clenching around air.

You’re a pathetic, dripping mess

And you love it

His hand tangles in your hair, tugging you up roughly. “I said, just for me- right?” He smacks your ass and you moan.

“Yes, yes, just for you.”

“Good girl.” He lets go of your hair. You drop over the sink, panting heavily. You hear the buckle of his jeans.

Looking up just enough to see your reflection in the mirror, your hair is a mess. Mascara smudges under your eyes. Then, your eyes drift to him. His thick cock springs out of his jeans. The fucker isn’t wearing underwear, but you’re not complaining. It’s one less obstacle, and the sooner he’s in you, the better

He catches you eying him and smirks. “You like what you see, Hermosa?”

You nod, letting out a soft whimper

He smirks, hands moving back to your ass, squeezing and massaging it “You’re gonna take it so good for me.”

He lines himself up at your entrance. You only get a half second until he’s splitting you in two, forcing himself into you fully and completely. Your hips run into the sink again, the porcelain cool against your raging flesh. Your legs spread further of their own accord. You cry out, not caring if the whole goddamn bar hears you.

He withdraws and you feel empty until he’s ramming back into you. It goes on like that over and over and over. Tears drip down your face. Your moans of pleasure echo off the walls until you’re sure you’ve drawn spectators outside the door. With each thrust, your hips run into the sink. The balance between pain and pleasure quickly sends you to the edge, tension curling in your stomach.

Your legs shake. “Please, I’m so close.”

“You’re such a good girl, and a tight fucking cunt too.” He grits out, skin slapping against yours. “You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes, please.” His cock hits deep within you. Your breath catches. “Javier! I wanna cum for you.”

His fingers find your clit, his pace keeping steady and you’re coming in seconds, drenching his cock. He’s not far behind you, emptying himself inside you with a loud moan.

He pulls out of you, taking a second to collect himself. You’re draped over the sink, unable to move.

He pulls his pants up, tucking himself into his pants like it’s just another Tuesday.

He comes over to you, pulling you up gently, letting your skirt fall back into place. You struggle still to catch your breath. He cups your cheeks, wiping away the tears and smudged mascara, smoothing out your hair. You feel him leaking out of you.

“Too much?” He asks

You smile breathlessly “Just right”

He chuckles, kissing you softly, hands finding your waist. “Good girl.”

Once you’re home, he cleans you up, kissing your hips where bruises have already started to form.

He snuggles in close to you, both naked and without the comforter due to the heat, pressing soft kisses to your head.

His fingertips trail across your body aimlessly.

You let your eyes fall shut to his beating heart. “Wouldn’t mind doing that again sometime.”

He laughs, brushing your hair back as your breathing evens out. “I’ll keep that in mind, Darlin.”

[sixeyescurseuser]

Thinking about a Spy AU where Geto retired to pursue a normal life, leaving everything he knew behind, including his closest partner-in-crime, Gojo. 

Satosugu always kept their relationship on the down low but everyone knew they were more than best friends. But being a spy took a lot of sacrifices. It was a lifestyle riddled with constant danger, and did not guarantee longevity nor personal fulfillment.

After Geto made the permanent decision to leave, Gojo kept in contact with him via secretive methods such as burner phones, documents disguised as ads, etc. Gojo himself had worked to become the leader of his team, consisting of their original team members plus a few new members.

Though he missed Suguru and thought about him every day, Gojo  never wanted to jeopardize the delicate life Geto has turned to. 

It isn’t until a critically important mission comes up that Gojo goes to seek Geto again after years of no contact. Gojo simply didn't trust anyone else. 

One day, Geto returns home and notices someone has broken in. He avoids entering through the front door, choosing to sneak in through the bathroom window instead.

No lights are on in the house. Geto just spots a vague silhouette of the person looking through his bookshelf and at the pictures on his walls.

Geto, quick on his feet, quickly tackles the unsuspecting intruder.

The culprit lets out an “OOF!!” and the two go tumbling to the ground.

Geto groans.

He recognizes that voice. Also the long legs that get tangled with his, and the familiar shape of Gojo’s body against his.

(Gojo let Geto tackle him for funsies, of course!)

After nearly giving Geto a heart attack, Gojo unloads story after story about his adventures to catch his (ex?) lover up. Geto listens while brewing himself tea and scrounging together leftovers to feed this menace.

Gojo pauses his storytelling and sneaks behind Geto to hug him from behind.

“Satoru?”

Gojo rests his cheek against Geto’s head.

“I missed you,” Gojo confesses.

Geto smiles.

“I missed you too, Satoru. I always do.”

Gojo exhales shakily at that. He squeezes Geto’s waist tighter, not that Geto minds.

“I didn’t just come here to visit, though I wish I could,” Gojo confesses, a bit guilty. “I have a favor to ask. And you can say no, of course. It’s- it’s a pretty big favor. But I don’t trust anyone else.”

Geto stops chopping the vegetables entirely.

“I already told Yaga no. Several times,” Geto states. Gojo nods from his position, anxiety gnawing at his heart.

Suddenly, Geto turns around. Their faces are so close, noses almost touching.

Geto searches Gojo’s face with furrowed eyebrows. Or maybe he’s finally taking in Gojo’s features in the light, having been separated for eight years now. 

Then, Geto’s eyes immediately soften.

“But if you ask, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you, Satoru.”

Gojo wears a pained expression. 

Geto cups his cheeks in hopes of soothing that pain.

“You don’t even know what I’m about to ask,” Gojo whispers.

“That doesn’t matter,” Geto says, smiling. “Satoru, has it really been so long that you have forgotten?”

Geto leans forward to brush their lips together. 

“I can never say no to you.”

***

Geto would be lying if he said he never saw himself meeting his end on a mission. And nothing has changed in that he would still do anything for Gojo.

So Geto comes out of retirement. 

(And back into Gojo’s arms. They were finally back together!)

There’s new recruits that require training in order to prepare for their important mission. The students learn that Geto had been living a normal life previous to coming back…

Nobara: “So did you have a wife and kids that you left behind?”

Geto: “Oh that’s not- you can’t ask tha-“

Gojo, butting in: “Yeah, yeah, tell us!”

Geto shoots Gojo the stink-eye.

Geto: “No wife or kids, thank you very much. Now if you’re all done prying into my personal life, I will be taking my leave.”

Geto walks away and Gojo stares at his ass.

Megumi, cursed with the gift of being too observant, thinks, “Oh god, how to unsee??”

Megumi is actually very curious about Geto and tries to find out more about him. Gojo-sensei and Shoko only reveal so much…

Like Megumi, Geto also possesses the inane gift of catching the smallest details, so he notices how much Megumi stares at him, how piercing his gaze becomes when it’s directed at him.

The kid thinks he’s so smooth. 

The younglings are quite behind in physical combat, and since Geto is particularly skilled in martial arts, he often helps out with their physical training.

Oftentimes, he actually goes up against the kiddos. 

Megumi is the last one to go, Nobara and Yuji having tried their best to hold their ground but ultimately yielding to Geto. The other two cheer him on. Megumi narrows his eyes and gives it his all.

Geto is so quick and powerful with his movements. Also very swift. He ends up backing Megumi into the very edge of the training platform-

And when Megumi tries to hop back, his foot gives way to a weak spot on the floor.

Geto easily pins him after that. 

Megumi breathes harshly as Geto stands up and offers a hand, which Megumi hesitantly takes. Geto frowns.

“I had wondered if that dead spot was still there. I’ll tell Yaga. It should’ve been fixed ages ago,” he murmurs. Megumi’s eyes widen at that.

“You tricked me?”

Geto smiles, half-apologetic and half-gleeful.

“Not exactly. Just testing a hypothesis. Lord knows how many times Satoru did the same thing to me.”

Out of the three students, Yuuji would be the closest to win against Geto. He’s somewhat of a prodigy in martial arts, so give him a few months and Geto is actually paying attention to him when they spar.

He makes Geto break a sweat once in a while. 

Meanwhile, Megumi is very good at using the space around him in his favor, but he still has a lot to learn in terms of balancing instinct and strategy. 

Nobara has elegant and quick movements, sometimes too quick, which makes her lose balance. She’s training to gain muscle and be able to pull off those kinds of movements by anchoring herself with confidence.

Geto finds out that Gojo’s instruction is super intense too. 

Yuji: “Once, Gojo-sensei and I sparred for so long, we completely skipped dinner!” 🤣

Geto: 💀💀

Gojo leaves the training to Geto most days because he’s in the middle of his own solo missions. Every night, it’s like heaven returning to his room to see Geto already in his bed, reading a book or listening to music. 

It’s the best welcome home Gojo could possibly ask for. Gojo is beyond ready to jump into bed and cuddle up with Geto except-

Geto holds a hand up.

“Inside clothes.”

Gojo tears his clothes off with a dramatic growl, leaving his underwear on and then leaps into the bed. Geto laughs as he bookmarks then places his book on the nightstand.

He turns back to see Gojo looking at him with a razor-sharp smile.

Gojo: “You really know how to get me going, don’t you?”

Geto: “Excuse me??”

Suddenly, Geto has a lapful of Gojo. They don't get around to sleeping anytime soon...

Nowadays, Gojo walks around with noticeable marks on his neck and his students are like ??? He’s never expressed interest in anyone before, but now he seems to have a consistent lover(s)?

Scandalous Gojo-sensei!

Satosugu find their own time to spar with each other. They’re dressed in blank tanks; Geto has his signature flowy pants, and Gojo also now has flowy pants, but in white. 

Geto: “Copying my look now, I see. I knew you always admired my style more than you let on, Satoru.”

The first to three pins wins. It feels like their fight goes on forever. Gojo still plays dirty by tugging Geto’s hair band out, making Geto’s hair fly free. 

Since he’s been more active, Gojo pins Geto down for the third time, a triumphant grin on his face. 

He sits on top of Geto and asks “What’s my reward?”

Geto: “Reward? What reward? Fool.”

Gojo: “I beat you, therefore, I deserve a reward.”

Geto: “I- no. And get off of me!”

Geto pokes Gojo’s sides. Gojo squawks and pokes Geto back. 

Shoko walks in and sees them tickling each other, and she smiles. 

Some things never change.

(Geto rewards Gojo with his favorite brand of ice cream. And more kisses!)

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[udretlnea]

In the Court of the Creator

Prompts: Inspired by Minecraft!Reader by @fandomshenanigans​, Wardens in the Chasm idea by @mists-reading-nook​ & Alt!+OG!Reader by @questionotmystopit​

Summary: You are brought before the Divine Creator after getting caught in the Chasm. However, before your fate is sealed they suddenly take an interest in your appearance, but why?

A/N: Originally there was supposed to be a two-page short comic serving as the introduction, but during the creative process I realized that 1) I was staying up too late that I simply couldn’t get my body to cooperate in drawing it, and 2) the end result was…not ideal to me; thus I had to scrap it and go ahead with just the story. If you’re wondering what I was doing…yeah it was all of that planning, writing, and internal discussion. Anyway, here’s the piece I was able to finally write and I hope you all enjoy it! (Normally I keep their gender ambiguous, but I really, really wanna write a male reader. Oh, and there’s that 100-follower event I’m cooking...my, I’m gonna be quite busy!)

TW: Precision F-word strike.

Words: 2.3 k

Proofread by: @soleillunne​

It was cold inside the lifeless, marble halls of Celestia. Your wrists were beginning to chafe with how tight the cuffs were; you tried to rub them together to try to loosen them, but it was in vain. Defeated, you merely continued trudging ahead of your captor.

“Keep moving,” a dignified female voice behind you ordered. You suppressed an eye roll. “We’ll be inside the throne room shortly. There, the Creator of Teyvat will judge you, imposter.”

There were those words again. Creator. Imposter. Words that you were familiar with after hearing them countless times ever since you found yourself trapped here with no way back home. How many times did you recite a prayer to this God of Gods hoping for some miracle to show you a way back? How many times did you catch people throwing you dirty looks, muttering about you being gifted for looking like their god; they stopped after you decided to wear a blindfold. Only the truly envious ones had the gall to call you an imposter.

You didn't care about that. You just wanted to sell your potions and find a way back to your beloved Minecraft world.

“Halt! We’ve arrived.” Your recollection is interrupted by the sudden command. You shake your head.  Your eyebrows raised at the impossibly huge set of doors. On either side were some kind of giant robots with a single menacing orange eye. They were adorned with miniature white tree branches on their shoulders. Both of them peered down at you as if silently judging your sins.

Your jailer stepped towards them; she was a tall female with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and wore a navy coat-no, that’s called a tailcoat. She made a salute to the robot closest to her; it made a rumbling noise before it signaled to the other one. They both turned and pushed open the doors. The hinges groaned like phantoms singing in an opera.

“Alright, let’s go,” said Ponytail.

The throne room was sparsely decorated, but the translucent floor that resembled the night sky made up for that. You instinctively looked up and couldn't help but lower your jaw in awe; up in the ceiling was a painting of a humongous figure draped in a white cloak with gold accents. There were stars on and around the body. Their arms were outstretched like they were expecting a hug.

You looked forward and felt your breath hitch. In the distance was a hooded figure sitting on a throne with two others standing on either side. Behind it was the open sky; there were no windows, meaning one could jump from there and fall from a great height. 

Okay, that’s enough intrusive thoughts.

You got close enough that you observed the people standing in front of the throne. To your left was a young woman with antlers and salmon-pink shoulder-length hair. She wore a dark red and black crop top and skirt; she had bright teal eyes with ovoid pupils. To your right was a tall beautiful woman with short hair with blue accents at the end; she wore a dark bodysuit with silver accents and a white fur coat draped over her back. A rather shiny bracelet was on her right wrist.

In her hand was your staff; it was a green metallic stick with a small cylinder protruding from the top with an orange square block inserted in between. They stared at you two as you stopped in front of them.

“As per protocol, I will begin listing off the crimes the guilty party has committed.” Antlers said with neutrality. She opened a scroll she was holding and cleared her throat. “According to eyewitness reports, you have been selling dangerous items to civilians with powerful effects without a legal permit. Furthermore, you entered a highly dangerous and closed-off area in Liyue, witnessed a highly confidential location, and put the lives of several miners in danger.” 

You felt some measure of indignancy swell within you. “Hey come on! It’s not my fault I spawned a Deep Dark biome. My staff was broken and I needed components to fix it. When I heard of a mine just west of Liyue, I didn’t realize it was closed off. Furthermore, my staff…went haywire because of some weird energy down there that infected it which ended up creating that biome.” 

“There were a couple Millileth stationed there. Was it not obvious?” Blue stated coldly.

“Of-of course, but I was worried about the consequences if I didn’t fix my staff,” you sigh inwardly. You lick your lips. “And I didn’t know those miners were there. Also, if they ran into a strange new area without any common sense, then that’s on them not me.” 

“So you admit to being in the Chasm, but you do not deny that you were selling contraband?” Antlers recounted in a controlled voice.

“I didn’t know how things operated in Liyue! I keep telling you that I’m not from here!” You were starting to feel a headache coming on, and the conversation hadn’t lasted five minutes!  “Besides, I only sold to those who were desperate AND rich enough to buy my wares. Also, I only gave some potions of instant healing to those who brought their sick family members; I would never give potions that could harm anyone, I’m not a bad guy!”

Antlers opened her mouth, but a noise beside her made her pause. 

Blue hummed. “Your staff. It is most peculiar. I’ve never seen Thaumaturgy like this before. Spill. Who are you, truly? Being some ordinary person with the creator’s face is one thing, but having access to dangerous magic as this is another.”

“If I told you, would you let me go?” You asked hotly.

“Depends on a number of factors like if this correlates to Abyssal magic, but in reality you’ll probably get a lighter sentence like a lifetime sentence in jail. It’s a much better alternative than getting executed, if you like enclosed spaces that is.”

“Wow. That’s so generous of you. Let me think about-no,” you said flatly. There was no telling what Minecraft logic would do here when something as basic as the elements were used for practical use.

“Hm. A shame. It appears we’re gonna have to execute you after all.” You feel hands behind you grip your shoulders. You try to throw Ponytail off, but blue glowing ropes suddenly spawned and wrapped your legs and arms. 

This…couldn’t be it! You had a home to get back to, a cat to pet and feed! So many projects would be unrealized if you died here!

“Hold.” A new voice spoke up. It took you a second to realize it was the figure on the throne. They snapped their fingers and pointed at Blue, then at you. Blue nodded and the bracelet on her right glowed; the ropes on your body disappeared and Ponytail released her grip on you. 

The creator stepped down from their throne towards you. You try to back away, but Ponytail puts a hand on your shoulder and you pause; you do your best not to tremble at how this all-powerful being was looking at you despite not seeing their eyes.

“Look at me.” They say commandingly in an ethereal and firm tone. You do. And in genuine awe. The power this being was radiating was so immense that it was almost suffocating. You felt as if you were an ant, and the more you scrutinized this person, the more you slowly realized your place.

Wait a minute, something’s not right. you think to yourself. You leaned forward so that you could see under his hood somewhat better. You could make out some of their features, and if you squinted you could’ve sworn they looked familiar. Huh, is it me or does this person look like me…! Oh. No way. 

You suppress a growing sense of unease building up in your stomach. Your eyebrows comically raise themselves, and to your amusement so do the creator’s.

‘What the heck?’ you both mouth simultaneously. Whether through interest or impulse, the creator stepped down from their throne and stood in front of you. You stood straight. Slowly, the creator reached for their hood; it fell from their head. A chorus of gasps filled the room with one of them being your own. Nobody dared to breathe, fearful that it could break the moment.

Staring back at you was your own face, even down to the jawline. You open your mouth.

“What the fuck?”

///

After much discussion that took all day, it was declared by the creator that you would be staying with them under house arrest; you would be supervised by some handpicked acolytes all day. At night, the creator themself would look after you. Luckily, the idea seemed to satisfy the acolytes and no more questions about you were thrown; time would tell if this new protocol needed more polishing.

It was night, and currently, you were sitting in the garden watching a swarm of crystalflies float about. They were pretty to look at already, but they glowed so mesmerizingly at night. You took a deep breath and sighed peacefully.

Then, you felt a presence beside you. You turned your head. It was the creator- you They had their hood off; their hair was long, jet black, and tied in a ponytail. They possessed dark purple eyes with slit pupils; tiny white dots danced in their iris like twinkling stars. Two strands of hair rested on either side of their shoulders. They rested their hands in their lap.                                                                                                                              

“Hey, you got room for one more?” You simply shrug, uncaring for another presence, but happy that you had company. After another pause, they spoke again. “You…good?”

“Oh yeah, I avoided being thrown into a dark cell and left to rot. Or worse. I’m actually grateful we came up with that story about me being your sibling,” you told him. 

“Of course! I’m not so arrogant as to believe that I’m the only version in this multiverse to exist. There have to be others like me out there, and those who weren’t so lucky to be gifted godlike powers the moment they teleported here.” Creator!You looked at you with sudden curiosity. “How did you get here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah, that. Well, you see I was trying to build a portal to the Aether-wait, do you know what Minecraft is?” When they nod you snapped your fingers. “I kept experimenting with different blocks using my command block until I got one working. And being the genius that I was, I decided to test it out myself. I didn’t realize it was a one-way trip until the portal behind me immediately closed. The rest is history.”

“I see…it must be terrifying being in an unknown world having to learn how things work.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth. The slimes are so different from back home. I miss how square everything used to be.” 

“Er, apologies for bringing down the mood. That was not my intention.” You wave them off understandingly. They clear their throat, eager to change the subject. “Anyway, have you been keeping up with the news from the multiverse?”

You shake your head. “No. I mean, I didn’t know one could do that.”

“I have my ways of checking, and I encourage you to read up. Knowledge is power after all. I can show you some tomorrow.” They smile and cross their arms. However, it quickly turned upside down. “Apparently, someone went and stole multiple universes from this multiverse.”

“...You mean, someone stole multiple different versions of Teyvat…?” Creator!You nodded. That’s unbelievable! Did you happen to catch how many they took?”

“If I recall correctly, it was exactly 168. Luckily, after a while, they were all put back in their places.”

“Is that number significant?” They shrug before dropping the subject entirely.

The conversation pauses for a moment as the two of you find something else to discuss.

Creator!You huffed. “By the way, what…what should I call you? Because it’s going to be confusing if someone calls for one of us when we’re in the same room. Plus, the ancient manuscripts already refer to ME when it uses our name.” 

You laugh excitedly. “Aw man, I was waiting for this moment! I’ve always wanted to change my name to Yu, like Y-U.”

“That sounds adequate, but you’re gonna need a surname too,” said Creator!You. “What about…Nakayama?”

“Nakayama Yu…it has a nice ring to it. I like it! Alright, I’m gonna use that!”

They made an approving noise. “I’m pleased you like it so much. So…you wanna shake hands to, I don’t know, make it official?”

“Sure!” You stuck out an open hand. “I’m Nakayama Yu. It’s a pleasure to meet you, me!”

“Likewise!” They took it and you both shook firmly. You give a breathy chuckle.

It was nighttime, but the air wasn’t cold. You instinctively rubbed at your wrists, as if double-checking there weren’t any cuffs. You chatted away with yourself until you felt sleepy; you went to your guest room, immediately flopped on the bed, and started snoring.

[joanofarcbutsilly]

this is just a simple drabble about hobie being a menace when you paint his nails!

reader is gender neutral, ask to tag for warnings if necessary!

rn i'm thinking about hobie letting you paint his nails, because of course he would! it's pretty, another way to express himself, and he will take ANY excuse to hold your hand even though he knows he doesn't need it.

he also just loves that it is another excuse for him to be a silly little goose :)

when you ask him if you can paint his nails, he makes a little show of thinking about it,

"i d'know love," he'd murmur with a lazily masked smile, "wont be able to use m' hands for a bit'

he's got the tiniest little smirk on his face while he's turning his hands over and over and looking intently at each and every one of his fingers

it's only after you beg for a bit that he laments and sits himself down with a sigh, positioning his arm on the chair's side and turning his head away from you, "do what you have to, but i want the works, yeah?"

his silliness will NOT end there. he

REFUSES to stop being a goofy guy. (although he makes sure to stay very still and not fidget while you apply the base coat)

you've got his hand curled around yours where he has it resting, lightly blowing on the drying paint when you ask what color he thinks he'd like to have. he scrunches his face up and hums while tapping his fingers on his free hand. this goes on for AT LEAST two minutes before he shakes his head, "i jus' don't know..”

you ask him EVERY POSSIBLE QUESTION, whether he'd like a color that is warm or cool, bright or more subdued, maybe a neutral, something natural, etc etc. eventually you just gotta bring out the stash for him to inspect

picking a color is the biggest issue during the whole debacle.

he picks up EVERY SINGLE BOTTLE to turn over in his hand, hold up to the light, and asks sooooo many questions

he's got a bottle in each hand, a dark plumish purple in his right, and a black paint with iridescent sparkles in his left. he's spun them both around countless times, he periodically frowns and holds one up towards the open window before doing the same with the other. you've got your head resting on your hand staring off into the abyss because you KNOW he is doing this on purpose and there is NO WAY he is thinking this much about such a little decision.

hobie loves that he can sense your exasperation coming off of you in waves, and cannot resist poking the bear, "hard decision luvie," he speaks lowly with a shit eating grin, "gonna be a permanent part of me for a bits

"hobie it's gonna last a week at MOST, maybe less"

he sighs and shakes his head and drops the two bottles in the chair next to him,

"big decision big decision, that's a commitment love"

you tip forward with a groan and your head lands on hobie's knee, "please for the love of god just pick one"

he snickers a bit before he taps your head, “fine. i have a few questions first. which one matches my skin tone?"

"hobieeee i don't knoooow," you moan, "i just got them cause they're pretty"

"that brings up another issue," he tents his hands together, "we have to consider the ethical ramifications of where these came from, don't we?"

you let out a fake sob and lean back up so you can see what he's talking about, and hopefully reach a decision faster, "if we have to”

he grins and nods matter of factly,

"right love," he leans forward to reach onto the side table that is holding the rest of the polishes grabbing some in handfuls before dumping them in the seat next to him along with two previously discarded

he gently picks up one of the bottles and holds it up to your face, "where'd this come from"

"christmas gift from my sister"

he grabs the next

"got it from a friend who was a nail tech for a bit"

"how 'bout this?"

"stole it from somewhere, don't remember, big chain"

a big grin breaks across his face and he nods approvingly before grabbing the next, "this?"

"same story"

this goes on for much longer than necessary, before he makes it to a dark navy blue polish, holding it up with an expectant look on his face.

"uhm, amazon i think"

his nose crinkles and he sets the bottle on the floor and kicks it a good distance away, "not a chance," he's got a grimace on his face.

he does this with EVERY SINGLE ONE.

at some point you just have to put your foot down and demand he chooses. he's got a little frown on his face cause his little game has finally been put to an end, but he quickly recovers and grins before reaching through the pile to grab a plain black polish

he's got a toothy grin on his face as he thrusts it out to you, "goes with everything, yeah?"

[kingdom-of-sins]

would it be soooo funny if daughter of ares fall in love one of Hermes kids? Like Chris and Clarisse, let’s say ares daughter first to camp after waking up from her fight with the monsters. The Son of Hermes aka Luke and Chris younger brother who the same age as Ares Daughter became her first friend along with Percy, Annabeth, and Grover. The two being the mischievous kids they are starts being menaces. The Son of Hermes teaches Ares daughter how to pickpocket and steal without people noticing and Ares daughter shows the son of Hermes how to fight properly. During the time Percy pick her for his quest the son of Hermes give her a special compass that his dad give him so she wouldn’t get lost and Ares daughter thanks him by kissing on the cheek leaving him a bit flustered. Meanwhile Luke, Chris, and Clarisse are looking at their siblings with teasing smirks on their faces.

Ares not happy at all with his daughter having a potential future boyfriend while Hermes thinks it funny teasing Ares all day and once the group goes to the lotus casino. Hermes asks Ares daughter about his other son about the compass and Ares daughter reply “Yeah he give it to me he said he didn’t want me to get lost or something like that. I don’t know he was being weird about it for some reason, especially after I kiss him.” Meanwhile Hermes is like “interesting.” Percy and Annabeth is like “Girl, he like you.” 😏. Meanwhile Ares is fuming 😡

Son of Hermes developing a crush as soon as he saw Ares' daughter. She was unconscious and almost dead then. Imagine it was his responsibility to watch over her till she wakes up. The girl must have pushed him as a reflexe and got into attacking mode as soon as she wake up. Of course she apologized to him later.

Imagine him giving her the tour of the camp. If she is still unclaimed he will take her to Hermes' cabin and get her a bed. He wanted one right next to him but unfortunately for him she got a top bunk two rows from his bed.

I love your compass idea. I think it she would keep it around her neck and hold it everytime she is at the edge of losing hope or feeling anxious. As for the kiss, it was just a quick kiss on the cheek but our boy almost fainted which the other sons of Hermes would never let him forget. He was blushing for days and touching the cheek and smiling like a goof.

When Ares met his daughter he would indirectly and awkwardly try telling her that she is too young to date or get into any kind of relationship and she is looking at her father like he has gone made or something. Because right now she only think of the son of Hermes as a really good friend. Imagine her telling Ares that he doesn't need to worry about her, she will be fine and find her way back to camp, while she is absentmindedly holding the compass.

Hermes would take a special interest on her. Not to long ago he gifted his son the compass and he remember how happy the kid was. To give the compass to her definitely meant something big, at least to his son. Hermes would totally tease Ares about it and other gods probably have to hold him back, stopping him from attacking Area.

But like imagine later when the kids are 15 or 16 the son is on some quest or in a situation where it's almost impossible to get out and he is about the give up. The compass unfortunately couldn't get him out of it. But then he sees the initials of Ares' daughter on the back ofof the compass, it's something she did on her first quest. And he started at the initials for a few moments, traced it, remembered her smile, her laughter, her stubborn. He suddenly get the strong motivation to get himself out of the impossible and dangerous situation and get back to her. He has to go back to her. Otherwise how would he tell her about his years long crush on her?

[redraven393]

Cathing up with Philza Minecraft streams 15th 06

Where:

WHOOOO IS THE BIRTDAY DAY

We sit

STOP making Brian says anything Spanish, he is awfully British

Who apple gang-Yeah Crows go bake a cake for our gurl Tallulah

Excited for the birthday lets goo

4 years of being a menace in the old man’s stream sounds like an achievement

We just waiting but Short stream today, I guess?

Yay farming- Opp secret can’t see I guess

A zombie horse man???? In the farm

No comment on who he supports

TALLULAH AWAKE HAPPY birthday Tallulah

Happy dance for the birthday gurl

Silly abuelitto

Chayanne has been having to many fun with scaring the old man

Did you have the goods Chayanne??

Yay celebrate ur self gurl

Mexican bingo

Abuelitto is struggling for kids

Oopp Chayanne dipped

Coolx5 yesyesx3 awesomex5 Lets goo

Aww the pinata-A Petting ZOO-Ooh special mob

Whoahhh-What are they???-Funky squirrel horse??-STARWARS-What are they srsly????

A PHOTOBOOTH

Ah shit-The server crached-IN HER BIRTHDAY THAT’S FUK UP QSMP

QUACKITY PAYY THE SERVERRR

Education on how the server works from Phill

EYYY WE BACK

USE your MEME correctly

Ohhh show us-MANUAL PHOTOBOTH

Strong horse-AWW THEY KISSED-Give them time

Glad Tallulah love them

HOLYYY SHITTT A VENUSSS

“GO HAVE KIDDS I WANT GRANDKITS-“ oh god he is embracing the granpa experience

Yeah, you go Phil don’t listen to anyone

Invis Chayanne

VENUS 0.4 LETS GOO wait A CLONE???

Ohh a different name Mercury or Pluto

Chayanne keeps using Tallulah’s signs

Its baffeling to see a tinny kid with a butterfly wings pullingout an anvinl out of her pockets

Omg the big hat Lol

PINATA POG

The FOODS

BALLON LANTERNS PURPLE

Ohhh surprise

The guest is cominggg

Dancingggg

Phil likes to spoil his kid but clearly, he is as spoiled as well to them

No fight and no drinks for the violents

ETOILES is HERE

Give the babby a bath????

Aww no more animals??

More Europeans are coming

Oh wait why is there another face inside DeMezzanine???He already has 4???

BAGHERAA

While phill is bussy taking photo Tallulah is receiving many gifts

Ohgod its so loud

FOREVERR

HELLO RICHAAA

Everyone is so excited for Chayanne’s food

POMME HELLO

The Blond Twins are taking picture so cute-COCAINNE???

Oh god the Photobooth is so busy

Oh no the Spit horses are angry- MIKE DOWN MIKE DOWNN

Why is there a couple drama in the party?

OMG POMME?? An exploding chicken and a fox died poor girl

Forever is an average dad with a feral son and Oh, big brother Chayanne is joining forever to tell Richa to wear armor

FOOD IS READYY

AWWW CUTE ART FROM RICHAAA Richa is so talented omg

Omg the DRAMA is still going-STOP fighting-Good lord

Sit in someone’s lap” he says and Omg of course forever take any chances he got with Phill

OMG FOREVER NOT AT THE TABLE?!! YEAH GO OFF ON HIM BAGHERA

He’s a month old he is mature enough

Opp Phill is gone- DADDDD WHERE ARE YOU???- ohno he’s getting milk isn’t he??

Oh hey Sneeg glad u watching the stream too

SHUSHIII

Why is everyone sitting on Phill’s lap omg

Aww Thanks PAC

Glad everyone appreciates Chayanne’s cooking

Ohhh??? The Europeans and the Brazilians are singing for Tallulah??-that is sweet

CAKEEE

FOREVER DON SAY THAT ABOUT RICHA-well he is a little brat-

Oh god someone already died-BAGHERA WHY?

Selfie-Guitar-good job Tallulah-aww nooo

Chayanne is such a teenager-GO SOSIALIZE YOU KID

Is Pomme being tained to be an Agent or a security guard like Etoiles

OMG PHILZAA IS KICKING OUT THE GUEST

OH SHIT THEY FIGHTING-they want foo-OMG the TUPPERWARE-Yaeh that where is the drinks PHILL??

Ending party song-omg mike pls

The REVOLUTION-COMMUNISM???-YEAH use your Grand Daughter

MIKE is hilarious

Pac jut want food and then dipped

PHIL IS GOTH

Oh god “never call me again” omg MIKE

Oh did Pac gave Tallulah more Flowers??

Pachito the security

Oh shit he stole a bike-wait Phill had a bike?

Ohh the surprise-

OMGG-HOLLY SHIT IS WILL’S CONCERT-AWW-FUCK IM CRYIN- SHIT MY HEART-

Hey Baghera

But anywayOMG-IM STILL CRYINGGG-THAT IS SO SWEET

Omg Baghera nooooo-I mean its fair- the French literally got here by a crashed plane-BUT STILLL

AWW Tallulah baby-opp where she goin?-AWWW TALLULAH BABY DON’T CRYY

Oh it’s Pomme Birtday too?? Wow thereis so many celebrations this month holly shit

BYE POMME BYE BAHERA TAHNKYOU FOR COMING

HEY MUMZA

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR COMING

Its okk Tallulah-lol I think mike is salty

Ohh gift from Chayanne-let em cook-omg Phill noo-FOOD and OMG a KITTY :D

Chayanne is really living the best doting big brother life rn

THANKYOU FOR THE GIFT POMME- Candy apple and Golden Apple nice-OH SHIT a RED EARED SLIDER- LEONARDO ITS YOU!!!

Quest time-ohhhh it’s horse themed- oh yeah the skelehorse isi still there-

OMG THE FAN ARTS ARE SO COOOL-ok why is the soft shell so aggressive??-cute fan arts- someone is dying wth??

ARTIST WATER MARK YOU CREATIONS PLS I WANT TO FOLLOW UU

The turtles are so many they keep on dying-omg Chayanne nooo- oh well a chef needs their ingredients

YESYES POG BIRTHDAY-Chayanne did so good with the foods-opp did they killed one?

BEST FATHER AND SON DUO

Opp nerd Dadza moment-might want to read that one-Philzaa noooo.

Omg PHILZA NOOOO-Purge the turtles-ill hire a guy he says

JUAN

OMG CHAYANNE NOOO

New horse near foolish

Phil knows these kids so well- see you there Chayane-opp another Minecraft tip from dad-HOLLY SHIT U FAST-opp bye Chayanne

I love the little songs that Phill will randomly sings out at random

Omg Phill- perks of having the main admins as your kid is that you can have more leeway on quest-

Roleplay omg-WHOAH AMAZINGGG THEY REALLY CRAFT IT :O

THE MAIN ADMIN CHAYANNE/CUCURUCHO PERMISSION IT OKKK??!!!- its magic Tallulah get in with the system

Omg Chayanne noooo-plant based meat

Tallulah u set them free to be killed bye a seasoned chef

BOAT TIME- OH Shit VENUUUS (or Mercury???)

Mushroommm yummy

Thankyu Tallulah

WEDDING TOMORROW POGG

GRANDPA IS GOING ON VID CON

Pro Chef Chayanne- omg Chayanne nooooo

Everyone is going to vid con oh god

It most definitely won’t be avocado toast- Taco and Strawberries.

OVERDOSE DON’T STOP THE MUSIC DARLING-

MUMZAAAA- mango pog-ohh FUK YEH

Phil’s cooking-OHH SHIT A GOD APPLE POGG-ohh chorus fruit-wait it didn’t worked????Endermen with low signal-RP at the most minimal-THANKS MUMZAAA

HORSE RIDNG TIME YEY- is the bridge new???

OHH ITS STARTINGGG

“dad are you running for President??” Sweety your father is an anarchist- purely to piss of the federation

YEAH TECHNO WOULD BE PROUD O7 KING

THAT’S CHEATINGGG-okk Naruto run is fair-Yeah judge the old man Tallulah

Chayanne nooooo

BATH TIMEEEE-SLEEPY TIMEEE- the EFFICIENTSY WHOAH- Art room Progress POG- ohh WINE before BED TIME???

HOLLY FUCK-been aging before he was born WHOAHH-wat was that?

ADMIN POG- they the best really-ADVANCE TASTE BUD-PHOTOS PLS OR WE EMPTY YOUR POCKET

It would be funny-COOK FOR THEM IN HELLL-THANKYU PHILL- Chayanne Hell’s kitchen-

GRACIAS TALLULAH- stop using other kids sign Chayanne!!!

WHAT ARE YOUU-aww Phil might not come

Lol Rycharlison is stream sniping- maybe his version of Dragon magic

BYE PHIILLLLLLLLL

[comfreyhollywings]

the thing about you is that you never notice the border between kindness and what, in society's standards, is counted as "actual flirting." and like, that wouldn't be an actual problem because you were always the kid that laid low. in most cases, you'd say you're a pretty normal human being who went to school, worked two jobs, and bought groceries after making ends meet. and that was fine. you were fine with that.

except for the fact that your roommate's form hovers over you, goat horns curling on each side of their head while their void gaze stare at you. literally, nothing but everlasting nothingness haunts you down. their talons, laughably big, holding the small android phone you introduced them to several years ago. they're not really saying anything, just.. staring. they're always staring, of course. demons don't really have to blink.

"what?" you ask, blinking. "was it something i said?"

they don't really answer. what you get is equivalent to that of a blink. or was it actually a blink? do demons blink? it's something similar to that, the shape of his hollow eyes narrowing. you just know that they kinda look away. it's hard to read them. but you know their exhale is half-amused, half exasperated. "i don't know. is it something you've said?"

a spike of agitation. but you bite your tongue. right. because it's always like this with them. you try to make a joke, they just give you the same look as the one you're giving right now. when you think of the word menace, their direct picture come up to you. of course it'd be fucking subtle. you're not one to exactly have the patience of a saint. so you throw your hands up in frustration. "jared, this is the fourth time you're pulling something like this off—"

"and this is why we need to work on your social skills. your nuances are lacking." jared interrupts, hooves clopping over to you with a lazy point of their talons. you're really trying not to bristle at their patronizing tone, but in all honesty, it's pissing you off as they continue. "remember the day you leaned on the piano? told me about all keys i was playing?"

you slowly turn your head, narrowing your eyes. "yes..? why?"

"the chord you pointed out was like.. a very well known innuendo in hell. a lot of musicians hang about there. you're telling me i was nearly as skilled as solomon."

you remember that. the hyperfixiation tangent/joke about him from the bible. you remember telling him, ah yes, your play your piano like solomon does writing song of songs, blink a couple times again, then furrow your brows in confusion. "okay? and?"

"solomon gets fawned over in the realms of hell. it's not often heard of but.. well.. " jared's talons rake against the wooden table, the fourth deep scratch they've made today. god, you need a new table for this shit. "song of songs is literally a song about sex. you're literally telling me i'm fuckable by even mentioning song of songs."

your brain whirrs to a stop. you blank out for a minute. it's been a hot minute since you read song of songs, but.. "what?"

"yeah." jared sighs, their voice rumbling in their chest. they grab the bible they've been chewing on, like a goat, and rips a page out to plops it into their mouth. "we really need to work on your social skills. specifically your literacy. i'm not even the first person you've been doing this to. ms. 'you look-so-cute-to-every-single-pretty-person-you-come-across'. it's honestly horrifying how much you don't see what comes across their faces next. real tragic. i don't know how you keep doing this, but you have a gift in flirting no matter the culture."

you're frozen in your seat, eyes averting when your hands slide down. "i thought i was being polite? wasn't i just being funny?"

"no. you literally have the subtlety of a volcano." they state flatly, armor clanking when approaching you. "think of it this way though: the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting. you're already one step ahead over dominating the hell out of people.”

Your roommate is a hulking demon, a former warlord with millennia of combat experience, and the picture of menace and brutality. Apparently, they were under the impression that you’ve been flirting with them “with the subtlety of a volcano” and you have NO idea how.

[vonlipvig]

I got to say the evil playthrough is just beginning and i already hate this version of King Romus he's a power hungry bastard who love absolute power and the respect that came along with it. Like it doesn't excuse him also occasional having affairs even he has a wife and daughter like ew. And the way he treated his best friend Pabel Adria (I also have a hunch once he found out Pabel is a homosexual he might denounce him and be disgusted about him and later order his arrest) since i imagine him as a womanizer which is true and also be homophobic man. And also the nerve of this man. Acting like a king about his mother who he demanded respect?! Like hello? Are you an walking idiot? that woman is the one who gifted life and birthed you on this world. Show some goddamn respect. I pray to Blood God that i didn't turn into writing an AU where my favorite character stormed the Porte Dazon and have him deposed or killed but then again my character is an anarchist so... let's wait and see how this would turn out.

WELCOME TO THE BAD PLACE, IT'S GONNA GET WORSE, BABY.

obviously this is very much Not Canon for me, this is for funsies, but god i am Suffering already, and we still have the whole game to go. the fact that you can have him love lena AND be an unfaithful prick at the same time? (GOD YOU FOUND OUT SHE DIED RIGHT AFTER AN AFFAIR). and being mean to pabel is horrible I WANT OUT OF HERE (also, oh god anon why did you say that, i didn't think about that I DON'T WANNA THINK ABOUT THAT OH GOD THAT'S TOO HORRIBLE). at least i hope that pabel isn't in love with him in this timeline, cause if he was 1) for real, dude? STAND UP there are other men!!, and 2) that would be too cruel GOD.

but yeah, this man is a menace, he's rude to his mother, to his daughter, to his employees, i hope he dies horribly <3.

[zeninsama-moved]

NAOYA ANON IS HERE WHAT HAPPENED WHAT ARE YOU THINKING

I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT MY ANSWER TO THIS ALL DAY (AND EVER SINCE U FIRST RECOMMENDED THE FIC TO ME TBH) AND I JUST... first of all, i haven't finished it yet, i stopped at chapter 11 because i had to sleep so these are my thoughts so far. i may have missed a thing or two but this is the gist.

be warned there will be jjk manga spoilers/fic spoilers also this post is so fucking long i'm sorry

so i made note of the scenes/lines that had me screaming my head off and i will share them/discuss them under the cut <3

starting lighthearted with gojo things i found absolutely hilarious

"damn. by virtue of that, that means that technically-ish, gojo would be the semi leader of the zen'in clan. holy shit. shit's wild, son."

"maybe later he could trot over to lawson's and get himself a nice juice box, then a chocolate coolish ice cream pouch. yeah, that's the shit right there."

"behind you, he could hear your mother speaking with one of the servants in the hallway and he hopes to god she doesn't join in on the conversation. why the hell does she have to be here? fuckin' kris jenner with her bullshit, couldn't she leave her daughter to make her own decisions for herself? what's next, a sex tape to keep you in the zen'in family? shit. caught in 4k, filmed by gojo (and starring gojo)."

"should he pick you up and shot-put you into the distance so that you're like one twinkling star as you orbit? he doesn't know. if you were a dude, he'd definitely do that to you. fine. equal opportunity, it's the twenty-first century, he'll shot-put you."

"he looks nice like this, you think, in a thin white linen button-down short sleeve with cream shorts and... you do your best not to grimace. fucking assistant to the regional manager over here with the birkenstock kicks. at least he's not wearing white socks with them. you'll make sure you don't look anywhere past his kneecaps."

"'you wanna kiss me that bad?' he slaps his palm down onto the table as he chews and swallows. 'i knew it, you can touch me anytime, anywhere you want, babe–'"

GOJO IS A FUCKING MENACE IN THIS FIC! I LOVE THAT HE'S SO EMBARRASSING, IT FEELS LIKE REAL GOJO <3 his dynamic with the reader is so funny too, how she (for the most part) wants absolutely nothing to do with him. how things can be normal and sweet between them and then he says something so painfully cringe that it snaps us back to reality. what a fucking man.

"sometimes, he would dream that your thumb was a sausage and give it a bite. usually you would wake up and give him a bite back on his black, pointy ear."

NOW THIS LINE IS NOT GOJO OR NAOYA RELATED BUT IT'S ONE I ENJOYED NONETHELESS... i love kimi so much <3 the concept of him alone is so cool, being part-shikigami, part-demon or whatever, and how he can morph into different weapons for us to wield <3 also the scene where his paw emerged from the shadows to pester gojo for some salmon LMAO

okay.............. onto the main event i think...... onto naoya......

a lil tw for misogyny/death even though i know naoya anon will be the only one reading this

"a boy, he wanted a boy. he must have a boy. at least two or three. then you could have a girl, he'd gift you with one, he had told you before as you stared up at him with that dumb, fucked out expression. he'd gift you a baby girl after you had done your duty to him as his wife. a baby girl, as a treat. a reward if you're a good little wife."

WHY DID THIS HAVE ME FUCKING SCREAMING!!!

"for now, you would make do with expensive designer items as gifts until you managed to bear him a son. no little girl yet. but you'd work on that, he'd work on that – he'd make sure to work his fat dick into you as often as he possibly could to achieve that goal. he'd tell you he's such a good husband, making sure you get your own little treat."

DECEASED. I AM DECEASED.

"yeah, don't bother. this is too much for yer pretty little head. just go be pretty and dumb elsewhere, lil' baby. go on now, shoo."

"my pretty little girl. right? that's right. yer my baby girl, all mine? tell me, baby girl, who do you belong to?"

"stayed up all night waitin' for me, eh? what a good wife y'are. c'mere'n let me see yer cute face."

JUST... THE WAY NAOYA SPEAKS... THE THINGS HE SAYS TO US. it reminds me very much of touya because it's affectionate for a guy like him but still teasing and playful. these lines had me blushing so hard and kicking my feet and giggling. the use of petnames like "lil' baby" and "baby girl" and him telling you to "c'mere'n let me see yer cute face" ohhhhh my god.......

not to mention, i love his accent very much. country boyyy i love youuuuu.

"'c'mon now,' he mutters, turning his head to the side so he can press a kiss to your temple. 'why didn'tcha say somethin' earlier if it bothered you that much, you dumb baby.'"

this scene really changed everything for me... i will expand on this more later but the connection they have... their loyalty to each other... or moreso their desire to just have each other.

"a man, the man who had humiliated maki's mother many times, spoke hideous things about her children within earshot, is straining to call one of his other cousins because fuck fuck fuck why aren't you answering. his eyes soften and he's not exactly sure if it's because of the sweat in his eyes or the picture that you had just sent two minutes ago, a picture of you and the new lipstick you're trying on. you look so pretty. fuck. he's gonna cry."

I SAVED THIS ONE BEFORE THE SECOND POV CHAPTER THAT WENT MORE IN-DEPTH ON NAOYA'S FEELINGS AND THAT ONE – I WAS ALREADY DYING BUT THAT FINISHED ME OFF! this fic is so well-written that i felt grief for this fucking man. grief for naoya fucking zen'in of all people. it left a hole in my chest and i haven't felt this grief since [REDACTED REDACTED] in csm.

especially later, when reader was remembering her honeymoon in amalfi coast, when they were driving in the convertible and lost her scarf. for some reason that flashback made me so sad.

"'that girl will be your downfall,' is what his father tells him later on that day. naoya wants to believe that. maybe you'll be the one to drag him to hell. that would be nice. he'd be back home. he'll always come home. if that's where you're at, he'll always come home."

WAILING

OKAY... we are almost to the end of it <3

"'wait. oh my god, wait. wait. no way. you... you loved him? you actually loved naoya? naoya? zen'in naoya?'

your eyes sting hot, and you're not sure if it's because he's speaking ill of your very dead husband or because you're taking it personally for having loved the horrible man.

there's something about how you feel when it comes to naoya. defensive, even. you're certain that although love and family had been a difficult, complicated subject for the man, he fucked you like he loved you. like you had been a very fragile thing that he needed to care for – and he did. he always did; had always cared for you in ways that no one else would. or at least, he cared for you in ways that no one else would or could within a fifty-mile radius.

'babe, really?'

for all of his acid and harsh angles and sharp tongue, naoya was someone who took care of you and protected you. he made you feel wanted and safe and cherished and by the gods even if he didn't actually say it, he made you feel loved. that's what mattered to you. now, at least. maybe too much, even."

THIS WAS A FUCKING INSANE MOMENT TO ME reader wondering a few chapters ago whether or not she loved naoya and admitting now that she did, so very much so.

this really resonated with me in particular, not to get all wah-wah pity party but i've dealt with a lot of relationship trauma and all i've got to show for it is a crippling fear of abandonment. this type of love is therapeutic to me. when your person loves you and only you, there's nobody to compete with because they don't give half a shit about anyone else. you're the only one that sees that soft part of them, dare i say the real them.

THERE ARE A LOT OF THINGS I FORGOT TO WRITE DOWN BUT THIS FIC HAS CHANGED MY LIFE IN WAYS THAT I CANNOT COMPREHEND AND I AM NOT EVEN HALFWAY DONE.

another thing that made me very happy was seeing a lot of similarities in how the author characterizes naoya & how i've been characterizing him for the menthol prequel. fucking daddy issues central. naoya being a contradiction of himself because he's everything a zen'in should be, and yet he has these haunting moments of clarity where he realizes that's the last thing he wants to be... and yet nothing changes. he will be this way until he dies, and he was this way until he died. not that this man deserves tenderness because he's evil, but like... the care in which the author handles his character. it's everything to me.

trying my hardest but like oh my god it's going to be hard to let myself fall for gojo because the man the author wrote naoya to be. the husband he was. the deep, profound love he had that's even more special because it's all the love he has and it's all for you.

I'M EXCITED TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS WITH HIM COMING BACK AS A CURSE... I WILL KEEP READING TONIGHT BUT I FEAR I WILL SOB MY EYES OUT WHEN I FINISH IT <3

[callsignspark]

this was so sweet!! the pining! the yearning! I loved how you wove the music terms throughout; it's so clever!! I also relate very much. as a young one, I played an instrument for years and was in multiple performance groups at school, and now I don't think I could tell you what notes go on which line. it's incredible (and sad) how quickly that information leaves us if we don't keep up with it. I adored this, crossing my fingers for part two! and some of my favorite bits below!

but you knew that he knew he could count on you - this little line in the beginning makes my heart warm. the knowledge that he trusts her enough to watch over his house and take care of any little things is so sweet!

You had grown up in the silence, you knew it well. - a heartbreaking line following the lovely description of how Rooster is the soundtrack of her life

And when he offered to help remind how to read that language without words, to help you remember the letters of the keys beneath your fingers, it had made your heart hurt a little less. - absolutely going to cry!! he's so caring and sweet!!

How’d I do, sweetheart? /// The two of you never stuck around for long after he wrapped up. - uhh yeah, I fucking wouldn't either

The waitress had looked at you sympathetically before saying she’d come back in check in a few minutes and then quickly spun on her heel to take her hasty leave. - this entire scene (before he explains) is so sad, but this sentence right here was the gut punch for me?? like that feeling of sympathy that can only be shared between women. that look of "oh god, I'm so sorry" but there's nothing you can do to help. (but the waitress giving them a dessert at the end? that's sisterhood right there)

I even looked at the menu in advance - he likes her so much!!! he looked at the menu to find something special he knew she would like!! oh my god!!!

“Some classics, but a lot I don’t think I know. Definitely some intriguing titles, like ‘Daddy’,” he read aloud with a raised eyebrow and a grin that could only be described as lewd. - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw is a fucking menace to every woman he meets. I can't stand him. I want to suck his dick.

“Lucky for us, I was gifted with two right feet. Don’t worry, we’ll even out each other,” he murmured. - what if I just died in my chair right now??? hmmmm???

It was your song. /// “Will you play it again?” you’d asked against his lips. /// “Yes, ma’am.” - *high pitched shrieking*

It took you couple weeks to work up the courage to make the call, the sticky note burning a hole in the pocket of your purse you had tucked it into. - she takes lessons so she can play for him!! she builds up her courage to set up the lessons!! Mrs. McMullen is kind and sweet, I'm going to cry!!! the frustration she felt trying to get used to playing again is so familiar, I remember it well.

“Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?" - absolutely sobbed at this my friend. I can just picture him pulling in the driveway. being surprised that there's a light on, and having his heart soar when he realizes what she's doing - for him, he knows it has to be for him that she's doing this. I can hear his gentle voice asking her to start from the top. for him. for him. for him.

Leave a Light On

Summary: When Bradley had given you a key to his place, what he probably didn’t expect was to find you there at 2 am sitting at the piano you’d helped him find.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 7k

Warnings: lots of pining and yearning (Minors DNI)

(this was the story I was working on back in January, before the 'Like I Can' series and anything else on my masterlist. I'm so excited to share it with you all!)

When Bradley had given you a key to his place, you imagine he probably thought you’d check on his plants every now and then. That you’d pop by to give them a quick water and then be on your way.

Maybe that you’d take the Bronco out for a quick spin, so that his baby it didn’t sit there too long going unused. You were one of a very small handful of people he trusted to drive his most prized possession. There was something special about being behind the vintage wheel with the sun on your face as you cruised along the highway, even if it wasn’t the same without him sitting there smiling next to you.

He’d already put his mail on hold with the USPS, but you knew that he knew he could count on you to rescue any stray package that might slip through the cracks and make its way to the front door of his charming craftsman bungalow.

What he probably didn’t expect was for you to be there sometime past 2 AM sitting on the creaky bench of the old, but well-loved, piano that you had helped him to find.

You should be tucked away under the comforter of your own bed, in your own room, at your own place.

Instead, your fingers are navigating over the black and ivory keys trying, yet again, to make it through a tricky passage on a song that you’ve spent the better part of the last three months trying to perfect.

He was coming home soon and you couldn’t wait to hold him, to love him, to surprise him.

Each time he leaves, it gets a little easier to miss him. You wear your longing like a locket rather than an albatross around your neck, always there but easier to bear.

Rooster had a way of filling a space in a way you’ve never experienced before. His larger than life charisma was one of the first things that had caught your attention, followed by that damn smile of his.

He was always humming in the kitchen.

Or whistling in the car.

Or playing the piano to decompress after a long day.

Or listening to something on his mom’s refurbished record player.

His presence always so tangible and warm, like a blanket pulled fresh from the dryer. With Bradley around, you could wrap yourself up in the sheer comfort of him.

And when he was gone, it was the quiet that you struggled with the most. A constant reminder of just how far away he was. No texts or calls or voice memos throughout the day. No little everyday sweet somethings that let you know he was thinking of you.

The sound of silence followed you everywhere. Its heavy companionship making itself known regardless of how loudly you sang along to his favorite songs on the playlist he had made you or how many times you played through the song you were learning just for him.

You had grown up in the silence, you knew it well.

Parents who stayed together because it was easier than splitting the house and sharing the kid. And on the rare occasions it wasn’t quiet, it was loud. The kind that was inescapable regardless of how much you buried under the covers or how far you tucked yourself away in the corner of the backyard.

Until one day the glossy, satin walnut upright piano appeared along the wall in your barely used dining room. And then it soon became your favorite way to cover the quiet and to mask the loud.

Looking back on it now, maybe your parents had wanted something to fill the silence too.

The hours and hours of lessons you and Bradley had both been forced to sit through as children was something that the two of you had bonded over pretty early on. And while he had kept up with playing, it was something that had fallen to the wayside in your life. First with school, then with a career, and now with purposeful avoidance.

There was once a time when reading sheet music had come as easily to you as reading a book. And then one day, they were just a bunch of random dots scattered in between and across five lines on a piece of paper.

There was once a time when you didn’t even need to look down to know where your fingertips were flying to. And then one day, all your fingers could do was stumble and trip over the keys as you winced at the dissonance it created.

And when Rooster had learned about your mutual musical upbringing, he had made it his personal mission to try and get you to play something for him. He was so sweet, so sincere in the way he’d ask you, all big brown eyes and hopeful smiles.

It had always made your chest tight to brush him off. It was something he clearly wanted to share with you, but that part of you ached like a phantom limb. You didn’t know what would be worse embarrassing yourself or disappointing him with your lack of skill when it was something that you used to be so proud about.

It was easy to dodge him at first during nights out at the Hard Deck with your understandable Not with all these people here’s to your practical Mozart would just bring the vibes down’s to your evasive Maybe next time’s. 

And when his polite requests were met with empty answers, he took it a step further.

One night in his bed, the curtains fluttering as the sea breeze mingled with his sandalwood scent, he’d whispered into your heated skin, “I’ll get you to play something for me one of these days. Maybe I just need to find the right form of bribery.”

His teasing innuendo juxtaposed deliciously with the deliberate touch of his fingers and tongue as he’d played your body to a perfect crescendo.

It reached a point where you couldn’t stomach to see the dejection in his eyes, the hurt he tried so hard to hide when you’d deny him yet again, that you had to own up to your closely guarded secret.

The confession had whooshed out of you in one breath, leaving you feeling deflated and defeated afterwards.

When you eventually mustered the courage to look at him, he’d been wearing the softest look of understanding on his face, as if he could sense the toll it took to admit the loss of that part of yourself. Then he gathered you in his lap and held you, all while the tears of frustration simmered behind your tightly squeezed eyes.

And when he offered to help remind how to read that language without words, to help you remember the letters of the keys beneath your fingers, it had made your heart hurt a little less.

You weren’t ready then, not like you are now.

But nothing gave you as much pleasure as it did to watch Rooster seated in front of the well-worn and well-played upright piano of Penny’s at the Hard Deck. There was nothing more exhilarating than seeing him in his element so at home on the bench, scuffed and scratched from performers of the past, as he shared that part of himself with everyone in the bar.

He made it look so easy. So damn effortless. His thick fingers flying purposefully over the keys as he played from memory. His joyous enthusiasm electrifying and substantial enough to get the whole bar singing along with him.

It always drew him a lot of attention.

How could it not? He was magnetic on a bad day and captivating the rest of the time. And entirely too handsome for his own good.

Interested eyes, curious eyes, hungry eyes followed him around more often than not after an impromptu performance.

However, those brown eyes of his were always set on you.

Never wavering, never straying from you as he’d weave his way poco a poco, little by little, back through the packed bar. Handing out high-fives to people on autopilot as he passed by to return back to your side. Glistening with the sweat he worked up and grinning widely as he’d greet you with a How’d I do, sweetheart?. Those big, capable hands sliding around your waist, in the back pocket of your jeans, under your top to rest on your low back.

The two of you never stuck around for long after he wrapped up. You didn’t mind helping him find ways to put that excess adrenaline to good use. Usually in the backseat of the Bronco.

You’ll never forget the first time Bradley serenaded you. The song meant for you and you alone.

If someone were to cut into that soft, pink part of your brain, you’re pretty sure they would find that memory pressed there like flowers between the pages of a book. Forever apart of you.

It was the song that always took you right back to that little vinyl shop along the pier. And back to that date that had almost derailed it all.

When Rooster had picked you up to take you to dinner all those months ago, he had seemed a bit antsy and absentminded.

Sure, he had gotten out of the Bronco to come fetch you like a gentleman, instead of sending some half-assed Here text like your ex had been fond of doing. You thought for sure he’d be hustling you back inside after he caught a glimpse of what you were wearing once you opened your front door to greet him.

So you were surprised when he’d simply pressed a dry kiss to your cheek and escorted you to his car with a hand placed respectfully between your shoulder blades instead of cheekily in that space between your low back and ass.

That spot that toed the line between decent and indecent. That spot that made him smirk when you’d give him a pointed lift of the eyebrow, because the two of you knew exactly what he was doing. And better yet, liked it.

However, that night it was almost like he was going through the motions, like he was already somewhere else.

The car ride to the restaurant was silent except for the white noise of the highway as he drove. The circular knob for the radio set to the left.

Off.

Which in hindsight should have been your first warning, since Bradley was never not listening to the Oldies station. A vintage vibe for your vintage boy. 

When you were finally seated across from him at that new trendy Thai place you had been dying to go to, his fingers wouldn’t stop tapping out some unheard tune. On the tops his thighs. On the top of the table.

His eyes were landing everywhere else other than on you. On the large leaves of the potted palms, on the ornate pattern on the gold silk that was swathed across the ceiling, on the intricate hand-painted tiles on the floor.

You’d been trying to carry on a conversation for the past fifteen minutes and were feeling completely on edge when you had to repeat yet another question for him.

The anxious feeling growing in the pit of your stomach had been getting more and more difficult to ignore. You could tell he wasn’t really there, what you were trying to figure out was whether or not he just didn’t want to be there with you.

And god, the drinks hadn’t even come out yet. There wasn’t anything for you to distract yourself with other than your water glass, and even that was already empty except for a few melting ice cubes.

His half answers and noncommittal noises were rapidly clearing things up for you.

He’s breaking up with me.

It was at that crushing realization that the waitress had returned with your drink orders. The bright orange concoction that she set in front of you had been topped with a lovely purple orchid and glittery swizzle stick.

A happy looking cocktail for the girl who thought she was going to have another great date with the guy who was saved in her phone as “Golden Boy”.

“Have you two decided on what you want to eat? Or would you like to hear the chef’s specials again?” the waitress had asked, her gaze bouncing back and forth between you and Bradley.

You could tell that she was sensing the brewing tension between the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ll here much longer, maybe just the check--”

“Sorry, if we could have a few more minutes to decide--”

You’d both started speaking at the same time only to turn to the other wearing matching faces of absolute confusion. He’d gone ramrod straight in his chair, his fingers finally still on the tabletop. The shock in his eyes was apparent, and you could only assume it was there because you beat him to the punch.

The waitress had looked at you sympathetically before saying she’d come back in check in a few minutes and then quickly spun on her heel to take her hasty leave.

It was the look that she’d given you that had really sealed the deal for you, and wasn’t that just great? You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rest of the waitstaff was already hearing about the couple fighting at Table 12 and taking bets about whether or not they’d break up.

Lucky them, dinner and a show.

You’d reached the fruity drink in front of you, the condensation from the glass leaving a ring on the table and took a large sip for moral support. Feeling the weight his stare on you the whole time as you savored the tart taste of passionfruit as it burst across your tongue.

He’d just have to wait. It was your turn to ignore him.

As you’d swallowed it down, it had left you feeling more than a little angry that it tasted so good when you were feeling so shitty. He knew how much you liked an over the top cocktail, why couldn’t he have picked some dingy hole-in-the-wall to do this at rather than ruin this place for you? The hot prickling sensation of righteous indignation filled your chest.

You really didn’t want it to drag out any longer, setting your liquid courage back down you’d met his stare and got right down to it, “If you’re going to break up with me, Rooster, can you just do it now? I’d like to still be able to order Pad See Ew in the future without thinking about you and this moment.”

You removed the napkin from your lap, folding it up primly before placing it back upon the table as you waited for the final nail in the coffin to be pounded in on the remains of the happiest-and-easiest-and-clearly-too-good-to-be-true relationship you’ve ever had.

“Wait, what? I don’t want to break up.” His eyes were wide and searching, the hurt in his voice had been evident. And it was the first time all evening that he seemed to be present with you, like your Golden Boy had finally showed up to the date. “I thought things were going well. More than well, actually.”

“Yeah. I mean, I did too. Until tonight,” you’d agreed, defeatedly. “I’m really confused here. You’ve been completely distant tonight. Not to be vain, but look at me,” you gestured to the sexy lowcut dress you’d worn for the evening. It was something you’d been saving in your closet for the right occasion. And you’d thought it was going to drive him wild, but he hadn’t even given it a second glance.

You’d leaned in a bit, lowering your voice, “It’s a boob and leg dress, Bradley. I look really fucking hot, and frankly, I didn’t even think we were going to make it here once you saw this. It wouldn’t have been the first time we’ve missed a dinner reservation. And you haven’t said a single thing about it.”

It felt like a silly thing to be upset about in the grand scheme of things, but his inattentiveness that evening had stung more than you’d wanted to admit to.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I noticed,” he’d retorted hotly. His eyes had been heated as he’d matched your movement and leaned in further across the table. “Half the men in here noticed it too the second you walked in.”

You didn’t bother trying to hold back your scoff of frustration, the man was infuriating.

“Then I don’t understand why you’re making me feel like being here- with me- is the last place you want to be right now?” You’d given up on trying to sound unaffected, this was not the evening you had envisioned. It felt like being blindfolded on a rollercoaster, unable to see what exactly you were hurtling towards.

“I got my new orders today,” he’d blurted out, his eyes trying to read yours for the reaction. “I’m being send as aerial escort for a diplomatic mission. I ship out next Monday for six weeks.”

He’d told you later that he was grateful it wasn’t a longer one, he knew he was lucky because he could have just as easily been sent away for a deployment longer than you’d actually been together.

“Oh.”

You’d known that that moment would have happened eventually with his job, so you shouldn’t have been surprised. However, it was one thing thinking about it theoretically rather than looking at a ticking clock with a deadline.

“Cards on the table, sweetheart?” He’d waited for you to nod before continuing on, “I am really fucking into you. I’m trying not to put pressure on this, because I’m pretty sure you’re my dream girl. I wanted to take you out for a nice meal, get you a couple of those complicated fun drinks you like. I even looked at the menu in advance, they have one here that they light on fire and it seems like something you would love.”

He was right, it was something that you’d love. You had even eyed it when you first got the menu, but you hadn’t wanted to get anything that would draw you more attention when you already felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you.

“Then I wanted to take you home with me and tell you after we had a great time out. I wanted to ask you to save that Sunday before I leave for me, so that we could spend the whole day together.” His fingers had started playing that unheard tune on the table again. “I wanted to show my girl the best time, to keep her wanting to come back and to stick around. So that someone else doesn’t catch her eye, so that I don’t lose her to someone better than me while I’m away.”

His confession had your heart taking up residence in your throat. Having him lay it out for you so clearly and knowing that he’d felt as serious about you as you did about him was everything you had wanted to hear. However, one thing nagged at you.

“Bradley, you make me happy. Like really, really happy. I’ve only got eyes for you. If I’m being honest, this stopped being casual to me around our third date. And I trust you enough to know you’d tell me if this”, you’d gestured between the two of you, “wasn’t what you wanted anymore before starting up with someone else. I hope I have that same trust in return, because if you’re worried about me stepping out on you while you’re away, I don’t know how this is going to work. And I really want it to work.”

“Shit, I’m really striking out here. Batting 0 for two,” he’d sighed out more to himself than to you, leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair. “Our third? Really? I thought for sure after that disaster that you were going to block my number.” He huffs a laugh, cheeks turning the same shade of pink that they had that chaotic evening on the beach.

“Bradley, it was comically bad.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at the memory of it. “You were trying so hard and you were so flustered. It was so endearing.”

“Who would have guessed getting attacked by seagulls and coming home covered in sand flea bites could have been so appealing?” He joked self-deprecatingly.

“Me, I could have. Since I was with you,” you said sincerely, “No one I’ve dated has ever put half as much effort into trying to make me happy as you have.”

The two of you exchanged a soft, tentative smiles.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you had a wandering eye or anything, I promise.” His eyes pleaded with you as he reached for your hands and threaded his fingers through yours, his palms slightly sweaty. “This deployment is different for me. I’ve never had to ask someone to wait for me before, never had anyone who wanted to. And I’ve been really in my head because I was trying to find the right way to tell you, to ask you.”

You were still getting to know all of the expressions of his face, but the look of open insecurity he was wearing was new to you. And you’d felt something deep in your chest release and unlock.

For how easily he owned a room, for how confident he could be, getting to see these tender parts of him because he trusted you with them had made you ache in the most bittersweet of ways for the man who was in front of you.

You held his gaze, taking in his anxious expression. How anyone couldn’t want this man or didn’t think he was worth the wait was incomprehensible to you.

“So Sunday the seventeenth, huh?” you’d said with a grin.

His relief was palpable as he’d squeezed your hand a bit tighter, “Yeah, baby, you up for it?”

“A perfect day with my dream guy?” you mused, squeezing his hand back, “Yeah, I think I’d be up for that. I’m up for all of it.”

Not just the date. Not just the deployment. You already knew. With him, you wanted it all.

When the waitress returned a few moments later, Bradley ordered a green curry for himself and the Pad See Ew for you. Along with one of those complicated, fun drinks that arrived with fanfare and flames, all while he played with your fingers.

And after you were finished, she’d dropped off a fluffy looking coconut covered dessert that she’d stated was on the house as walked away with a wink.

You’d totally called it, dinner and a show.

As you’d left the restaurant, he tucked you in close under his arm pressing kiss after kiss to your temple as you made your way back to the Bronco.

And later, when he had taken you back to his place for the night, your boob-and-leg dress forgotten somewhere on his stairs, he’d apologized again. This time with his mouth on your body.

Twice.

It had been a fluke, really, finding that record tucked away in that small, but well-kept shop on that Sunday before his deployment.

You’d surprised him with a certificate for a haircut and hot towel shave at an upscale barber for a little pre-deployment pampering. He’d gotten his hair trimmed the day before and he was somehow looking even more sunkissed than usual. His patterned shirt was mostly buttoned up and he had on your favorite pair of jeans- the ones that might have been a bit too snug, but did devastating things for his ass.

It was the outfit he’d been wearing when you had first met.

You and Bradley had spent a lazy, perfect morning at the beach reading and lounging and trading sea salt kisses before changing and to grab a bite to eat. He’d held up a towel up around you to slip into your sun warmed dress, behaving himself for the most part. But you’d still caught him sneaking a peek from over the top of the terry cloth.

After eating a late lunch at his favorite little café that served the best cioppino, you’d popped in and out of the various shops that dotted the boardwalk near the pier. It might have been the bottle of wine you shared, but he made sure to stop at every photobooth you passed along the way, collecting strip after strip of snapshots and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

His hand staying in yours the whole time.

When he’d spotted the tiny record store, he’d cheerily pulled you along with him wanting to look for new additions for his ever-growing collection. It was his newest hobby after getting his mom’s old record player restored. You had even helped him build the sideboard he had specially ordered for it to display his prized collection in the living room of his home.

You could hear him talking excitedly to an associate about some Jerry Lee Lewis albums, who offered to take a look in the backroom for him. You never had good luck when you tried to search for specific things, so you were happy to meander around a bit aimlessly and see what spoke to you.

Casually flipping through the stacks, you’d gasped when you landed on what appeared to be the holy grail of all vinyl records ever made.

“Bradley, look!” You’d held out the record for him like a prize. And he abandoned his own search to come join you on the other side of the store.

“Soldiers’ Sweethearts, huh?” He grinned at your find, his eyes crinkling around the edges. The navy colored jacket highlighted a trio of glamourous looking women, each of the three records featured a different performer and their covers of songs popularized during WWII.

“Mm-hmm,” you’d preened, feeling entirely too pleased with yourself. “You’re a soldier, I’m a sweetheart. I’ve never seen anything more perfect in my life. I have to get it.”

“Well I’m not a soldier, technically,” he’d chuckled, as you’d rolled your eyes at him. The joke had you scrunching your nose, and his mustache grazed you as he leaned in close to press a quick kiss to it. “But you’re definitely a sweetheart, sweetheart.”

You were still trying to learn the ins and outs of that part of his life. But you’d liked how he never made you feel stupid when you had questions. More often than not he seemed excited to answer them for you, that you were interested in what he did.

Rooster gently took your newest most prized possession into his big hands, “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Flipping the album over, he’d scanned the tracks listed on the back for the three records. “Some classics, but a lot I don’t think I know. Definitely some intriguing titles, like ‘Daddy’,” he read aloud with a raised eyebrow and a grin that could only be described as lewd.

The man was a menace and had no problem finding new ways to make you blush. You were grateful that the shop was empty except for the two of you, as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

“What about ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight’? Have you heard that one before, sweetheart?” His large body moving in and crowding yours, the smell of his cologne making your thoughts go a bit fuzzy around the edges. Your heartbeat kicked up in tempo as he brushed a piece of hair off your forehead.

That find was definitely a jackpot.

Him and those records.

“Mm, or how about ‘Make Love To Me’?” He’d murmured into your ear, his free arm slid slowly against your waist, making a home for itself low on your back. The warmth from his hand seeping through your dress and into your skin.

It was heady being the target of all his heated words and teasing tone. The pull in your low stomach getting more intense with every moment you’d stayed pressed against his hard body. You could see how his pulse was pounding arditamente con forza, boldly with force, from how close your face was to that thick throat of his. And you had wanted to--

“I knew we had it somewhere!”

The associate’s cheery announcement as he returned from the backroom startled you back into yourself. Feeling flustered you’d tried to pull away, but Bradley just kept his arm locked around you as he’d made his way to the counter.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. We’ll take this one too,” he stated as he’d smoothly placed your Soldiers’ Sweethearts album on the top of the pile he had accumulated. Only letting go of you to pay.

Naturally, you’d wanted to play the record the second you made it back to Bradley’s place.

He set it up for you before giving you a lingering, deep kiss leaving you to your own devices as he worked on the final few things left on his to-do list before his deployment early the next morning.

You were happy to make yourself comfortable on his wide seat couch with an Old Fashioned listening to Jo Stafford’s soothing voice with your eyes closed, wanting to luxuriate in the moment.

One where Bradley was less than twenty feet away puttering around in his kitchen and humming and murmuring to himself.

One where you could call out to him and he would be in front of you in a few long strides.

You wanted to avoid thinking about the next day and the beginning of your new normal.

One where you couldn’t expect text messages from him throughout the day.

One where concern and uncertainty would follow you around like a dark cloud until he came back home to you.

But he was here for now. And you wanted to savor it all, to soak up all of its sweet, syrupy goodness like the expensive cherry in your glass.

He must have sensed the turn in your thoughts because his sandalwood scent gave his closeness away before his voice did, “What do you say, Miss Soldiers’ Sweetheart? Can you spare a dance for me?”

You opened your eyes to see him standing before you with his hand outreached for you. The smile so gentle and open on his face, made it impossible for you to do anything other than wordlessly nod your head in agreement as you’d let him pull you up from your comfy perch.

“Apologies in advance for any injuries caused by my two left feet,” you joked a bit bashfully as he wrapped his arm around you.

“Lucky for us, I was gifted with two right feet. Don’t worry, we’ll even out each other,” he murmured.

He pulled you into his gravity, pressing your joined hands against his chest where you could feel the steady beat of his heart. The hand on your lower back urging closer, closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between your bodies. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head where you had tucked it into that safe space where his neck meets his shoulder.

take me in your arms, and never let me go whisper to me softly while the moon is low

True to his word, he’d guided you in a smooth, easy rhythm. The confidence in his steps as you were held within his sturdy arms was enough to make you feel secure in your own movement. With him you were completely taken care of.

hold me close and tell me what I wanna know say it to me gently, let the sweet talk flow

Your other hand slid up slowly from where it was resting on his shoulder to wrap around his neck, fingers threading through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck as your thumb traced the thick column of his throat.

Come a little closer, make love to me

He held you tighter, held you closer, as the song came to an end. The easy rhythm turning into a gentle sway that continued as the next song began. And the one after that.

That night in his bed he moved against you with such purpose, such tenderness. The sex with Bradley was always stunningly good, he was never content to let himself come until he’d rendered you thoroughly boneless and breathless. He was easily the best you’ve ever had, but that night it was different between you two.

The mood weighty and intense, both of you exposed in a way you hadn’t been before. But there was no mistaking the deliberate way he touched you, the unwavering way he rolled his hips against yours, the unguarded way he held your gaze as if he was committing that moment to memory as he made love to you.

He’d held you close to his warm body, his fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps, as you shivered through your orgasm. His mouth pressed against your ear as he whispered soothing sweet somethings until he followed you over the edge.

For Bradley, you were up for it. For him, you’d be up for all of it.

yesyesyes

Things were a bit too quiet for you.

You heart clenched in a different way when you looked at Penny’s piano on those evenings you spent with the Dagger Squad without him. The ache was still there, but so was a new kind of longing. Part for him, but also for yourself.

But you’d made it through that deployment with the help of your three favorite sweethearts: Jo, Vera and Anne. Although you always queued up one song in particular anytime you found yourself missing him a bit more than normal.

And when Bradley returned back home to you six weeks later, it was easy to fall right back into him. That quiet period was almost too easily forgotten when he was around to fill a space.

That night at the Hard Deck when he serenaded you for the first time, it was normal for him to strut over to the old jukebox to unplug it. His timing impeccable as always, silencing whatever country song Jake had queued up.  

What wasn’t normal was the way he took you by the hand leading you directly to the old upright and pulled you right onto the bench next to him.

There was already some sheet music spread across the shelf, you’d noted as he’d wiped his hands on the outside of his jeans before settling his hands on the keys. It only took you a couple bars of the intro to realize what song he was playing, already completely enamored before he’d even opened his mouth to sing.

It was your song.

Nothing in the world could ever compete with Bradley Bradshaw’s deep, raspy voice singing just for you. The significance of the song meant for you and him alone.

You heart had swelled in your chest until you thought it might burst from happiness. Never in your life had you been so thoroughly swept off your feet. It was a gesture came from his heart that made a home in yours.

Ever the showman Rooster put on a full performance, his aviator sunglasses sliding down his nose as he really leaned into it.

Your wide grin had turned to laughter when a few members of the Dagger Squad jumped in as back-up vocals, singing into their beer bottles in a way that obviously had been rehearsed. You didn’t know how he managed to keep it a secret. While Rooster was a vault in his professional life, when it came to his personal life Bradley couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

The whole bar was having fun with the jaunty tune, some couples dancing along in smooth circles on the sticky wood floor as he crooned. He’d leaned over to place a kiss on your cheek every now and then in between verses, and you’d felt yourself fall for him even harder.

He’d pulled you into his lap once he was done playing, as the din of the resumed chatter softly cocooned you. You’d seen all you needed to know reflected in his eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

“Will you play it again?” you’d asked against his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.” And you rested your head on his shoulder watching his fingers get into position on the keys once more as he played the few opening notes.

Somewhere you heard a groan followed by a grumbled, “Not again.”

“Shut it, Bagman,” you bossed at him, not even bothering to look in his direction. You only had eyes for Bradley.

“You heard the lady,” he chuckled. “Shut it, Bagman.”

And then he played it again.

take me in your arms, and never let me go

You should be asleep in your own bed and not at his place with only the soft light of the lamp above his piano and a now cold cup of tea to keep you company.

Tired of tossing and turning, you’d given up on the idea of getting any sleep at your own place after the second hour of trying. Throwing on your slippers, you’d grabbed your keys and then drove over to his place, still in the oversized t-shirt you’d put on before bed, in hopes that scent of his sheets would help lull you to sleep.

But all it did was make you miss him more.

It was too quiet without his soft breathing next to you as he held you close and tucked against his chest.

Too quiet without his records.

Too quiet without his happy humming.

Too quiet without him.

The sound of the tea kettle on his gas range had helped fill the silence, but it was his piano that had called you as you had waited for the water to boil. The sheet music you had left there from the last time you were over beckoning like a siren’s song.

It was your secret.

Only for a few more days, only until he came home.

You wanted to surprise him, to sweep him off his feet the way that he always did with you when he played for you.

During that first deployment, for the first time in years, your fingers yearned for the feel of cool, smooth keys beneath your fingers.

You hadn’t even told Bradley, the one person who would understand it the most, that you’d been thinking about it. Let alone that you were actually taking classes again. Making up excuses about manicures or errands or spin classes for why you were busy for an hour every Tuesday at five PM.

The thing that had once hurt your heart the most, was now the only thing that helped soothe the ache of missing him. The only thing that made you feel close to him when you were thousands of miles apart.

You wanted that familiar comfort of making music. You wanted it because you missed him, but you also wanted it for yourself.

A co-worker had given you the name and number for her kids’ instructor, Mrs. McMullen, an elderly woman who started teaching after her husband passed away. It took you couple weeks to work up the courage to make the call, the sticky note burning a hole in the pocket of your purse you had tucked it into.

You had been an anxious mess the day of your first lesson, hands shaking like you’d had one too many shots of espresso. It felt strange, a little surreal sitting there in the body you’d grown into on the padded bench in her cozy living room. One of the walls filled with shelves and shelves of sheet music, her own personal library.

And for a brief moment, you were transported to a different year on a different bench in a different room. Now and Then. Older and Younger. Both versions of you there to learn. All too familiar, yet entirely new.

You started with the basics. A reintroduction to those lines on the page and the notes that spoke their own language for those who knew how to read it.

Your fingers wanting to move quicker than your sluggish mind, like an echo of a memory of how it used to be. You winced and apologized after every wrong note, until she put her hand on yours, her skin looked as delicate as her fingers did, and said gently, “We learn by doing, mistakes only mean that you are trying. Once more, once again.”

After that first lesson, you’d gone back to your car and promptly burst into tears. Overwhelmed tears, happy tears. That tender part of you still soft, however no longer aching.

You’d left feeling lighter as you pulled away from her house to go meet up with everyone at the Hard Deck, but also with a packet of sheet music to practice for your next lesson.

When Rooster had told you about getting his new orders, when he had asked you again if you were still up for it. You’d told him the same thing you had at that date, you were up for it all.

You would take the sadness with the sweet any day of the week for as long as he was yours.

You’d known how you would fill the space he left behind. And exactly how you wanted to welcome him home. You’d been excited to put that certain song just for him in your cart, and then tacking on one more song to your order, a song that would be just for you.

Both you and Mrs. McMullen had be surprised at how you’d been able to pick things back up over the months, you still weren’t anywhere as good as you were when you were younger, but it wasn’t nearly as daunting as it used to be. And when you showed up to your next lesson after your songs had been delivered, she was more than happy to help you figure out ways to simplify the songs a bit so that you’d be ready when he returned.

And now you’re bent over Bradley’s piano with a pencil tucked behind your ear as you played through the hardest bit of the song, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve gone over it tonight. This morning? You were in that liminal space between yesterday and today. Where the time on the clock was just a suggestion because it felt neither here nor there.

You had practiced and practiced the song you had wanted to play for him once got home. You’re pretty sure Mav wasn’t supposed to tell you the significance of that particular song, but it had made your heart flutter wildly in your chest when he’d told you. And every time you’ve heard it since then.

It was polished, it was perfect, it was ready. All you needed was him.

The one you’re playing now con amore, with love, is the piece you pull out when you long for him the most.

The cover of the song had made you think of him from the moment you’d heard it. It was more lyrical and delicate than the original, and captured just how you felt about him. Just how much he meant to you. Sometimes you sing along with it, sometimes you just let the keys and pedals express the things you otherwise could not.  

It was the song of your heart.

Your fingers trip over one of the notes yet again, probably from the lack of sleep, but you weren’t ready to crawl back into Bradley’s comfy bed. Not just yet.

Sighing, you pull the pencil from behind your ear, muttering to yourself out loud as you note the spot on the page. It was already filled with little pencil marks, some older and some newer. All made because you were trying.

Once more, once again.

Breathing out slowly, you settle your hand back on the keys-

“Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

He's a sneaky one, friends! I have Part 2 in the works, not to worry! We have to see how it all plays out! (put intended)

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist for the grand finale!

Here's a link to the Soldiers' Sweethearts Album, if you're curious!

But this is their song, the one Bradley serenaded her with! Jo Stafford's version of 'Make Love to Me'

You can check out my other stories here!

And a big thank you to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me spam you about this one!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader