#he can almost pretend like he doesn’t know fit won’t come back like he always promises he will

[seriouslycalamitous]

Imagine: Timeloop AU, except it's just Ramón using dragon magic to continuously loop the day before qFit disappears over and over again - because he's not strong enough to stop him from leaving, not strong enough to save him completely, but if they stay right here, like this, it's almost enough. Almost perfect.

[saradika]

— just can’t say goodbye

bodyguard!din djarin x princess!reader

rated e - 4.8k

tags: sorta medieval vibes, references to antiquated societal expectations, mentions and references to virginity, arranged marriage, technically infidelity because of said arrangement, light angst, sneaking around, first time, fingering, PiV, creampie

this is for the 1500 kisses event for @janaispunk! I got din + wedding! Jana, thank you so much for hosting this awesome event & for the gorgeous moodboard! 💖

“Take me,” You beg. It’s pathetic, no more than a whimper, “Take me, and then take me away from here.”

He’s been in your bed since the second your maidens were dismissed. You won’t sleep until dawn, not if tonight is all you have.

“You cannot mean that.” It’s harsh, almost a growl as it buzzes from his helmet.

"I have never meant anything more.”

(or - a final night is spent in the arms of your bodyguard, before your arranged union the next morning.)

You'd always known your duty.

What was expected from you, of you, drilled deep from an early age. Borne with pride - you were the eldest daughter of the king, after all - until you were wise enough to see that perhaps your obligations and loyalty were as much a chain as they were an honor.

Your life followed a well-worn path. Absorbing the lessons. Hours spent in learning about those before. Women like you - the graceful neck beneath the head of another lord, another king.

Support them, love them, bear them children.

It hadn't bothered you. You hadn't known anything else.

Not until him.

The Mandalorian had been assigned to protect you three years ago. A renowned knight, his allegiance first pledged to your father. And then, you.

Your bodyguard is not from your planet. It’s something you clung to - an endless source of information about things you've never seen or known, when his lips finally loosened.

But you had always seen him for more than just your bodyguard. That it was more than duty that bound you to each other.

Over time, during those hours spent with his back facing your door - a steadfast barrier between yourself and the cruel outside world - you had started to see between the cracks.

To read into his minute movements. Catching the tilt of his head and cock of his hip. The dry comments that slip from beneath his helmet.

Pretending he doesn’t care which of your handmaidens were caught in a dark corner with Ser Shand.

But you know better.

You think that perhaps you were doomed from the start. That it was always going to turn out this way between you.

Because when you had finally reached out to touch temptation - to sink your teeth into that sweet, ripe fruit - he had let you.

And at first - with the way he had allowed your hand to flatten against his armor, fitting into her personal space - you had wondered if it's because he wasn't able to.

People do not often tell you no. You've grown up in a carefully-carved mould - your requests are rarely things to be denied.

The thought had you shrinking back, the flat of your palm pulling back to fingertips.

Until his hand had closed around your wrist, tracing up to map the back of your hand. Bringing it back to smooth against his chest, right above his beating heart.

It had you realizing that perhaps he was just allowing you to take the first desire that has truly been yours. That your hopes and wishes had not been alone.

That all this time, he had simply been waiting for you to come to him.

Hours are spent together since, stolen between dusk and dawn. The near-silent wandering of hands and mouths.

That beskar armor nearly always fixed in place. It’s as much a part of him as flesh and bone. The edge of his helmet only lifting when he gets desperate. Sealing his mouth to yours. Deepening the kiss, until he’s all you can taste.

So much of him is still a mystery, but he’s come to know you as well as the back of his hand. Knows just how to make you bend, and then break.

Working his fingers between your thighs, until you’re shattering his arms. It will be enough to hold him over, until next time.

It has to be.

In the months since that first night, you’ve never tried to push. You’ve long known that you don't need to see his face - to strip him bare - to love him.

Determined not to ask him for more than he can give.

That is - not until tonight.

You've tried to hold on as long as you can. Always had been good at pushing things down. Grinning and bearing - with that polite, learned smile.

The dread you’ve been holding back crashes into you now, a charging lance against a shield. Splintering, and you can feel the ache in your ribs as if truly struck.

You cling to him. Stripped bare, his armor a welcome chill as your fingers slip between the fastenings of his armor.

Tonight, he allows you to loosen them. The room pitch-black, as the moon hangs full against a blanket of stars.

His helmet set carefully on your side table. Too dark to see him, a way around his creed. Trust woven in his actions, and you thank him with the soft press of your lips.

Against his throat. Teeth nipping skin as he groans.

He can’t leave a mark on you. Not a single thumb-print bruise - not with the way you’ll be stripped and scrubbed tomorrow.

So you leave ones on him. Reminders he can keep, until you can manage a moment alone again.

Desire swirls hot in your belly. Your own palm slipping down to tuck against his front, cupping him. Another part of him that he’s denied you fully.

“Take me,” You beg. It’s pathetic, no more than a whimper, “Take me, and then take me away from here.”

The potential wrath of your family pales in comparison to the thought of being bound to another. The reality of your situation sets everything in sharp contrast, the pretty veneer you’ve been living in cracking at the seams.

Din’s breath is harsh in your ear - fingers stuttering where they circle against your clit at your plea, coated in your slick.

He’s been in your bed since the second your maidens were dismissed. You won’t sleep until dawn, not if tonight is all you have.

“You cannot mean that.” It’s harsh, almost a growl as it buzzes from his helmet.

You might have thought he was angry, if you did not know him so well. If you couldn’t hear his own desperation, woven into each syllable.

It has your hips canting into his touch. Each word panted out, as your fingers stroke where he strains.

"I have never meant anything more.”

Your fingers pluck at his belt, but he eases them gently away. Catching your wrist with his spare hand, pinning it to the bed. His thumb sweeping against your skin, soothing as you squirm against him.

The fingers at your clit slip down to press just inside you. As if he’s thinking about it for just a moment, giving you what you’ve long desired.

But instead there’s a finality to his words, as his touch slips back up. Increasing the pressure until you’re moaning into your pillow, the tightly-wound stream about to snap.

His words, murmured into your hair, as you come undone.

"I won't let you throw your life away."

But how can you live, knowing that he won't be yours?

Not in the way you want him to be.

The man you’ve chosen to marry - a high-born Mandalorian from another clan - is kindly enough, but he is not your knight.

No one could be.

Your only solace in this union is that Din is going with you, honor-bound by his own sworn duties.

A blessing in spite of everything. You do not think you could do this without him.

But it does not make the lead-weight of your feet any lighter. The room spins in front of you, stretching long and think as your hearing fades out to white noise.

It's only the grip of your fingers into the King's bracers that keeps you upright. Nails digging into steel, as you take one step at a time.

Your wedding is as beautiful as it should be. As you've always dreamed - your dress in pretty layers of white and gold. Up since daybreak, primped and pampered.

It's enough to almost, almost, have you regret meeting Din. If you had not known a love such as him, you might have been content for a marriage like this.

But of course, it's no more than a fleeting thought. Immediately shut down.  

Better to know and grieve, than to not know at all.

You're still as stone, at the end of the aisle. All the movements practiced the night before - the events that had sent you rushing into Din’s arms after.

It hadn't seemed real until then.

Your lips feel carved into that smile. Hewn since the day you were born, your true feelings hidden in the dull sheen of your eyes.

Disconnected, as they drift. Annoyance flickering deep in your mind, when they slide over your groom.

His armor is ill-fitting. The leather straps at the shoulder stretched to their limits, hooked on the last notch. Too much space between the plates of his cuisses, and his poleyn.

You've spent weeks preparing for this, and he couldn't even dress in his finest for the ceremony. It feels like an insult, after everything.

Maybe if you blur your eyes, you can pretend it's him. Just until this is over.

The Cleric chants the words you’ve known since childhood. Repeating the phrases as your palm presses against your groom's. Each phrase bringing you closer to the end.

Only propriety and decades of lessons keep the quaver from your voice. They sound just as you practiced as they slide from you, even when repeated through muted lips.

There's a crackle of energy at the joining words. A golden string, glimmering.

Only now does your hand twitch. Resisting the urge to pull away. If you don't right now - right this very moment - then you will not get the chance again.

Your groom feels it. The slight tremble - his grip tightening around yours. The barest sweep of his thumb against your knuckles.

The movement startles you.

Just long enough for the string to loop around your joined hands, and then tighten.

It's too late now. Bound forever, until death do you part.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

Your eyes go to his helmet, as the ceremony winds to an end. His finger and thumb catching on the hinge, as his head tips towards yours.

You can’t bring yourself to meet him. Not until his lips press to yours. Not until there’s an intimate familiarity to them.

The gasp that slips from you is quiet. A hushed thing, breathed into the chaste kiss. There’s scruff on his jaw where his skin should be smooth shaven.

The height is off, too - something you’re only just now noticing.

It’s like your heart remembers how to beat again. Confusion and hope swirling in you in equal measure.

You squeeze the hand in yours, as the kiss breaks. Eyes shining as you both turn towards the crowd, life finally flickering in them agin.

It’s here, that everything begins to fall apart. Almost fool-proof.

With a bang, a man stumbles through the arched door at the end of an aisle. The pale blonde of his hair is mussed - eyes wide and red-rimmed as he shouts, a finger pointing towards the pulpit.

“Stop them!” It’s a high, hoarse thing, “He’s an imposter-!”

There’s a rippling murmur, gasps and cries as the man’s voice carries.

But your husband’s hand is is tightly grasping yours.

“Trust me?” He mumurs, and you’re nodding.

Following behind him as he darts to the side, making for the hallway. Your skirts bundled up in a fist as your heartbeat pounds behind your ribs.

There’s voices behind you. The stomp of feet, though the guests and the hired protection do not know the castle the way the two of you do.

Ducking down one corridor, and then another. News hasn’t spread fast enough - there’s murmurs from guards that you pass, but they’re not quick enough to stop you.

The sky bleeds red when you burst outside. A ship waits, engines roaring - the same one you watched drop out of the sky years ago, with his first arrival.

“Su cuy'gar!” A voice calls from inside - another Mandalorian hailing as he rushes down the ramp, “You’re late. I’ll stall, but you need to go.”

It's one you recognize as a member of your Father's own guard, hand-chosen. Boba Fett's reputation for ferocity and loyalty preceeding him. Only now do you realize just where that loyalty truly lies.

“Vor entye, ner vod.” Din clasps his arm, a farewell woven into his thanks.

“Ret'urcye mhi, princess,” Boba’s head dips in a nod, “We’ll handle things from here.”

You’re whisked inside, and ship takes off just as guests begin to pour from the door. Boba blends into the crowd as you watch the scene from above, becoming no more than another bystander.

They grow smaller. Doll-sized, and then ants, and then the stars are streaking as the ship makes the jump - shooting you out into hyperspace.

It’s here that your legs finally give out. All that tension building up until it snaps, until you’re collapsing into the co-pilots chair.

Din’s hands are on you in a second. Gloves shucked with his teeth, discarded on the floor. Warm and familiar as they cup your face.

“I am sorry,” His voice is rough. Still distorted beneath your betrothed’s helmet, but you know it’s him, “I couldn’t let you marry him.”

“I know,” You head turns, lips pressing into the palm of his hand, “I was so afraid. I wanted to run, I almost did-”

He feels how you tremble. A ragged breath as his touch turns soft - smoothing over your cheeks, knuckles brushing your neck.

Your name is breathed out, as you relax against him. As your hands start to wander, tugging at the edge of his cuirass.

“I don’t like this on you.” Your voice sounds thick, in your own head. Biting through the emotions that threaten to choke you, “It’s not yours.”

“No.” He hums, and it sounds like a laugh, “Though as my wife, you may remove them now. If you wish.”

Din’s words makes you ache with want. His wife.

You wonder if he’s teasing you, or if all that he said is true. He’s never allowed you to remove more than a piece or two before.

“Is your armor here?”

“Mine is in the bunk. Along with your things, I had them packed while you were getting ready today.”

You smile then. Relief in knowing that this was planned. That he had put the ball in motion, in those few hours you shared before dawn.

Maybe he had daydreamed about it for even longer. Knowing he could not, but still unable to help thinking through things. How he would always choose you, if only you were to ask.

And you finally had, at the very last second.

He lets your hands slip across his chest, mirroring that first night. New, in the way you slip the leather straps free, until pieces are left stacked on the floor.

The flightsuit beneath is his own. Your fingers have traced the stitching night after night, patterns you know by heart. And for the first time, he lets you tug at the zipper under his chin. Guiding it down with you, exposing tanned skin beneath.

It leaves you greedy. Fingers mapping every inch that appeared. Tracing over old battle wounds and scars from a lifetime ago. A pounding in your heart as each second stretches to the next.

Expecting him to take this back. To wrap himself away again, hiding from your eyes.

Soon, only his helmet and small clothes remain. Your fingers drifting to where he’s half hard, another part of him you already know well.

But his hands wander as well. Plucking at the ribbons that weave up the back of your dress, encasing you.

“Are you fond of this?” He’s asking, just as a fingers hooks beneath. The sharp tug that follows the shake of your head has the seams splitting. That ribbon starting to fray, and then snap.

Your gasp is almost as loud, as the fabric rips. The straps drooping down your arms as the dress starts to pool around you, dragged down by the layers of tulle.

“I’ll get you another,” Din rasps - watching, as you wriggle free.

Seeing the layers of lace beneath, meant for another man. Deep down, knowing it was always meant for him.

His bare hands catch at your hips. Sliding over skin, then up.

"I'll marry you again, cyar'ika. Properly,” Din’s words make you shiver, as his touch drifts across your arms, “As many times as you want, as long as you're mine."

“Yours.” You echo.

Reminding you about binding rituals of the ceremony - all the excitement of the escape almost making you forget.

But when his fingers catch yours, dragging your hands to the curve of his helmet, it’s impossible to think of anything else.

Intent in his movement. The tip of his head towards you, the muscles in his chest going tight as he holds his breath.

“Are you sure?” The beskar is cool beneath your touch.

You know what he offers you. Something akin to the vows you recited, something spoken in his own language.

“Yes,” He echos, “I’ve never meant anything more.”

There’s a weight, one of which you’ve never known. That this wasn’t just to save you. That he’ll wind up right back here as many times, until you believe him.

The lift of your hands is slow. Revealing the stubble on his neck, then chin. You’ve seen bits with the tip of his head. A knowledge that the hair is dark, but then there’s the soft curve of his lips.

Ones that you know the shape of, tracing yours fingers over them in the darkness. Pressed against every part of you, night after night.

There’s a patch of hair missing against his jaw. His nose, and you resist the urge to press your lips to it. A hint of curls, grey-flecked at his temples.

And then his eyes.

He needs the mask, you realize. You would have fallen immediately, looking into eyes like that. Warm and dark, as brown and pretty as his hair.

Everyone would have known what you meant to him, if that had caught him looking at you like this.

The exhale of your breath is low. Only a heartbeat until your mouth is pressing to his, insistent.

Hungry, unleashed fully for the first time. His hands slide up your hips, as the helmet hangs from your fingertips. Curling around your back, pressing you to him.

He’s dreamed of taking you countless times. Your own desires mirroring his - something flickering in your mind, now. A thought that maybe, you should move.

Down to his bunk, perhaps.

But there’s something about here. The cockpit, the streak of stars behind you. His strong thighs spread and bare in the seat before you, as you stand between them.

It’s easy to crawl into his lap. To straddle him, your clothed core already damp when you fit yourself against him.

You can feel groan in his chest as your palm flattens against him. One of his real ones - not modulated through metal.

“Please,” It’s hushed, whispered against his mouth. A rock of your hips, grinding against him.

He catches your hand, dragging it down again.

“It’s yours,” He husks, “It’s always been yours.”

Pleasure blooms low in your belly. Your fingers cupping against his length, before they slip beneath the fabric to curl around him.

Eagerly easing him out. His hips lift so you can shove his small clothes down. The weight of his cock trapped between your belly and his, as his own fingers trace the damp fabric at your core.

“I need you,” You breathe, arching into his fingertips. How they press and rub at you through the lace. It’s far past want.

Want was those early days, stolen glances from beneath your eyelashes as your solemn guard. Finding excuses to make him laugh, so sure he must be smiling beneath the helmet.

Din wears his expressions so openly without. His own desire shown in the grit of his jaw. Those lips that part on a groan, as your fist gives a slow pump.

The lace at your hips tears as easily as the ribbons that held your dress together. A pivot of his chair until he can lay you back against the metal panels of the dashboard, chilling fevered skin.

You whine at the distance that now stretches between you, but his hands only tighten where they grip at your waist.

“Shh, cyar’ika. I’m not going anywhere.” He soothes you, as the reason he moved you suddenly becomes clear.

It’s easier for his fingers to fit into you this way. The flip of his hand, as it faces palm-up. The tip of one stroking against bare skin. A familiar stretch as he slips to the first knuckle.

And then, as a shallow gasp slides from you, he sinks further than he’s ever been.

Had to hold back, before. Give you just a taste of what you’ve been wanting. This - the feel of him nudged so deep inside you.

“I know,” Your husband soothes, as his thumb nudges at your clit - distracting you.

From the slow plunge of his finger. How that quick twinge of discomfort bleeds into a pulsing throb you know well.

It’s not long before your hips are lifting. Your breath growing shorter, as a second fingers slips in to stretch you out. Getting you ready.

His cock is heavy where it rests on your thigh, the tip sticky against your skin. Flushed and swollen - making you realize that maybe you had been too hasty, thinking you could take him before.

Your own hands drift - and this time, you watch. Catching how dark and blown-wide his eyes get. The peek of his tongue between his lips when your fingers pinch at your nipples.

The way he inhales, when he feels you clench down around him. Back arching off the console, as his fingers curl against a spot that you never knew existed inside you.

“There,” You moan, as nudges against it again, “Din, please-”

His jaw grits, his voice low, “Yeah? Are you close, ner riduur?”

You’re used to the pretty names he calls you - a hidden way to show his affection. But never like this, with the soft purr of his voice. The way the words slide so easily from his tongue.

It must mean something special.

“Yes,” Your fingers pinch harder, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Biting back the panting gasp of your breath, as his thumb presses against your clit.

“Come for me.” It’s a command, but there’s a razor edge of need in his words, “Always sound so fucking pretty. Let me hear you.”

You’ve always had to hold back. Muffled into pillows, his palm of his hand as it clamps over your mouth.

The cry rips from you today, as you reach your peak. Eyes fluttering shut as the star-lines streak across your bare form - still bright, even as your vision darkens.

Your nails scrape against his skin, as he leans into you. Din’s mouth sealing to yours as you’re hauled into his lap, his thick fingers slipping free.

The kiss is messy, your mind still swirling as you reach down. Desperate for more, now that you’ve had a taste.

He pants into your mouth, “Don’t have to, cyare. This is-”

The words breaking off with a groan, as your fingers squeeze around him. His own need evident with how he throbs against your palm.

“‘s not enough,” You’re breathless, the dregs of pleasure settling low in your belly, “I’ve waited, we’ve waited-”

“Long enough.” He rasps, a flash of teeth in the darkness when you lean back.

Your nod is sharp. Determination in the pull of your shoulders as you lift up, angling his cock between your thighs.

A breath, and then you’re lowering yourself. The pressure you felt before is nothing compared to now - a muffled cry, as your nails bite into his shoulders.

As he stretches you open, even with how slick and ready you are. His own hands tug at you, trying to keep you from dropping down too quickly.

But you take him. You were made for him, after all. You decided that long ago. Even if you had joined with another, you’d never be theirs like you are his.

And you always were a quick learner. That competitive streak in you takes over now - figuring out just how to move in the cramped space.

That sting easing into pleasure, with the roll of your hips. The movement is familiar - you’ve sat astride him before, just never like this.

Never feeling this full, when your thighs are finally flush against his. Din’s hands guiding you like they often did - grasping at your waist, keeping your rhythm steady.

Even as it threatens to stutter, with just how good he feels. The angle you ride him sends him across the place his fingers found. Each drop of your hips sending you higher, eager to follow his murmured encouragement.

“You feel so fucking good,” It’s ragged and low - close to the tone he has when he comes, spilling across your belly, “Been waiting so long so have you like this-”

“Yours,” You sigh, again. Finally able to say it aloud, “I’m yours, we can have each other any time we want.”

Din groans at that, his hips bucking into you.

“Mine.”

It’s possessive. The hairs on the back of your neck standing up, as his fingers slip down again. Needing to know just how it feels to make you come around him, after imagining it for so long.

Your rhythm goes sloppy with his touch. Unable to figure out how to keep moving with your mind so clouded with pleasure. Chasing his touch as you bounce, head tilting back as his lips press against your throat.

Up, and then up, until he’s kissing you again. Your arms twine around his shoulders, curls tucked between pinched fingers as he brings you over the edge again.

Sharing a breath, as you moan into his mouth. His cock filling you as you clench down around him, almost as if trying to keep him inside as your orgasm pulses through you.

Din used to worry about monsters and beasts darkening your doorstep, never knowing he’d create one in you. Hungry like you’ve never known, eager for more even as your energy slips from you.

With his own desperation, he’s not far behind. Not with how you tight you are. Ready to give you everything, now that he finally can.

His jaw grits as he buries himself in you. Doing most of the work now, your legs leaden in your afterglow. Rutting his hips against yours, notching himself deep into where you’re wet and warm.

“Princess-,” Din rasps, like he used to. A low huff of a breath as you correct him.

Your lips at his ear, as you croon, “Riduur.”

“Fuck,” He groans at that, his voice dropping low, “Riddur, where do you want me?”

It makes you moan, the rough tone in his voice. How that name in his native tongue affects him just as much as you.

Your hips begin to move in earnest, skin slapping against skin. Those dark eyes on yours as you answer - finally able to express your hearts desire, after all these years.

“I want to feel you.”

His breath grows harsh, as your hips roll.

“Come in me. Please, Din.”

There’s no need for you to beg. He’s already there - a rough grunt as his hips near lift off the seat. Tugging you down and flush against him as he spills inside you.

You can feel him throb, as his warmth floods your walls. Threatening to spill from you, to leak onto thighs that are already sticky with your release. Sweat-dewed with exertion.

That heady ache of need fades, when you both come back down. It’s just bliss now, warm in your limbs. In his embrace. For the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re able to breathe.

The stars streak across his skin, illuminating pieces of his face. So like the stained glass back home, each feature split and soldered with darkness.

“Do you regret it?” His voice is low, barely audible over the hum of the engine, “Leaving with me?”

Your head tilts back, as you look at him again. A sight that you cherish, one you hope you can indulge in, but never take for granted.

And after all the questions that led to today - this one has been the easiest to answer.

“No,” You catch his hand, pressing it to your heart. Mirroring his words earlier.

“It’s always been yours.”

In every world - you would have gone with him.

Sometime amongst the late hours, you wind your way downstairs.

Fitting together in the narrow bunk, not minding the small space. Drifting off with a hand cradled against his neck. Thumb brushing his cheek, loathe to leave the warmth of his skin.

Soft dreams swirl in the moments you do sleep. In between the times when you wake - reaching for each other. Another hour spent twined together, re-learning every inch.

Not fearing the dawn, this time.

Because for once... your life is yours.

thanks for reading! and jana, thank you so much for hosting this event, I was so excited to celebrate with you! 💖

Su cuy'gar! - a friendly greeting (lit: "still live," i.e. "so you're still alive.")

vor entye - thank you (lit: "I accept a debt")

ner vod - my brother

ner riduur - my spouse / wife

ret'urcye mhi - goodbye

[mikanotes]

live a little!

hyunsu ? x gn!reader

genre: ‘idont knowww he likes you’ that’s the genre

warnings: mentions of death, blood and injuries, cursing, monster hyunsu jumpscare, attempting to work with the “monster hyunsu does what hyunsu desires” thing except it takes place in season one and i’m trying to make it as fitting to canon as possible, this is a badly written mess Sorry!

synopsis: The day Hyunsu’s mind acknowledges his feelings for you, but he himself doesn’t quite realize.

author’s note: if you’re desperate for a part 2 to up close & personal you can pretend this is a prequel because it kind of fits? anyways i’ll write for Hyunsu hyunsu eventually too i miss him it’s been a bit

“You’re no fun.” Hyunsu laughs.

His voice is heavy and he’s struggling to catch his breath, practically stumbling over his words. In fact, he’s practically stumbling over his own feet due to how impatient and quick his movements are. His face, usually so stoic and soft, is now covered in blood and adorned with a maniacal grin, paired with those hiccupy laughs of his. He looks positively fucking insane.

“Yes, well. If that means valuing staying alive, I’ll be no fun.” you say, fingers holding the hood of Hyunsu’s jacket tightly. He tilts his head in your direction, looking at you with those black, glassy eyes. Your gaze hardens, “What?”

He scoffs. “Live a little.” he says, tone light. He brushes off your hand and takes a step into your personal space. His voice drops to a whisper, one that sounds almost mocking for a short time. “You’re so hellbent on surviving, but are you even living?”

You’re forced to back into the railing behind you and hold onto it, eyes never leaving Hyunsu’s.

“Come on. You’re not gonna tell me I’m wrong.” he scoffs softly, leaning down, “Right?”

“Get it together, Cha Hyunsu.” you say, glaring a little. The latter grins.

“What? You think I’m out of my mind? Why would I need to get it together?”

“If anyone else had been here to see you, you would’ve been killed already. Look at yourself.”

You hear the railing behind you creak, and you feel Hyunsu’s hand on your back saving you from a fate similar to the one he’d faced towards the beginning of this apocalypse before you feel the metal moving away from you. The sound of it breaking and falling down from the flight of stairs is loud and makes you flinch.

He pulls you away from the edge and lets go of you.

“You’re welcome.” he says, tone flat, “I know what I look like. But they couldn’t kill me if they tried. Now let’s go kill some monsters already.”

He seriously doesn’t get why you shoot him this annoyed look of yours. (He just saved you! Hello?!) After all, what’s so wrong about this? Killing monsters? That’s literally the only thing everyone in this fucking building keeps him alive for, right? It’s always Hyunsu do this, do that, save us, don’t kill us, and now, get it together. That’s why everyone should die.

Then again, he knows you think differently from the others. You’re telling him to snap out of it so he won’t be cast out by the others even more. That’s why you came with him. Why you never abandoned him.

Because you… care. Surprisingly.

Ah, now I get it, Hyunsu. he thinks. You care about this person much more than you realize.

He sighs and tilts his head. “Come on.” he sighs, tone somewhere between pleading and annoyed.

“We have stuff to retrieve. For everyone else.” you say, gaze averting to the place you were just standing at. “Let’s not take unnecessary risks.”

Hyunsu drums his fingers against the spear in his hand, eyes narrowing a little. “Do you really think I care about anyone in this place enough to get their shit?” he asks calmly, “You’re mistaken.”

“He does.” you sigh, “Whether it’s a good thing or not, he does.“

“And that’s really not my problem.” It is.

He hears the growl of a monster in a corridor nearby and turns towards the direction of the sound. Killing everyone. That’s what he wants. That’s what he cares about. He swings the door open and steps in, before stopping.

He leans back just enough to look at you from the side of the door. “Are you sure you won’t come?” he asks, a small smile pulling at his lips.

You seem to still be frightened by what would’ve happened if he hadn’t caught you. Frightened by the idea of falling from so high. He heaves a deep sigh and steps back out, just enough to grab your arm and pull you closer.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” he says, “Stop thinking about almost falling to your death.”

When you’re closer to him like this, Hyunsu feels confused. Well, this is clearly a crush, he thinks. But he doesn’t think that is something that he should be able to feel. It’s like an instinct to reach out to protect you. A reflex. Maybe it’s his feelings? He’s not sure.

“It’s hard to think about anything else.”

“Then focus on me.” he says. The word ‘me’ comes out a bit harsher than the rest, a bit like it’s echoing. He lets go of your arm. “And all will be well. That’s crazy practical, right?” he scoffs.

“I don’t get you.” you say, crossing your arms. “Are you trying to help me?”

He takes a deep breath and closes the door a little to look at you properly, leaning against the edge of it. “To be honest with you, I mostly just care about myself.” he answers easily, “But…”

You. You who looks at this part of him and cares, still. Who doesn’t even seem scared. Who just wants to make sure he’s okay, in spite of everything.

Maybe you deserve to be excluded from the ‘everyone’ that he wishes would just die.

He thinks he can find a middle ground. A way to reach some sort of agreement with Hyunsu. You may just be the key to getting him to accept his own self. He shrugs. “Who knows.”

He lets the weaker half of him take control again. After all, each time a danger seemed to get too close to you, the instinct to help you and get you away before it could reach you was his. So as the greater part of him, he would do everything he can to help him out. And right now, that would be letting him deal with all this and maybe try to bargain for this whole control thing.

“Hyunsu.” you say, eyes wide. His own eyes have finally returned to their usual state. He blinks, taking a few seconds to register what’s going on, then his eyes widen as well.

“Are you okay?!”

“Uh…” he trails off, looking towards the edge of the stairs, where there should have been a railing. Then he looks at your relieved expression, then at the half-opened door. “Yeah, yeah, I’m…”

He thinks for a moment then slowly, carefully closes the door. “I’m fine. Are you? Maybe I should go alone.” he says.

“No, it’s fine. I’m alright. Let’s go together.”

(I could help you keep them safe.)

His hand tightens around his spear as he tries to ignore how loud his mind is.

No. Shut up.

“… Okay. Let’s go, then.”

He has a lot to do. There’s a list of things the other residents asked him to get for them. You didn’t have to go with him, but you did, which means he has to make sure you both survive this whole thing. He has a lot of things to focus on, and none of them include the monster in his head trying to get him to listen.

Maybe one day, he’d accept it.

Who knows?

[notafunkiller]

unveiled

Summary: Unable to keep the charade up, you finally confront Bucky, telling him the whole truth.

Pairing: (fake) boyfriend’s brother!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 26, Bucky is 39), teasing, dirty talk, or@l sex, fingering, protected séx, pet names, daddy kínk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 4.5K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: This story will have 4 parts, this is the 3rd part.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

Avoiding Bucky for two weeks was hard, but fortunately, he didn’t try to push you at all, which made it bearable.

You miss him, though. You always enjoyed his company, and it feels like you are slowly losing a friend. But what’s your alternative?

As much as you try to be polite, William’s friends completely ignore you when you ask them how they are. So you give up quickly, spending time on your phone as you try to ignore them. You can’t go to your room because that would not fit the fake image, so you’re stuck.

You know William is not a bad guy, and he tried to get closer to you a couple of times, but he’s not the type of person you’d see yourself with. Not even as real friends. You’re just too different, and it’s not like either of you wanted to be in this situation.

Bucky has been busy all evening. From what you heard, he’s been working on an important project this week, even at home. But you are happy to see him coming downstairs, probably headed to the kitchen. At least, he’s alive.

“Hi.”

Everyone acknowledges him immediately, and he gives you a warm smile before going to the kitchen, as you thought.

A few minutes later, when he returns, he’s carrying a plate with two sandwiches and a drink in his left hand. William immediately reaches for the glass, and Bucky gives him a pointed look.

“That’s not for you.”

“Come on, you always let me try.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his tone. He acts like a kid a lot of times.

“This is for your girlfriend, punk. The one you’ve been ignoring.” You look at him surprised as he hands you the drink. How did he know?

Everyone turns to look at you, but you ignore them.

“Thank you.”

Cherries again... You blush.

“You’re welcome, hopefully you’ll drink it this time.”

For some reason, this is enough to make this whole avoiding him plan of yours go down the drain  and before you know what you’re doing, you’re in your room calling your mom and demanding her to stop this nonsense and let you come home. Because they can do it in another way. You can’t pretend to be a couple for years, can you? What about your life? What about what you want? You’ve already done so much for them, and you are sick and tired of lying.

Same goes for William. He must want the same thing as you do.

But she brushes you off, trying to make you see from their point of view. Because this is what your father wanted. And you never felt sicker.

“He wouldn’t give you the opportunity to run anything otherwise, baby. You have to do this... I am sorry.”

“No, you’re not! You’re fucking not! Otherwise, you would have left him. He controls you and me. He’s been doing it your whole marriage, and I am sick of it. I won’t let him treat me like this anymore.”

There is dead silence on the other side of the phone for a couple of seconds, and you have to forcefully bite your lip to keep the sobs down. You can almost taste the blood.

“Please, honey, there’s nothing I can do.”

You cannot take any more of her tone, so gou simply hang up and put your phone on silent just in case.

There’s nowhere you can go. Nothing you can do to escape this if you want an opportunity to do things your way. Your father uses you, and your mom doesn’t have your back.

It’s suffocating you, and it’s also terrifying how alone you can be despite not being theoretically alone.

He deserves better, too. He deserves to know.

That snaps something inside you, and before you can change your mind, you get out of your room, fixing your hair and wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

William’s friends are still downstairs, playing something based on their voices, but you ignore them. You go straight to Bucky’s door and knock desperately.

You still jump when he opens it, and you can spot the worry in his eyes right away.

He was taking a bath, you notice the water droplets running down his face and body. He probably threw his shorts and tank top on quickly, but you don’t care. He needs to know.

“What’s wrong?”

“I gotta tell you something. Right now.”

You get inside his room without waiting for an invitation, and only when you hear the door closing, you turn to look at him.

“They’re lying to you. Everyone is lying to you, including me. And I’m sorry.”

He comes closer, concerned. “What are you lying to me about, huh?”

“It’s not true. None of this is true.”

“What’s not true?” He presses again. You’re finally in his room, you’ve stopped avoiding him, yet you’re still panicking. And all he wants is to make sure you’re okay. “Take it easy. Try to speak slowly, you are running out of air.”

“About William and I… We’re not together for real. It’s all a scam.”

He's speechless for a couple of seconds, frozen on spot, before you watch him start to laugh hysterically.

“I am serious, Bucky. It’s for the merger of the companies.” You continue, thinking he doesn’t believe you. Because why would he? “Your dad wanted to make sure mine won’t back off so they used me. I swear, I can show you-”

“I believe you, I believe you.” He's surprisingly calm as he speaks, as if you didn’t relieve a huge secret. “That’s not why I laughed.”

“I am sorry. I didn’t know why they wanted to keep it away from you, but I-”

“Why did you agree to all of this? What’s in it for you besides the misery of living here?” He asks, so much closer all of a sudden.

“Nothing now.” You sigh, but you don’t care. Even if you have nothing, at least he knows. And sadly, he doesn’t seem surprised by his parents’ actions. “I was supposed to get my dad’s  support with a small business. I also wanted to run a charity organization... accepting this  was the condition so I can have what I want. It’s stupid, I know. I am twenty-”

“I sensed something was wrong with this whole relationship thing. No couple acts the way you two do, but I thought maybe I was overthinking.” His clothes are fully getting wet now, and you can’t help but stare at his chest. Shit...

“I know.”

“I should have figured out what’s going on.”

His tone seems light, as if you’re not talking about how you all made him believe in a lie for months. You fight the impulse to beg for his forgiveness. You feel like a horrible, horrible human being.

“I am so sorry, Bucky,” you cry. “I should have told you. I am not a good friend, and I am so sorry. But now you know, I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. I didn’t want to, you deserve so much better than all of this.”

“I know you wanted to.” His hand is on your shoulder all of a sudden, and you gasp at the contact. “On my birthday.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I wanted to tell you a lot of times actually. But I am a coward. William and your parents-”

“You’re not his,” he interrupts you once again, shaking his head as if he can’t believe it. “You’ve never been his.”

You know what he means by his, and you want to correct him and tell him you’re not an object to be someone’s. But you remembered how much you thought about the possibility of Bucky being yours in the past few weeks, so...

“No, I am not.”

“Good.” He grabs you by the back of your head. “I've wanted to kiss ever since I saw you, don’t you know that?”

You gasp. “James-”

“Tell me you want me. Tell me that, and I’m yours. I don’t care about them, I care about you.”

“But I lied to you.”

“You didn’t want to lie to me, though. Analyze the context you are in a little.” He looks drunk as he stares at you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you.

You shake your head. “I can’t do the fun thing with you, okay?”

“Fun thing?”

“I can’t be like Cherry. I can’t stay friends with you after I kiss you.” And you wouldn’t want to even if you could.

He leans in until his mouth reaches your ear. “Who said I wanted that, princess? I told you I am yours.”

“Are you playing a game?”

“Sure,” he says immediately. “I can play any game you want if that makes you want to be mine.”

“Fucking hell,” you moan, feeling so many things at once. He’s seriously giving zero shits about this whole thing, and he’s touching you. Just like you touched him on his birthday. It feels forbidden and wrong, but also perfect. You can have him now. You can kiss him. And you do, bringing his head down so your lips can meet.

You moan quite loudly, but you can’t hold back. Not when he grabs your ass and pulls you closer to him. You hiss when you feel him lifting you in the air so you can wrap your legs around his hips. He’s so hard. So, so hard! And wet all over. You can feel him properly.

He groans when you deepen the kiss, but you’re so into it you could barely hear him.

“Jesus, you taste so good, baby, so good.” He continues to kiss you until you feel like you can’t breathe. You start to move your hips without realizing, chasing the friction because it just feels so good, even with your pants on.

“James, please.”

“Please, what?” He grinds back a little to tease you and you almost cry. So much desire has been bottled inside you for months. “Come on, use your big girl words, baby.”

“I need you. I’m so wet… I need to come.” So much!

“And you want me to make you come?”

You groan. “Obviously!”

“Then ask me to.”

“Come on, James!” You grab his face desperately. “Come on, make me come. Please!”

He smiles widely, and this boyish smirk only makes him look cuter. You want to eat him whole.

“Of course, baby. So polite.”

He doesn’t waste time after your back hits the bed. He starts to undress you quickly, not caring about his sheets getting wet. You help him by lifting your arms and your hips from time to time, but he manages to get everything off in record time.

You can’t believe you’re doing this, to be honest. The reality hits you when he leans in to kiss you, his wet T-shirt making your nipples harden even more. You’re naked in his bed...

“Hey, you’re okay?” His voice is so soft that you can’t help but smile.

“Yes, I’m just... I can’t believe this is real. I haven’t prepared for it.”

“You’re so cute when you’re shy.” He kisses your lips once again. “And when you’re angry.” The trail of kisses is getting lower and lower with every word. “And when you tell me what to do.”

His mouth stops right on your left breast, his hand grabbing the other one.

You moan, losing yourself slowly to the overwhelming sensation, making it hard to focus or think.

“And when you do as I tell you to.” His tongue is everywhere: from your skin to, finally, your nipple, wetting it with his tongue before he properly sucking it.

You jump from the sudden pleasure and grab his hair.

“Feels so good.”

He switches to the other breast as soon as you speak again. “Fuck, I wanted to sleep on these for a long time. I’m depraved, aren’t I? Wanting to fuck my brother’s girl and suck on her tits before passing out on them from exhaustion.”

You moan imagining him sneaking into your room and doing that, and it makes you even hornier. “Fuck, James! I would have let you... would have asked you to make me come in the morning, too.”

You don’t care if you are depraved too. You are in this together. You wanted each other for so long, and now you’re finally getting it.

“Yeah?” He starts to lower his face more after he leaves a few kisses on the valley between your breasts. “What else?”

When you feel him close to your navel, you laugh.

“I’m ticklish, please.”

He melts. Of course he melts and spreads your legs as far as you can go.

“Gonna finally get my mouth on you. I need you to come all over my face...” Based on his tone, it’s like he can’t believe it finally happening.

“Yes, sir.” You tease. “Gonna get you drenched if you want.”

Something snaps inside him, you realize quickly, as he cups your face.

“I am your sir now, princess?”

“Always been,” you gasp. “You’re in your daddification era after all.”

“Shouldn’t that make me your daddy then?”

You freeze a little, unsure what to say because you’d lie if you said you didn’t think about him like that. He’s such a daddy that it hurts. And it’s like he sensed it.

“Fuck, you’re both, okay? You’re both. Please, James. Need your mouth or fingers... anything.”

“Or?” Bucky puffs. “You’re getting both, love.”

You hear laughter coming from downstairs, and you smirk. If only they knew who you actually are with...

Bucky places your legs on his shoulders and back, and you let yourself stay still, waiting for his first move.

His fingers open your lips first, making sure to hold you open before he leans in and gets his tongue at your entrance.

“Shit, Buck!”

He intentionally breathes out all over you. “That’s not how you call me, princess.”

“What do you want then?” You snap, desperately. You need to be eaten out, not teased. “Daddy? Sir? Old man? James? Tease?”

“That tone,” he says, amused by your suffering. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Well, make me come first!”

“Always.”

He doesn’t tease you much after this, getting his tongue inside you for a while as you pull his hair, and then he switches it with his index finger as he decides to lick your clit.

“Y-you can suck on it. I like it.”

He immediately takes your suggestion and, at the same time you feel him adding another finger inside you, he sucks on your clit as if he’s nursing.

You lose control of your hips, moving them like crazy while he fucks you like this.

His free hand travels to your breast, and you groan. “I’m so close, James. Sooo close. Fuck,” you moan again when he pinches your nipple. “Add another finger, please. Another-”

He does it before you can ask again, and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for you to come all over his face, surprising yourself and, probably him. It feels like you’re drowning in pleasure, it’s insane. 

Even after you finish, he keeps licking just as fast, and you have to pull his hair harshly so he can stop.

“It’s enough, thank you, baby.”

He smiles, getting up to kiss you without hesitation. “I’m your baby now?”

“Of course you are. My big old baby.”

He laughs. “So old.”

“Yeah, my old man, who needs to take off his clothes.”

Bucky nods, standing up.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Ihm.” You crawl to the edge of the bed so you can help him take off his shorts quicker. It’s hard not to stare at his cock. He’s quite thick, and the head is covered in precum.

“What’s that face?” He laughs, fishing. You know he fishes too, but what can you say?

“You’re a big man.”

He laughs even harder. “Do you mean all of me or a certain part?”

“Fuck you!” You take his hand, forcing him to lean toward you. You won’t stroke his ego even more.

“Let me grab a condom first.”

You nod, eagerly waiting for him to get inside you as you watch him his open his nightstand. You brush off the instinct to cover yourself and spread your legs.

“How many times did you think about it?”

“About you in my bed? Too many times. I was gonna screw it over, you know?” He snorts. “The morning after my birthday. I wanted to come and confess I like and want you to myself, but you stayed away from me.”

You watch him open the package and roll the condom on as you answer. “I think your sister sensed it.”

Bucky scrunches his nose. “Not the greatest subject while I am about to fuck you, but yeah, she knew. She saw right through me, and as we left she told me to go for it and do something scandalous for once.”

“Really?” You’re shocked. Why would she encourage him to do that while you were still with her other brother? “She told me not to play with both of your hearts before we left.”

Bucky shakes his head while getting on his knees between your legs. “You can play with my heart all you want, doll. It’s all yours”

“I need something else of yours right now. Your cock, sir.” You tease him, knowing the effect your words will have on him. You enjoy this so much… having this power over him. “How about that?”

“Ihm.” Bucky kisses your lips briefly. “When you tell me to stop, I’ll stop, okay?”

You nod eagerly, wanting to push him. “What if I don’t want you to stop, what should I tell you then?”

“Just beg for my cock. You seem to like that.”

“You would love that, wouldn’t you? If you want me to beg, at least give me a reason to.”

And he gives you a reason to as he pushes inside you little by little. It’s a strange feeling... getting filled like this with no lube, but it doesn’t hurt, it’s just a bit uncomfortable at first.

“You okay?”

“Ihm, just full.” You smile.

“You’re so tight, and wet, and perfect, you know? I feel like... shit, it feels surreal.”

You look down, and you almost moan from the sight. His cock is more than halfway inside you.

“You feel amazing too.”

He kisses you as he starts to thrust, and you don’t remember the last time you felt like this. Maybe it’s also the build up and the time that has passed since you last had sex, but you can’t think straight. With every push, it gets harder and harder to focus or to simply keep your eyes open.

“Come on, princess, talk to me!”

He leaves kisses all over your collarbone and wherever he manages between his thrusts as he waits for you to speak. But what can you say? How can you speak?

“Y-you feel so good inside me, daddy. So good.” It’s like your mind is blank.

“Jesus!” His eyes meet yours. “Say that again, come on, baby.”

“What? That you feel good or...?”

“You know what, don’t be bratty now. I know you’re close.”

“I want it a little harder, daddy.” You smirk when you see him trembling a little, and before you can say anything else, he’s starting to thrust again, but harder just like you want.

“You’re mine, aren’t you? Worrying about me... taking me so well,” he moans, and you quickly grab the sheets when you feel one of his hands getting to your clit without warning. “Gonna come for me? Gonna come while everyone is downstairs wondering what takes you so long? Gonna come for your daddy?”

You do, of course you do, silently, yet strongly. It feels like heaven, and you don’t want it to ever stop. You can taste the pleasure at this point.

“Look at you,” he moans, still thrusting. “So beautiful as you come for me. Tell me you want me to come for you, too. Tell me-”

You interrupt him immediately. “Please, James, let it go, want you to feel good.” You kiss his neck over and over again. “Want to feel your come inside me.”

You both know that’s impossible, but it still gets him over the edge, and he comes, whispering your name like a prayer.

“Was it good?” You ask amused when his head falls dramatically on top of your breasts, his beard tickling you a little.

“I’m a changed man.”

He manages to make you laugh. “Liar!”

“Don’t call an old man liar, sweetheart.”

“What happened to love or baby?” You lazily run a hand through his hair as you wait for his answer.

“You’re my love and my baby, too..”

“How are you single again?”

“I’m not. You took me.” He grins devilishly before leaving a kiss on the valley between your breasts. Again and again.

“Ah, yes, I do.” You sigh, suddenly back to earth once the after-orgasm effect fades away. “We need to talk about it.”

“I know, and we will in the morning. Tonight, your job is to relax in the bath I’ll prepare for you while I go downstairs and make the punk end the party. Then we’ll sleep, okay?”

“Ihm,” you whisper absently. suddenly really tired as he slides out of you with a kiss.

“Gonna throw this away and come back, okay? Try not to sleep.” You don’t have to look at him to know he’s talking about the condom.

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky’s laugh warms your heart.

*

You wake up all sweaty, with Bucky’s arms around your waist and his beard on your neck giving you extra warmth. If you attempted to move him, he’s too heavy; therefore, you’d have to wake him up.

You sigh. “Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you move? I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Say the magic word,” he whispers with the raspiest voice ever.

“Now. Or is it daddy?”

He laughs. “Gimmie a kiss then.”

“Let me brush my teeth first.”

“Nonsense!” He leans in to kiss your without  warning, tilting your head with his right hand.

You don’t deepen the kiss, though, using this as an opportunity to sneak out of the bed.

“Hey, come here!  I don’t care about your-”

“I stink. You might not care, but I do. Gonna be right back, okay?”

You’re not fast enough, though, since you hit him with the bathroom door when you open it. “Bucky!” You jump, touching your chest.

“Took too long.”

“Such a baby.” You snort, wrapping your arms around his neck, and get on your tip toes so you can properly kiss him this time.

“Now this is a good morning.”

You nod. “Yep. Good morning.”

“Good morning, little liar.”

You frown instantly, your heart starting to race. Shit!

“I am really sorry, Bucky. I really didn’t mean to...” You try to explain, but you sound like a broken record.

“I don’t mean that, love. I am talking about what your principles.”

You feel like your whole body is on fire. This can’t be real...

“Was all a game?” You slam your hands onto his chest. “Is this a game for you?”

“What? I mean your not sleeping or having sex policy, woman. Calm down! What games? I came after you cause you were taking too long, and you think this can be a game?”

“I don’t know... I just panicked.” You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “It sounded like you were gonna say it was all a game because I lied to you.”

Bucky shakes his head before wrapping his arms around you waist and pulling you into a tight hug.

“I would never do that. I am not a kid and I know what I want. I know why you accepted this, and you didn’t lie to me, you were hiding the truth from a stranger. They are the ones who should have said something.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby. I just wanted to make sure you know that.”

You kiss his upper arm in return, and he smiles.

“So tell me... what happened to not sleeping in the same room? Not having sex...”

“Why are you teasing me?”

“It’s my job as your man to do that.”

You let go of him and smile. “My man… I’m not intending to return you.”

“Return me?” He giggles, suddenly amused. “Now that we’re here, I have a question.”

“What?”

“How jealous you were of Cherry on a scale from 1 to 10?”

You gasp. “Are you going to ask everything this morning or what?”

“Do you want me to do it at lunch?” He teases you. “You don’t have to be jealous. We aren’t even close friends anymore, so...”

“I don’t care about Cherry! She’s nice...”

He brings your hands to his lips and slowly leaves a kiss on each finger.

“Then why was my mocktail left there? It was crying for you to drink it.”

You snap, taking him aback as you grab him by the chin. “You’re mine, do you understand? No Cherry, no Berry, no Watermelon!”

He laughs as much as he can since you’re holding his chin, but then something glows in his eyes. “What about Strawberry?”

“No. One. No fruit, no vegetable, no one.”

“Done,” he answers immediately. “But same goes for you. No William, Will, Bill and so on.”

“He’s not my type, obviously.” You touch his bottom lip with your index finger. “I like them old, savage, and huge like trees.”

Bucky immediately bites the tip of your finger before licking it. “We need to tell everyone. How do we do it?”

You freeze, dropping your hand.

What will you do? If this blows up, and you know it will, where will you go? Where will you work? Your mom would try to fight for you, but you know your dad would immediately cut you off and make sure you’ll regret it. He’d want you to beg for forgiveness, so he will make sure no one hires you.

Bucky must have sensed your panic and immediately grabs your face.

“Hey, I can see you making a hundred of scenarios in your head, talk to me.”

“In the bathroom?” You ask, trying to lighten up the mood for some reason.

“Don’t you want them to know?” He asks confused.

“Of course I do, don’t get me wrong. It’s just...”

“Complicated?” He completes the sentence for you.

“A little.”

“We have time, I’m all ears.”

Tags:

@charmedbysarge @identity2212 @vicmc624  @cjand10  @mayusenpai666  @abitofblues @doveromanoff @buckyb-stan

[loveinhawkins]

Eddie quietly falling more and more in love with Steve with every car ride—every time it’s raining, and he watches as Steve does a stupid little run with an umbrella to the front porch so Robin won’t mess up her hair before a marching band concert.

Falling in love with the constancy of it, with every little routine Steve does. It takes a few weeks of listening for Eddie to figure out that when Steve first half-sings, “Good mornin’,” as everyone clambers into the car that he’s imitating the song from Singin’ in the Rain.

Falling in love with how Steve always, always either has the radio on or a tape playing something that he can sing along to, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. How the car’s always this chaotic space but always, always brimming with love and joy—Steve snapping his fingers every few minutes, like, “Oh, Rob, this is our song! You know, when the—yeah, the shift when—no, not that one, the other time that—” (Eddie discovers with fond amusement that many, many songs share the title of ‘Robin and Steve’s song.’)

Steve singing along to the chorus of Mr. Blue Sky whenever Dustin’s called shotgun in the front, and Eddie soon realises, his heart fit to burst, that it’s because Steve must associate the song with Dustin; that he does the same thing with everyone he gives rides to, like it comes so naturally to him, his love for each person intertwined with each song, like he’s making the melody anew every time.

Eddie, tipsy from ‘Graduation Champagne’ courtesy of Nancy, asks Steve once if he has a song tied to him.

“Ah,” Steve says, smiling and bright-eyed in his role as the designated driver, “you have a whole damn catalogue, Eddie.”

And… oh.

Well, Eddie reasons, heart skipping a beat, he doesn’t need to know all of them at once, then. He doesn’t mind waiting, letting each one unfold, like unwrapping an expensive chocolate.

One night the two of them are driving back to Hawkins alone, having spent the day at a mall shopping for Robin’s birthday. They really didn’t need to spend the whole day, had already got her presents within the first couple of hours, but they dawdled, messed around, tried on increasingly ridiculous hats and sunglasses to make the other laugh.

And Steve fiddles with the radio until he finds an obscure station that just plays songs from musicals. And yeah, he sings along, but his voice is a little restrained, almost like he’s shy. Eddie looks at him with a soft smile, suddenly knows he’s seeing something precious, something Steve perhaps reserves for car rides alone. That Steve is letting him into a private moment.

“You have a real pretty voice, man,” he murmurs, quiet enough that they could pretend it goes unheard under the noise of the car driving along.

But as Steve looks ahead, he smiles, and his ears turn red.

He goes for it for the rest of the ride, voice back to its normal volume. He plays it up, trying to make Eddie laugh while they’re waiting for traffic lights to change. Catches his eye and damn near trills, “I feel fizzy and funny and fine, and so pretty, Miss America can just resign.”

And of course, Eddie laughs. Feels his stomach swoop. He knows what this feeling is. Oh, he knows.

As the West Side Story tribute ends, Steve’s voice drops back to his normal register. Turns gentle and sincere as he glances at his wing mirror and sings, almost to himself, “For I’m loved by a pretty wonderful boy.”

Yes, Eddie thinks, you are, you are, you are.

[iwishf1wasreal]

F1 Driver NSFW Profile: ✷ Lewis Hamilton ✷

smut ✷ 18+ readers only

I. Flirt. He’s a shy sort of suave. He wants to come off cool and laid back. Thank God he never has to worry if he’s dressed well. Lewis is all about eye contact, making sure to look over the frame of whatever sunglasses he’s wearing so he can hold your gaze. It’ll be hard for him to look away; maybe he’ll keep your eyes for as long as he can by looking back or walking backward. He’ll flash his million-dollar smile at you; make sure you know he’s noticed you too. If there are cameras around, he’s pretty much going to stand 40 feet away from you, but if it’s amongst the trusted inner circle or just the two of you, he is stuck to you like glue. When you first meet, he’s flirty in a relaxed sense; it won’t come across as him being particularly interested, just friendly. He takes his time sussing you out and getting a feel for you. But once he’s ready to make his intentions known, he’s laying on the charm. Making you laugh, taking any excuse to brush against you. II. Propositioning.   Warm hands caressing down your back, spending a generous amount of time on your ass before smoothing down your calves. He’ll peck kisses anywhere he can reach, his endless brown eyes meeting yours as his lips roam your body. Lewis wants to seduce and be seduced. He likes kissing–[loves] kissing. Has a hard time having sex [without] kissing. He wants your tongue hot and heavy in his mouth. Lewis likes to tease too. If the mood strikes and you start to put the moves on him, he'll play dumb. Straight up pretends not to notice, wait and see how far you’ll go before you push him down onto the sofa and straddle him.

III. Libido. It’s relatively high, but he’s also creeping up to his forties. Don’t get me wrong, he has no trouble getting (or maintaining) an erection, but it takes him a bit longer to get him up and ready…especially if it’s a night after drinking. So, he doesn’t mind a bit of soft play, whether it's your mouth or the soft glide of your hand. He’s not too picky. He feels so much closer to his partner during and after sex. Lewis feels like there’s no other connection in the world like it and would probably even be down to try sex magic if you were into that kind of thing. 

IV. Turn-Ons: tame & nasty. Tame: Expensive clothes. When you hold him close to whisper in his ear. Laughing with your head thrown back. A nice fitting pair of trousers. Pretty, fast cars. Private beaches and cabanas. Outdoor showers. Spoiling you. Facetime calls to show him what you’re wearing. Getting along with his mum and step-mum. Having inside jokes with his brother. Fitting right into a game of footy with his nieces and nephews. Musicality in any way, shape, or form. Shy silliness that he gets to draw out of you. Diamonds on bare skin.  Nasty: When he fucks you so good you can’t even get out a moan, and it looks like  you’re having a sexy exorcism. Pulling your panties to the side instead of just pulling them off. Lowkey always wants to get caught; fucks you with the windows of your cabana wide open, or herds you into the single stall. Tender love and care to his balls. When you tell him that his dick is the best you’ve ever had. Receiving unsolicited your nudes. Mutual masturbation. Lingerie sets with lace bras and satin panties. The way your ass kinda makes a heart-shape in certain positions of doggy. Titties in his mouth. Topless beaches with wandering hands. V. Self-stimulation. Ideally, he would be able to Facetime you, and you could figure out a solution together. He'll use a video if the timezone doesn’t permit that, and he’s not desperate enough to wake you or disturb you at work. He can still appreciate porn, but if he wants to finish, he’d prefer to do it to you. VI. Foreplay. He almost pays too much attention to foreplay. It’s like he’s in some kind of competition with himself to see how wet he can make you before he finally slips inside. As he’s come into adulthood, he’s realised how powerful the act of cunnilingus is. He has his own version of getting drunk off your sex, usually in the form of semi-incoherent philosophical babbles of how we’re all connected and how beautiful your pussy is.

VII. Rhythm. He likes to keep it fresh but prefers deep, unhurried sex. Taking your time getting to know each other and savouring the feeling of the two of you together. He’s not afraid to moan or let his nastiest thoughts roll off his tongue. Most often he’ll be asking how it feels, for you to be louder. He likes egging you on. VIII. How He Likes It He’s a classic man. Doggy has a special place in his heart. He likes plenty of other positions, too, of course. But there’s just something about getting to watch your ass shake as he disappears inside you. You bent over, wet and moaning and rutting back against him. Rarely do you get to feel like you have the upper hand on him–he’s got lightning fast reflexes, strength and confidence that often make you feel like he’s not even real. Except in the bedroom and he has your front pressed into the bed and you start to work to throw your hips back to meet his thrusts. He nearly busts right then and there every time. 

IX. Location, location, location. A hopeless romantic, ideally, he’d have rose petals all over the floor and candles littering the entire place. But that’s not always feasible, though he still tells you it’s what you deserve. And though he’d deny it, ducking his head to hide the burning on his cheeks but the hot tub seems to hold a special place in his heart. To the point where his buddies will point and giggle at it the second you’re aboard a yacht for the week or they notice it on the balcony through the curtains. Somehow, they always seem to be one on your holidays or hotel rooms. And you both do you best to use it to the best of your abilities.  X. Kinky. He’s open minded and easy to approach. He likes experimenting when he feels safe and he feels safest with you. Depending on the mood, he can be gently encouraging, complimenting and worshipping you into bliss. Or, he can be a little more demanding, a little less lenient and a little more mean. He’s good at playing. He likes playing…as long as you seem like you are too. Any fantasy you feel like trying, he’s all ears. Rarely will he outright deny you–about most things–especially sex.

XI. Bedroom aids/Toys He’s not stupid, obviously you use toys whilst he’s away or busy. He doesn’t mind adding them in with the both of you either. It really only took one time for him to watch your eyes roll back in your head after just two minutes on the second to highest setting. Lately, his latest exploration in the bedroom has involved plugs. Nothing gets his heart pumping blood to his crotch quite like when you bend over and reveal you’ve decided to surprise him with one. Something about the shimmer of something in your ass while he sheeths himself deep inside you feels like ecstasy. 

XII. Cum. He can go for a while. He’s old enough where he doesn't need to lay back and think of England. He would prefer to finish after you though with the ferocity of your sex life, it’s quite literally always a competition to get others to cum first. Ideally, he’d finish inside of you but obviously sometimes that’s not always fisable. Though, more than enough times have you two snuck off for a quickie and you’re left uncomfortably wet in your panties after.

XIII. Pleasure reciprocation. Lewis loves to go down on you. Likes hearing all your moans and whines and any other noise he can get you to make. When his focus is on you and getting you to cum, he turns into an assertive yet gentle figure. He has plans for you, he’d like for you to follow them. But he’s not above giving into your desperation or gently teasing you for how worked up you get. He can teeter more towards mean when he feels like it though rarely can keep it up. By the time you’ve finished, he’s melted back into his true self. Making sure you’re not too far gone or nothing got too out of hand. Despite it all though, he makes you feel like he’s hungry for you. Like just the site of you or your body could drive him wild enough to cloud all his thoughts.

XIV. Bonus.

“I wanna show you something,” Lewis tells you, head down with his eyes focused on his phone. You approach him in the living room but don't make it to him before the TV on the wall above him blinks on. It shows the generic home display before it goes black again. But it's only for a moment. Then, a grainy, night vision video starts to play. 

It takes you a moment to realise what is. It’s not until you hear the video playback what sounds like Lewis’ laugh. On screen, now  in clear view of the camera, you dragged Lewis to one of the outdoor sofas. Suddenly, you recognize everything in the video.

It from the boat trip you took a few weeks ago, traipsing around Greece with some friends before Lewis had to get back in race mode for the foreseeable future. It was late, all your friends had gone to bed and the crew had been tipped heavily to give you some privacy on deck.

You’re standing there watching yourself, watching your mouth meet his and moan in pleasure. In person, you don’t realise he’s even standing behind you until a gentle hand on your middle startles you out of your gaze.  

“You remember that?” he asks softly, with a small nod towards the TV. You nod, letting out a distracted ‘mmhmm’ as you keep your eyes on the screen. His other hand meets your other side, palms softly caressing against the t-shirt you wore. 

Back on the boat, you had already pulled Lewis free from the confines of his joggers. You were on the floor, on your knees. Even with the state of the art speakers Lewis had installed, you can’t make out what he’s saying to you on video. Just the soft rasp of his voice as he eggs you on.

“How did you get this?” you ask, your throat dry. You had taken him into your mouth on the boat, Lewis throwing his head back in pleasure on screen. It was nice to see him–actually see what he looked like while you gave him head. Up close was one thing, but watching the effect you had on him has your insides somersaulting.

“I told you I’d have them get rid of the footage.” 

Neither of you were stupid. You both knew something as risky as this would require some damage control but Lewis promised you he’d take care of it.

“Yes, but how do you have it?” you gulp after a particularly loud moan vibrates off the screen. 

Lewis doesn’t answer you, just laughs softly as he moves to start placing kisses on your neck. His hands move from your waist, roaming over your arms, then your shoulders. The roughness of his skin against the softness of your skin feels euphoric. But he stops the motion all too soon, one his hands clasping over each of your wrists. In front of you, your past self is already mounting your boyfriend, his hands eager to expose your breasts from the bikini you were wearing. 

Loud, lewd sounds fill the room, echoing off the TV and bathing the both of you in a symphony of your own moans. You can feel Lewis’ breath against your neck, his hands still holding your wrists. You watch as his hand slipped over your core, pads of his fingers finding the perfect spot to send you over the edge. The sight of it makes you hotter, your skin starting to feel clammy and stomach somersaulting. Instinctively, you lean further back into Lewis, trying to instinctually rut yourself against him for some kind of relief. 

But he’s not taking any of it. Just tightens his grip on your wrists and moves so you can’t roll your hips back against him. 

The sounds on the TV get loud. You can hear the sound of your bodies meeting amongst the huffs and moans. It doesn’t matter how much you beg, how pathetically you mewl at Lewis to let you do something. He doesn’t care. Doesn’t even really let you look at him. At best you can get is the cocky smirk and devious gleam in his eyes before he’s gathering both your wrists in one hand and fixing your gaze ahead by your chin. 

Your heart feels like its beating out of your chest. Your skin is sticking to your clothes, working up a sweat from how hot you feel underneath your clothes. Lewis makes you watch the whole thing like that. Forced to watch both orgasms he gave you. Forced to listen to the defeated sigh of satisfaction Lewis gives as you pulled yourself off of him. Forced to watch the glistening trail of yourselves that even the shitty security camera could pick up sliding down your leg.

You don’t even have to move to tell how wet you are once the TV finally turns off. Looking (and feeling) like you’re in a trance, Lewis chuckles proudly and presses a kiss to your hair. 

“Now, go upstairs. Take all your clothes off. And wait for me.” He says, pressing one more kiss to your temple. He pulls away just a touch so he can look you in the eyes. “But do not touch yourself.” He taps his pointer finger to the tip of your nose and pats your ass as your single to get moving. 

You do as you're told and head upstairs. Meanwhile, Lewis gets working on some drinks for the pair of you. He only gets as far as pulling his mock-Tequilas from the cabinet before he hears what at first sounds like your phone going off. But the buzzing he hears through the upstairs floor doesn’t stop. He freezes in place to listen. The buzzing keeps going, far longer than any ringtone would. 

As soon as he realises what you’re doing, he drops what he’s doing and makes a break for the stairs. You can hear him calling your name through the bedroom door as he takes them to at a time to get to you.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

part i. - the after (j.r.)

a/n: well folks, she's finally here. this is the very first part of my new top gun maverick x twisters crossover series, all of my life it's been heartbreak weather (series playlist here). i'm so very very excited to have this out but i'm also intimidated by all that's to come (aka what did i get myself into). please note that this series does discuss past self-harm/suicide attempts. please be a conscious reader; if that's something that will upset you, please don't read. other than that, i hope you enjoy! remember that comments and reblog keep me fed and watered. :)

summary: After El Reno, Javi starts to wonder where his place in the world is if not with StormPar. Despite Kate's insistence he ride out the rest of the season with the Wranglers, he can't shake the feeling that he's unwanted. Fueled by his own fear, he makes the executive decision to spend some time out in San Diego with his cousin Mickey. He knows he's running, but he doesn't realize he's running right home to you.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, first kiss, food mentions, addy lives but at the cost of her leg, past/references self harm and suicide attempts, other normal twisters warnings, past scott/javi

wc: 10.8k

“You sure you won’t stay?” 

There’s Kate again, with that pleading look in her eye as she crosses her arms. The same one that she had given him when she asked him to stay before El Reno.

He almost had then too, but he remembered the way Tyler had looked at him on the front porch, the way he had followed Kate out there with such ease it had been like he’d always belonged. He feels it now too, when his eyes flicker over Kate’s shoulder to the Wranglers all scattered around Cathy’s porch as they pretend not to watch their conversation. It’s like they’ve always belonged there and it’s that knowledge that makes him shake his head. 

This is Kate’s family. After all that she had lost, Kate deserved to have a family again. She belonged among them, what with the way they fit together like they had always been friends. 

“I’m sorry Kate.” He rasps, feeling tears sting at his eyes. 

“Javi, I- I can’t do this without you.” 

And there it is, his own words reflected back at him. 

He can’t understand why though. She didn’t need him, didn’t need him getting in their way. He was a liability. He was a screw-up and she didn’t need him sticking around in a place that was never his to start with. 

“C’mon Kate, you know that ain’t true.” He says as he turns, opening the door of his Mike’s truck to throw his duffel bag in. 

“Javi, I’m serious. I talked to Addy last night-”

“Don’t go there.” He says firmly, slamming the door shut harder than he intends to as Kate flinches. “Don’t bring Addy into this.” 

His own guilt, his own fear. The memories of ignoring Addy’s phone calls for so long and the knowledge that she’d be so angry with him for starting this venture without her by his side. 

Kate bites her lip. “Where will you go?” 

He sticks his hands in his pockets, sighing. “I’m going to Mickey’s. He’s stationed out in San Diego right now; they’ve got an extra room in their house they’re letting me rent for the next bit while I figure out all this StormPar shit.” Kate’s eyes are red-rimmed, fingernails digging into her arms. 

She’s holding herself back, he can tell. He can tell there’s so much she wants to say to him that she’s choosing to keep inside. He almost wishes she would say anything, lose her cool, yell at him, tell him what a stupid decision this is, tell him how angry she is at him for leaving, beg him to stay. 

Be the same storm and force that he knows and loves her for being. 

But she doesn’t say anything at all, just chewing on her lip. 

Mike rolls down the window, shouting at him that they better get a move on if they want to make his flight. He waves him off, stepping closer to Kate as the window rolls back up. He sighs, before letting his hands fall onto her shoulders. 

“Tell you what. Give me the next few months and the off season to get my shit together, get all my legal crap with StormPar solved. And at the start of the new year, we can revisit. See if doing this together is still what you want.” 

It’s not quite a promise but he knows it would be worse to make her a promise he can’t keep. 

Kate may not understand and he may not know how to tell her but he needs this. 

He needs to take a step back. He needs a minute, a moment to breathe. He can’t go back to that place, that dark crawl space of a life he lived in after Jeb and Praveen died, after Addy lost her leg, after Kate disappeared to New York and they stopped speaking to each other, the one that squeezed him so tight it nearly squeezed the life from his lungs. 

Kate nods before reaching up to give him a hug. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he returns the hug. 

“I’m sorry Kate.” He breathes out. “Tell Addy hi for me, okay?” 

-

He doesn’t know why he’s nervous as he follows Mickey into the warm beach house. It’s small, quaint, walls emanating years of love. He’s only been in San Diego a day and a half at this point, but Mickey was adamant he introduced him to his second family as soon as possible. 

Mickey’s friends cheer at the sight of them and the grin Mickey returns to them is blinding. Mick slings an arm around his shoulder, jostling him as he introduces him to the team. 

He’s known Reuben for years, ever since Mickey’s graduation from the Academy, and Natasha and Bradley have been friendly faces to him over the years, often stationed with Mickey. 

Jake’s new but in a way, he’s got a striking resemblance to Tyler, the same ego and attitude to match. Javy ribs him about being name twins and he knows they’ll be good friends. 

Pete, Mickey’s commander, is kind, soulful. His face is lined with years of love and he knows from the very first minute that he cares very deeply about his team in a way he had never experienced with any of his own commanding officers. Pete says he’s regretful his husband isn’t there but that he’ll be back from Florida next week and Tom has already insisted they come back for dinner. 

He’s halfway through his first beer and a bowl of chips, talking to Pete about his work with StormPar and how the radars worked, when he meets you for the first time. 

Pete chuckles at the sight of you, popping an M&M into his mouth. “Morning sleeping beauty.” Pete nudges him. “This is my daughter.” He introduces you and he waves hesitantly, waggling his fingers at you. You run a hand down your face, groaning. “You work today?” 

“Opened and then Sally called off so I had to stay overtime. Came home and crashed.” 

“Hey, do you ever put on pants?” Jake heckles from the couch. You take a minute to look down at your pajama shorts and Niall Horan sweatshirt before you turn on your heel, a look that could kill shot at the blond. 

“This is my house!” You snap back before huffing, turning back around for the fridge. 

“What’s the story?” He asks Mickey quietly as Pete excuses himself, setting off after you to inquire about your plans for the evening. 

“She’s Mav’s daughter. She came into his life like, two years ago I think? She comes from a pretty nasty background which is why Mav lets her live here. I dunno, they’ve got a strained relationship and she’s… a handful.” 

Javi takes a minute to study you. You can’t be more than two or three years younger than him, probably almost the same age as Addy. You’re talking to Pete in a subdued voice as you rub sleep from your eyes, a couple of piercings hanging off from your ears. You’ve got a couple tattoos, one on your leg of a ribbon that looks oddly alike to Lilly’s stick and poke style. You’re not hard on the eyes either, even in your sleepy state. You’ve got an easy smile and kind eyes, a laughter that sounds like honey as you chuckle at Pete. 

“You’ll like her though. She’s kind of closed off, got a lot of stuff she doesn’t talk to us about. But she’s sweet and I think the two of you are about to bond over food here pretty quickly.” Mickey adds as you announce that you’re changing and departing for In-N-Out. 

Javi snorts as the group shouts things at you, wrinkling your nose as they do. You wave a hand, shouting at them all to just text you as you trot back off towards your bedroom. 

“Yeah, I know. She’s your dream girl but you might want to close your mouth, you’re drooling.”

He snaps his mouth shut as he looks at Mickey. He’s smirking, eyes full of mirth. “I’m not, uh-” He clears his throat which only makes Mickey grin grow.

“Uh huh. Go with her.” He says as you reappear from your bedroom, pants on this time. 

“No, I couldn’t-”

Mickey shakes his head. “No, no this is good because I need someone to babysit you and it was always going to be her.” 

“Who am I babysitting?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. Mickey jerks his head over to him and he feels his cheeks warm under your scrutiny. 

“I’m not babysitting your grown adult cousin.”

Mickey shrugs. “Think of it like, showing him all the sights. You wanted to be a tour guide; you love playing tour guide. I just want you to show him a good time before he starts work next week.”

The innuendo in his voice is apparent and you groan at Mickey. “I will be doing none of that.”

Mickey shrugs, muttering something about your loss, which only makes his cheeks grow warmer as he mentally thinks of all the ways he could kill his cousin for trying to play matchmaker. 

You sigh again, studying him for a minute before you roll your eyes. You wave an arm at him, already setting off towards the front door. “C’mon.” You call. Mickey slaps his shoulder as he skids off the barstool he’s sitting on, dutifully following after you. You turn sharply once at the door, and he swallows at your look. 

“I don’t know your name.” 

“Javi.” He says softly and he watches the way you say the name softly, relishing the way it sounds coming off your tongue. 

“Well Javi, it’s nice to meet you. Officially now.” You offer a hand out to him and he shakes it. “Do they have In-N-Out in out there in Kansas?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

He clears his throat. “I’m from Florida, actually. Miami. And uh, no we don’t. I’ve never had it before.” 

Your face lights up as you yank on the front door. “Well then Javi-from-Florida-Miami-not-Kansas, I’m about to make sure you get the full experience.”

-

The full experience ends up being you eagerly telling the cashier he’s never been before, insisting he get (and wear) the infamous hat. You giggle over the pictures you force him to pose for, firing them off to Mickey as you do. You play with the sticker packets, hunched over and hair falling over your shoulder and into your eyes in a repeated motion that makes Javi resist the urge to reach across the plastic table and sweep your hair from your eyes. When they call out for your food, you eagerly shoot up from your seat to get the food, waving him off as you bring it back to the table. 

Through dinner, you tell him about working as a barista, how Sally is one more no call no show away from getting fired and all the other gossip about people who he knows nothing about. 

He hates to admit it, but Mickey is right. He’s taken a real shine to you as you talk, a smile never leaving your face. 

He could fall hard for you, he knows in his heart of hearts. And it scares him shitless. He knows what happened the last time he loved a girl that much and all that it cost him. He knows he doesn’t know if he can go there and make it out the other side with you. 

Especially when, back at the house, Mickey mentions seeing Kate on Tyler’s latest stream and around the brownie spatula you’re licking you say Tyler Owens can eat shit.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from being equal parts intrigued and enchanted by you. You’re as kind as you are funny, and in many ways you mind him so much of the Tamers. You’ve got Kate’s brain, Addy’s carefree laugh, Praveen’s cautious nature, Jeb’s soulful kindness. 

He spends the first week hanging out with you around your barista shifts, going out for drinks, introducing him to Chili’s. One morning the two of you go to the beach and another afternoon the two of you sightsee at SeaPort Village and visit the USS Midway. You take him to Old Town to eat the best Mexican food you claim he’ll ever have and while it’ll never be his mama’s or abuelita’s, it’s a damn close second.  That Sunday before he starts work, you and Mickey drag him down to the zoo, and he buys you a panda pin he sneaks onto your fanny pack later that night on the SkyTram. 

And then he keeps spending his free time with you. He visits you on your opening shifts, which earns you some teasing remarks from your co-workers. He ends up at your house without Mickey on more than one occasion, playing Pokémon and MarioKart on your switch. You guys drive down to the beach, playing him all your favorite albums. He shares his music with you on the days he drives you to work or picks you up after you close. 

Know any good hangover spots? 

He rolls over on his bed as he rubs a hand down his face, looking at the clock. It’s nearing two and through his hangover, he can’t remember if you were supposed to work today. 

He doesn’t forget Addy calling him last night though. He’d been at the bar with Mickey and some of their crew. You’d invited him to go to the movies with you but he knew he was getting in too deep with you. He was going to hurt you if the two of you kept going at the rate you were and he couldn’t bear to watch it happen when you saw him for who he really was. 

In hindsight, he should’ve just gone with you. He’s sure that being with you would’ve taken away the sting of declining Addy’s call, a sting he had instead soothed with alcohol. 

His phone chimes and for a minute he hesitates, wondering if it’s Kate or Addy.

It’s nearing the anniversary. 

It’s two weeks away and he had ignored any outreach, including asking him if he wanted to be in Oklahoma with them for the first time in five years. 

It’s you though. 

I think I do. Up for a burrito? I’ve got a spot I’ve been wanting to introduce you to. I can come pick you up. 

-

An hour later, the two of you are in a neighborhood you don’t normally stray into as you point out familiar landmarks to him. 

He knows you haven’t lived with Pete forever and it dawns on him that this side of town must have been where you grew up as you pull into the tiny parking lot, leading him into the shop crammed between the 7-11 and Chinese place you claim used to be a Russian bakery your parents swore was a front for the mafia. 

You lean over to him as you stand in the cool hole-in-the-wall shop, saying how much you love the breakfast burritos here. You’re up in his space, arms nearly wrapping around his own. 

You’ve been doing that a lot more lately. You invade his personal space, entirely comfortable with him. You’ll lean against him in crowded spaces, whisper mocking remarks in his ear when Jake gets too big for his britches. You hug when you see him and when he leaves, and he swears you would’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder last week if Javy and Mickey hadn’t come back to their house when they did. 

He finds that he doesn’t entirely hate it. He likes it in a way, the way you’re so comfortable with him. 

He follows your lead, getting the breakfast burrito, and as the two of you sit down in the back corner of the place, laughing over your dislike for hot sauce, you mention how you have fond memories of your Dad bringing you here after early morning hikes during your childhood or hard days in high school. 

“Dad?” He questions softly. “Not Pete?” 

You shrug. “My mom’s ex-husband. I guess not my Dad in blood but my Dad in the way that it mattered.” 

“Do you guys still talk?” 

You shake your head. “Nah, we had a pretty strained relationship starting sometime during college and when it came out that he wasn’t actually my Dad, he cut all contact.” 

He blows out a breath, thinking of his own parents. His Dad has been gone since he was a toddler, couldn’t remember the dead beat even if he tried, but he couldn’t imagine not getting to talk to his mama. 

“You still keep in touch with your Mom?”

You shake your head again. “Nah, my Mom and I had a pretty nasty falling out about two years back now. I was never meant to be nor did I ever plan on being in Pete’s life but I needed somewhere to stay and given the circumstances and the fact that I think Pete felt pretty guilty he hadn’t been in my life given how I grew up, he and Tom uh- couldn’t really say no.”

He nods, taking another bite of his burrito as he contemplates asking the question that’s been burning in the back of his mind since that very first night he’d met you. 

“Can I ask something else?” You hum, nodding. “That first night we met- you made a comment about Tyler Owens. You uh, you know him? Or is it just like a general dislike?” 

You lick the tip of your thumb as some guacamole escapes your burrito. “In the short of it, I worked for the Wranglers last season.” You hum at his wide eyes. “Yeah, Tyler and I had a pretty big falling out after the last chase of the season. He made it very clear I wasn’t welcome back.” You say it with a shrug in a very that’s that way but based on the bitterness seeping through your tone, it isn’t just all that. 

“So- how’d you even get a job with them?” 

“I bought a house in Oklahoma and needed something to do-”

He cuts you off, holding his hands up in a timeout motion. “You bought a house in Oklahoma?”

You huff out a laugh.  “I sort of- for lack of a better term, had a nervous breakdown my first semester of grad school when I had my falling out with my mom. I dropped out halfway through the term and moved in with Pete. I’ve always been shopping for real estate on the side, you know, just for shits and giggles. Always used to run around saying girls didn’t want husbands, they wanted to buy property. Anyways, I fell in love with this house out in Claremore and uh, turns out when I was born, Pete had set up this trust I was supposed to get once he died. I don’t think he ever expected to live this long, so it’s accumulated one helluva chunk of money and interest through the years. And he and I talked about it, and decided to use the money as the down payment. A friend of mine I met through storm chasing is staying there right now, cause she needed a place to stay and she offered to cover all the expenses. Utilities and whatnot.”

“You miss it? Oklahoma?” 

You shake your hand in a so-so motion. “Anyways, I don't quite know how it all happened, Tyler needed someone to run their Tiktok and Instagram because Boone refuses to learn it and it’s a whole audience they’re missing out on. So Tyler brought me on to run the other social medias Boone didn’t want to.” He nods, buzzing with all the information he just got from you. 

A house in Claremore?

You had storm chasing experience? 

Would you ever go back? 

“Okay, my turn. You got to ask stuff about me, so now I get to ask stuff about you.” He nods his head, resting his arm against the back of the chair next to him as he pops the last bite of burrito in his mouth. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker over his bicep. “How in the hell did you go from Florida to storm chasing in Tornado Alley to San Diego?” 

“I went to UF for undergrad and uh, decided hurricanes just weren’t cool enough to me. Wanted to study tornadoes and figured there was no better place than the heart of Tornado Alley herself, so I went to Muskogee and got my Masters. Then I joined the Army-” Your eyes grow wide. “And uh, after four years, my contract was up and I took my tech and started StormPar. But we had some pretty unethical investors and my business partner turned out to be- well, honestly he probably was the whole time, a real dick so I took my tech and told them to go to hell.” He giggles a little bit at your sour look. “What?”

“Man, I fucking hate tornados.” 

“That’s the part you’re focused on?”

-

Are you free today?

I really don’t want to be alone and Mickey has to work. 

You frown at the message. 

Yeah. Everything okay? 

Javi types back almost immediately. 

No. Up for a drive? 

-

You roll to a stop in the gravel parking lot, turning the key in the ignition as you eye Javi. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” You ask quietly. 

He nods. “Please?” He rasps out quietly. You nod, slipping out of the car. He waits for you at the front of the car and you hesitate for a moment, before making a rash decision to take Javi’s hand in your own. He intertwines his fingers with your own as if it’s second nature to him, slowly weaving your way through the graveyard in Encinitas. 

Slowly, you reach a stop, Javi standing in front of a marble stone. You squeeze his hand. “Let’s sit.” You whisper and he follows your lead, sitting down next to you. You move to let his hand go but his grip only tightens. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

He sniffs, taking his free hand to wipe his nose. “This was Praveen. He uh, he was one of my room mates in grad school.” You scoot closer to Javi, resting your chin in his shoulder. 

“Wanna tell me what happened?” 

“We were uh, we were storm chasing this time five years ago. For our thesis project. I was in charge of the data, I stayed with the van. The rest of my team- Kate, Jeb, Addy, Praveen, they went out to drop these barrels in the tornados path. Kate and Praveen and Addy were testing to see if they could get this- this polyacrylate into the air- the shit they use in diapers Addy always used to say, to tame the tornado. But it- it didn’t fucking work. It was an EF-5, the worst a tornado can offer and it killed Jeb and Praveen. I- I was in the van, watching our sensors rise 70,000 feet in the air and shouting into a radio nobody would answer. Afterwards, I uh- I drove around looking for any one of them, just- I knew it was probably impossible but I uh- I found Addy.” He takes a shaky breath. “She was alive, thank God, but uh, shit she lost her leg. She got hit by some debris while they were trying to hide in an underpass. I mean, thank God I did find her when I did, she probably wouldn’t have lived if I hadn’t but there was- so much blood.” 

“What about Kate?” You ask softly. 

“Kate- Kate lived but she was never- never the same person. Shit, I don’t blame her. One of her best friends dead, her boyfriend dead, another one of her best friends permanently disabled-” He breaks off, voice watery as he gives a shrug. “They were my room mates you know? We met on Craigslist of all places. We were three out-of-state- Jeb’s from Indiana, Praveen from here, out-of-state broke as fuck grad students needing somewhere to live. It could’ve ended so poorly but man I fucking loved those guys. They- they were-” He shakes his head. “We lived in this shithole apartment, the heat never worked, we had fucking roaches, a leaky kitchen sink pipe and the first time I went back to the apartment after it happened, all I could think about was how quiet our place was.” 

Your heart sinks at the thought of him going back to a house filled with ghosts, probably still covered in the blood of his friends.

“Javi, I’m so sorry.” You say softly. “That sounds… unimaginable.” 

“I miss ‘em so fucking much, you know? I’d give anything to have them back, even just for one more day.” 

You rub a hand up and down Javi’s arm as you let his hand go, him reaching up to wipe away his tears. 

“Shit, I’m such a bad friend, I should’ve brought like, fucking flowers or something.” 

You hum. “Well, there’s a Trader Joe’s like ten minutes from here, we can go get some and come back. Or I can go and get some for you.” 

“Can you go?” He croaks. “I would go but-” He gestures to himself. You bite back a snort, nodding as you understand what he means. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” He nods and you let his arm go after squeezing it, standing up before you turn back for the car. 

Once inside, you let out a breath as you wrap your hands around the steering wheel. 

It hurt your heart to see Javi so upset, to see him work through so much grief. 

You’d come to know Javi so well and had found him to be such a bright person, so charming and funny, kind and understanding, and it hurt to hear all that he had gone through before he had come into your life. 

The most you could do at this point was be here for him however he wanted you to be here for him and see him through this day. And that started with these damn flowers. 

You stood in the AC of the Trader Joe’s for far too long, unsure of what Javi would want or what his friend Praveen would’ve liked. Eventually though, you make your way back to the gravesite, instantly wishing you had taken even longer. 

“-fuck Praveen, it got so bad. Kate and Addy would’ve been so disappointed to see me like that, to know I tried to- I think. And you know, Mickey is the one who found me, wrist slit open, blood running down my arms and I-”

You softly gasp, fingers unconsciously tightening on the cellophane of the flowers as his words sink in for you. 

And to your horror, Javi turns around. 

-

Javi turns as you shift on your feet. 

It’s with a sinking heart that he realizes you have a fearful look in your eye and he wonders painfully if you’re afraid of him. 

You swallow, taking a step closer to him as you hand him the flowers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I can go wait in the car.” You offer softly. 

“Are you scared of me?” He asks softly. Your eyes go wide as you startle. 

“Scared of you? No.” You say quickly, shaking your head. You sigh, falling to the ground next to him as you take his arm again. He sets the flowers on the ground, half-turning his body towards you. “No, I just- didn’t mean to overhear that. It sounded private. Like… you wouldn’t have said it if you had known I was there. You said it because you thought you were alone.”

He studies you for a minute and you let him. There’s nervousness in your eye, but more so, there’s no pity held there that people usually look at him with once they hear about what happened, about what he did. Instead, there’s something akin to understanding as you look at him. You sigh. 

“Javi, you gotta know that you experienced a truly traumatic loss. And it- this doesn’t define you. Shit happens okay, and it- sometimes our brain is our own worst fucking enemy, it goes against everything we know, everything we hold dear to ourselves, and sometimes it convinces us of the worst fucking shit. Makes us do the worst fucking shit to others, to ourselves. But Javi,” 

Your fingers slide over the shallow scar on his right arm and his breath hitches. 

He was usually so good about covering it up, first with sleeves, jackets were his best friend during early season as he learned how to be around the StormPar team, and then switching out various watches. He’d gone to great lengths to even make sure Kate wouldn’t see. 

And he’d gotten a bit careless being in San Diego, under the constant sun, none of Mickey’s friends having said a damn word, but he was always careful around you. 

Never too fast, never too much, not wanting to lose you. Your friendship. 

But in his grief he’d forgotten all about it. 

And of course you’d clocked it. 

The only person who’d ever seen it, really seen it, had been Scott, the unspeakable thing between them. He hadn’t even let his Mom or Mickey bring it up, too ashamed in the aftermath. 

But the way you were touching him now, gentle and soothing, didn’t make the scar burn like it usually did. 

It felt… better. Healing, somehow. 

So he lets you keep touching it, thumb running gently up and down the length of it as you keep talking. 

“This doesn’t define you. It’s a part of you, it will always be a part of you. It’s a huge part, but it’s not what makes you you.”

You swallow, looking down. “I don’t want this to come off as if I’m making it about me, because I’m not. I just want you to know that I understand. What it feels like to feel that way.” He gives you a short nod as he meets your shiny eyes and you look away, giving a wet chuckle. “I grew up in an abusive household. Mom was an alcoholic, Dad was just… an all around piece of shit. We grew up piss ass poor.” You say, shaking your head. “I really struggled. I couldn’t make friends in school growing up because other parents didn’t want their kids around my parents and when I got older, I was the weird girl with the home life no one else could relate to. Those who could relate to it weren’t… the best influences. And um, when I was 15, all the mental turmoil that had built up, sort of peaked. I came so close to… just ending all of it.” You don’t let him go, even as he reaches over to brush a stray tear from your face. “I didn’t… actually do anything. I didn’t have the courage to take that final step and when I woke up the next morning I was horrified. And embarrassed, I think. I never came that close to anything again but sometimes… the thoughts come back up.” 

“How do you get past it?” He rasps. 

You scuff the toe of your shoe into the grass. “I don’t know that I’d say I’m the example, my college therapist was pretty concerned I might do something for a while there and I probably should’ve been medicated but I- I don’t know. I have to remind myself that it does get better. That maybe I don’t always see it, but there are people who’d give a damn if something happened to me, that it wouldn’t be this sigh of relief to them that I think it would. And I try to give those past versions of myself grace because really she was doing the best with what she knew.” You give him a sad smile. “Have grace with yourself Javi. Past you was just doing the best he could.” 

-

“I don’t want to pry, because it’s not my place.” 

He gives you a non-committal hum as you unlock the car door. 

The two of you had sat for hours in that graveyard as Javi recounted his favorite memories of Praveen, of their time, however short together, when Praveen’s older brother had shown up and in his surprise at seeing Javi, had invited him to dinner with his mother. 

You’d initially offered to just drop Javi off at the restaurant, that you’d come back when he was done, but he looked so torn up about the thought of you leaving and Praveen’s brother had been so insistent that a friend of Javi’s was a friend of their families and should join them for dinner, that you ended up agreeing. 

On the drive over is when Javi starts to clue you in more on the larger picture of the last five years, of the true fallout from the tornado. 

Addy’s parents had never forgiven Kate, so much so that they had tried to get Addy to take a restraining order out against Kate. The courts had denied it, outright, and the judge had apparently exchanged such words over the stupidity of the order request with Addy’s lawyer, because Addy had been a legal adult, participating in the same university-sanctioned research that Kate had, accepted by the the same PhD program that Kate had, that Addy’s family hadn’t tried again. 

Jeb’s parents had been so enraged with Kate that they refused to even tell her where Jeb was buried. Kate didn’t even get to go to the funeral, which was right around the time she stopped answering Javi’s calls and Javi stopped trying. 

Praveen’s family had been the kindest in the aftermath. 

Praveen’s Mom had found Javi’s on FaceBook six months after Praveen’s death, because she knew Javi’s birthday was coming up and wanted to send him a card. Praveen still had the date marked in his calendar in his childhood bedroom. 

Their families had stayed in touch over the years, even if they hadn’t with anybody else’s, and Javi tells you he suspects it has little to do with any kind of effort Praveen’s mother had made. 

Praveen’s mother, a kind woman named Delia, welcomes Javi to the table with open arms and a tight hug for you. She apologizes for the absence of Praveen’s sister, finishing her residency at John Hopkins in Maryland. 

Throughout the dinner, it’s clear to you how in the aftermath, Praveen’s mother had found more forgiveness for Kate and what had happened then the others did. 

Praveen’s Dad had died when he was in high school, a victim of a freak drive-by shooting. What should’ve been a hardship only made Praveen more encouraged to pursue his dreams, eventually landing an acceptance to UCLA with a full ride. But you can’t study tornados in Southern California, leading Praveen to Muskogee and the Tamers. 

Praveen had loved what he was doing, every second of it, even when it had put him in harm’s way. He always spoke of how much he loved his friends, of this dream they were building. He spent every minute home with his mother wishing he was home in Oklahoma. 

That’s how she had found peace and solace in the loss of her youngest son. Praveen had died doing what he loved with the people he loved. How could she ever be angry? 

Javi squeezes your hand before breaking apart to round the front. “You were saying?”

You click your tongue. “Yeah. I guess, you don’t have to explain the how, I guess, but are you, are you doing better?” 

You realize the question makes no sense as you ask it yet Javi understands as he waits for you to climb in, starting the car. 

“What if I did want to talk about it? With you? The how, I mean.” 

“If you want to, then I would listen.” 

Javi takes a breath. “I‘ll spare you the details, but Mickey was the one who found me. Had to call 9-1-1 and since I had to- you know, spend a couple nights in the psych ward, they notified my CO and I was discharged.” 

“So… leaving the Army was never really your choice then?” 

He shakes his head. “No, but Scott had already been on his way out. His contract was up and he wanted to be gone. My only friend- my-” He stops himself and you can tell there’s more to the story. “My best friend, leaving the Army, sort of-”

“Played into all of it?” 

“Yeah.” He breathes. 

“But you are doing better now?” 

He shifts in his seat. “It’ll never be that bad again, and I- uh I’m on some good medications, much as I hate to admit that. But days like this are just… hard. I don’t like being alone. And Mickey and my Mom and Scott are the only ones who know about what I did so it just- makes it harder I think. Not to talk about it, like it didn’t happen.” He takes a shaky breath. “Scott is actually the- the one who tipped my Mom off that something might be happening. I had- had texted him that I loved him and I was sorry. And when I stopped answering he called my Mom. She was out-of-state, out in Arizona for a funeral, and she called Mickey to come check on me since he had been on leave that week.” He swallows hard. “Scott loved me enough to the point of risking losing me, just so- just so I could live. As terrible as he turned out to be, I still miss that part of him.” 

“I understand.” You say softly. “I had to call for a friend of mine during college. I was living out of state at the time, and she never forgave me. But she’s still here, and she got to graduate from college and get engaged to her high school sweetheart and she might be angry at me forever, but you love someone enough to be okay with losing them, just to see them live.” 

The half hour drive back to San Diego is quiet, the stereo playing your music softly. You don’t see it, but Javi starts to build a playlist from your choices, reveling in the comforting nature of this moment right here. 

Finally, you pull into his driveway of the house he shares with Mickey and Javy, tires crunching on the concrete. You watch him get out, bidding you a goodnight and walk towards the front door. 

“Javi!” You call, barely remembering to turn the car off as you open the door. He turns as you jog up the driveway after him. 

And before you can think too far into it, you hug him. He startles, but he wraps his arms around you and you sigh, fisting your hands in his jacket. 

“I’m really glad you decided to stay and I’m really glad that I got to meet you. You- you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, and I’m thankful you’re in my life. I’m sorry all that terrible shit happened to you, cause- cause you never deserved that. And I just wanted to make sure you knew that.” 

You let him go and his arms slowly follow, letting you move back as you look up at him. You can’t read the look on his face, so you clear your throat. 

“Anyways, um, have a good night Javi.” You say quietly, giving him a small wave. 

“Night.” 

He’s in the house by the time you start the car again and you sighed to yourself. 

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Javi’s heart was with Kate and Addy and the research he left behind in Tornado Alley. And it was gonna hurt like hell when he left to finish what he started. 

-

“So, you ever gonna ask her out on a date?” 

He startles up, fumbling his phone as Pete gives him a cheshire grin. 

“I’m- Um-” He stammers, eyes darting around the living room. Pete pats him on the back, before walking away, chuckling as he does. 

“C’mon, you’re out with her, what, four, five nights of the week? At least? Not counting how many hours you spend over here. Just pull damn the trigger already Rivera.”

“We’re just- we’re just friends.” He says, feeling a flush creep up his neck the longer your Dad stares at him. 

“You convince yourself with that lie?” 

He licks his lips, not expecting to be called out so directly. “She’s better than what I deserve.” He admits shyly, the flush only crawling farther, starting to feel more like flames as Pete softens. 

“You’re a good kid. I trust you with her.” 

He runs a hand over his face. “I’ve got a lot of baggage.” 

“So does she.” Pete heaves a sigh, crossing his arms. “We’ve all got something, kid. But that doesn’t mean you’re any less deserving. Only took Tom about twenty years and a couple of near death experiences to beat that into my skull.” Pete raps his knuckles against his head, eyes flickering to your bedroom door, where you’re changing out of your work clothes after showering. “I’m not blind and contrary to my daughter’s belief I don’t know her at all, I know her pretty well. She is half me, after all.” Pete swallows around the last little bit, defeat sinking into his stature at his acknowledgment at just how tense his relationship with you was. “I know how she looks at you. The same way Nick and Carole tell me I always looked at Tom.” 

“How- how did you look at him?” He asks. 

Pete smiles softly as they both hear the sound of your bedroom door open. 

“Like he was home.” 

-

He should nudge you, tell you the movie’s over, and excuse himself. 

He should get out of your house, the early hour it’s nearing, knowing it’s closer to the time Pete wakes up for work in the morning than when he and Tom went to bed. Pete had put a lot of trust in him after all. 

But you’re so comfortable with him, breathing slowly, and it’s the most peaceful he thinks he’s ever seen you. 

For once, your brain isn’t going a million miles a minute, moving as fast at the planes Pete flies. 

And he can’t deny that his own bone-deep exhaustion is hitting him, dragging him further into sleep alongside you. Can’t resist the peace that settles over him.

In the morning, he’ll wake to a text from Pete, an image of the two of you curled up together on the couch and a message that says: Here’s what I’d tell my pilots - don’t think, just do.  

He’ll watch you from across the kitchen as you putter around, smiling softly at him, sheepish about falling asleep on his shoulder the night before. 

He’ll tell you it’s the best night of sleep he’s gotten in years and you’ll laugh it off, chucking a chunk of avocado at him, but he knows it’s true. 

It’s the first time he sleeps through the night without nightmares since the day his friends never came back. 

-

There’s a murmuring from outside of your bedroom door and you peer over your phone to catch a few shadows moving before Javi suddenly stumbles into your doorframe. 

He waves someone, Mickey probably, off as he realizes you’re already looking at him. He straightens up, shuffling to lean against the doorframe as he offers you a nervous smile. “This is uh, a nice… calendar.” He trails off awkwardly, playing with the edges of the paper hanging on your wall. 

You snort, setting your phone down on your bed as you move to sit up. “Sure is.”

He clears his throat, gesturing awkwardly to your room. “Can I?” 

You can’t help the grin that grows across your face. “Sure Javi.” 

“Right, well-” His cheeks color as he shuts the door behind him. “Um, well, I was just hoping maybe we could uh- well uh-” He scratches the back of his head as your eyebrows raise. “Do you, uh, do you wanna go on a date with me?” 

Your smile grows even wider as you nod, butterflies exploding in your stomach as he asks. “Yeah, I’d love to.” 

His shoulders relax a little bit as his own smile transforms into a rather genuine one. “Yeah? Okay, um Friday?” 

“I can do Friday.” You confirm. 

“Okay, cool. That’s cool. I’ll pick you up at uh, say 7? Dinner?” 

You nod again. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” 

-

Thunder breaks out, a lightning strike illuminating the sky as the two of you leave the restaurant in downtown San Diego. 

You hum as the air turns, squeezing Javi’s hand. “You know, growing up I read this book where she used to count in between the thunder and the lightning and that would tell you how many miles away the storm was. I used to do it all the time until my Dad told me that it wasn’t real.”

He looks down at you, a fond smile as he walks towards his truck with you. A few raindrops begin to fall from the sky, wetting the asphalt beneath your feet. “My friend Addy does that. She used to at least.” He pauses for a minute then tilts his head. “You’d like Addy, actually. If she’s still anything like she was back then, you two would be bad for my blood pressure.” 

You hum, pulling him closer. “I love rain. I remember when I used to sit out on my grandparents porch at their condo on the lake growing up and watch the storms. Or how my freshman year as an out-of-stater, I stood in my dorm’s parking lot in the rainstorm the first week while my whole floor watched me.” 

He pauses near the car as the rain picks up, soft music from the restaurant following you guys into the parking lot. “Dance with me.” He says softly. 

You let out a nervous laugh. “What?” 

“Dance with me. Right now.” He says, already turning to take your other hand. 

“Okay.” You say softly, letting his hand find the small of your back, as your hands clasp around his neck. 

The movements are slow, Javi guiding you through a twirl. A laugh plays on your lips as he pulls you back close to his chest. He holds you there, something twinkling in his eyes as you look up at him. 

“What?” You say through a laugh, feeling your cheeks warm as he gazes down at you. “Got dessert stuck on my face?” 

He shakes his head. “No just, uh- you’re really pretty like this.” 

A bashful grin tugs at your lips as you fight the urge to duck your head. “You too.” 

He huffs out a laugh, both of his hands dropping to your waist. His teeth tug at his bottom lip, a movement you know he tracks you watching. “You’re really something, you know that?” 

You step impossibly closer to him, tilting your head up at him. “Just shut up and kiss me already.” 

“If the lady insists.” He murmurs, hands on your waist tightening as he leans down. 

The kiss is searing, charged, as he tugs on your own bottom lip for permission. You tilt your head, giving him access. 

The sky crackles to life above you once more and you pull away, probably sooner than Javi would’ve liked to stare at the sky in wonder. 

“You’re something else, kid.”

-

“What are you doing?” You ask as Javi holds his hand out to you as you climb out of the front seat. 

“What does it look like? I’m walking you to the front door.” 

You hum, taking his hand as he shuts the door behind you. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“Well, I ain’t no Tyler Owens, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman.” 

“Mmm, flowers, opening my car door, walking me back at night, one would almost say you’re trying to land yourself a second date Mr. Rivera.” 

“Well, you know…” He shrugs his shoulders and you can pick up the blush on his cheeks as you two step into the yellow glow of the porch light. “I wouldn’t be mad about it.” 

“Yeah?” You ask smugly as you reach out to smooth out the collar of his shirt. “You feeling brave or should I?” 

“Hey, you think Pete is still awake?” He asks suddenly and you frown.

“Probably not, why?”

He hums, sticking his right hand out over the Ring camera. “Just for good measure.” He says softly, as he tilts your head up with his left, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. It’s over too soon and you find yourself chasing his lips. He laughs at you as he lets his hand fall. “Easy there, only the first date.” 

You sigh and roll your eyes, pouring slightly. “Fine then.” 

“What about drinks on Tuesday? Do you close?” You shake your head and he grins again. “Tuesday it is. I’ll call you, okay?” He says softly, squeezing your hand and you nod, before you turn, pulling the door open. 

You slip inside, immediately moving to tug off your boots, stumbling and swearing as Pete says “Have a good time?”

You catch yourself on the entryway table as you look up to where he’s standing on the stairs. “Jesus, you scared me. What are you doing up?” 

He holds up his phone. “Got the notification that you were back.” You grunt, finally tugging one of your shoes off and start to work on the second. “So really, you have a good time?” 

You look up at him as the second shoe is freed from your foot and you smile. “Yeah, a really good time.” 

Pete smirks as you walk towards the staircase. “He give you a goodnight kiss? Couldn’t quite tell what with him covering the camera.” 

You scowl at him. “I’m an adult, what would it matter? Am I not allowed to kiss people now?” 

He hums. “Well, just that back in my day, you didn’t exactly kiss them on the first date.”

“No, you just fucked them in seedy bar bathrooms.” Tom says from the top of the stairs. Pete turns, coloring red at the callout from his partner. You snicker as Tom walks down the steps, coming to stand on the one behind his husband. “You have a good time, kid?” You nod. “Javi respectful? Keep his hands where they’re supposed to be?” You nod again, although it isn’t lost on you that this is the most care and interest Tom has shown in you since you’d gotten back from Oklahoma. “Good. You coming back to bed Pete or are you going to stand out here all night?” 

Pete sighs. “Yeah, I’m coming. Night kiddo.” Pete presses a soft kiss to the top of your head before turning, squeezing Tom’s hand as they walk back up the steps. You wait to hear their bedroom door shut before you shuffle down the hall to your own bedroom, the guest room that still sort of emanated a guest bedroom, with maybe a few more posters on the wall. 

You pull off your clothes and change, deciding against going through your nighttime routine in favor of crawling under the covers. 

If you happened to squeal like a teenager as you relieve the night, well that’s between you and the moon. 

-

“So.” Mickey asks and he turns, catching his cousin with his hands in his pockets. “You ever gonna tell her you’re in love with her?” 

He sighs, picking up another rock from the sand, thumbing over the smooth surface before chucking it into the lake. “You’ve always read me too easily.” 

Mickey walks the few paces to stand next to him. “Kate called you tonight.” 

It’s not a question. It’s a fact. He hadn’t gotten to the phone in time, Mickey seeing Kate’s contact photo cross his screen. It’s still the same one it’s always been, a picture of them from welcome week during the first year of grad school, a goofy photo of her poured over their textbook. Praveen is next to her, shoulder barely in the photo but the memory of him leaning all the way out of view of the camera into Jeb as he ate dinner in Kate and Addy’s apartment still makes him laugh. 

“She did.” 

Behind them, he can hear you. It’s someone’s birthday, he can’t bother to remember who, and you had all trekked down to the bay for a chilly November bonfire. Across the rippling water, he can see the lights of SeaWorld reflecting back at him. 

Him and Kate had been talking — finally. Kate wanted him to come back to Oklahoma and he couldn’t deny that he missed the rush of a storm, the buzz beneath his skin. The way helping those people of El Reno had, in time, begun to heal those open wounds in his soul. 

Addy had been blowing up his phone, Lilly too. He was ashamed to admit that it had been the first time he’d let himself talk to Addy and even more ashamed to admit just how much he’d missed her. Dani had called him here and there, getting him all caught up on the life he had missed and Boone would shout over her shoulder into the receiver, inevitably wrestling the phone from her to tell Javi whatever it was that was passing through his brain. 

Even Tyler had gotten in on all of it; if only to talk about what a partnership between Tyler’s resources, Kate’s brain, and his radars would look like. 

“You’re going back to Oklahoma.” Again, not a question. 

He gives a half-hearted shrug. “I might be.” 

Mickey lets out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “You can’t be for real.” Mickey says incredulously, anger hinting underneath his words. “After everything.” 

He scoffs. “Come on, Mick. You know, storm chasing is where my heart is. Same as how yours has always been with those planes.” 

“No, it’s not.” Mickey says coldly. “And you know what, Javi? I didn’t just introduce you to her for the hell of it. I know just as well as you do what that girl means to you, even if you’re too much of a goddamn coward chickenshit to admit it to her. And I was the one who knew what she could be to you and I thought maybe she would be enough to-” 

“To what, Mickey? This was never a forever.” He says honestly. Any idea Mickey got otherwise was on his cousin and his cousin alone. 

Mickey huffs, turning to trek back up the sand. 

And then, he hears it. He can’t hear what’s said exactly, but Bradley admonishes you for something and you go quiet. 

And there it is again. 

Ever since he’s met you and watched the way this crew interacted with you, he’s picked up on it, more and more. How little respect Bradley gives you. Really how little respect that whole team gave you. They had written you off. 

Even Mickey, who you were the closest to, both in friendship and age, saw you as nothing more than a weird addition to the home he visited so much. 

He didn’t see you for how kind you were, for how bright you were. How you drank so much creamer with your coffee Javi quite frankly thought it should be illegal. How you were funny and nothing was off-limits with you. 

How you’d been so understanding the first time the two of you had remotely done anything physical and he had freaked out. How you had patiently listened as he panic-told you that he was into men and how he had dated Scott, a years-long rollercoaster that had only ended the day he left Scott behind in the mud outside of El Reno. 

How you’d been so understanding when he explained that he hadn’t been with anyone since he and Scott had ended it, that the scars of that toxic relationship, however messy it had all been, were still there, not so easily forgettable. How you shared your own experiences, how you related to him, how good you were to him, how you loved him. 

They didn’t care for you. They didn’t like you. 

And not for the first time, it makes him wonder how you’d been with the Wranglers. 

You’d confessed to the tipsy and ill-advised stick and poke Lilly had given you in a parking lot of a motel in Kansas, the Matilda bow on the back of your leg. You’d commented that you were always closest with Dani, the girl like the older sister you’d never had, and that Boone had cared for casual physical touch more than anyone else you’d ever met, something you didn’t realize you needed until he did it. You talked about how you missed Dexter’s stories the most, the man having lived and seen so much life. 

It makes him hope someday he can get you and Addy in a room together, because he knows she’d love you. He wants to get you and Kate’s brains together, if only for his own amusement and entertainment. He wants you and Tyler to retell the stories from the season you’d spent with them, how Ty had been the one to teach you how to play the guitar. 

He wanted you in Oklahoma with him. He wanted you in Oklahoma with him and his family. 

For once in your life, you deserved for a village to care about you the way you cared about them. 

Mickey’s staring at him expectantly and he licks his lips. “Kate-” 

That was instantly the wrong choice as something dark twists in his cousin’s face. “Don’t bring that bitch up to me.” Mickey snarls. 

“Look, I know you ain’t the biggest fan of her-” 

“Understatement of the fucking century.” Mickey says through a humorless laugh. “And you know why, don’t you? Because maybe if that girl had cared about anybody but her damn self in the aftermath, I wouldn’t have had been the one to call the paramedics while my best friend sat in a pool of his own blood trying to kill himself.” 

And that- wasn’t exactly fair. 

Kate had closed herself off, gone to New York and never came home, but he’d subconsciously pushed her off after Addy and Kate had gotten discharged from the hospital. 

Because he had believed they would be better off. Because he believed that they had needed each other more than they needed him. The only people in the whole world who would understand what Kate and Addy went through was Kate and Addy. All he had done was sit uselessly in a van. 

It’s why he had dodged Addy all these years, despite her numerous and persistent efforts to get in touch with him. 

“Maybe if Kate had been smarter, none of that shit would’ve ever happened at all and they’d still be here. You really think that girl will follow you back to Oklahoma? You think she’s going to go back to the Wranglers for you? She won’t and I don’t blame her. Not when you’re still clearly in love with Kate.” 

By now, his heart is hammering in his chest, brain swimming as he fights to keep up, to process the insults as quickly as they come, as Mickey’s voice rises and he sees both you and Reuben turn at the sound of the commotion. 

“Yeah, I was in love with Kate.” He admits softly. “But that- that ain’t what it is anymore. Ain’t what it’s been in a long time Mickey. And I’m not- not a fucking idiot. I know what I have is good. And maybe she’ll come back to Oklahoma and maybe she won’t. But I- I know that I love her. And it scares the fucking shit out of me okay, Mickey?” 

Mickey’s face softens as he stumbles back through the cold sand, hand landing clumsily on his shoulder. “Javi, I-”

He shakes his head, nudging his hand off. “I think you’ve said enough.” 

-

“So, things got pretty heated between you and Mickey tonight.” 

He huffs out a humorless laugh, running a hand over his face as the two of you sit in the In-N-Out parking lot, red lights gleaming back inside the car. 

You’d always been able to see right through him. 

You feign nonchalance, taking a sip of your drink. “What was that all about?” 

He swallows, hard. “I wouldn’t-” His voice comes out in a painful rasp and he swallows again. “I wouldn’t even know how to-”

His breath hitches as he thinks it over. 

He- he really loves you, and he knows that. But he knows it’s selfish to ask you to sacrifice everything and go back to Oklahoma with him. 

“It’s- I’m selfish, I think-” He swipes his palm over his eye, pressing hard to push back the sting of tears. “I don’t know.” 

You frown, shifting to take out and reach his hand. Your thumb rubs gently over his knuckles as you look at him. 

“Hey- you know I love you right?” Eyes wide, he raises his head to meet your concerned gaze. “Whatever it is, I’ll back you.” 

“You-?”

You swallow, eyes glancing back out at the bustling restaurant. 

“Yeah. I do. There’s no pressure to say it back if you aren’t in that place, I just-”

“No.” He says, swallowing. “No, I love you too.” 

His grip on your hand becomes tighter, a small and yet pained smile on your face. 

“Is this about Kate?” 

He chokes on his own fear, letting go of your hand at the sound of her name leaving your mouth. 

His arms meet his knees as he bends over in the cramped space, fingers coming up to tug at his curls. 

He can hear you move again, hands slowly starting to rub circles on his back. 

“Javi, hey.” You soothe. “It’s okay, I’m here.” 

“But for how long?” He rasps out, squeezing his eyes shut. “How long until-” He cuts himself off, not wanting to picture how long it’ll be before you walk out the door. 

Minutes? 

Days, maybe? 

Weeks, if he’s lucky. 

How long will he get to keep you, before you see that nasty thing inside him? That thing that had made him blame Kate after Stillwater? That thing that had made him leave Scott defenseless in the mud?

He should end it now, before he can hurt you. 

But he’s weak. He’s always been weak. 

The scars on his wrist prove that. 

“For as long as you want me here, okay? Javi, if this is about Kate and Oklahoma and- and finishing what you started, I want you to know I’m there with you.” You say softly, hands never leaving his body. 

He steals a glance at you with a quick turn of his head but you’re faster, one of your hands darting out to keep his head from turning away from you again. 

“Hey, is that what this is about?” 

“I- I want to go back but I don’t want- I want you with me. But I know it’s selfish of me to ask that of you.” 

You shake your head. “Hey, it’s not selfish. Remember I spent a season storm chasing?” You make a face, akin to as if you’ve just tasted something sour. “I may not really get the appeal, but I do get the Oklahoma charm. I didn’t buy a house out there for no reason.” 

He swallows, realizing he’d forgotten all about that part. 

Oklahoma had once been your home as much as it had once been his. 

“If you want to go back to Oklahoma, then I’m right there with you. If you want to tell them all to fuck off and stay here in San Diego then I’d support you in that too. What I’m saying is, you don’t have to worry about me. Make the decision you know is best for you, and I’ll follow you wherever you want to go.” 

He searches your face for any inkling of hesitation or untruth. 

There is none. 

Something in him must shift because the smile you give him now is real, genuine. 

“I want it. I want to go back to Oklahoma, I- I need to. It’s-” He cuts himself off as he licks his lips, suddenly at a loss to explain how much this means to him, how much he needs to do this with those people. 

“I’m all in, baby.” 

[soxcietyy]

Temptation

Chapter 4 -> Chapter 5

Your dad is tired of you bringing home these unworthy men. None of them being fit to take care of you or to be given the family business since you are the only daughter. He decides to find you someone fit to be your husband and receive help from the father of the church. That’s when you meet Yuta, though just because he goes to church doesn’t mean he’s much of a saint

Mafia, murder, violence, mentions of religion, (will contain other things in the next chapters)

" Yu!! You won’t believe what I got at the store today!" You shout as you look for him around the house.

He could believe what you got because he was right there with you! He would have sent a guard to watch you but he couldn’t have you thinking something was wrong right off the bat. He had to pretend to live a normal like for the meantime. At least when you guys are married you wouldn’t be able to run so easily.

The second he got in the house he speed walked into his office. It seemed to be his only safe spot from you because you knew you weren’t allowed in there. He couldn’t handle another "what I got for my wedding haul". You did this every day and he felt like he was about to start throwing things. He didn’t know having a woman in his home would be this hard.

The other girl before you was more quiet, scared, and did everything he asked of her but you were the opposite. Every time you entered a room it’s as if the dark and lonely atmosphere vanished and transformed into bright blinding happiness. He wasn’t used to this type of thing. He just slept with woman and threw them onto the streets right after. He never thought about marriage until now because his cousin talked him into this.

"Yuta, this business is all about family. About caring for one another and helping each other out. You’re too harsh on our people. You don’t even consider them family, it always more like "your men"" Gojo holds a cigar in his finger as he admired the fat object. He sat in his abnormally big office with a huge grin on his face. He never failed to wear it no matter the situation.

"I’m just not a family type of guy." Yuta leans back into the chair he sat in.

Gojo has been nagging him about the same thing over and over. All of this because Yuta always decides to resolve situations with violence instead of terms. His cousin swears up and down that getting a woman would soften him up more and if he got kids it would be even better.

So he sent him down south to a middle class area. He gave him the address to a church so he could find himself a good girl with morals and values.

"Yuta dinner is almost ready! Hurry up so we can say grace before the food gets cold!" You yell to grab his attention.

Unfortunately it seems like he got a girl with too strong of morals and values. Letting a heavy sigh out he stands up to leave. How do normal people do this? How does his cousin get with so many girls if they all act somewhat like this?

Maybe asking for advice wouldn’t hurt but his ego would be scratched. Would he rather get help from his lovely friend Hakari who will most likely make fun of him? Or should he just learn how to deal with you. He contemplated last week to call him after the bathroom situation but he thought it was too soon. Now though he felt like it was needed so he could keep his sanity.

Grabbing the phone he drags the rotary dial to the numbers. He waited a few minutes as it rang, immediately being connected his his friend.

"Hello?" Hakari speaks.

"Come over for dinner, also bring Kirara."

"What? Is there an emergency?!" He ask concerned.

"No, but I need to drink and I can’t even leave the house unless it’s an emergency. I just can’t be alone right now with her." Yuta says before hanging up.

He’s been around women a good amount of times but seeing you walk around in your tiny tight clothes made him feel a type of way.

"Sweetheart we’re having guest over for dinner." Yuta says as he turns the corner to see you in a small slim dress. Your behind and breast protruding beautifully under those cloths.

Yes you were annoying time by time but he couldn’t resist looking at you when you dressed that way. He found himself turning around to avoid looking at you so he could control himself. He just wanted to rip that dress off and have his way with you. He wanted you under him so he could see if that smile you always wore would fall off. Fuck, why was he acting like a horny teenage boy? He’s slept around with a dozen girls so why were you so different? What made him want you this bad when he basically already had you? Was is because you were playing hard to get? Because he was restricted to only look at you?

"Visitors at this hour?" You say

Turning around to look at you he sees you taking something out the oven. Though when you did you bent over and he could see everything you had under there. Quickly turning back around he grips onto the chair in front of him. He must wait a two more weeks.

"Yes darling, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed into something more modest." Yuta says as he takes the chicken out of your hands.

Running up stairs you scurry to get ready leaving him to his thoughts once again.

He needed to talk to Hakari about the recent negotiations with the police. They’ve been acting a bit weird lately. It might be time to give them a new bribe. The only reason they been able to get away with lots of things was because they were in good terms with the police. They couldn’t just let their relationship collapse like that. Maybe it was time to work the the Zenin too. They had a huge influence with the police and own half of the station somehow. The Gojo family was in tight cahoots with them because of past situations. They might have to put differences aside if Satoru wanted this mission to get done.

Hakari got here in no time. He arrived in a casual suite and his lovely significant other in a casual dress. Letting them inside he grabbed Hakari by the arm pulling him back. He needed to talk to him before dinner so he wouldn’t throw it up later.

"We need to have a serious discussion about Heart." Yuta whispered in his ear.

Hakari rolled his eyes and waved Kirara off.

"Can it be after dinner? I can already smell the food from here and I’m starving." Hakari said with a long face.

Yuta glares at him for saying such a thing. He nodded him to the direction of his office. With a loud sigh Hakari began walking towards the double door. He wasn’t much of a thinker but he knew how to get the job done. If you ever need to get on someone, always bet on him.

"Boys arnt you guys going to eat?! The food is going to get cold!" You say stopping them from taking a further step.

Hakari turn around with a smile on his face. "Of course Ms-"

"Darling we’re kind of in the middle of something. How about later?" Yuta tried to shoo you away.

You stood by the entrance of the dinning room with your arms crossed. "Absolutely not Yu, Hakari is it? You must be hungry. Come on and eat I made such a delicious roasted chicken."

"Sorry Okkotsu but I won’t deny the your soon to be bride." Hakari laughed as he walked into the other room.

Yutas left eye twitched in what he didn’t know was anger or annoyance. He dragged his hand down his face before walking into the dinning room. As he entered he could see that the guest had made them selfs comfortable. Their eyes glued to all the dishes you were setting down. The chicken, bread, corn, mashed potatoes, and more. Ever since you got here you liked to spend most of your time cooking. You liked to try new recipes and make them all at once.

Yuta sat down at his usual seat and watched you serve his food for him. He couldn’t lie your cooking was so good. Sometimes when you irritate him really badly you’ll serve him dessert and his mood would change entirely.

Putting his plate infront of him you serve everyone else and finally take your seat. Yuta watched as Hakari grabbed his fork and was about to dig in.

Yuta gave him a harsh kick in the shin making his friend drop his fork back down. He did this for revenge and because he knew what you were about to do.

"Alright guys let’s give grace!" You say as you hold your hands out.

Kirara gladly accepts your hands and gets ahold of Hakari. Yuta hesitate but grabbed Hakaris because why I’m the world would he want to hold his hand.

"Alright Yu it’s your turn." You say smiling at him.

"Lord god, heavily father, bless us and these thy gifts-" when Yuta finished he quickly lets go of Hakari’s hand. Though he planted a kiss on yours and thanked you for making such a wonderful meal for everyone.

As everyone ate Yutas temper seemed to have vanished. Maybe he was just hungry and needed to eat a bit. Everytime he took a bite of his food he was reminded why he hasn’t made his men kill you. He could always make it seem like a accident and look for a new bride. But you were special some how.

When everyone was done Yuta excuses him self and dragged Hakari into his office. He made sure the door was shut before grabbing two glass cups and a bottle of whiskey. Setting them down In front of Hakari, he took his seat and rested his elbows on the desk.

"You know about the Heart situation, it’s getting more dangerous." Yuta says. "Ever since he’s been all friendly with the mayor things have gotten harder for us to transport. Iv gotten reports about him being in my territory. Not only that but he’s been in yours multiple times." Yuta continues. "Why do you think he’s snooping around?"

"It’s kind of obvious he’s going to rob some of our production. Wait why don’t I know anything about him being in my area?" Hakari raises his brow.

If Yuta had to differentiate the two groups he would simply put it on the perspective of professionalism. Hakari was more in the underground side of the mafia. He hired hooligans and people with bad reputation. He didn’t care much about getting caught because nobody knows how he looks. Not even his own men knew unless they were his right side but that would have to be Kirara. Yuta on the other hand was the face of the organization. Also he had a role in the Gojo franchise. He had to keep his image clean but be good at his job at the same time. His people were made up of big politicians, lawyers, and anyone who owed the company even a penny. All they had to do was sign a contract saying that they’ll be given what they want but in return they will need to present their loyalty to them.

"Maybe you need to keep your men in check. Do you know how many things slip under your radar? You need to keep an eye out or we’ll be fucked. What’s going to happen when you’re dead? Who’s going to run your group? You don’t even have a heir for down the line." Yuta says trying to help his friend open his eyes.

"You don’t have one either! Trust me I have this all under control. Hey let’s just invite the don’ Zenin to your wedding. Let’s shape a good friendship with him." Hakari takes the top off the glass bottle.

"I’m getting married to have a heir and because Saturo told me to get one. Also don’t let that name slip out if your mouth again. He doesn’t go by Zenin, it’s don Fushiguro." Yuta watches as Hakari pours an even amount of liquid into both glasses.

"Your stressing too much man, I know your nervous about your wedding. You’ll do great trust me. Speaking of it seems you have found someone who won’t back down easily." Hakari snickers.

"Nothing a little teaching and discipline can’t do. I’ll have her acting like she should be in no time. The only reason I’m letting it slide for now is so she’ll have no problem getting married."

The phone starting ringing making them both turn towards that direction. Picking up the phone Yuta waits for them to speak first.

"Hello? Is the Yuta Okkotsu?" A woman spoke.

"Yes, who is this?" Yuta shrugs at Hakari who was trying to listen in.

"I need a favor from you and was wondering if I could make an appointment with you?" She said.

"Why of course you can, how about tomorrow morning."

"No I need to do it now please, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it tomorrow." Her voice cracked at the end.

"Yea come on over, my address is-"

Hakari sat in the chair with his arms folded. "Wasn’t this supposed to be a guys night? We’re talking about business here. You need to keep ya clients in check, they’re walking over you."

Yuta put the phone down and took a sip of his drink. He could feel it running down his throat. "Don’t tell me how to run my business. Get your gun ready."

Usually the ones that run in late come looking for trouble. Last time someone tried to ambush him but luckily his men were on stand by. Tonight he was on his own with Hakari. The house would usually be buzzing. People running in and out and guards would be posted up. They had to go away for the time being. The second the wedding was over they would be back in business. He saw how you acted when he had his men in the back of the car, couldn’t have that again.

Walking out the office Hakari pulled Kirara to the side and whispered into their ear. She gave him a firm nod and ran to grab you from the living room. From the looks of it you seemed to be showing her the wedding plans.

"Girls why don’t you go upstairs in the room. I’ll bring you some tea and …" he turns to look at Hakari who looks at him confused. "Some pastries?"

"Oh Yu that would be wonderful!" You look at him with thoes big doe eyes.

Yuta smiled as you and Kirara walked upstairs. He waited till he saw you guys shut the door to drop the act. Walking to a table that held a big vase he reached his hand under it and pulled a gun out. Hakari pulled his out from his fat coat and loaded it up. The both of them sat in the living room watching the time go by until there was a nock at the door.

Hakari informed Yuta that he made sure Kirara would keep you out of sight no matter what. That lifted some sort of pressure he had on his chest.

The both of them walked to the door and opened it. Outside stood a petite woman with blonde hair in a bob. Her green eyes glistened with tears and her pink lips quivered. Yuta couldn’t believe his eyes, the person who stood in front of them was no other than Ms.Heart.

This had to be done sick joke. Pulling his gun up he aimed it at her head. He wasn’t a fool to fall for something like this. Hakari jumped seeing Yutas action. Usually men would hesitate to kill a woman but Yuta was different.

The woman back up slowly trying to avoid the gun. "Please Don Yuta listen to me, I have an urgent request." She said with a pleading look.

Yuta looked at her dead in the eye, trying to make sure this woman wasn’t deceiving him. When he had finished evaluating her he put him gun down and let her into her office. Hakari followed along pretending to be one of Yutas workers.

"How may I help you tonight." Yuta said dryly.

"I need you to kill my husband." She said immediately.

If Yuta were drinking he would have spat everything out. That was such a wild request especially coming from his wife. He was confused on why she would want that if she lived such a perfect life because of him. He had so many questions running through his mind but kept his cool.

"Why is that?"

"He’s a stone cold murderer. Don I just connected the dots to everything. I know who he really is, I know who you are. You guys arnt just ordinary business men, you guys are people who kill for what they want."

Hakari looked nervous. He could see his forehead beginning to damp. If this is how she reacted about the truth then how were you going to react?

"Okay but I don’t understand why you want to set a hit on Hearts."

"Last night I overheard him talking in a meeting. He killed my family because my father didn’t want me to be with him. I thought they got into a freak accident! I also overheard his plans and he’s up to no good Don." She said as she started to breath heavily. "Yuta he’s going to come for you. On your wedding day he’s going t-"

With a blink of the eye she went from talking to having a bullet in the middle of her head. Her jaw went slack as her body became limp. Yuta snapped his head towards Hakari who had his hands up.

"It wasn’t me man, look." Hakari pointed at the window that now had a hole in it.

Yuta ran his hand through his hair. This was starting to get too exhausting. Just when he was about to find out everything but at least he knew were to start. "Get the girls." Grabbing the phone he dialed a number. It rung once, twice, three times until someone picked up the phone.

"Father, I hate asking for favors but you need to move the date to this week."

It didn’t take him much convincing to get everything in line. He then called a group of men by to clean up this mess. He needed to dispose of this body quickly without you seeing but he also needed you near by. Someone had just easily shot a bullet into his house. He had to keep you by his side no matter what. Walking out he finds you sitting in the living room with a concerned look.

"Oh Yu, did you hear that loud gun shot?" You said standing up.

He quickly approached you and sat you right back down. He rubbed you back trying to ease you. "It’s okay, it was just near by." He whispers.

It was absolutely not fine. It was embarrassing knowing that a fool could get so close to his property to do that. That means that people always had the opportunity to kill him in one shot. He would have to build a concrete wall rather than the bar one he had. Maybe some more plants so they could cover the house a bit. More guards on stand by to keep watch.

"I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep on my own tonight. Do you think you can sleep with me?" You say squeezing his right arm.

Maybe this situation was not so bad after all…

Yuta had sent you to help prepare the guest bedroom. Yuta had offered his friend to stay over if they like and well they were scared of getting shot at on their way home. While you occupied yourself with that he let the cleaners in. He also told them to stand guard tonight and they would receive a bonus. Since he had offered his men a month off work and managed to interrupt it.

Leaving the work to them Yuta went upstairs to find you laying in bed already. A genuine smile spread across his face when he sees you laying there with an empty spot for him. If people would have witnessed this they would have thought he was happy because of you, but he would say it was because he finally get to sleep in his bed again.

[ptn-imagines]

Hello hello!!

Notorious cat anon asking once again for Langley and f!chief but what if chief brought a cat or two she found on the streets home

Like the cat distribution striking the two lol

The idea of a sphinx cat that hates Langley and loves everyone else was too funny. Otherwise known as: Langley competes with a fucking cat for her girlfriend's attention.

F!Chief bringing a street cat home to Langley

The first thought Langley has is that this creature is the ugliest thing she has ever seen in her life. It’s an exaggeration, of course, but the cat definitely isn’t the cute and fluffy type people think of when they think of felines. In fact, it doesn’t have any fur at all, which is what contributed to the initial reaction in the first place.

After realizing that Chief is in fact holding a cat, and not some hairless Mania abomination, though, Langley smiles. It’s just a sphinx cat, albeit a particularly thin and ragged one. And though she won’t admit it aloud, being cuddled up with the Chief like that certainly lends it a great deal of cuteness factor.

Langley can’t help but tease Chief about picking up strays – a little nod to her Sinners, though of course, this time the Bureau’s new resident is a stray. She pretends to hum and posture about keeping more animals in the MBCC, but Langley already knows she’ll be letting the cat stay. She appreciates the intelligence and independence of felines, though it certainly doesn’t hurt that Chief is looking at her with the wet eyes of a stray kitten herself.

However, it becomes almost immediately apparent that the cat hates Langley. He’s cuddled up and purring without a care in the world in Chief’s arms, but the moment the director approaches, his claws are out and he’s hissing and spitting with vindictive fury.

Judging by the look on Chief’s face, Langley figures she’s expecting her to take back her approval now  that the cat has lashed out at her. Instead, Langley just chuckles and says that as long as nobody gets hurt, the feline can be as grouchy as he likes.

She finds out later that she’s the only one the cat hates. He’s more than content to curl up on the laps of literally anyone else in the Bureau and be stroked. In fact, naming duties ended up falling into the hands of some of the younger Sinners – they decided on “Fluffy.” For a hairless cat. Langley is amused.

Fluffy lives a pampered life in the Bureau, and he’s soon allowed to come into hypnotherapy sessions to soothe nervous Sinners. If he’s not cuddling up with one of the inmates or rubbing against their legs, though, he is almost always with Chief.

This includes, somehow, every time Langley needs to go see her. He kicks up a fuss whenever she appears and if they lock him outside the room, he won’t stop howling and scratching at the door. It amused Langley at first – at least until she realized she was competing with a damn cat.

Still, Langley is neither cruel nor heartless, despite the reputation she’s carefully curated for herself as the Silver Spider, and she won’t deprive the Bureau of what has become an integral member of it. So, instead, she changes tactics.

Despite her incredibly busy schedule, she takes time out of it to go and sit in whatever room Fluffy is in. At first, it goes exactly as one would predict – he goes into his usual feline hissy fits, yowling up a storm, though Langley notes he never takes a swipe at her unless she gets too close.

As time goes on, the yowling dies into low growls and then into suspicious glaring. When she walks into a room one day and Fluffy looks at her only for a moment before going back to sleep, Langley can’t help but smile. Meanwhile, everyone else in the Bureau suffers from increasing confusion as to why the Director of the 9th Agency is spending more and more time doing… nothing?

The crux of the whole plan comes one day when Langley walks into her office and finds Fluffy curled up on her chair. Mission: befriend Chief’s cat, success.

It’s a relief to not be competing with a cat for Chief’s attention anymore, and as for Chief? Well, she’s just glad Fluffy no longer screams bloody murder whenever Langley walks into the room.

[merakiui]

I HEARD ABOUT THE ALIEN SCARA. I AM BEGGING YOU FOR MORE. PLEASE. WHATS HE LIKE WHEN THE GLASS DROPS AND HE FINALLY GETS TO BE CLOSE?

Clingy. <3 he can’t separate himself from you, or else he fears you’ll be taken away again and he’ll lose you forever. He keeps to a corner, but he’s always gravitating towards you, especially when you sleep (because then you won’t tease him so much about his attachment to you). He’ll watch over you while you’re resting, sometimes standing near the bed and other times attached to the corner and watching from above. He wants to sleep beside you and cuddle you, but he never knows his own strength and he fears he might hurt you. Humans are so fragile sometimes. It’s really annoying. >:(

If it’s particularly cold in the cell (he never notices because the cold doesn’t affect him; he grew up in much harsher conditions, so this is nothing to him), you’ll bundle in lots of comfy blankets and layers. He has to remind himself that you’re just cold and that you aren’t nesting. Sometimes he pretends you are, if only to satisfy his own little fantasies. He wishes he could keep you warm, but he’s merely a cold, formless shadow who isn’t warm-blooded like mammals. So instead he piles blankets on you, sometimes pushing you back down onto the mattress if you try to get up, rolling his eyes when he hears your grumblings about how it’s “too hot.” Humans are so temperamental. Weren’t you just shivering a few minutes ago?

He doesn’t have a name; it’s more so a string of numbers that the researchers refer to him as because he’s a specimen. You go over various names with him when you can’t sleep at night (or perhaps it’s the day? You can never tell down here). He chooses to call himself Kabuki because it sounds familiar, yet he can’t remember where he heard it. When his new name is spoken with your lips, it sounds like the prettiest heaven. He likes it. A lot. Too much. You’ll always say it, and he’ll always feel so warm inside. So loved and accepted and wanted.

Kabuki does not like the other researchers. He makes his hatred clear when they try to enter the cell to deliver meals to you or take you out for the usual things humans need: baths, exercise, sunlight, and so on. Kabuki throws a horrible fit each time, nearly almost slipping through the crack in the closing door in his haste to stay with you. The researchers know to be quick because if he gets out he’ll tear through everyone in order to reach you. He’s always anxious when you’re gone, even if it’s only for a few minutes. That time feels like a debilitating eternity to him. He can never quite settle, and he’s always on high alert, defenses raised, as if he’s ready to attack anyone who isn’t you. You’re always returned to him. In fact, since he’s formed such a deep, possessive bond with you, it doesn’t seem like you’ll ever be able to separate yourself from him. Not unless it’s by force, and even then you fear the consequences that come with abandoning him.

He’s always gentle to you, albeit huffy and occasionally grumpy when you tease too much or talk too much about subjects he doesn’t like (other humans, the world beyond this cell, human mates (you call them lovers)… Isn’t this enough? You only need to stay here in this room with him. It’s more than enough, actually.

At one point, he starts moving less and less and he stops using his human form to interact with you. He’s quieter, too, and he seems to be sleeping (or perhaps he’s in some sort of rest mode) for longer hours. You’re not sure what’s happened or what’s brought about this sudden change. He doesn’t even move from his corner when you talk to the researchers through the intercom (he used to always stick to you when you’d do that). What’s worrying is when he remains silent and unmoving even when Dr. Zandik walks into the cell, completely unfazed and confident, to observe him. The both of you peer at him; he’s motionless, all darkness because his usual bright, beautiful eyes are shut. But every now and then his formless body wavers, and you and Dr. Zandik determine he’s breathing. You wonder what’s gone wrong. Dr. Zandik pens a lot of notes before coming to a conclusion, his smile sharp and a little too wide with eager curiosity.

Based on Dr. Zandik’s observations, he’s theorized that your little alien is conserving energy, hence why he’s returned to his original form. Essentially, he’s doing something akin to hibernation. What for, you have no idea. But Dr. Zandik has ideas. He keeps telling you your alien is preparing for mating; this is something he says with such certainty, but you’re not sure. Kabuki has never shown any sexual interest in you, and he’s never mentioned anything about reproduction or how his species mates. The two of you have a comfortable friendship, albeit one that’s often physical because he likes to be so close to you at all times. You think he likes your natural body heat because it soothes the coldness his body produces. So you wonder why he’s conserving his energy. He doesn’t expect to mate with you, does he? You’re not even sure if your species are sexually compatible!

But you’ll soon find out when he wakes, so very ready to fill you with eggs. :)

[asher-agere]

Hi hi you're so cool !! Do you think maybe you could do some Dazai caregiver headcanons? I mostly see him as a baby™ (as can be seen as my pfp) but I think he could be a good caregiver if the situation came about!! No worries if not :>

( •͈૦•͈ ) Someone… Thinks I’m cool? OH MY GOODNESS THAT’S SO SWEET THANK YOU SO MUCH ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა. I can absolutely do that! While I do love baby Dazai, he’d be such a silly caregiver!

Caregiver Dazai

≽^•⩊•^≼

₊ ⊹ Dazai is amazing at reading people! He’s not on Ranpo’s level of course, no one is, but he’s pretty close! He’s really good at noticing things about his little one. He’s notice even the slightest of signs they’re starting to slip. Even if the only indicator is them being a little fidgety. He’ll gently come over and lay a hand on their shoulder asking “Is someone feeling tiny?” There’s no escaping it

₊ ⊹ So much teasing!! He loves calling his little one cute and adorable to watch them get flustered or try to deny it. He’ll use a caregiver voice whenever he sees fit. He has no shame, of course if his little one isn’t comfortable with their regression being public knowledge he won’t be too mean! But if they are comfy with it, or with a trusted group, he’ll baby them sooooo much!

₊ ⊹ Dazai definitely uses his baby as an excuse out of work! Oh there’s a bunch of paperwork to do relating to his last mission? That sounds pretty boring. He’s got a baby to take care of! Surely someone else can do it, he can’t neglect his baby after all now can he? That would be child neglect! (Kunikida is beyond fed up with this)

₊ ⊹ He will make his little one regress whenever it’s convenient to him. He wants something but he’s told no? Well a baby wouldn’t say no would they? Sure it would be very irresponsible to give Dazai money to buy ice cream. But a baby doesn’t need to be responsible! Dazai will coo at them softly as he swipes their wallet, buying them both ice cream! Much better outcome in his opinion

₊ ⊹ Dazai doesn’t have much money anymore, but he’s used to having money from the Mafia, so he still likes shopping! He’ll use online shopping to fill a shopping cart with things he wants to buy for his little one! Always proudly showing the list to them and making promises to buy it all someday (Doesn’t matter where he gets the money to pay for it… Right? It’s for the baby officer!)

₊ ⊹ Dazai has been through a lot, so almost anything his little one is going through he’d been through it (Partly headcanons in this one) Struggling to eat? He knows to pick specific foods they like! Or he’ll pretend the spoon is an airplane! If the little one wants to do anything that might hurt themselves he’ll put everything dangerous out of their reach then just happily bounce them in his lap!

₊ ⊹ He’s the most jealous caregiver ever. He never wants anyone else babysitting his regressor. That’s his baby after all! Sometimes it seems like he’s the child with the stupid temper tantrums he’ll throw, but as soon as his baby is back in his arms he’s happy once again! He’ll constantly pretend to give the baby choices between people then he’s always smug when they still pick him (“Ok now! Do you wanna play with Atsushi-Kun or with Daz? Oh look at that! You choose me? Sorry Atsushi-Kun I’m very busy right now can’t you see?” Atsushi is very tired and stressed. Let him work in peace)

₊ ⊹ I think being a caregiver would actually be a huge comfort for Dazai! It gives him a purpose in life to keep going. Is it an instant fix? Absolutely not. However it helps a lot. Anytime he’s about to start his dangerous shenanigans he’s reminded of his poor baby at home… They’d be so sad without him (๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘) Cuddling with a baby is a much better plan for the night!

₊ ⊹ Anytime Dazai needs to be in his caregiver headspace he doesn’t say anything. Dazai communicating in a healthy way? Never gonna happen. Instead he’ll just grab a whole bunch of little gear and bombard the poor regressor with it! Oh they were doing something? Not anymore~ It’s best to let him deflect his feelings until he’s calmer, talk about the real issue in the morning after he gets to destress with his baby for a night

≽^•⩊•^≼

All done! I love caregiver Dazai, he’s such a silly. I could go on for hours about him honestly (Possibly because my caregiver is like him. Hmm… Nah couldn’t be) Have a wonderful super duper awesome amazing day everyone!

[elisparda]

I am reminded why Hajime is probably the best protagonist of the Danganronpa series.

So I was talking to someone who recently just finished the second game, I was talking to them about little things and fun facts. Than we got onto the talk of Hajime and I gotta say, he such a good character.

~SPOILERS~

So later into the game we find out Hajime doesn’t have an ultimate, he a nobody compared to the rest of the cast, a backup student in case he finds an ultimate. And once you find this out it adds up so much, it why he thinks everyone is so weird and he doesn’t get along with any of them, he doesn’t have the extra quirk that the other ultimates have, he doesn’t have the pressure of trying to the perfect at one thing. He didn’t have to deal with anyone abusing them like Hiyoko, the low expectations of life like Nagito, always being depended on like Mikan or Fuyuhiko. Hajime has his own trauma and story but it’s just the fact he not equal to an ultimate and some people can live without a perfect life without have an ultimate. But Hajime is an outcast, he felt like he didn’t fit in from the start but after finding out he isn’t an ultimate everyone didn’t want to talk to him afterwards, they worked out that problem and he go his friends back but at first everyone turned away from him almost immediately.

And I know Keebo is supposed to be the self insert of the people watching Danganronpa V3 but Hajime is really one of the people, because he doesn’t have an ultimate he does fit and thinks everyone is weird and see everyone as such. I found myself thinking something and than there Hajime who said exactly what I was thinking. And his problem of trying to find a purpose or fit in with the ultimates, I relate to that on a personal level. Trying to find where I fit in life and where my people are, who am I and where do I fit. So I relate to Hajime the most but he just the most down to earth character, no big skill that everyone sees you as and what you ultimately have to base your entire personality on. Like when talking to Kazuichi or Ibuki they come up with the most out of pocket or down right insane activity to do that day. Hajime is just normal, he can make his life what he wants without some unbearable weight but because of what society has become in his world, he doesn’t feel like he amounts to anything no matter he ends up doing with his life but he just doesn’t see the bigger picture and as he gets along with the cast and his friends, and truthfully, Izuru pretending to be Hajime and Izuru trying to see what to believe in, he finds a balance of normal and weird to be friends but still be his own person, he basically becomes the parent of the cast and is slowly teaching them how to be more normal, he won’t be able to change them completely but that’s not the goal. It would be no fun if they lost their quirks or weirdness, so I think Hajime/Izuru being a big person and parent figure of the group, he would help everyone go through and process their pain and feelings and past and help the cast accept their past and learn to grow from it.

Just, Hajime is best protagonist, Makoto and Shuichi aren’t any worse but Hajime is my personal favorite.

[blowflyfag]

Pro Wrestling Illustrated: May 1995

DERAILING DIESEL

Will “Big Daddy Cool” Defrost At WrestleMania?

By Andy Rodriguez

[The biggest day of Diesel’s life is ahead of him. The WWF World title is in his grasp now, but he still has so much to prove at WrestleMania]

You wake up on Sunday morning from a fitful night of sleep and realize that today is different from all the other days. You were tossing and turning from the moment your head hit the pillow last night and the cars driving past outside seemed as loud as those at the Indianapolis Speedway. The maid knocked on your door and you almost tore her head off while screaming, “Leave me alone!”

 Now there’s a lump in your throat that just won't go away. You walk down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast and find that nothing on the menu looks particularly appetizing. Funny, you’ve been here before and always found a way to entertain the waitresses with your ravenous appetite and wonderful sense of humor. 

So you go out for a walk. Doesn't the air feel funny? And why is everybody looking at you that way?  There’s just no privacy, so you go back to your hotel room and watch TV. But there’s really nothing on worth watching and you end up staring blankly at MTW for the next four hours. 

The time is dragging. The second hand on the clock seems to take forever to complete one sweep of the dial. 

Finally, it’s 2 o’clock. Time to head over to the arena. Now you’re really sweating. The lump in your throat just got bigger. The arena is in sight and your heart starts to beat faster. You walk inside and realize that something is different. Something looks and feels different. The lights are brighter.  There are more cameramen than usual in the building. At least 100 reporters are crowded into the dressing room trying to get prematch interviews. Why are they here?

Because it’s WrestleMania Sunday, a day like no other on the wrestling calendar.

And you’re not sure how to deal with it. 

Because this is your first WrestleMania.

And you just happen to be in the main event. You’re the champion of the world. You are Diesel. 

“He has no idea what he’s in for,” said S.D. Jones, who was pinned by King Kong Bundy in nine seconds at the inaugural WrestleMania. “WrestleMania isn’t like any other wrestling match. It’s like saying the Super Bowl is just another football game, or Game 7 of the World Series is just another baseball game. The pressure is enormous, but the scary part is that it doesn’t hit you until about a day before, so it’s not like you have time to deal with the situation.”

[Some say Diesel has a chance to be one of the great WWF World champs of all-time, others say he was lucky to win it. A dominant performance at WrestleMania XI would silence his critics.]

One wouldn’t think a person with the nickname “Big Daddy Cool” would have any trouble dealing with the pressure. Well, think again. Top stars from Hulk Hogan to Randy Savage to The Ultimate Warrior all say that there’s nothing quite like the pressure of WrestleMania. It’s the time when true champions, the ones who can deal with pressure and the spotlight, rise to the top. WrestleMania separates the pretenders from the real deal. 

For Diesel, WrestleMania XI at the Hartford Civic Center figures to be the most frightening, intimidating, and emotionally unsettling day of his life. It will be graduation day for a young champion who won’t earn his final credits until his match is over on Sunday night. 

[Bret and Owen Hart have both tried, as have countless others. But after many “jackknife” powerbombs and many big boots to the face, Diesel always seems to come out on top. But he hasn’t faced the ultimate test yet. Can he survive his first WrestleMania?]

His opponent is the best he ever faced. Diesel had no trouble beating Bob Backlund for the World title because there was very little pressure on him. Subsequent title defenses, including one against Bret Hart, were a test of Diesel’s mettle, but they didn’t tell us all we needed to know about him. 

[Bret Hart could tell Diesel how much of a media circus WrestleMania can be. “Big Daddy Cool” has no idea what it’s like to compete at the WWF’s top pay-per-view event … and he’ll be in this year’s main event]

Remember: WrestleMania is different. In almost all cases, the World champion is facing the top contender to the belt. It’s probably the toughest opponent he has faced all year and possibly in his entire life. The opponent is charged up for the big day and has trained for months while focused on one match. Meanwhile, the champion has been busy dealing with other challenges to the title. 

The pressure of WrestleMania will be compounded by Diesel’s age. He’s young and relatively inexperienced in pay-per-view events. Last year at this time, he was little more than Shawn Michaels’ bodyguard, but then he won the Intercontinental, World tag team, and World heavyweight titles. All of this has happened in a blur (seven months actually) for Diesel, who really hasn’t had time to reflect upon his accomplishments or put them in proper perspective. Forgive him he suffers from an intense fear of the unknown. 

And there is nothing that anybody can tell him that would help.

“You can talk about all of the cameras and lights and people, but you don’t know what it’s like until you’re there,” said Roddy Piper. “It’s awesome for a fan or writer, but it is at least tenfold for a wrestler. By the time the main event rolls around, the entire arena is in a frenzy.”

Over the past year, WCW has made great strides in its war with the WWF. The signings of Hulk Hogan, Brutus Beefcake, Hacksaw Duggan, Randy Savage, The Honky Tonk Man, and Avalanche gave the federation the superior talent roster. Many of the recent WCW pay-per-views have been more exciting than those in the WWF.

But in the minds of the general public, WrestleMania is still the premier wrestling pay-per-view event in the world. It’s the big show. 

For “Big Daddy Cool,” it could be the night things get too hot to handle. 

[Diesel better hope he can overcome his nervousness with his awesome physical ability. Bob Backlund has been no match for him in matches around the country (above and left).

Should he lose the title at WrestleMania, Diesel will probably be dismissed as another forgettable WWF world Champion. Only a year ago, he was considered more of a bodyguard than a wrestler.]

[sassybluee]

I come bearing a Wip Wednesday. I've been working on updating my canon divergence longfic An Orchid of the Moon. Hopefully I can finish the chapter soon! Here's a little bit for now, as Canglan navigate setting up Xiao Run and Xie Wanqing while pretending to be married (for real this time, no take backs!)

When they retire to their bedroom, Dongfang Qingcang is in a mood. Quiet and sullen, he sits on the bed and watches her remove the decorative pins from her hair. Though her back is turned to him, she feels the weight of his stare. She feels his irritation. It is only natural for him to be less than thrilled by the prospect of making friends with Xiao Run, but it is not like they have many options. “I am too old for education,” Dongfang Qingcang complains. “I am a married man.” “Can married men not further their education?” Xiao Lanhua counters, placing the last hairpin on the table. “If anyone asks, just say you couldn’t complete your studies before marriage.” Dongfang Qingcang lets out a low sigh. “Just blame it on your wife,” she continues with a laugh. “She wants you to enrich your mind.” “There must be another way.” “You heard Jieli—it is best to meet him in a place you can be free to chat.” He lets out another frustrated sigh. “Just relax and try to have fun. Xiao Run may be immature and a little vulgar, but his heart is in the right place. He proposed to Xie Wanqing, despite his family’s disapproval. He wanted to honour their old engagement. Is that not good?” Dongfang Qingcang says nothing. Of course, he would rather die than agree that anyone related to Lord Changheng could be good. But Changheng is not Xiao Run. Not now. She rises to disrobe. The ties give way easily—almost too easily at this point. This dress has served her well these years, but recently it seems she has grown out of it. Though the ties hold, they do not fit the way it did when they first arrived. She supposes that must be how life goes as a mortal. Everything is so different here. “I am going to need new clothes,” she announces, setting her clothing aside on the table. “I swear this mortal food is wreaking havoc on my body.” Dongfang Qingcang lets out a questioning noise as she crosses the room to join him on the bed. He pulls his brows together in a frown. “It’s made me gain weight,” she explains, “haven’t you noticed?” She has noticed it on Dongfang Qingcang—just a little. He is still disciplined, training with mortal blades in the company of their servants, but he has allowed himself a little indulgence. He is a lot softer now, in more ways than one. He must have noticed the same about her. “You always look the same to me,” he says. “Aiya… don’t make me blush,” she protests, heart fluttering. "Smooth talker.” His frown deepens. “I am only speaking the truth.” Even after all this time, he can still make her feel as she did the first time they met. “You must be as kind to Xiao Run as you are to me. Remember to smile when he speaks to you. Just like this.” She pushes the corners of his mouth up with her fingers, his eyes widening at her sudden touch. It makes her laugh. He has gotten better at smiling all these years, but it wouldn’t be obvious to someone who doesn’t know him. Definitely not obvious to someone like Xiao Run. “You must try to make friends with him,” she says. “Won’t it be nice to have a friend?” “I do not need friends,” he mutters.

[vhagarfire]

Bran Stark x F!reader

First writing post on tumblr! I hope you enjoy it. I know Bran doesn’t actually walk much and is technically not “Bran.” Let’s just pretend like he walks fine for this story.

Description: You and Bran have been friend since you were children. While the boy has changed, seeing as he is no longer a boy. You still adore him and enjoy being around him. After all these years he realizes why you enjoy being around him so much.

Does he feel the same way?

Warnings: Smut

“Hello Bran,” I speak, a gentle smile tugging at my lips.

“Y/n. What are you doing?” He asked, the slightest hint of a smile.

I look over the boy. The two of of us are standing outside in the snow. I admire his fur coat, it always looked so wonderfully warm.

“I came looking for you.”

“Why? What do you need from me?” He raised one of his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes at my long time friend, “I just wanted to spend time with you. Is that a bad thing?”

It seemed as if lately he had less and less time for me. When we were kids, we were almost inseparable. Yet now he asks me what I want from him. Things had changed since he had fallen from that tower.

“Why would you want to spend time with someone like me?”

“Because I like being around you.”

Bran gives me a mischievous smile, “What do you like about me?”

I place my hand on my hip, “A lot of things. I just enjoy being around you.”

He takes a step closer to me. My heart picks up at the close proximity. I love and hate when he teases me like this.

“Are you sure there’s not something else that it is you’re after?” He speaks in a playful manner.

I blush lightly, I ask him something else like what? He smiles as if he enjoys seeing me panicked.

“Something like my attention. Perhaps romantic attention?”

I attempt to hold my composure, “I suppose I wouldn’t mind your attention…”

“Is that so? Do you find me attractive?” Bran smiles as he asks this.

I look at him funny, “Oh shut up!” Playfully, I smack his arm.

He burst out laughing, grabbing his arm in “pain.” I can’t help but chuckle at this. He looks at me, pausing for a moment.

“So… Would you be interested in perhaps… Going out sometime, like a date?”

I look at him, waiting for him to laugh. When he didn’t, I realize he’s serious. I nod my head at him.

“Have you thought about asking me before?”

He admits that he fantasized about it. He never did it in fear of being rejected.

“I didn’t want to make you feel awkward.”

“I’ve always liked you Bran,” I grab his hand gently.

Bran’s face lights up. As soon as I finish speaking he leaning in toward me. Placing a lingering kiss to my lips. His lips are soft, the kiss is gentle. I kiss back, taking in the moment . The kiss stops, Bran pulls me into a hung tightly against his chest.

“Would you like to come to my room for the night? We can spend some alone time together. We won’t be interrupted…”

“I would like that very much.”

Bran leads me to his room. I look around, it fits him nicely. The corner is lined with books, maps, and artifacts from before the Andals came to Westeros. Bran’s desk is set up here, with piles of unfinished history scripts, maps of the North and several old books. I walk over to the books, picking one up. I look at Bran, smiling.

Bran walks over, I set the book down. He gently grabs my cheek, brining me into a kiss. When he pulls away he takes my hand. Leading me to the bed he sits down. I take this as an opportunity to sit on his lap.

“What would you like to do Bran?”

He rests his hands on my hips, “I think you know what I would like to do. I’ve never been… physical with anyone,” he pulls away a little, “If you’re not ready. I’ll respect that, we can wait.”

I reach my hand up, tracing his jawline, “I hope you don’t think me any less of a lady… However I wish not to wait. Do to me what you please.”

Bran bites his lip, looking up at me, “If you’re sure, then I would be more than happy to…” his grip on my waist tightens, “… do what I wish.”

He kisses me deeply, hands roaming my body. I back, tugging on his shirt as a suggestion. He doesn’t hesitate to take his shirt off. I begin to gently run my fingers down his chest.

“Am I making you happy?” He asks.

“Quite,” I reply.

Bran smiles, “Good, very good.” His face looks thoughtful for a moment, “How about I show you how happy I can make you?” His hands begin to trail up my back.

He kisses down my chest, his breath growing heavier as he reaches my midriff. His hands continue to move. My body begins to tingle. I press my hips forward and down into his lap. A grown escaping his pretty lips.

He giggles at your bodies reaction. His hands travel downward as his kisses get more passionate and intense.

His hands travel under my dress, “Is this okay?”

I nod in anticipation. He speaks again, “I’ll be gentle.” His lips graze my neck.

As promised he gently slips a finger inside. He starts slow, curving his finger ever so slightly. He can’t help but stare at your beautiful face. A small whimper escapes me, spurring him on. He continues to kiss me, his hands moving at an increased speed now.

“Does it hurt?” He looks at me with a lust filled look.

I shake my head no. He takes this as a sign to add a second finger. My body feels like it’s in heaven. A knot begins to build in my stomach, before quickly snapping. I lean my forehead on his neck. He slows down, allowing me to ride out my high.

“Do you want to go all the way. We can stop if you would like, I won’t be mad we can stop immediately.”

The concern and softness of his face makes my knees feel weak. I reassure him that I feel perfectly okay. I’m ready for us to commit ourselves to each other.

He nods his head, carefully taking off my dress. I get off his lap, allowing him to slip off his pants. I look at his groan area, he is quite an impressive size. I shutter lightly knowing what’s to come.

“Tell me if it hurts too much, okay? We can go slowly.”

I nod, allowing him to lay me on the bed. He places himself above me. His eyes search mine for approval, I let out a small yes. He pushes himself in, watching my face.

I grab his other hand, threading our fingers together. For a moment, it seems the world has slowed. Honing in on the two of us. His eyes soften as he continues. As I get to used to this feeling, It’s suddenly painfully slow. I look at him, pleading for him to pick up the pace.

He does so great fully. Still staring at me with adoring eyes. A smile stuck on his face. The both of use begin to be vocal, enjoying each others noises. His groans and whimpers only spur me on.

“Bran..” I softly moan, slightly tugging his hair.

He too calls out my name, I can tell he’s getting close. He brings one of his hands to caress my cheek. He leans down, kissing me with an intense passion.

His pace picks up even quicken than before. His motions become sloppy. Every movement bringing me closer to the edge. Finally, my body explodes with pleasure. Bran quickly pulls out, he too quickly reaching his end.

After we were done, Bran cleaned himself and I. We laid back on the bed, his back against the mattress. I allowed my head to rest on his still bare chest. He looked down at me, placing a kiss on my head.

“I very much enjoyed this.” He gently played with my hair.

“As did I..”

I close my eyes, drifting off to sleep in his arms…

[backstage-if]

A little father’s day gift after the results of this poll :)

On a serious note, I’m warning that Wille and their parents don’t get along that well and this is (kinda) featured in here. Also, it’s a little longer than a drabble.

Under the cut:

2022. 

Wille Eccleston is leaving this town in seven days. No more, no less.

Neither of her parents know about it yet. 

She isn't planning on telling them at all, at least not until the very last day. That scenario is clear in her head. Next week, she will be getting hold of her bags, the rest of her needlework money and then follow to her best friend's house with a simple "By the way, I'm moving", or something close to that. She won’t give them enough time to react or put together any sort of emotional speech about how they will miss her. 

It isn't a plan, not exactly, but this is all she has. 

The moment her sister, Rebecca, enters her room, Wille is working on the last costume she will ever make for her old school’s theater group. 

"Lend me a dress," her sister barely says, competing with the loud noise made by the sewing machine, then Rebecca herself turns it off unprompted. “Mom said I could choose one of your dresses!”

Wille annalyzes her sister's frame for a minute, the girl is even shorter than she was at her age. 

"It won't fit you, we both know that. Mom must know it, too." 

"Let me have it, Willow!"

She pretends to think about it for a second, "Nah." 

Rebecca stamps her foot loudly on the wooden floor and, at that sound, their dad's head appears at the bedroom's door, a confused expression on his face. 

"Did I hear an argument?”

It has happened way too many times at this point, especially considering how few years they have been on this Earth together, but Wille already learned that, unless she makes a point of being the first one to say something, Rebecca will have no problem throwing her ‘mean sister’ under their parents’ bus. 

"Rebecca never gives my stuff back, she proved it too many times."

His confusion turns into weariness, maybe even impatience, "Can't you just... get it from her room when you plan to use it?"

Wille doesn’t have time to come up with an answer that doesn’t spoil her plans, because she can register the exact moment in which her dad sees the bag by the bedroom's corner. 

"Hey, what is this?"

Silence. What is there to say? 

"Willow, what is this?"

The truth. Maybe.

"Okay. Fine, you win. I'm moving."

"...What? Does your mom know that? Did I know that? It doesn't seem like something I would forget if you told me."

"I haven't had the opportunity to talk to her yet. I will. Tonight."

"That's not-" he seems to remember the girl right there, watching the scene unfold with wild brown eyes. "Leave, Rebecca."

"But I wanted to-"

"No, you didn't. Go to your room, go."

She exits with a frown, but not another word. After the girl leaves, Wille’s dad gets inside the bedroom and closes the door. He stays standing with his arms crossed, staring at her as if he can’t decide whether she is lying or going insane. 

"Where did that idea come from? No, of course. See, I’ve always said that friend of yours and her crazy mom weren’t-"

“Don’t say it,” Wille raises her voice at that and he stops whatever he was going to say, at least. “I talk about moving almost every day, why is it such a surprise to you?”

“We thought you were joking!” her dad mumbles something incomprehensible, then says louder. “You can’t just move.”

"Why?"

Deep down, she knows what is coming. Wille can hear the words even before it’s out there in the world, but, for a moment, she hopes her dad will surprise her and say something different. 

"Who will take care of the store?"

In the end, she is right.

It stings a little, even if it shouldn’t anymore. Once again, there is no worry about Wille herself, only that hell of a store. Always the same.

"You and mom will, as you already do. You don't really need me here, dad, I would be a terrible manager."

Just say both of you will miss me. Say that I'm your daughter and you love me and I should stay because of that, instead. 

"And if something happens? If Lucas breaks an arm and I have to take him to the hospital or if your mom, God forbid, falls ill? What then? We close it, just like that?"

She stays quiet.

"Willow, honey- We don't just do what we want to! Believe me, I know a thing or two about that. Sometimes we… Well, we have responsibilities and we have to stay. Life chooses for us."

Finally, she turns to him and tries to ignore what is implied in his words. He stayed for the family and now he wants her to stay for the business. It’s supposed to be a never-ending story. 

She says, "I'm going anyway."

"Oh my God, you’re so stubborn. Do you even have a plan? Any plan?"

Yes. Her train tickets are already bought, their not-fancy but surely affordable apartment is simply waiting for Wille and her best friend by this point and, if her dad can’t tell by the bag that gave her away in the first place, almost all of her clothes are already packed. Still, she lies to him, "No, but I'll figure it out."

"I really don't get what is w-" he stops mid sentence, then opens the door. "Nevermind. Good luck telling you mom that. Don't leave the dirty work to me."

"I won’t."

"She might… I don't know, she might even talk some sense into you. You're 22, for God's sake, you're too old to be this inconsiderate."

He closes the door loudly and leaves, and Willow doesn't bother screaming after him that she is actually 24. 

A week after that, she is the one leaving.