#it's obvious her older daughter is 18

[the-blossica-fan]

Actors AU: Where the actors answer some of the internet's most asked questions, such as:

"How old is Bessmert?"

"Who is Mesmer Sr.?"

"Is it true that Vertin owns an Xbox?"

"Is Lorelei actually Christian?"

"Who in the cast of R1999 is straight?"

"What is Balloon Party's full name?"

"How old is Eternity IRL?"

"Who in the cast is straight" 😭

Answering those questions must be pretty awkward but unfortunately, it's their job to.

ONION: and the internet asks; How old is Miss Bessmert?

(The 1.6 cast collectively turns to look at her)

Bessmert: ...Uh, I wonder what has made it such a big question. (She's around 40 years old)

"Is it true that Vertin owns an Xbox?"

Vertin: ? Why is that question so important? Well, I do own one

Vert: she doesn't even let me see it! Only mom has seen that thing, I'm not even sure if it exists.

Mercuria: Last time we played on a console, you dropped a glass filled with alcohol on it and it got damaged irreparably

Vert: ...

"Lorelei is actually Christian?"

Lorelei, with a rosary on her neck and usually prays: ...Not sure about that.

"What is Balloon Party's full name?"

Balloon Party/Gertrude: Those who know need to perish in a horrible way

Lorelei: 😦

Gertrude: No, not you.

"How old is Eternity in real life?"

Eternity: Huh? How rude! Has no one taught you any manners? You do not ask a lady how old she is!

"Who in the R1999 cast is straight?"

J: Definitely me, I love women

Pioneer: I literally saw you kissing your coworker last week!

J: That was as bros, we said no homo after yk?

Pioneer: These youngsters are so weird sometimes.

Dessert Flannel: Lower your hand Ezra.

Ezra: 😞

Trista: This dumb brother of mine has been flirting with Heinrich for a long time and he still dared to raise his hand

Theophil: HUH- YOU DARE EXPOSE ME?!

Isolde: I apologize, it is in our blood to fail at romance, he is coping

Theophil: ISOLDE

[sturnslutz]

a summer like never before.

a small tsitp blurb intro to give u guys the anticipation:)

the time has finally come. your annual summer trip down to cape cod with your mother, and best friend. this has been a trip you 3 have been taking for who knows how long.

the sturniolo house was like a second home to you. marylou and jimmy treated you like their daughter and the triplets and justin were your best friends. unfortunately this year, justin couldn't come as he was travelling with a few friends.

you and the triplets were as close as ever. always hanging out, sleepovers each night, and shared sundaes, were your immediates. your best friend, solina, was also super close with them, but they still felt closer to you.

this was finally the year you had turned 18, and even though your birthday was a couple months ago, the sturniolo family still wanted to celebrate on the first night you came.

the secret only you and solina knew, is that you've had a major crush on matt for basically your whole life, and it was kinda obvious. you knew they were all attractive, but since nick was gay, and chris, well. he was chris. you felt him as more of a brother.

this year, you look a whole lot different from last. you got your braces off, your body has finally brought some curvage to you, and confidence is hitting you like crazy.

the triplets were only a year older, so you don't really feel that much of a difference between you all. sure, the subtle flirting between you and matt, and even sometimes chris, but it was nothing beyond that.

being friends with the triplets has also gotten you to meet nathan doe. he's a couple weeks older than you, and you two are just like brother and sister. solina makes it obvious that she likes nathan, but in all honesty, he told you he didn't really like her like that.

this summer was going to be the best, or worst summer yet, and it all came down to you, whether you liked it or not.

[enidette]

CAUGHT carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, carl is a few years older than reader, reader is daryl’s adopted daughter, getting caught, pretty much perv and sub!carl

part two.

carl had his eye on you from the moment he’d met you. you were a meek little girl daryl found in the woods, that he later took under his wing. it was an unspoken thing that you had become his daughter, a carbon copy of your dad, badass, independent, great with a crossbow.

maybe at first you were just the only girl his age, but growing up with you, watching you go from skittish to, quite frankly, better at fighting than him made him fall for you even more. he liked how you did what you wanted and it was always smart.

it took over his mind, you took over his fantasies. he’d catch himself in the middle of the night, trying to relieve stress by getting off really quickly. his occasional routine of just trying to ease himself turning into teasing himself at the thought of your hands doing it instead.

he tried to be as quiet as possible but as time went by the urges just kept getting stronger. it went from a nighttime thing to something he’d do whenever he had the chance. it turned into looking at you doing such innocent things like standing in a way that made your shirt ride up, hell, even smiling at him had his brain spiraling in ways it shouldn’t have.

you were just being kind, there’s no way you could see into his horny little mind that just exploded after years of being locked away during such an unfortunate time.

oh but he should have known, that look in your eye that had him questioning whether it was all in his head or not. the things you seemed to do on purpose, like bending over and overexaggerating your movements getting up.

today was a little more obvious, you recently found a red bra on a run. it wasn’t normal to find cute things that made you feel confident, and when you saw it was your size you took it without hesitation. you wore a loose white tank top that’s strap would slide off onto your shoulder, tying it up to expose a little of your belly with the “it’s hot” excuse.

all that paired with that look in your eye sent carl reeling.

thankfully that day he was mostly home, and alone spare judith’s babysitter outside. he caught his focus flipping from his comic to you. he throws his head back at the thought of you showing him under your shirt, under your bra, everything.

he groans and slides his jeans off, wrapping his fist around himself and stroking slowly, just how he imagined you would. he just knew you would tease him, agonizingly slow movements, just torment he wouldn’t be able to get enough of. the tranquility of being home alone allowed him to let a few noises go, groans and whimpers of your name falling from his lips.

you make your way up the steps of the grimes’ house, meeting olivia on the porch. she held judith on her lap, giving you a small smile. “as much as i love her, i’m definitely ready to hand her over.”

you laugh and take judith, waving goodbye and making your way into, practically, your second home. you bounce judith on your hip, taking her up to her room. you could tell she was sleepy, not only was she sleeping when you walked up, but she was rubbing her eyes as well.

you coo at her and set her down, waiting until she was fast asleep to make your way out. you walk into the hallway deep in thought about what to do while you wait for her to wake up.

then there’s a noise, a soft one that pulls you out of your head. another one, this time a moan that you assume is pain initially. you furrow your brows and focus, hearing a breathless call of your name from the direction of carl’s room.

you slowly walk to his door, pushing it open just a bit to get a view of his body. you could see clearly he was fucking himself and thinking of you, all your conspiring paying off finally. you watch and wait, listening to his noises get more desperate and breathy as he gets closer.

you wait until he’s about to finish, walking through the door and slamming it behind you. he panics and tries to cover up, looking at you with embarrassment and pain from his ruined orgasm. you walk to him, bending down to tip his hat, your other hand going to graze over the tip of his cock.

his hips jut upwards and he sighs, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. you bring your hand back to your side and stand up, his curious, waiting eye following you as you pull a chair up next to his bed.

“i didn’t tell you to stop. put on a show for me, cowboy.”

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 9

Summary: Lloyd has a decision

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, D/s dynamics, restraints, unprotected sex, creampie, teasing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.2K

Previous

Series Masterlist

“Lyla Bee,” you smile at the sweetest little baby you’ve ever seen. Her head turns to look at you. Her mostly gummy smile with two bottom teeth cheeses up at you. Lyla’s cheeks squish up so high that her eyes are squished as she giggles.

You give her smooshing kisses onto her cheeks over and over again, “Tell daddy good morning.”

“Lalalalalalala,” she repeats over and over again before cracking herself up in laughter. Looking back up before turning back towards you.

“No, tell daddy good morning.”

“Mamamamamamamamama,” more repetitive syllables, but not what you want her to say.

“You gotta tell daddy good morning.”

“Da!” She squeaks, smiling at you before looking back up. “Da! Da! Da! Da!”

“That’s my girl! You said it!” You can’t stop kissing over her squishy little cheeks, ready to cry at her being able to screech Da! Turning back towards the front you smile at your phone, “Good morning, daddy. Me and this sweet Lyla Bee had a late morning, huh?” Lyla jabbers along with you, telling her side of the story. Smart angel baby.

“But today we’re going to plan her first birthday, and I’m not taking no for an answer. I don’t care if it’s just us two and the baby girl, we’re having her a beautiful birthday. You could always invite Ari,” you know when he gets a chance to watch this video he’s going to be cocking up an eyebrow. He both loved and hated when you brought up his partner in crime.

“Tell daddy bye. We’ve got to make some breakfast for this bumble bee. Ooh! Note, maybe we should do a bumble bee theme for her birthday. Ooh, since daddy thinks you’re the queen bee, maybe that should be your theme,” Lloyd chuckles as he watches the video. You had said bye, and now are off on a tangent talking about her birthday that she wasn’t allowed to have because he didn’t want her to get older.

It had nothing to do with not allowing people to celebrate his daughter, and everything to do with keeping her this little and cute. And you look positively delectable being a mom. The things he wants to do with you once Lyla goes to bed is animalistic. He has claimed you in every way that he can think of. And your obedient self trusts him to not hurt you. Both physically and mentally. That thought fills him with so much pride and need for you.

He’s unaware if you know exactly how much power you hold over him, nor does he care. He doesn’t think you have it in you to be a manipulator. You hold the power, but you also guard it. Are protective in your way for Lyla and him. He’s never had someone be protective of him, and it makes him feel — things. Things he can’t fully comprehend.

“Are you watching that again?” Lloyd locks his phone, and glares up at Ari. His giant friend just smirks as he looks at him. “Oh, you’re acting like seeing that fine piece of ass with your daughter doesn’t turn you on?”

“She is a fine piece of ass, but she’s more. That’s not why I’m…”

“Yeah, you’re in love with her. You don’t have to tell me. It’s quite obvious, and I won’t say anything to anyone else. Your secret of being in love is safe with me,” Ari is aware that it’s not a prideful thing, it’s a protection thing for you and Lyla. The less people knew, the less you became a target, “What’s this I hear about sharing her with me.”

“I didn’t say that,” Lloyd glares at him. “It was a heat of the moment pillow talk.”

“Talking about my dick to your girl seems a bit weird, no? How is my dick making it into your pillow talk?”

“We are talking about our daughter’s first birthday. Not what I say to make her squirm,” Ari starts to open his mouth, and Lloyd makes a buzzing sound, holding up one finger. “Eh! If you can’t contribute to the plans of Lyla’s party, I want you to keep your flopping jaw closed.”

Ari chuckles, shaking his head. The teasing is definitely over. Lloyd can be funny when he gets flustered and pissy, but when it comes to you and Lyla, he’s insufferable. “So what are you going to do with Roman?”

“I want him to see just how in love, respected, and safe his daughter is,” Ari’s interest piques as he lifts his brows, and leans closer. “He thinks I am only using his daughter for sex, and while the sex is impeccable, there is more to us than that. And one day that beautiful woman is going to walk around with me, and I’m holding Lyla, and the other hand is on her swollen stomach. Roman will see the two of us in love, and realize that his daughter is worth more than he ever could have imagined, and that’s when I will destroy him. I will make him regret the day that he ever thought he or any man could make her feel inferior.”

Your submission should always be a choice, and not a demand of fear of retaliation. Roman was a bastard that treated you as a commodity. The Verb was a prick for thinking he could lay his hands on you. It didn’t bother him in the slightest that you hadn’t thought of a viable way to dispose of him. Maybe it’d do The Verb some good to see you growing with Lloyd’s seed. Give you something that he never would have been man enough to do.

Maybe seeing you happy could do him some good. Lloyd takes a deep breath as he leans back, “I’ve got the perfect idea.”

“Are you going to show The Verb a sex tape of you and your gorgeous Dolly?”

“Why are you calling her gorgeous?” Lloyd’s eyes narrow as he leans in closer to his friend. “She is.”

“I noticed,” Ari’s grin turns devilish as he leans back in his chair. “Just ravishing.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, no. I saw you, heard you. Those teasing words. Are you looking for a third so early in your relationship?” Ari’s chuckle rumbles out of his chest as Lloyd rolls his eyes, and turns in his chair. “I mean, if you need help showing her how to get stuffed.”

“I don’t.”

“Then don’t offer what you won’t deliver,” the two men sit in silence for too long as Lloyd stares at nothing at all, and Ari just smiles at his friend. His irritation quickly turns into visions of Ari just watching your wrecked face. You are too much of a good girl to ever let him touch you, weren’t you? But making him watch you, Lloyd might be able to get on board with that.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” Ari asks, interrupting Lloyd’s thoughts.

“What?”

Ari nonchalantly shrugs. It is long past having this conversation with Lloyd. He couldn’t keep you and his daughter, and live this life. Lloyd has more money than he could ever want. Investing smart. Everyone knows the high life he enjoys having, he needs that security. “In five years, where are you in life?”

His eyes go blank. Visions of you, Lyla, another toddler girl, and a swollen belly dance in his mind. He’s with you every day. Away from the city, away from the killing and uncertainty. Just his family.

“Yeah,” Ari interrupts Lloyd’s train of thought, and he gets a pouting glare. “Just as I suspected. You realize the risk you give both of them by continuing this life.”

“This is what I know. And I didn’t ask for them — this.”

“Neither did they. But isn’t that how the best love stories start? Unexpected and raw, but also real?” Lloyd sighs, nodding his head. Yeah. It truly was the best love story. Completely unexpected, and the two of you knocked him off his feet, and made him feel things he never thought he would.

”Have you ever asked her what she wants? Surely she doesn’t just want to be an au pair,” Lloyd grunts. It’s the tenth time Ari has pissed him off in one conversation. “I’m sorry, a mom. What if she wants a bookstore, a flower shop, a…”

“She can have it,” Lloyd says with no hesitation.

“A coffee shop that the mister and missus run together. Lyla, busy helping when really she's just playing. A cute little baby bouncing around in a swing because you two can’t stand the thought of being away from each other. Or what was it you wanted to do when you were a boy? A professor,” Lloyd scoffs, rolling his eyes at the stupid ideas of a too young boy. Life happened, and he just rose up the ranks of the life of crime.

“I’m sure your pretty little wife would love to see you bend her over a desk. Punishing that pretty ass before you fuck her stupid.”

“Get out of my fucking fantasy,” both men release an airy laugh. Lloyd looks at the desk in front of him. He couldn’t continue on with this life. “I could do it, you know?”

“I know you could. Just as much as I can join your freakish little fucking games with your girlfriend. And I do mean fucking,” Ari gives Lloyd a wink, who returns the gesture by throwing a pen at him.

“Shut up.”

“You brought it up.”

“I was teasing her. Seeing her get all embarrassed and heated is,” Lloyd glares at Ari. “Oh, shut up! I like to see her squirm.”

“You have a sick need to humiliate, but she likes it,” Ari shrugs. Who is he to judge yours and Lloyd’s kink.

“Yeah, you don’t get to come home to her fucking a copy of my dick while I eat dinner,” his eyes grow distant again. Imagining his favorite show to watch while he eats. Seeing you get off, while simultaneously begging for his real cock, and to just fuck you is the best form of entertainment.

“You should invite me over one night,” Lloyd’s foot goes in between Ari’s legs. Connecting to the seat of his chair, he pushes the chair back causing an uproar of laughter from Ari. “You really are a bastard.”

“You offered!”

“I wasn’t serious.”

“It’s just new. You’ll change your mind,” Ari chuckles as Lloyd walks away from the conversation. Annoyed. Intrigued. Irritated. Turned on? No. Definitely not. Maybe not. Maybe a little.

——

Lloyd opens the door to his home, and quickly turns the alarm back on. It is too quiet. He worked late. Really it was having time to think about what Ari had questioned him about. Being your cute self, you left a dinner plate in the fridge. He isn’t hungry. Just hungry for you.

With a bit more gusto in his step he heads towards your bedroom. He’ll check on Lyla after he wakes you up with an orgasm. It’s been such a long day, and he could use something sweet on his tongue. The peaceful sound of your sleep sounds plays softly under the door.

Now, he could burst through the door, and wake you up with fear. He could crawl up the bed, and plant himself between your thighs, or he can make a trail of kisses up your body before he melts into you. Forgetting the work he does while basking in your warmth. It didn’t matter to him what he did because it was going to be with you.

Opening up the door, he slinks closer to the bed. Starting to peel off his clothes, until the most perfect and beautiful sight he’s ever seen comes into view. Lyla tucked so close to your body while your arm drapes over her. Cuddling the baby into your body. It’s cruel he didn’t get to fall asleep with the two of you.

Seeing just how quickly you took her into your life, and made her yours eases his darkened soul. You didn’t birth her, but you are the most integral part to her raising. He has missed so much time with her, and you. And each day he chooses to live in this life is another day that he misses his family. One day could potentially miss everything. The risk of the job is becoming too real for him.

He could miss her first sentences, her first steps without assistance, her personality coming through. He might miss out on her first day of school, the first person to break her heart, the first date. He shudders thinking of that aspect. Lloyd could risk the possibility of making more adorable babies with you. Forgoing the chance to have a family with you. The ability to give her siblings. It’s a risk he isn’t fully willing to take anymore.

He had too much here. Right in this bed is his life. Not the money, the thrills, the heavy rotation of women. This is the most comfortable and fulfilled he’s ever been. It isn’t worth it anymore. Ari is right.

“You could put on your pajama pants and get in the bed with us.”

“You could meet me in the shower.”

“Lloyd, the baby is sleeping,” playfully he sighs. He’ll take a quick shower, and get back to you. It isn’t worth it to stay away from you. Or her. How did he get here? To a time where he got excited about going home, or wanting to get to work late because he is too busy spending extra time with his girls.

His mind is set. He doesn’t need the job. Investments have been made. He can live an honest life. Maybe. The two of you could have a store. Or do absolutely nothing for a while. Just enjoy each other.

Stepping back into the bedroom, he slides into the spot behind you. His arm moves over your hip, and he lays a hand on Lyla. Her lips pucker out a bit before wiggling close to you, and you give her a kiss to her forehead. “You smell good,” you hum.

“Stop wiggling your ass on me.”

“But you’re warm, and smell good.”

“If you want to keep snuggling our daughter, you better quit. Because I will make you take her to her room, so I can fuck you long and hard,” gasping, you peek behind you to look at him. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not a threat.”

“Fine,” you exhale, starting to close your eyes again. It just feels so much more comfortable when Lloyd is in the bed with you. There’s a rightness to it.

“Is there anything you wanted to do before you got here with us?”

“An art gallery,” whispering, you give Lyla another kiss. It’s a simple answer, and if Lloyd did any light digging into your college degree, he’d know you wanted a life in the art world.

“I will buy you an art gallery,” you snort out a laugh, and his hand moves from Lyla to your breast, and he pinches your nipple. You bite your tongue to not make too much noise. “I’m serious. What if I let all this go? It’s just you and I. A very chic art gallery. Lyla growing up around this rich and creative life.”

“You’re serious?” Did he really say what you think he said? Give it all up.

“Yeah. I don’t think I can continue to be away from you. I’d like to think we’ll have another baby bee or two. I can’t do that if I’m dead. I don’t want to continue to bring all this ugly fear and possibilities into our home. I have enemies, and lots of them. I put you and our children in danger. I can’t have both that life and you. And it’s you and her that I have to choose.”

Lloyd’s face buries into your neck. Nipping along your sensitive skin. Feeling at ease with his decision. He’d get everything situated. He’d give you your dreams, since you have given him his. Being out of this life, and everyday with you, just makes complete sense.

“You sure you don’t want to put Lyla Bee in her bed?”

“No, hers seeping. And hers is really cozy and comfy and warm on her mommy.”

“I love hearing you talking like this,” he shifts slightly, placing his mouth at the shell of your ear. Exhaling just enough to awaken your core, “But I will wake you up with my dick inside you.”

“The baby,” your voice trembles as you try to remain still. You just never know with Lloyd. It’s what makes him so exciting.

“I’ll get her all cleaned up, fed, and in her own bed. I know why you have her in here with you. My needy sweet girl. You are so touch starved, and I love giving you attention. Especially touching you,” how are you supposed to fall asleep now? How can your body get turned on that quickly, and now how are you going just left to drift off. “Get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

“You can’t say things like that, daddy.”

“Shhh…”

Frustrating. He can whisper those things in your ear, setting you on edge. Making sure you wake up horny and ready to take him. Fine. You’ll just wait for when he gets Lyla fed and asleep in her own bed. Like he could be stealthy enough that you don’t wake up with them.

—

You failed.

You failed miserably. You slept through Lloyd waking up, and tending to Lyla, getting her in bed, all while you slept. “Lloyd! Untie me!” His grin turns sinister as he shakes his head no. “Daddy,” you make your voice weak, hoping it entices him to do just that. Not being able to hold him is just cruel.

“Don’t daddy me. You earned this. Do you remember your safe word,” narrowing your eyes, you nod once. “Then say it,” you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “There’s my stubborn girl.”

His boxers are so tented. Straining from his hard length, and if he’s just going to stand there, making you drool over his cock that is pressing so hard against its confines then he is cruel. Your lower lip puckers out as you look down your body. At least you’re still dressed. “Daddy.”

“How much does she need me,” the infuriating thing about this man is his need to talk about you instead of to you. His knee presses into the mattress and yanks your thighs apart before crawling in between your legs. Noticing the glint from his knife too late as he cuts away your satin shorts, and moves up to your shirt. He could have just unbuttoned that. But why would he do the easy or normal thing? No, he just likes to cut them off.

“Shh, I’ll buy you some more,” he whispers, running the blade down the middle of your body. The icy coolness from the metal leaves chill bumps in its wake.

He peels the shreds off you, and drops them onto the floor, before his darkened eyes peer up at you, “No panties?” Your response is a glare. Wishing he’d just get a move on it. “Hmm,” he settles between your legs and gazes up at your weeping cunt. “What has got her so wet? My, my, my. She is soaked. I wonder if it’s me or just being tied up. Or,” he glances up at you with a murderous smile.

Sticking his tongue out, he licks a strip up through your center, moaning in satisfied hunger. “I knew it,” he does it again, but keeps his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pulls up. A string of your arousal connects the two of you as he keeps those blackened eyes on you. “You’re ovulating.”

You shake your head no with a smile. He’s crazy. Insane. You are on birth control. “Are you so filled with lust you don’t even remember what we decided?” Oh. That. “We decided you would stop taking your pills. Now, here’s where we are now. The chances are higher for you to get pregnant. Before we get started, and you’re filled with desire and not brains, do you want me to come in your cunt, on you, or your mouth. It’s a big decision, I know.”

It is a big decision. Because his warmth inside of you feels so good. He snaps his fingers, “Don’t go into that space. You’ll get fucked regardless. But where am I putting my cum?”

“I don’t — I don’t want to decide.”

“Then I’m wearing a condom.”

“Why?”

“Because you aren’t in the right mind frame to make this decision. You’re acting on just your body‘s feelings,” he’s right. But there are other options of birth control. It doesn’t have to just be pulling out.

“Come in me, and then a morning after pill,” Lloyd nods towards the dresser. Of course he’d have one ready. “You’re not questioning me?”

“Why would I?” Yes, you get the contradiction. You stopped birth control, and now are using an alternative. But you just can’t think past wanting to feel him. “When you’re not tied up, and spread eagle, maybe you’ll think differently. But you just want me to fuck you and fill you with my seed, huh?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“I do really like looking at this pussy though. She looks gorgeous, all wet, and ready to take me. Lyla is dozing off with her lullabies playing and you are just ripe for the taking.”

“So take me,” your threat or warning, whichever, is enough for him to position himself. Lloyd runs his aching, throbbing cock through your folds, while you stare at him sheepishly. “I can’t touch you.”

“I just enjoy seeing you squirm,” he responds before crashing into your warmth with no warning. Leaving your head to lean back as the utmost pleasure of having his length fill you up with a sharp pain. Taking him is a hard task. “Don’t you ever get used to me, Dolly,” he grunts before pulling out, and spearing hard back into you.

You whine as he bottoms out. Jerking on your restraints as you try to ground yourself with his body. “It’s a bit of an effort,” he starts to pull out again, and slams into your wet heat. Your toes curl at such a harsh intrusion, and you want more. “But I still think your pretty little cunt was made to take me.”

His hips piston into you quickly. Over and over he pounds into your body, and you can’t do anything, but take it. Take his heavy cock. Take every inch of him. Every jolt of his body pushing into you, you take. “Such a good sweet girl. You’re not even arguing with me. You like my cock too much, huh?”

“Uh huh,” with that admission he fucks into you so hard you feel him in the depths of your soul. His body becomes one with you. The most vulgar way that you can think of to accept that the two of you are one. You are a team, never to be split. Together forever. This is the man that you will live for and die with. The man that will burn the world down if it means saving you and his family.

He’s it.

He’s everything.

And yes, you do take him so well.

Even the slight tinge of discomfort feels amazing as your cunt stretches to accommodate him. You will get to experience him, this life, a new life, all of it forever. Have more adorable babies. Have a life you’re happy in. A life you’ve dreamed about. Away from the violence and secrets. A life that you’ll be okay with raising a family. A life different than the one you were raised in.

This is it.

All you’ve ever wanted.

Right here in this home.

Right here in your body.

“Stay with me, Dolly. Don’t you go all dumb before I come inside you.”

“Daddy, I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby,” he’s so deep into your body, you feel his head swell as he empties his load into you. “Mmm,” you sigh as his warmth fills up your swollen pussy.

He leans forward to kiss on your forehead, while his hands undo your cuffs. Your arm drop free, and you pull him close to you. His lips still press warmly against your cheek as he starts to pull away. “Don’t go.”

“I was getting the pill.”

“It can wait,” he shuffles to lay beside you, but pulls you on top of him instead. “It can wait until next time.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“What — changed your mind?”

“Just this once. Once a month,” his brow cocks up, and he smiles. “Once a month you get to have unprotected sex. The rest of the month, you pull out,” he says your real name, but you cover his mouth. “Unless you don’t want to. Then you can wear a condom,” Lloyd shakes his head. “Would you be okay with it if I happened to get pregnant?”

“Dolly, I’m okay with whatever you want to do. My life is yours, and pretty sure it has been since the first moment I saw you. I’m all yours. However you want this to go. Just don’t tell me to go away.”

“I’d never.”

And you wouldn’t. Not ever.

He is yours, and you are his.

And with your touch, you changed his entire world. His entire being.

Forever.

The End, friend. Or is it...?

Next

Masterlist

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[ma1dita]

crazy little thing

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> bedtime stories | next -> anything you want words: 3.4k summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he spends all his drachmas to make you smile. Sometimes, the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite herself. Everyone’s tired of you two dancing around each other. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader a/n: lil valentines day special though im working on more est. relationship fluff after this!! happy season 2 renewal babies (posted 2/9/24 unbetaed)

—

“Come on, you gotta admit—it’s kinda funny!” 

Luke is met with blank stares at the camp store after he places a few drachmas onto the folding table in front of the Apollo kids. They’re not sure if he’s trying to convince them, or himself.

Because yeah, that’s the excuse he goes for, wanting to spend his savings on having them sing to a certain head counselor instead of admitting his blatantly obvious feelings, so if you ask Lee Fletcher and his half-siblings, it’s kind of pathetic.

“What do we look like, a traveling mariachi band, Castellan?” he deadpans, watching the usually confident boy scratch the back of his neck with his face red like someone who’s been sitting out in the sun for too long. 

“I’m not saying to follow her around all day or whatever, just pick a random time to sing a song and catch her off-guard,” he insists, before meeting the judgmental look of one of Lee’s younger siblings.

Lee chuckles, ruffling his sister’s hair before looking at Luke quite seriously, “She’s a good friend. You’re gonna have to pay us more than that. Special song for a special lady after all.”

The son of Hermes knows he’s gonna regret this sooner or later, but proceeds to throw the rest of his meager earnings onto the table. He has other ways of being resourceful anyway, the box of chocolates he nicked from behind the store counter feeling heavy in his jacket pocket.

“Right… she’s just a friend.”

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides as he stands there, feeling a little stupid.

Lee’s little sister scoops up the coins from the table, her raised eyebrows and light aura mirroring that of her older brother. 

“What song were you thinking?” she asks, “Gotta make sure I know it if I’m singing it to your…friend.”

The 18-year-old boy tugs at his dark curls, getting more embarrassed and wanting to retreat with every minute that passes, but he’s never been one to back down from anything–swordfights, monsters, capture the flag, but this—trying to impress you...is a whole different story somehow.

Why are feelings so damn complicated? 

It feels like being at the butt of a joke, or more accurately—at the sharp edge of a sword, and Luke never lets his fights end in a draw.

“You guys got it covered. Just…surprise me too, I guess,” he sighs, walking off without finishing his sentence. He wishes he could pray a little harder to his dad for luck, even if he’s unsure of what exactly he’s wishing for (or if his dad will even listen).

“Castellan’s hopeless. You think he knows it yet?” the girl asks her brother, to which Lee laughs.

“I don’t think she does either, even though everyone else can see right through them. The new bets are on who’s gonna break first. Chiron’s been keeping track, but don’t tell Mr. D.”

If Luke wants a show, they’ll make sure he’ll get his money’s worth—and hopefully, it’ll push you two along faster. Lee bet on you two getting together before the summer after all, and he’ll be damned if he loses to Clarisse.

—

Valentine’s Day might be the day of love, but for you, someone who’s single (not by choice), and heavily busy with making sure people aren’t so…enamored in public (you’ve lost count of the reports you’ve written out due to indecent behavior this morning alone)---this just feels like another Wednesday, except with more hormonal teenagers with uncontrollable urges than usual. 

Oh, the joys of being the daughter of the camp director, also known as everyone’s favorite narc.

Honestly, love can suck it. With this much love in the air, you can feel it suffocating you like a plastic bag over your head. 

That’s an uncontrollable urge. Too much?

Maybe Silena was right, you do need to open yourself up more to romantic opportunities. But if you have to watch another person swap spit and get pawed at like they’re the last dinner roll at the table…. You might commit arson and set this place ablaze.

You just didn’t understand why people had to go all out today of all days. Shouldn’t love be shown year-round? Though you were a person of theatrics and enjoy a good show, it is amazing how much grandiose displays of affection make you cringe. It felt very performative, instead of genuine, and you would know, you’re the best actress at camp. You’ve acted out stories before, knowing all of the greatest romances and tragedies by heart. And you pride yourself on being a decent teacher to the campers, but for some of them, love still translates to a bad rendition of a ballad they heard on the radio.

Nothing gets past you at this point.

But that sucks too sometimes, you know?

Multiple failed flings and a heartbreak or two weigh down on you on days like this one, as you’re stuck being a bystander to outlandish displays put on by the Aphrodite kids being put to work. Love is their domain anyway, and yours…makes you feel a little less undesirable. Each demigod has their own strengths and weaknesses, but perhaps in the name of love, some of them don’t know how to take a hint. Several forgettable prose readings, a Sparknotes version of Eros and Psyche, and too many red roses to count have you reeling from exhaustion and a bit of disgust—-and it’s only lunchtime. 

So yeah, maybe you’re a little jealous; they could call you Nemesis at this point.

The only flowers you got today were from the little kids from along the path to the strawberry orchard, and though it’s sweet—the human side of you misses affection. 

Devotion. 

To be a daughter of Dionysus meant to deal in extremes, obsession or nothing, and there are very few people who can handle that. Always being too much to handle, or uninterested as a defense mechanism. Perhaps that’s what scares admirers away. 

That, or the fact that Luke Castellan is always attached to your hip. To be honest, you’ve always preferred it that way—the both of you working as a pair always gets things done faster around camp and he brightens your mood, whether you admit it or not. 

But you two are just friends. 

Really good friends who look for each other in crowded rooms, hands constantly brushing against the other for comfort, and able to pick up where the other one leaves off. Usually he’s the first person you see in the morning, and the last person you say goodnight to. You know how he likes his coffee and he cuts your apples for you as you two sit together in your unassigned seats in the dining pavilion. You watch each other’s workshops and if one of you is missing, everyone knows to ask the other to get an answer.

Right? That’s totally normal coworker/friend behavior.

If you were ever given immortality, perhaps they’d make you the goddess of denial.

You’re sweeping up confetti from the dining hall floor after an uncoordinated excuse of a flash mob was performed for one of the Demeter kids… and not to sound like a heinous bitch, but maybe next time they should use something biodegradable… or less messy. Sighing deeply, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you look up, Luke’s standing there with two full plates of food.

“Take a break, Trouble. No one’s paying you overtime,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes as you put the broom aside.

“No one’s paying me at all…” you groan, before taking the plate out of his hands and knocking your head against his shoulder in thanks. He snickers as his hand brushes the small of your back, tickling your spine as he leads you to sit at a table.

“Just another holiday. You know how it is.”

“It’d be nice to have a night off though. Sometimes I regret taking up the position,” you mumble through spoonfuls of soup. He throws his large hand over your shoulder, kneading some tension from your trapezius. Head jerking along with the movements, you giggle as soup dribbles off your spoon, which makes his lips quirk into a small smile. Being around you felt so thoughtless and easy that if you told him to jump off a bridge he’d do it without question, which should be more concerning—the hold you have on him is irrevocable. Feelings are way too difficult for his teenage brain to comprehend at this stage. It’s easier to wash dishes with lava or fight off a dragon (bad example, he knows, but there’s something about you that already makes him feel like he’s losing before anything’s even happened).

Luke is someone who fights until the end, a soldier who’s always trained and so ready for anything that sometimes it makes you wonder what war he’s preparing for. Infatuation, or the scarier, four-letter word was not something he was ever briefed on.

“No, you don’t. You’re a control freak,” he says with a grin. 

Luke watches you play with the pendant on your necklace, the dragon scale he fashioned into your favorite accessory glinting in your hand. Running your fingers back and forth over the smooth surface, your other hand puts the spoon down and you place your head on his shoulder. He thinks if he had to describe the four-letter word on the tip of his tongue, he’d tell whoever’s asking about the way you kissed his healing cheek after you both left the Garden of Hesperides. More than a year later, Luke is still unable to find the right words even if the weakness has made a home in his heart with your name written all over it.

“I swear if I have to hear another person croak out a lovesong I might just drown myself in the Long Island Sound,” you scoff as his fingers trace circles onto your waist.

There’s a low strum of a guitar that reaches your ears and your forehead meets the cool surface of the table as you shut your eyes and grumble. It’s Lee and his half-siblings, beginning to walk through the hall seconds away from singing until they see Luke shaking his head and dragging his finger across his throat to please, gods, stop. The Apollo kids swivel and 180, walking out of the hall as the music stops dissonantly, rolling their eyes and dragging their feet.

“That was quick,” you say inquisitively as your head pops up from the table to see Luke looking off in the distance.

“Heh… I think they were just practicing or something…”

He then had to run off and pay them more drachmas for the inconvenience. 

Fucking hustlers.

—

The sun sets quickly on Camp Half-Blood since it’s mid-February, and Luke finds you trying to calm your nerves as you look at the mess of glitter and paper mache that covers the arts and crafts hall from floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe this!” you say in disbelief as you look at Luke, and he takes the can of Redbull out of your shaking hand.  

“There’s just no fucking way everyone decided to use glitter. It’s everywhere! I’m—CONNOR, PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN!”

Luke sighs as he holds his hand out for his younger brother to give up the craft scissors, which he relinquishes with a mischievous grin. 

“Guys, go find trouble somewhere else,” Luke mutters, pushing his head away, and where Connor goes, Travis quickly follows, tossing a canister of glitter back at him and not knowing it was still open.

“Oops.” 

Immediately, the both of you are showered in iridescent particles, floating over your heads and stuck in your hair as the older Stoll brother looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“You've already got Trouble anyway,” he says teasingly, and this asshole winks at Luke before bolting out the door.

The room is silent now, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, before speaking, “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Luke. I might just fucking kill him.” You'd say more but your eyes are shut as you try not to breathe in glitter, and then the sound of the doorknob rattling catches your attention. Luke is standing there, finally faced with a door he can’t open, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance–but the effect isn’t as menacing as it should be when he’s covered in red and pink sparkles.

“Not if I get to him first, the little bastard.”

“Just open the door,” you say panicked, running over and forcing his hands off the doorknob.

“I can’t if you won’t let me do it!” He grits, elbowing you and trying to unlock the door with both his inherited gift and brute strength.

“What kind of demigod even are you? Lockpicking is supposed to be your thing!”

“Well OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not working, now is it, Trouble?”

Luke finishes off the rest of your energy drink before throwing the can over his shoulder and he swears he can hear you cuss at him under your breath as you berate him about the mess, so he chooses to focus on busting the door down instead of looking at the glitter stuck in your eyelashes and thinking about how the idea of being stuck in a room with you makes him feel weak at the knees.

Through the window, his eyes meet the group of Apollo kids staring at the predicament you two are in (and the barricade of chairs the Stolls put in front of the door). He sighs, and Lee’s little sister flips him off as they start to walk away again, instruments in tow.

“You gonna charge him again?”

A tiny Will Solace looks at his elders for guidance as they walk along the path. As one of the youngest in the bunch, he especially idolizes anything his half-siblings do, going along with whatever they see fit.

“No, but we’re close enough to the archery range that I might just shoot them through their hearts myself. Eros and Aphrodite themselves are pretty much begging us to,” Lee grumbles.

“Why are we doing this again?” Will babbles, and his half-sister grabs his hand to help him walk faster.

“A crazy little thing called love. You’ll understand it better someday, kid.”

—

Thankfully, it all starts winding down after dinner. Luke finds you leaning against a tree flipping through your clipboard during the camp sing-along, so he tugs at your elbow to get your attention.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You look at him, slotting your pen behind your ear as you notice faint glitter particles still dotted along his cheeks. As your lips pull into a small smile, you say, "I still have a few things to do after this, don't you?"

"Cleared your schedule for the night," he mumbles, and whether it's the glow of the bonfire or he's actually blushing, a teasing expression crosses your face as you step closer and cross your arms at him.

"You cleared my schedule for the night. How on earth did you do that?"

Instead of a proper reply, he grabs your hand, tugging you out to the docks near the lake.

"Don't worry about it."

He's not going to tell you that he owes Chris and Annie a few favors before the end of the month to make up for the night shift they ended up taking. Instead, you both sit cross-legged at the edge of the dock, a gentle breeze brushing at your clothes and for the first time today, you're able to just exist.

"I hate Valentine's Day," you suddenly say, looking up at the night sky, and he's watching you closely as the gentle shine of the moon casts a cool glow on your face. Luke cringes at your statement, thinking he's already thrown away his shot.

"Why's that?"

"Tell me something Luke, am I unlikable? Like, is there anything wrong with me?"

He looks at you like you've told him you’re secretly a cyclops.

“The fuck? How many times do I have to tell you that everyone thinks you’re great?"

You don't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt, "I don’t want to be great, I want to be loved!" Reeling back a little, you lean back on your hands to create some distance.

 “Sorry... that was a lot, and I’m just...wanting to be noticed. It's nice to have people's attention sometimes, you know?”

You’ve got all of mine, he thinks, realizing he never stood a chance at fighting it—this four-letter feeling you give him is the first and only battle he’ll back down from, and you're the only person he’ll wholeheartedly surrender to.

In short, he’s fucked.

"I always notice you." He pulls out a dented box of chocolates from his jacket pocket, opening it up for the both of you to share, and the look of amusement on your face makes him glad that at least one thing somewhat went to plan today, even if the chocolate truffles are a bit smushed. You’re popping one into your mouth and his dark eyes follow the trail of your fingers to your mouth, feeling his heart beat a bit faster.

But then you both hear the soft strum of a guitar from near the trees, and the two of you turn to hear some of the Apollo kids singing beautifully along the coastline.

I'll be seeing you, in all the old, familiar places... That this heart of mine embraces...

You gasp, grabbing Luke’s arm to push yourself up so that the both of you can turn and face a small group of your closest Apollo friends singing to the both of you. Luke’s eyes soften further when he feels you grab his hand and squeeze, leaning against his shoulder as you listen.

“Did you do this?” you mumble, still entranced by the performance.

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

And you do, in the way that he loves—a bit crazy and too loud, and it’s perfect.

I’ll always think of you that way… I’ll find you in the morning sun….

Whether it’s fireflies or Will bouncing light off the water to look like small, glowing candles, Luke can’t tell—he’s too busy watching your lips pull into a smile so confectionery his sweet tooth starts to ache. The little kid was never good at archery like his other half-siblings, but as your eyes shimmer under the ambient lights, you think his added romantic gesture shot you straight through the heart.

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you, Luke Castellan,” you whisper, and it couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“No, you don’t.”

His eyes flicker to you again, but you’re already looking back at him.

“I don’t.”

And when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon… but I’ll be seeing you…

It’s quiet now, and you’re unsure of where the Apollonian ensemble disappeared to but instead of worrying about if they’ll make it back before curfew, you stand there in front of Luke with your guard down.

Getting a little closer than he expected, your noses brush before you pull the slightly crushed wildflowers from your jean pocket, the only physical reminder you’ve kept from today, and tuck them into his jacket pocket, sitting right above his heart. 

“Thank you.”

Luke doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he feels your lips gently kiss the marred skin on his right cheek, the blemish having an uncanny resemblance to a stroke of lightning; it serves as a reminder of his weakness. The lines blur as his eyes close to savor it and he doesn’t know if weakness is your kisses or his scar—but he is vulnerable to it all the same, realizing there’s a crack in the otherwise perfect persona that he���s worked so hard on.

When his eyes open again, his Achilles’ heel has taken human form.

—

“This has got to be cheating,” Clarisse grumbles as she watches from the distance, hidden behind the trees.

“It’s not cheating if I’m winning. Silena’s gonna get a kick out of this,” Lee chuckles, ushering everyone back towards the cabins. It’s a bit harder to do this in the dark as they try to be quiet and not interrupt whatever will happen next between their favorite counselors.

“Well lucky for you, your gifts are cute and romantic, what am I supposed to do? They fight enough!”

“That’s what got them into this mess in the first place. Come on, curfew’s in 10. We’ll find out which of us wins the bet soon enough,” Chris mutters, pushing them along back onto the main path.

“Easy for you to say, Rodriguez, you live with Luke!”

“Would I ever lie to you, La Rue?” he says with a mischievous grin, and the Apollo kids giggle at the irony.

—

“My body ages,

my anger burns into a seam.

I am so annoyed by love

and still it comes.”

-Kate Baer

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[lecsainz]

RIODANVERSE MAIN MASTERLIST

( back to nav || back to main masterlist )

fluff ಇ | angst ✶ | sad ʚ

LUKE CASTELLAN

˒ ⌕ oneshots

i think you’ll like: that one where you're annabeth's older sister, and you and luke like each other but don't admit it. ಇ

ready for it: where you're the daughter of ares, and during a capture the flag game, you get angry with the son of hermes and the best swordsman at the camp, leading to a big fight with him.

did you eat, today? where, after 18 years of surviving alone, you finally arrive at camp half-blood, discovering you're a child of hades. adimist it all, a hermes' boy might find himself perhaps falling for you. ಇ

˒ ⌕ blurbs

thief: the one where you're percy's older sister, and luke has a crush on you. ಇ

cute moments: the one where you can't sleep and end up searching for your boyfriend.

CLARISSE LA RUE

˒ ⌕ headcanons

holding your hand: that one where you date clarisse and what your relationship with her is like. ಇ

˒ ⌕ blurbs

cute moments: the one where you steal your girlfriend's hoodie.

PERCY JACKSON

˒ ⌕ headcanons

she is like a thunder: the one where you're a daughter of zeus, exploring your relationship with percy. ಇ

isn’t it obvious: the one where you're a daughter of aphrodite and end up with the son of poseidon.

˒ ⌕ blurbs

cute moments: the one where you plan a surprise for percy but end up falling asleep in his cabin.

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Honey Cappuccino with Cinnamon

Kento Nanami x Barista! Reader SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY

You get a new patron in your cafe, a dashingly handsome, well mannered, well spoken, Kento Nanami.

wc: 13k, whoops

Content: Smut, Fluff, comfort, kind of a slow burn, kissing (ooooo!!), sex, brief fear/violence (but not sexual), small curse appearance, cunnalingus, reader is female, smoking, swearing no spit (r u guys proud or disappointed), bad ending

Ao3, Masterlist, Coffee headcannons. dont reproduce my work or post it anywhere else. i came up with it out of my head. Enjoy.

You loved your morning openings, most people would have preferred to sleep in, enjoy their mornings at home, take their time getting ready for the day, all while the sun was settled in the sky. But you loved waking up in the misty dark, walking in the clean, morning air, and setting up the cafe before the sun found its way out of bed. The hour and a half before the cafe opened felt like you were the only person in the entire world, total serenity. You could make your own coffee, just how you liked it, luxuriate in the smells of last night's prepped pastries baking to perfection in the oven, work at your own pace while listening to an audiobook or a playlist that you chose. It was the time you looked forward to most throughout the week; your perfect hour of bliss. Uninterrupted bliss. 

The ringing of the door chime was your indicator to return to reality and remember that the cafe didn’t exist solely for your own personal enjoyment, but was in fact a buzzing success. From 6 AM opening to 7 PM closing the cafe would see anywhere between 300-700 customers a day. The large majority of them just stopped in, ordering, and leaving upon receiving their coffee and scone or whatever it was they wanted. A handful you saw nearly every day. You, of course, knew their names, you were a professional. But your first rung of memory was always their orders. 

The gentleman that comes on his bike with his canvas backpack -- a double espresso with equal parts hot water to the espresso. 

The woman who comes with her daughters every morning -- two blended caramel frappes for them, three shots of espresso over ice in a large cup for her. (she pours a protein shake over it and mixes it together. She’s been trying to get you on it. You tried it once, she's onto something.) 

The college kid whose eye bags have doubled in size since they first came in. -- Iced americano, one more shot than you feel is ethical each time. 

Three shot soy latte guy, small decaf mocha woman with a fresh set of nails every time you saw her, long pull espresso always in a porcelain cup for the older woman with the faded purple lipstick, etc. etc. 

The mental list of orders must have been a mile long but you kept them all in your heart. You have seen people before job interviews, between shifts, between jobs, on breaks, days off, first dates, break ups, going to work, coming from it, anything in between. Second only to your sacred alone time, was the way you got to know the people who continued to come. Your position as a customer service worker was not without the obvious dregs of complaints and entitlement from the comers and goers, who never asked your name or about your day, and always had something wrong with their drinks, but it was all overshadowed by the kind faces you recognized so well. And nothing could compare to seeing someone for the second or third time, knowing you had secured another person a favorite coffee shop where they could feel comfortable and know that this small, but vital, piece of their life would be taken seriously and made carefully, exactly to their tastes. You liked giving people that peace, a little taste of your own. 

This morning when you opened, you got into the cafe at 4:30. Early for the 6:00 opening but you wanted to enjoy the languid morning hours a little extra today, and you did. You took your time setting the pastry display, straightening up the table, setting up the self service bar. Before you knew it, there was only a half hour left before opening. The large drip brewers were prepped, ready to fill the cafe with the rich smell of fresh coffee at the touch of a button, the last batch of lemon scones were in the oven, you had just finished counting the drawer for the register and were about to spend the last twenty minutes before turning on the open sign in sweet, perfect silence, enjoying your own favorite coffee when the bell chimed.

“We’re not open yet,” your eyes stayed closed, prepping for the first sip of your perfect morning indulgence. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. The sign is on, I didn’t realize.” A rich, oaky voice filled the echoey cafe. 

You opened your eyes and turned to face the voice. The owner of the voice was a tall man, over six feet, a full, broad figure clad in a tan coat over a dark blue button up. The outer layer couldn’t conceale the way his shirt stretched over his chest, buttons meeting, but just barely. A queer looking yellow tie spotted almost like a cheetah or a banana thankfully covered the higher up, more stretched gaps. But what struck you the most was his face, hard lined cheekbones, long, slender nose, hard set jaw, thin but full rosy lips, a set of unique green lensed glasses resting over his eyes. He was stunning, completely beautiful, the kind of beauty that could strike a god down to earth for the chance of love. You felt your throat tighten, your mouth fall open.

“I-uh, Sorry.” And yet you still couldn’t figure out how to respond. 

He took a moment to look at you, then checked his watch, pulling up his sleeve for you to see the joint of his wrist. Behind him you could see the white neon light of the open sign shining through the front window. Your face heated, mortified at how unprofessional you were being, gawking at him. 

“Oh. I am early-- I’ll come back. I’d hate for you to star----”

“No!” you interrupted, waiting just a touch too long before continuing, “You’re barely early, excuse my flippancy, please come in. What can I get you?” 

You took your place behind the counter, he moved to the other side of the counter, he scanned the menu board above your head, turning his chin up slightly, giving you a view of the muscles in his neck. Your mouth watered. You brought your eyes down to the screen in front of you, desperate to quiet the thoughts in your mind. 

“I really would hate for you to start work early. Especially for my sake I can wait outside.” 

“Don’t be silly! I couldn’t have you out there waiting when I can help you now.” 

You absolutely could, and had, on many occasions done exactly that. Letting the morning rush wait until operating hours no matter how early they wanted to “just squeak in super fast!”. But you wanted to keep him inside, bring him closer, give him anything he wanted. Hell, if he turned out to want all the money in the register you probably would have at least considered it.  

The rich voice filled your ears once again, “A cappuccino, please. With just a bit of honey, please.”

Great order, and so polite. 

“You got it.” You plugged it into the computer, the total appearing on his side of the screen, “dry or wet?” 

He cleared his throat abruptly, eyes wide behind the thick frames, “uh…?”

You didn’t realize how it came out, “more milk or more foam?” 

He collects himself, “uh wet, then.” 

You nod, “any preference of milk?”

“Whatever you have is fine.” 

You started the espresso grinder, the whirring filling the soundless air of the cafe, “this is a cafe, we have like six milks.” 

He nods, “right. Um…whatever you use I’m sure is fine.” 

You mirror his nod, “oat is, then. Anything else I can get you?” 

“One of those croissants, please.” He gestured to the pastry case, ten perfect flaky butter croissants sitting beautifully. 

“Great choice.” You smile, “I’ll get your drink.” 

You turned back toward the espresso machine as he moved to start paying on his screen of the register. You were grateful to have an excuse to turn away from him, away from the magnetism of him, to have something to focus on and hopefully regain an ounce of your composure. 

Nanami collected his breath, grateful to have your sparkling gaze out of his immediate eyeline. It takes more focus than would normally be necessary to complete his payment. Fingers trembling over the ‘no receipt’ button, his eyes drifted up again. The large espresso machine in front of you hissed and dripped the fragrant, rich liquid into the small espresso cup underneath. 

“Is this your first time in?” Your voice rang like a bell in the empty cafe, you were pouring milk into a metal pitcher as you spoke to him, not missing a drop. 

So much ease, precision, the routine of skilled work over years of honing, everything was perfectly measured, foamed, and stirred. You clearly took care in what you did, your hands were so still and even as you tipped the small fridge door open with your foot to slip the milk carton back inside. The brief scream of the milk knocked him back into his senses. 

“Yes.” He answered, hoping to keep his internal chastisement out of his tone. 

You nodded watching the milk whirlpool in its small silver pitcher, “I thought so. I don’t think I’ve seen you in before. I’m basically always here, and I think I would have remembered you.” 

A blush heated your cheeks, but you discarded it as steam, pulling the wand from the pitcher and tapping its bottom against the counter. You poured the honey sweetened espresso into a small to-go cup, and topped it with a fair serving of water before meeting the lip of the pitcher with the liquid so the foam could slide perfectly across. 

Nanami watched the smile slide across your lips, cheeks pulling upward, a satisfied sigh leaving you as you perfected the drink. His drink. His. 

He shouldn't be acting like this, he just stopped in to get a quick coffee before returning to the school. The last assignment had been grueling, he was only just finishing it. Talk about Overtime. This was ridiculous, he had been in an awful mood before walking in, miserably dragging himself through the doors of the first lit up cafe he stumbled across. And yet here he was, his previously drained heart beating, no palpitating, in his chest at just a few exchanges. You finally turned back around to face him, presenting the drink to him without its lid, letting him see the perfect line of dusted cinnamon across the foam cap. 

“Here you are!” You beamed at him, hoping to see a flicker of a smile or some kind of praise. 

He didn’t smile but you thought maybe you saw something soften in him. He accepted it across the counter, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a sip. Then he smiled. He couldn’t help it. It was perfect. Perfectly sweet from the honey, but still letting the robust bitterness of the espresso shine, the body of the oat milk complimenting the two perfectly, making the whole concoction taste like a cinnamon and oatmeal cookie that he’d indulge in in some private, anonymous, curseless cafe that he thought only existed in his mind. But he may have found it. 

“Wow. It’s excellent.” His lens-guarded eyes warmed at you through their green filters, “Thank you.” 

A chrysalis was twitching in your heart, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.” 

A moment passed as you waited for him to speak again, praying this interaction wouldn’t be over yet. The chime of the bell at the door broke you away from him, turning to see the beginning trickle of the morning flood enter. He was a nice enough guy, same thing every morning: four shots of espresso with two brown sugars in a porcelain mug that he would sit at one of the back tables in and read the morning paper no matter how ungodly early it was, but right now you wished he never dared step into your shop in the first place. When you looked back and saw the end of Honey Cappuccino’s motion to check his watch, he met your gaze once again. 

“Oh! Your croissant, I'm sorry.” You breathed out, kicking yourself for being foolish enough to think he was lingering to talk to you more, not waiting for the rest of his order.

“Right.” You heard from above you as you opened the pastry case. 

You retrieved the biggest, prettiest pastry for him and put it gently into a paper bag, straightening up to hand it to him. 

“No one going to work this early should go without breakfast.” You smiled, hoping to soften the blow of your unprofessional behavior. 

He nodded, accepting the bagged pastry, “Thank you, for indulging me so early. Next time I assure you I will be within the operating hours.” 

The chrysalis stirred again and you giggled its rhythm, “Don’t you worry. You come back anytime, okay?” 

He nodded again, before moving toward the door. You couldn't help the way your rubbernecked his exit all the way past the edges of the large shop windows. Turning back to the register and seeing your early bird regularly standing before you. Thankfully you knew his regular order by heart and could plug it in and nod through polite conversation without having to stop your rumination 

He had said Next time, implying he would come in again. You said a silent prayer to nothing that he would. At least so you could redeem yourself. So you could remind yourself and demonstrate to him  that you were a consummate professional. The rest of your day was spent smoothly, that tapping, fluttering feeling in your chest was quiet and still. You made drinks, cleaned and stocked the store, were courteous and charming with customers and coworkers alike. But you couldn’t get the man from this morning out of your mind, you didn't even ask what his name was. He would only be Honey Cappuccino Guy, for now, and that would have to be enough for now. 

Nanami entered the school still nursing the last dregs of the cappuccino, savoring the taste of honey and the memory of you in tandem. The high of your interaction was beginning to wane, the head and body ache of a night of reconnaissance and curse slaying an albatros growing denser and denser around his neck. He longed to finish his report and head home as soon as possible, already budgeting the allotment of time that felt appropriate for an early afternoon nap before resuming the chores he had left unfinished at home in a rare act of laziness. He hadn’t eaten his croissant yet, finding it rude to eat on the train, and his stomach felt barren, it seemed every part of him was echoing in discomfort. An echo that was seemingly non-existent in the warm light of the cafe. 

He sighed, rounding the corner to the small extra room that had been designated as his “office”. Not being a member of the teaching staff at Jujutsu High, there was little necessity for him to have a space of his own on its campus. He could easily complete his necessary paperwork in the common areas, or even at home. But Yaga had insisted on marking one of the empty offices as his, with some encouragement from a certain white haired sorcerer. The dwindling number of active sorcerers in the area was certainly a motive to keep each other close. So Nanami obliged, stopping by for meetings, assignments; both at their beginnings and upon their completion.  

This last assignment had been grueling, extending too far into the night, he almost felt dishonest filling out the time card associated with the final report. Nearly twelve straight hours of traveling, hunting, and fighting. It was a miracle he wasn’t delirious. He stretched back in his chair, the lactic acid that longed to settle in his back and legs crackling and redispursing. He found himself again remembering the lilt of your voice, the smell of lemon and sugar and fresh roasted grounds in the air of the cafe. The sense of peaceful indulgence carried him through the next two hours of work before he could drag himself home to shed the day and pass out, dreaming amorphously about flaky pastries and kind expressions. 

It would be almost two weeks before you would see him in the cafe again. You were restocking the milks in the small fridge underneath the counter that housed the espresso machine when the bell rang. It had been a dreadfully slow morning, mostly regulars and single, simple drink orders. It had given you plenty of time to clean, and fantasize. The large, well dressed man from eleven days ago hadn’t yet left your mind. His voice, his stature, his odd clothing, his demeanor. You were positive your memory had to have been generous the more and more you recollected the meeting, surely no one person could be so handsome. So charming, so, in the truest sense of the word, attractive. But when he stepped through your threshold once again, you found that your memory was ironclad. Tall, broad, sculpted features, odd glasses, leopard print tie, pristine styled hair, every detail of him was perfect. Your breath caught in your throat, but even that couldn’t interrupt the smile that widened on your lips. 

“It’s you.” you all but gasp out. 

He crosses toward the counter, a faint smile showing itself only on the edges of his lips, eyes wide and set on you, an expression you couldn't realize was mirroring your own awe. 

“You can say that about anyone. It’s always true.” His voice was just as smooth and even as before, you felt an all too familiar stirring in your chest. 

You laugh, “Good point. I didn’t expect to see you back. Thought I might have scared you off.” 

“Certainly not!” He can feel the burn in his cheeks, “You were kind enough to extend your hours for me. How could I not return to at least say thank you.” 

“Oh!” you chastised yourself for the twinge of disappointment you felt realizing he wasn’t here with any motive other than politeness, “It was no trouble really, it’s like the easiest drink in the world to make.”

He nods, “well, Thank you nonetheless, your work got me through the rest of mine.” 

You let out a low whistle, “That was one hell of a clock in time. Do you always go in that early?” 

“I was finishing up actually. Long project, I…lost track of time.” He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to provide you with more information, ordinarily he would dodge questions in their entirety. Truthfully he would ordinarily never be in this situation to begin with, never having been one for casual small talk.  

“Wow…that’s intense.” you couldn't imagine working such a strange schedule, what extreme hours like that must do to a person, “what is it you do?”

This is exactly why Nanami does not engage in casual small talk, does not approach topics that could lead back to sorcery or jujutsu or anything related to his job, why he does not talk to the pretty girl behind the counter. Because now he has to lie. His heart sinks, but he steels himself. 

“I'm a sort of exterminator.” He answers smoothly. Not technically a lie. 

You hum, seeing him stiffen; you’ve seen this before, folks can be cagey about their professions, and particularly assumptions made about them based on what they do, you knew when not to pry, “Hm. You must have to be on your feet a lot.” 

He’s grateful you chose a surface level observation instead of prying further. 

“Well what can I get for you today? Got another long one in the books? Should I break out the hard stuff?” You smile warmly at him, catching his eyes. 

It's then that you realize he isn't wearing those peculiar glasses that he had before. Thick green lenses absent, and amber eyes revealed in their stead. The outermost rings of his irises were dark, oaky brown, his lashes were long but faint, small freckles now visible across his nose and dappling the tops of his high, hollow cheeks. Not only was your memory not being generous, he had somehow become more handsome. You took in a shaky breath, trying to ignore the stirring inside of you. 

“One cappuccino with honey, please. Just the same as last time.” 

“You got it!” You tap the corresponding buttons. 

He pays with a card, a chime sounding as he taps against the reader. He is grateful for an excuse to look away, it feels like every time he looks at you, you’re looking back at him, so intently. He feels studied by you, hot under your gaze. He wonders to himself if the blush he feels creeping up the back of his neck is visible to you. Your smile earlier made it begin its journey from the warmth of his chest up toward the tops of his ears. His harness feels too tight, his jacket feels stuffy and restricting. He reaches up as you finish up the payment across from him and tugs his tie looser, routinely unbuttoning the first button of his shirt. It's then that he notices his hands are sweating. 

Fuck me. Pull it together. He pleads to himself accepting the receipt as you turn away.

Back facing him you begin weighing out the espresso, you can hear his footsteps as he steps off to the side. You catch your breath, gearing yourself up for your next move. The drink comes together quickly. Honey, espresso, steamed and frothed oat milk, a small dusting of cinnamon. You giggle to yourself about the cinnamon on the creamy foam mirroring the dusting of freckles along his face. God, you're pathetic. You roll your eyes at yourself and inhale. You turn back to the counter before stalling. He wasn't waiting at the counter and you had, once again, been too frazzled to ask his name. 

“Uh…H-honey cappuccino?” Your voice wavered weakly. 

He crosses over from the other side of the cafe where he had been admiring the community board, where local artists would hang their work, organizers would add flyers for local events etc. He traversed the room in three long strided steps. 

“I’m sorry, I usually ask for a name, I forgot.” You explained. 

He accepts the paper to-go cup between you, “It’s Nanami, thank you.” 

“It's nice to meet you.” You smile. 

“And your name?” He is quick to inquire. 

You tell him, smile widening, he nods and repeats it softly. He sips from the black lid, ignoring the initial shock of heat. It's just as perfect as before, a small sound of approval resonates from his chest, you wish it had less of an effect on you than it does. 

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented, thank you.” He offers a small, polite bow before sipping again. 

“Like I said, it's an easy drink.” you shy away from his compliment. 

“Well, I’m grateful.” He begins to step away from the counter. 

“Thank you. Have a good rest of your day.” You put on your most professional and least loaded smile, “Come by and see us again Mr. Nanami.” 

He nods at you, smiling as he turns and exits the cafe. 

And he did come by again. And again. And again. 

Beginning as once a week, then twice a week, soon he begins to factor a third visit into his weekly routine. Coffee the same every time, including sometimes a pastry; taking a particular liking to the ginger and poppyseed scones, and the oat and lemon frosted cookies, but more often than both leaving with a simple croissant. One some trips the conversation if brief; shallow, single day focused conversation topics: weather, traffic within the cafe, the pastry selection you had out that day. On other days he would ask you questions: when did you learn to make coffee? Have you always lived in this area? Etc. Some days you would be so bogged down with making orders upon his arrival that one of your coworkers would be the one taking his order instead. You quieted the rising jealousy as you heard your fellow barista giggle and swoon at his rich, staccato voice. On those days you would write his name cleanly on the side of his cup and make sure to linger at the drop off counter as you called his name for his drink. 

“Busy in here, huh?” You baited, handing him the steaming cup. 

“It seems my favorite secret cafe is not so secret anymore.” Nanami’s voice sounded truly disappointed. 

You faked insult, “You think you discovered this place? I’ll have you know we’re a local staple!” 

He let out a small laugh, sipping his drink and sighing, “perfect as always, thank you.”

“Of course Nanami, anytime.” You blush at his praise, it never gets old. 

“WIll you be here next Wednesday?” He asked. 

He had never asked for your schedule before. You tried your best to hide your excitement. 

“I will! I’m opening. So feel free to stop by thirty minutes before if you're desperate.” you teased. 

He let out a guilty laugh, “ Well, I'll see you then. Well within operating hours, I promise.” 

You nod, a bit too quickly, “Sounds good.” 

He smiled and nodded again, turning and exiting. 

Your favorite coworker who had been working the register approached you, following your eyeline as it tailed him out of the cafe. 

“Planning on asking him out soon?” She poked your side. 

“No way, Nanami?” You dismissed, “Yeah right, he’s just being nice.”

“Right.” She begins, “because he comes here every week because the coffee here is just that good.” 

Her tone is cutting and sarcastic, she pushes your shoulder lightly before returning to the register, leaving you to your own thoughts. You hadn’t considered the fact that he could actually be coming here for you, of course you hoped and fantasized about exactly that, but faced with someone else’s observation you felt…strange. Embarrassed and exhilarated. You wondered what would come on Wednesday. 

“Thanks for taking me to coffee Nanami-san, You really don’t have to treat me!” Ino Takuma beamed as he walked into the cafe. 

He was beyond excited when his mentor had asked him to have a meeting today after training to discuss the upcoming recommendations. Nanami held the door for Ino as he babbled his way inside, reciting his thank yous over and over. 

“You’re welcome, Ino. I asked you here because I have something to discuss with you. Consider it an expensed lunch.” 

“Still! Thank you so much. I’m honored that you would make time for me, I know how demanding the schedule of a grade one sorcerer can be!” Ino continued, wanting to showcase how prepared he was to take on the demand himself. 

“Lower your voice,” Nanami chastized and pushed up his glasses, shielding his eyes as he scanned the population of the cafe. It must be a slow day, only three patrons to be seen. One sitting at the bar top, reading the newspaper, and a couple seated in the front corner, focused on splitting a pastry right down the center with a small butter knife. 

“Nanami!” 

Ino watched as the muscles in Nanami’s neck appeared. Not in frustration or exertion, the way he had seen so many times before, but a completely new reflex. Dare he think, excitement? He watched carefully as his mentor was urged forward by the woman behind the counter, the beautiful woman behind the counter. Nanami was quick to cross to the empty counter, Ino trotted behind with wide, watching eyes. 

“Good morning! It’s still morning isn’t it?” You smiled craning to see the wall clock. When you turned back your gaze fell to the slightly younger man behind Nanami. He was probably twenty or twenty one, his frame similarly toned and cultivated, hair shaggy and smile twinkling, “You brought a friend. Wait! Is this your brother?”

You looked closely between the two men, both handsome, both well made men with cut features and toned, imposing bodies. A similar height, a similar build. The younger man’s coloring was slightly darker; Nanami’s eyes amber, where his were deep oak, Nanami’s blonde hair contrasted against the other’s shaggy brown hair, but you could see where a family resemblance would reside. 

“No.” Nanami answers cooly, much to Takuma’s chagrin (despite its honesty), “Ino is an apprentice of mine, I’m treating him to lunch today because of his hard work.”

“Well, congratulations, it’s nice to meet you.  What can I get you both?” You smile, side glancing at Nanami. 

Ino blushes through his order, taken by how magnetic you feel when you talk to him. Privately watching how Nanami listens closely when you talk, uses his eyebrows more in his responses to you. You know his order, you sound flirtatious as you ask if he wants his “usual”, Ino sees as Nanami’s lips curl as he nods and selects two pastries from the case to accompany their lunch. Was Nanami…flirting? It seemed everytime you would turn your back, Nanami was catching his breath, and as soon as you returned he hung on your every word. Ino was beyond delighted, he had never seen this side of his mentor before. He watches as you complete the payment, fluttering your lashes and stringing your words together. When the order is complete he follows Nanami to a table in the back of the cafe.

“Ino, I wanted to ask you…”Nanami struggled with the next part of his request. He had found himself at a loss for what to do recently, feeling his standing with you plateau, “I hope you will forgive the candor of my question, In fact I- I am slightly embarrassed to even be asking you,”

“Go ahead, please. You have helped me so much, I’d be happy to try and help however I can. ” Ino had a growing suspicion as to what could have been the subject of his inquiry.  

“The…barista, what do you think of her?”

Nanami prepared himself for anything that could come next. Ino could laugh at him, Ino could laugh in pity before explaining that it was pathetic for a man of his circumstance to be entertaining the idea of a relationship. Ino could chastise him for reading into the kindness of someone who is actively working customer service. Ino could express his disappointment of not talking about the recommendations. He could call upon Nanami’s embarrassment for his own inexperience with flirtation. Nanami prepared himself to be exposed, shamed and cursed. 

“Oh! So you know she really likes you, I think she seems funny and smart. She’s really pretty, like really beautiful. I like her outfit, and hairstyle.” Ino began just as eager and delighted as he had been when Nanami invited him to lunch.  

“Wait, what do you mean she likes me?” Nanami’s brows inched together, although subtly. 

“Oh! Well, she smiles a lot when you talk and listens really carefully, and she called your name when we got here and…”

“That’s her job, she has to be polite and accommodating.”

“Sure,” Ino nodded, “But she seemed really interested in you, not so much with me. I don't know, I guess, but it just seemed like she liked you” Ino shrugged. 

Nanami was lost in thought as Ino trailed off. Could you really like him? Your encounters were so brief, he was so stilted around you, or at least he felt as much. You were accommodating and kind because you were good at your job, it was only natural that he recognized it as charm. He missed your call of his name, signaling the drinks he and Ino had ordered were ready. 

“I’ll get them!” Ino perked up, standing quickly and heading to the pick up counter. 

You pushed the two fresh drinks forward as the shaggy haired mentee approached the counter. He had the floppy stride of a well trained dog, bouncy and excited as he hurried over. 

“Thank you so much!” He beamed. 

“You’re so welcome, enjoy. Your food should be out soon!” You smiled back. 

“Hey, can I ask?” Takuma leaned in conspiratorially, “does he come in here a lot?”

You couldn't help but indulge the genuine curiosity in his voice, “A few times a week for about two months. How long have you been working with him?”

“About two years.” He answered, “I’m so glad too, he usually never takes someone under his wing like this!” 

You smiled, cocking your head to the side, “So he’s a big deal at work, huh?” 

Takuma nodded, “Oh yeah! He’s focused and hardworking, brave and careful.I hope to be half as skilled as he is one day.”

Your smile grew at the extrapolation. It was praise befitting of the man so dedicated to his work that he could be seeking out coffee at five in the morning at the end of his shift. The younger man nodded and couriered the drinks back over to the table. You thought you saw as Nanami’s eyes flashed over to you, but behind his glasses it was hard to be sure. You smiled all the same, just in case. You returned to your work, Ino and Nanami would both wave goodbye to you with mannered ‘thank you’s’ offered as they left after their meeting. You watched as Nanami held the door over his mentee’s head, ushering him out and looking back over to you. You looked away quickly, and when you looked back he was gone. Your lower lip settled in between your teeth, replaying your memories of him in a flash before returning your attention to the steaming milk whirlpooling in front of you.  

You didn’t see Nanami for three weeks after that. 

You were today’s closer, your shift already dragging far into the afternoon. The morning crowd was tired, desperate, and reliant upon memorized routine above all else. Simple orders, simpler conversations. The evening crowd was far more likely to experiment. They are unpredictable en masse in a way that your morning regulars were not, making it so that you had to be that much more attentive when discussing menu options. Not only that but you also had to clean and secure all parts of the cafe before you could leave. On a usual day this is fine, although a complicated and oft tedious dance, but today it is much worse. Your usual array of alternative milks were on backorder meaning you were running out more and more with every order, with now replacements on their way. Also dwindling in stock were multiple menu items, including both pastries and lunch menu components, flavors, even lids for to-go cups had started to wane faster than anticipated. You recalled a conversation with your manager that ended dismissively about the coming weekend and how poorly you were prepared to do your job effectively. Your concerns had been barely acknowledged at the best and outright discarded at worst. Over the course of the last three hours you had had eyes rolled at you six times, had to remake a drink four times, been asked why your stock was so low ten times, and had to give one full refund to a customer who took it upon himself to reprimand you personally for the lack of options available to him. You tried your best to push through but the orders kept coming, and the wait times grew longer and longer, you weren’t making nearly enough progress. 

“Switch out?” Your coworker offers to you marking your wide, scared eyes gazing at the growing number of tickets. 

“Please.” You nod turning to operate the register instead. 

They nodded taking over at the espresso machine from where you left off. You approached the counter just as a woman stepped forward from the line. 

“Hello! What can I get you?” You smiled brightly. 

“Well, I don't know yet…”She was already frustrated, “I’ll tell you in a minute.” 

She turned her gaze upward to the menu board above your head, rolling her eyes on the ascent. It shouldn’t have, but it brought a hot burn of tears to your eyes. Sure, she was being condescending, but you dealt with far more pointed forms of belittlement on a daily basis. Somehow though, after the day that had already transpired, you had to choke back tears. You felt yourself shut down in order to keep from crying at such a stupid remark. You took her order without incident, asking only the necessary questions and issuing the payment efficiently. Upon retrieval of her receipt she left the counter. The tears were threatening to spill over as you sighed in relief. In an example of the universe’s kindness you saw your coworker approach, indicating to you that it was time for you to take your lunch break. You passed her quickly as she entered the floor, grabbing your bag and rushing out the front door in embarrassment. Or rather, you tried to rush out of the door. As you scrambled toward the threshold you collided with something hard, it felt like you hadn't bothered to open the door at all, study and unmoving. You bounced back, feeling a rattle in your bones as you tried to gather your senses enough to turn your head upwards. Two strong hands gripped you in place. You gazed upon the face above you, looking down with wide, green guarded eyes. 

“Are you alright? I didn’t see you, I’m sorry.” Nanami’s hands moved up your arms to your shoulders. 

You haven't ever seen his face so worried before, eyes carefully studying you, brows furrowed, hands hard on your arms, “I--i--Its been..”

Nanami sees the tears well up in your eyes, brimming and nearly spilling over, “Were you going outside? May I join you?”

You nod and he ushers you out quickly, holding the door before following in stride as you hurry down the sidewalk. He watched as you pulled a pack of cigarettes from your purse, drawing one forward, long and thin, and continued to dig inside the bag, growing more and more frustrated. Nanami pulled his own lighter from his jacket pocket, a pristine silver zippo with the characters of his name engraved at the base. He lit the end for you and watched you savor the first drag. Your eyes closed and your lips plump and pursed around the filter. When you opened your eyes and exhaled you offered him a cigarette from your pack, and he took one. Smoking the same cigarette as you made him feel close to you somehow. He lit it as you plopped down on a smoker’s bench two and a half blocks from the cafe. 

“Bad day?” Nanami asked after a beat or two.  

You groaned in response, resting your head on your hands and your elbows on your knees, cigarette dangling dangerously close to your hair. He nodded, suddenly feeling awkward and ill prepared to comfort you. You had probably left the cafe to be free of customers and work, and here he was following you. Shame rose in his chest as he realized his imposition. All the same, Nanami stood next to you, smoking silently, trying to offer you the space you needed, space he had already intruded on. The wind rushed past the both of you, the coming fall air carrying the cigarette smoke away. It seemed to trigger the raising of your head.

“Do you like your job, Nanami?” 

He was surprised. Not by the suddenness of the question but by the sincerity in your voice, and the defeated look on your face. The tops of your cheeks were wet, your eyelashes damp, the usual casual smile you carried now replaced by a deep frown. The sight tore at his heart, until now you had been a consistent source of joy for him, he never expected to see you in such duress. 

“No. I don’t.” He confessed, it was always relieving to be honest about his distaste for sorcery, he made no effort to conceal how he felt, but when he has to do it every day he finds himself pretending occasionally. 

You nod, understandingly, taking the cigarette between your lips and sliding over, for him to plop into the seat next to you and continue, “Well I love mine. I know it’s silly, it's just coffee. But, I don't know, I like seeing people everyday, talking to them, providing something they can enjoy and indulge in, no matter what happens over the course of the day. Something they can rely on for comfort.”

You shook your head, already starting to chuckle at yourself for how stupid you must sound. Before that feeling could take root, Nanami cut in. 

“It’s important. It isn’t silly at all. These people come to you to provide them with a service they can not provide themselves, something you have spent years perfecting for their benefit. You sustain people with energy, you allow them space to rest and stay cool, you offer a moment of kind conversation in a time when people feel more lonely than ever.” His voice stayed even, almost stern, as he spoke to you. 

You watched his face as he spoke, similarly stoic. He was being overgenerous, far too complimentary of your work in something as brief as a coffee stop. You knew this to be the case, it had to be. But, his words echoed the same romanticism that filled you when you had first started in coffee, you did like the idea of providing for people, you liked having a specialized skill, you genuinely cared when your customers engaged you in conversations or told you their problems, human connection was the main draw of the job. And it was why you loved it. You were able to connect with hundreds of people a day, if only for a moment. 

“What happened today?” He inquired further. 

You sighed, “Not any one thing. Just one of the bad ones. I hate disappointing people, and I disappointed a lot of people today.”

“So what?” He responds flatly, taking a drag of the loaner cigarette.  

You’re shocked, a confused laugh leaves you. 

“So what.” He repeats, “if they are disappointed, then they can get over it. Surely the next time they stop in you will take the great care of them that they are used to.” 

His voice is sincere; as though it’s the most obvious, logical line of thinking available. You wanted to defend how bad you felt, to slip into your habits of valuing the negative outlook rather than compartmentalizing. But you can’t, looking at Nanami, with his kind, intelligent eyes looking right back into yours, you’re struck by the heart of his words. You nod reflectively, considering all the situations today where you could feel the disappointment coming from a customer; each situation would be easily fixable when more resources or corresponding orders came in. You had plenty of experience diffusing situations like this, you would be able to fix them all eventually, and anything you didn’t get the chance to — was out of your hands. 

“Thank you.”

 Nanami watched as the smile returned to your face. Your eyes had dried themselves, your back stood straighter as you finished your cigarette and extinguished against the sole of your shoe. He had smoked much slower than you, he wasn't a frequent smoker anymore, an old habit that lingered from needing quick getaways from his former office, so the nicotine buzz was starting to swirl his head, he noticed a small tremor in one of his legs that he recognized as his limit. 

You tucked the butt of your cigarette into a small outer pocket of your purse. Nanami followed your motions, extinguishing his own and handing the double checked no longer burning butt to you. You tucked it inside the same pocket, holding them there to dispose of properly later in a real trashcan. Smoking was bad enough for the environment, you didn’t need to add litter to the equation. Some silly, overly whimsical part of you treasured the idea that the remnants of his mouth and the remnants of yours were in there together, getting cozy. 

He shared that thought with you, although privately. 

“How long is your break?” Nanami asked, wanting to scrub his mind of the thoughts of the indirect kiss between the two of you occurring in your pocket. 

You reached across his lap and took his left wrist in your hand pulling it over to you. His heart stopped, he didn’t dare breathe, immediately conscious of the smoke on his breath wouldn’t disturb you. You had never touched him before, excluding the collision that brought the two of you out here. Nearly three months of over the counter exchanges without a single instance of contact, broken here, with your warm, soft fingers touching the thin skin on the inside of his wrist. He watched your face as you looked at his watch. 

“About ten minutes left.” You sighed. 

You looked back at him, your hold on his arm had brought him closer, much closer than expected. You still held his wrist, his face couldn’t have been further than eight inches, you had never been at eye level with him before. You could see his face so much closer and clearer, you could see the pores on his cheeks, the discoloration under his eyes from overwork and lack of sleep, you thought you saw some deeper discoloration around the side of his eye, but brushed it off as shadow. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, thin and shapely, a full bottom lip with a soft rosy hue. When you met his eyes again you could see through his glasses, seeing that his eyes were trained on you  just as intently. You felt that familiar stirring and buckling in your chest that had become so synonymous with your feelings of excitement around him. He was so close, so focused on you, you felt intimidated, and observed. You released his rest, back into his lap. 

“Thank you, Nanami. I needed that.” You sighed, looking away from him, trying to break the growing tension between the two of you, “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, I promise I'm usually better at this.” 

Nanami shook his head, similarly thankful for the severing of intensity, “don’t apologize, I understand. I’m glad I was here.” 

You took in the sidewalk and the street, the cool early fall air around the pair of you, the weather was perfect. Beautiful sun, chilly air, the smell of coming evening rain. You stood, brushing the back of your pants off for any eager fallen leaves that you had been previously too frustrated to notice. He stood quickly to meet you, adjusting his coat and sleeves to busy himself. You two took another moment to adjust yourselves before locking eyes again. You offered him the kind smile he knew so well. 

“Are you ready to head back?” Nanami cleared his throat. 

You nodded, feeling much more grounded, and grateful for this moment of respite. You walked back together, not needing to exchange words, just simply walking side by side the all too short two blocks back to the cafe’s door. Once you reached the door Nanami stalled. Something in him changed, an aura you hadn’t seen in him before 

“Would it be okay if I came by later today?” He asked, not quite looking at you, but over you and into the cafe behind you. 

“S-sure, of course.” You felt yourself shrinking, the embarrassment of how vulnerable you had just been creeping in in a vignette, shading the moment of connection you had just shared with him. 

Nanami gave a clipped nod, looking around once more before turning his gaze down to you. 

“Okay. I’ll be back here tonight. Take care of yourself.” He nodded once more before turning and heading back down the street, 

“W-wait, did you want your coffee?” Your sentence began as a call but faded into a whisper as you realized he wouldn’t be turning around. 

You watched his silhouette descend the path, turning and disappearing into the city. You weren’t sure exactly what happened, what you had done or what had called him away. But before you could dwell too long you heard the voice of your coworker calling to you, asking you for help back on the cafe floor. You looked once more down the path that Nanami had left down, before returning inside to finish your shift. 

The rest of the day passed as well as it could have, and regardless of how grueling it was moment to moment, the time passed anyway, and once the cafe had cleared itself and the hiss of the open sign was made silent, you found yourself alone. The bakers had completed their prep bakes for the next day, allowing them to cool in the large industrial freezers overnight, the other baristas had swept and mopped before clocking out and returning to their own homes. You stood behind the counter waiting on the espresso machine to complete its last cleaning cycle. Nanami hadn’t come back as he said he would, and while you were alone you didn’t feel like hiding your disappointment. You scanned through what you could have done wrong, everything you said, everything you did, suddenly all felt wrong and overly familiar. You’d scared him off. But scared him off from what, you couldn’t figure out. According to your coworkers, he was flirting, and you knew you were, at least to some degree, however fruitless you considered your efforts. 

You were too bogged down by your spiral to hear the shlucking sound coming from the back. The espresso machine's routine of purging and clicking was too loud for you to hear the store room push itself open. It wasn't until you heard the broken, amalgamated voice calling out that you felt the fear slash itself up your spine. You couldn’t decipher the words, they were too garbled, like that of someone underwater trying to speak to you through an AM radio. The pitch was too high for your ears, and too low to even exist. You stood completely still, no one else should have been able to enter the building, the only unlocked door was the front, large lights and plenty of people making it safer than exiting out the back. Some instinct in you was holding you completely still, restricting you from being able to turn around and see where the sound has come from. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move, the only thing you could think about was your coworker set to open tomorrow, and what ungodly nightmare was she going to have to walk into. Tears fell from your eyes, the wetness of your cheeks snapping you out of your paralysis, your body shaking as you started to turn and face what was coming. 

“Don’t turn around.” Nanami stood in front of you, his usual tan jacket removed, moving his sleeves up his arms, his gaze locked behind you. 

Your breath found you again, chin quivering with fear and relief at the sight of him. 

“Close your eyes.” Nanami’s voice was darker than you had ever heard before.He looked completely different, intense and large and imposing, if you didn’t know him you could have been scared of him, “Trust me, you’ll be fine. Close your eyes.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, immediately missing the comfort the sight of him provided. You heard a thunk, a grunt, a slash, and then nothing. 

“You can open your eyes.” Nanami’s voice came from right behind you. 

You turned around quickly, seeing him standing over a pile of knocked over cups and pitchers, holding what looked like a butcher’s knife wrapped in cow print fabric. His yellow tie that you had grown to admire as a symbol of him was loose around his neck. He was still looking down at the ground. Once he seemed satisfied with whatever it was, he looked back at you. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, sheathing the paddle looking blade on the brown leather holster on his back, you had never noticed it before. 

“What the fuck was that?” You couldn't help the tears that fell from you as your body started to shake harder and harder. 

Nanami put his hands on your shoulders, his grip tight and soothing, “I’m sorry you had to see that. But it’s gone now, I assure you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you started sobbing falling against his chest. He held you tight against him, letting your tears soil his shirt and your body tremble in his arms as he held you firm. You wept until openly, feeling no shame, there was no room for shame with all the fear and adrenaline vacating your body. He made no move to quiet you or tell you to calm yourself, he simply held you close. 

“Can I take you home?” Nanami asked, his voice resounding from his chest where your ear was pressed. 

You nodded. 

Nanami had started sensing the build up of cursed energy on his last visit before bringing Ino. It was faint enough that he couldn’t place if it was coming within or from the general street. On his subsequent visits he noticed it growing exponentially, building on itself in a way that was inching toward concern. His selfish motives for bringing Ino to the cafe were overshadowed when he picked up on it as well. Confirming Nanami’s suspicion that it was an internal problem, and one growing more and more dangerous by the day. Earlier today was the first time he had noticed its effect in action. You tear stained face, the disgruntled patrons, you fevered, overworked companions. He knew he had to intervene. He had come after closing hoping you had already gone home, hoping to take care of it quietly before it became a larger problem. It wasn’t until he saw you terror-stricken with a low level curse emerging from behind that he conceded he would have to tell you. He didn’t want you to have to experience any of this, you shouldn’t have to face the reality of this world, and the monster’s within it. You deserved the same ignorance as everyone else outside of sorcery. But it was no longer his decision. 

He walked you home, which wasn’t far from the cafe, and up to your apartment. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, he hesitated briefly before following you. These aren't the circumstances he had anticipated for his first foray into your living space, but again, it was out of his hands. 

“You said ‘it's gone now’, what is ‘it’?” You asked as you locked the front door behind you, check the peephole for anything out of order. 

Nanami sighed, “It’s…a lot to explain, most of it would be incomprehensible right away. It would take me hours to make it all make sense. And that isn't a slight against you, it’s because I know you're smart that it would only take that long.”  

Your voice was returning fully, the fear having left itself behind at the cafe, “Nanami, you knew. You knew that whatever it was was there, you…killed it? Drove it away? Would it show up here? Do I need to be worried about this thing coming here?”

“No.” he was quick to shake his head, “It’s dead. Well it wasn’t ever really alive, not really. But you don’t have anything to worry about, anymore. I’m sorry it got that bad.”

“Please just tell me.” You groan, “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

And he believed you. So he told you. 

It took nearly four hours, one and a half pots of coffee, and a few crudely drawn diagrams on the back of a take out menu that he drew. But eventually you understood that what had attempted to attack you was a curse, and that curse had likely been building over a series of months or maybe years before it reached this form. He was a sorcerer, a kind of soldier tasked with the exorcisms of these curses in an intensely guarded organization dedicated to keeping curses secret and the public safe. The young man, Ino, who he had brought with him is a sorcerer as well. He explained the rank of threat, and how yours was incredibly low for any skilled sorcerer, which apparently, he was. He showed you the blade he kept on his back, the one that had been hiding just below his jacket for the entire time you had known him. He explained to you how he was able to kill the curse in a single strike, how his technique worked. When his explanations had been completed you felt strange. Stuffed to the brim with new information, most of which terrified you and made you feel powerless against a threat you could have gone through your whole life without knowing about.  But a part of you felt good, knowing there were people kind enough and skilled enough to make this an insular problem, one that did not necessitate the knowledge of the general populace out of sheer humility. 

“I understand that this must be a lot for you to take in. But, I promise you that what attacked you tonight will never show its face again. I can give you a talisman, something to keep in the cafe to keep it safe from future curse development.” Nanami had taken off his coat and harness, his blade lay on your coffee table alongside his glasses and your purse. 

“Was that why you left so quickly today?” It may have been a silly thing to inquire about in the wake of so much life changing information, but you couldn’t hold your tongue. 

Nanami nodded, “I had to run back to my..boss basically, and get a formal assignment to exorcise the curse. I’m sorry I left. I didn’t want to. When we got back the energy was too strong, I knew I would only have a few hours.” His apologized, setting his nearly complete coffee cup on the table, “But I had to make sure that nothing happened to you,” after a beat he adds, “or your coworkers.”

“So you, you saved my life tonight.” You whispered. 

The front pieces of his hair had fallen out of their usual styling, they now hung in front of his face. Through the sandy strands you met his eyes, looking tired and locked with yours. The faint bruise on his brow suddenly made sense, the bags under his eyes, the serious demeanor, it was all recontextualized. You didn;t stop your hand when it traced your middle finger over a small, well healed scar along his eyebrow. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nanami conceded, usually not one to accept praise for his work. 

“Nanami you saved me.” Your hand cupped his cheek, “I would be a mess for someone to clean up tomorrow morning if you weren’t there.” 

He was speechless, your hand on his cheek was warming as heat crept to his face. Your eyes were so big and beautiful, your lips looked so soft as they shaped your gratitude. 

“Thank you.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Was all he could choke out. 

You had read about this. After near death experiences, or other instances of extreme adrenaline, the body could have all kinds of after effects; nausea, sleeplessness, exhaustion, arousal. The arousal coursing through your body was a natural side effect of what you had just been through, and what was right in front of you. He had been there watching over you, keeping you safe from threats you couldn't even imagine. Every day he returned was another day that he was caring for you, protecting you, trending to you. His skin was smooth and hot under your touch, the hair of his sideburns was soft under your fingers, it felt like every nerve in your body was turned up to a thousand. The quick hatching chrysalis was nearing its emergence, it was so still as you leaned closer to him. 

“You must be tired. I can go, if you need to sleep.” His resolve was faltering. 

“If you aren’t busy, I know it’s been a long night,” Your hand traveled down to his shoulder, the barrier of his shirt helping him regain some sense, “I think I would sleep better if you were here. Just for the night?”

The cock of your head and the flutter of your lashes made your offer clear. Nanami’s cheeks became more pronounced as he tried to swallow down the burning desire to have you right here. But he, too, had read about the aphrodisiac effects of adrenaline. He knew that there was a chance that your gratitude and your exhilaration were converging inside of you to make you feel like you wanted him, when you were actually just happy to be alive. 

He put his hand on your arm, “Sometimes, when someone has been through something like what you have, they may look for…other forms of excitement to help with the adrenaline dump…it’s very natural..”

The back of his neck was hot, his shirt felt too tight, his pants felt much too tight, his mouth was so wet he risked drooling right in front of you. But he couldn’t take advantage of this moment, it would be wrong. He liked you. Ino claims you liked him, but he doesn’t know for sure, it would be deplorable for him to act on this offer without knowing if this is something your right mind wanted. 

“I’ve read that before.” You nodded, looking at his hand wrapped around your forearm, he was so big, “I’ve never experienced a curse before.”

He nodded along with you, still watching your mouth move. 

“But, I’ve experienced attraction before, Nanami. I know what it feels like to want someone. And I want you.” You told him, pulling your legs up under you on the couch.  

A small shake from his head, “It’s just psychosomatic. You’ll feel better in the morning, or after a shower. It’s the adrenaline.”

“I don’t think I had excess adrenaline the morning you came in first. Or the next time, or earlier today outside. Nanami,” You dipped your head down to look up at his, “Nanami, please. I’ve been too scared to say anything, I didn’t want to seem unprofessional or scare you. But, I like you. I really like you, I think you're gorgeous and kind and funny. You’re brave and smooth and a little weird, but I like that.”

He scanned your face for signs of lying, twitching eyes, avoidant eye contact, swallowing, anything that he could rely on to keep himself from getting exactly what he wanted. But he found nothing. Nothing to let him off the hook of being honest about how he felt. 

He let out a heavy breath, his hand on your arm growing tighter, “I fell for you the moment I walked in. Everytime I went back I went for you. To see you. I think you’re so beautiful and charming. I don’t want this to be wrong.”

You shook your head, your hands returning to his face, the one he had on you now moved to the back of your couch, “It’s not wrong. Nothing about this is wrong.”

He grips your hands, looking you right in the eye. You see his pupils have grown wide, you can feel the sweat on his palms, mixing with your own on the backs of your hands. He held you right in front of him, looking over every inch of your face. You were gorgeous, His heart pounded in his chest, like it was reaching for you. He let out a grateful breath. 

“Thank god.” He couldn’t wait any longer, and neither could you. 

The both of you leaned forward in the same moment, meeting at the perfect center of both pursuits to press your lips together. The chrysalis inside of you hatched, the beating of your heart, the flapping of wet, quickly drying butterfly’s wings. He touched your neck, downy hairs at the nape of your neck soft under his fingers. He was quick to pull you by the waist into his lap. His tongue was smooth on its entrance into your mouth, tasting the underside of your own, the backs of your teeth, the coffee you had shared. The kiss was heated and smooth, personal styles learning to blend together. Your arms wrapped around his neck, hands in his hair, over the back of the couch, anywhere to offer you stability. Nanami’s hands gripped your waist, sliding under your shirt and feeling the first of the body he dreamed of. Kicking himself in the privacy of his own home for thinking of you so disrespectfully. But in your home, on your couch, with you in his lap, he wanted to worship you. The hands he had cursed for pleasuring himself to the thought of you were not reverent as they felt your hips, your ribs, the sensitive flank inbetween. He could feel your shiver as he made his way back and forth, you were sensitive there. He was toying with you, relishing in your hissing inhales, and your breathy moans. But you were never one to be toyed with, you tested a personal theory of yours, one you had formulated with your hand in your panties on nights when sleep wouldnt come and you looked to your own devices to tucker yourself out. You scratched your nails across the cropped undercut at the back of his neck, gripping and tugging at the hair. Nanami let out a strangled moan underneath you, his hips bucking into yours, and his hands gripping you tighter. Just as soon as his mouth left yours, he found your exposed neck, kissing, practically lapping at the skin there. This pulled the more embarrassingly pitched moans out of you. High whimpers as you keened against him in his lap. 

“You’re so beautiful, you’re so good, fuck.” He peppered his praise in with kisses along the column of your throat. 

You haven't heard him swear before now, the words fell from him so easily. He was clearly practiced, it made you wonder what other sides of him came easily that you hadn’t yet seen. 

“Yu-you are,” You could feel your brain covering itself in honey, the saccharine sweet feeling of him under your, on you, all around you, consuming your ability to think. 

You felt him smile against your skin, pulling off of your neck and sliding his hand around to the back of your neck. 

“I-I don’t do this very often, it’s been a while, please don't tease me too much.” This was the softest you had ever heard him, his voice was breathy and it almost came out as a beg. 

You looked down at him sweetly, his hair mussed across his forehead, buttons of his shirt seeming to have undone themselves, tie falling to either side, his chest flush in splotchy red patches. He looked stunning, the light of your living room you had previously considered unflattering, was golden hour. 

“We can take it slow, if you want.” You offered, wanting to accommodate him, the way he had already for you. 

He shook his head leaning forward and readjusting you on his lap. When he settled you back down you realized the reason for his frantic reaction. The very big reason. The pants tenting, hot, probably leaking, reason. 

You nodded, quick to understand. You leaned forward to kiss him again, making sure to grind yourself down in his lap before pulling off completely and grabbing his hand, tugging him behind you. Nanami felt drunk following you to your room, found himself almost stumbling as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. He crossed the threshold to your bedroom where you had already pulled your work pants off, standing in only a thin tank top and your panties. You approached him with mock disappointment and your bottom lip between your teeth. You moved your hands over his chest.

“I wanted to be the one to take off your shirt,” You cooed. 

Nanami’s hand found the lapels, “I can button it again if y--”

You giggled, “Next time.”

Before pulling him into another deep kiss by his neck. His hands found your hips, eager to slip one finger under the top of the waistband and feel the hidden skin. You slid his shirt down his shoulders, the tie falling along with it. Your lips smacked together over and over as you both tried to touch as much skin as was available to you. You pawed at the hard lines of his back, feeling ridges and valleys and muscles. He, similarly, was quick to find the hemline of your shirt and slip underneath. You both let out a haughty moan as he cupped one of your bare breasts. IF you had had your eyes open, you would have seen his eyes roll back in his head as he slipped his tongue between your lips once again, squeezing the tit in his hand. You freed your arms and pulled the shirt over your head as he undid his belt. 

“You’re so gorgeous.” Nanami gazed over you. 

“You’re gorgeous.” You echoed, hopping on to the bed and watching him pull his grey slacks down his legs. He wore a pair of navy colored briefs that hid almost nothing, especially the nearly black splotch of precum that had accumulated. 

“Fuck, you’re hot.” You marveled at him, his body, the evidence of the effect you had on him, his face, him, all of him. 

Nanami sucked in a quick breath, fighting his embarrassment by looking at the hungry look on your face. You were nearly naked on the bed, waiting for him. You had only your panties on, your chest exposed, nipples once puffy now hardening with excitement. Eyes trained on him, mouth panting and swollen from his kiss. He could see a small bruise forming on the side of your neck, he would apologize in the morning, flowers or breakfast, but for now it was all his to admire. He joined you on the bed, climbing over your body to do so. His torso caged you in completely, wide shoulders shadowing over your frame. He pulled you by your thighs. Taking time to stretch your legs and admire the muscle and skin and fat that made up your gorgeous form. He seemed impressed with your flexibility, at least the little click of his tongue indicated as much. His clothed cock pressed right against your panty clad pussy, both hot and begging to be aligned. He pressed his hips a little as he brought one of your ankles to his lips, kissing the ball, then up the calf. You moaned at the wet kisses, relishing in his affection. He looped his thumbs into your panties, releasing your leg so he could pull them from your legs. Nanami caught your eyes before spreading your legs in front of him, you gave him the go ahead and he sank before you, aligning himself to see your pussy spread open for him. If he wasn't drunk earlier, he was now. Sticky, dripping, gorgeous. He couldn’t hold back, he licked a long, wet stripe up you slit, tasting his first of you. 

Your body was on fire, completely electrified, and weightless underwater all at once. His tongue made its home between your labia, sharp nose being buried in your mound. Your back arched off the bed as a wanton moan left your wet mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, finding a grip for you to cling to. Your other hand held your breast. Nanami’s tongue flicked itself up and down, kissing your clit, drawing out more and more arousal from your dripping hole. 

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He says, soft enough to be just for himself. 

You can't respond, only mewl as he sucks at your clit. You release your breast and grip on to the headboard, accidentally pulling yourself away from him. Nanami grabs your hips and pulls you back onto his tongue. 

“Come back.” He mumbles, again, almost to himself. 

“N-Nanami, i-..”You are cut off by another harsh suck to your clit, his tongue circling inhumanly. 

You were so close, it usually would have taken you much longer to orgasm but the excitement coursing through your body and his skill had turned you to keening, pathetic putty in mere minutes. He flicks his golden eyes up at you, watching you start to unravel. He knows what to do, or rather what not to do, he carries on exactly as he has been, every flick of his tongue pulling you down further. It became too much, and you bubbled over. You cried out in white out pleasure, pulling on his hair. Your legs clapped around his head. He drank up everything you gave, your moans upsettingly muffled by your flesh over his ears. 

When he felt you relax again, he pulled his mouth from you, a thick, gossamer string of spit and cum connecting from his lips to your pussy. The hand from his hair fell to his face, pairing nicely with his blown out eyes and fucked out expression. He caught his breath while looking over your body, your full breasts, your tummy rising and falling as you caught your own. He moved over you once again, kissing you deeply. He tasted like you, his tongue was heavy and hot in your mouth, his hands were fast to rid himself of his underwear and pull your legs over his bare hips. You could feel the length of his cock pressing against your throbbing, overly sensitive cunt. Your outer lips, now much more sensitive from Nanami’s expert work. 

“You’re amazing.” You gasped out against his mouth. 

He hummed pridefully, kissing you again. He grinds his hips hard, hoping to prepare you further for what's to come, but he miscalculated, a rare occurrence. Both of you let out long, glorious moans as he pushes himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. Nanami shudders briefly before gaining his strength back, you dig your nails into his back, but he cant feel anything except the pulsing of your pussy around him. He may never be able to think again, not of anything other than having the hot velvet muscle between your legs tight around his cock. You whimper at his penetration, feeling him press the deepest parts of you. Tip of his cock kissing your cervix, just as passionately as he kissed you. He was not a small man by any measure, and the entirety of his cock probably made up close to eight inches, with the girth to burn as it stretched you open. 

Which he did again, catching your panting lips on his own, quick kisses between caught breaths as you both adjusted to the feeling of being joined together. He pulled his hips back, pulling a shaky moan from you, and pushed in once more. Somehow he reached even deeper than he did before, his cock arching up to press that beautiful, spongy spot inside of you, the spot that made you clit throb and your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Look at me, baby.” Nanami pleaded, “I wanna see your pretty eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open, a drunken droop to the lids as he thrusted again. He found an even, well paced rhythm. Kissing you occasionally, when one of you wasn't gasping out in bliss. Your hand moves up one of his arms, gripping his taut bicep and his sinewy shoulders. He pressed his forehead to yours, looking down your body to see his pelvis meeting yours. His cock throbbed inside of you at the sight, in turn making your walls grip him tighter. You pull him back to your lips, wanting to be consumed by every sensation he could give you. His hand by your head grips the pillow hard, ripening a hole in the casing. You move your hand up to meet his, holding it and interlocking your fingers. His grip softened instantly, becoming as sweet and generous as ever part of him had been already. You felt him twitch inside of you once more. Followed by a choked moan. 

“I-i, baby I,” Nanami struggled to get his words out as he drove himself further and further into you. 

“Please, Nanami, please.”You held him closer with your thighs, purring out his name. 

“I didn't put on a condom,” He struggled to collect himself, he knew he could be responsible with you, “I should..”

“Dont pull out,” You whine, sounding more pitiful than you intended, “please Nanami, cum inside me, please.” 

He finds your eyes quickly, his heart melting at your big watery pleading eyes. You swollen lips, you drooping, drooling mouth. How could he deny you? Nanami made quick work of chasing his own climax, thrusting harder, fucking faster, holding your body still underneath him. You feel every thrust in your throat. His pace quickens and his thrust become shallow and choppy. Nanami lets out a delicious, languid moan as he cums. You can feel his thick cock depositing load after load of cum into you. An elongated, uninterrupted E sound. He holds you at your hip and when your hand still holds his. His face is now buried in your neck. Your legs are slung over his hips along with your other hand over his shoulder. He thrusts twice more before stalling, having emptied himself, but not yet gathered the desire to pull out. When he finally comes to, he releases your tender hip and pushes himself up from above you, looking down at you. You pant up at him, taking in a post-coital vision of him you never expected, and he, the same. He flushed, sweaty, messy, drool and cum drying on his chin, hairstyle ruined by your grasping. You imagine you looked just as disheveled by half as gorgeous. Nanami, would of course, disagree. He kisses you again, soft and deep. When he finally pulls himself out of you he takes the spot to the right of you in bed. You lie together, allowing your bodies to return to a blissful equilibrium. You roll onto your side, moving a hand over his stomach. 

“So you’ll stay the night?” you gave a sly smile. 

And he laughed. Truly laughed, before kissing you again deeply. 

And he did stay the night. After a quick shower the pair of you returned to bed and slept soundly in each other's arms until he got up before the sunrise to make it back to his apartment with enough time to change before work. He kissed you goodbye and assured you he would come by the cafe. And he did, he met you right at the end of your shift, a bundle of flowers in one arm. He invited you to a home cooked dinner at his place. You were surprised at his determination to make you an established couple, but not even close to put off by it. 

“I know it’s a little unorthodox, but I am about to start a new assignment and it’s shaping up to be a lot of work. I may be indisposed for a few days. I’d really like to see you again before then” He explained as he walked you home. 

“I’d love to,” You giggled, kissing his cheek and admiring the bouquet he had picked out, “Where are you going for your assignment?”

“Shibuya.”

OOOOOOOOOOO SURPISE, anyway hope yall like it and came good. Love you all, thanks for 150 followers. Also im on my barista high horse a little, but just be normal and nice to people, and if you'd tip a bartender, tip a barista. it's the same job. I hope this was worth the wait. I have work in fiv ehours. -Doodle.

[dadsbongos]

the higher up a fic is, the newer and more accurate it is to my current writing style (re: older = more cringe)

fics with obvious references to sex are not marked +18 because it feels redundant, but they are still meant for +18 audience. fics/blurbs that don’t specify smut in the title are marked +18 for clarity’s sake

<- back to main hub

~~~

daisuke

-gurgle. spit. rinse. do not repeat. do not repeat. trapped on the tulpar. surrounded by your life’s work, chemicals and blood stains. and then there’s sweet daisuke, who wants you so, so bad.

-sweetnerd (+18!) daisuke -desperate for some release after months of passionless jerking- begs to eat you out one night.

.

curly

-dirty 30... or 40 (+18!) it’s curly’s birthday! and a surprise guest (jimmy’s pretty ex) gives him a surprise present.

-twist in the gut (+18! dark content) Dead Dove: curly rapes a lesbian he's in love with.

-on hard times (+18! dark content) jimmy needs a place to stay, and what place is better than with his enabling best friend, curly, and curly’s hot step-daughter? nothing could go wrong!

-his obsessive gf general self-indulgent blurb

.

jimmy

-last tin on the left (+18! dark content) trailer park princess asks her scruffy neighbor, jimmy, to give her and her friend a ride to their concert. jimmy wants payment in flesh.

-jimmy wants to kill your mom blurb. reader's mom is in hospice and jimmy wants to end your suffering- by ending your mom

-on hard times (+18! dark content) jimmy needs a place to stay, and what place is better than with his enabling best friend, curly, and curly’s hot step-daughter? nothing could go wrong!

[melswifeasf]

i saw your request for asks so i thought i’d try, if anything makes you uncomfortable/is weird to write then change it ofc and thank you if you do write it :) 

okay so i really love pissed off sam and was thinking about this: reader and sam are together but are keeping it a secret bc sam wants to (reader isn’t extremely happy about it but okay with it), reader goes with tara to this party from the beginning of scream vi and when sam comes to get both tara and reader back home, she sees someone flirting with reader but can’t do anything about it which pisses her off, reader shuts the flirting down but sam is still pissed, once they are alone reader tries to talk to sam and calm her down with a hug and sam lets her but then kisses reader and turns it into sex and leaves a pretty obvious hickey and tells reader not to cover it up

Marks (nsfw)

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: you’re Sam’s secret, it’s not your choice but you’ll deal. until Sam realizes being her secret means there’s nothing holding others back from chasing you.

Warnings: (18+) MDNI smut, breath play.

notes: i love jealous Sam. also let’s act like they aren’t attacked by ghostface after the party for the sake of this imagine. this might be kind of mid cause i’m not that used to writing smut yet but i hope you still enjoyed it:)

(not proofread)

(word count: 3433)

this was never part of the plan. being in a secret relationship was never really your choice. you felt like her dirty secret but you loved her so you couldn’t find it in you to say no. she had to told you she didn’t want others to know the second things began getting serious. you understood why, her ex boyfriend turned out to be a psychotic freak who wanted to kill her and her sister because she was the daughter of a famous serial killer.

you were Chads friend in high school, he was on the football team and you were a cheerleader so it was easy to be mixed in with the same people. he was nice in your opinion, you found it funny that his name was literally Chad but he was always nice. thus started the friendship between you two and you slowly became part of their friend circle, you were a year older than them but even after you graduated you stuck around. you wanted to take a gap year between high school and college to figure out what you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

that meant you were there when the ghostface situation happened. that when you met Sam, you instantly thought she was beautiful. you’d heard stories about her from Chad and Tara but never in depth, it was a sensitive topic for the young Carpenter girl.

you had even been there when they were all attacked. you didn’t want to go to the party at first, it felt insensitive but Chad and Mindy had told you it’s what Wes would’ve wanted to you decided why not.

you regretted that pretty quickly.

you’d been stabbed twice, once in the stomach and the other in the back when you had been trying to attack Amber. it was shortly after that you and Sam began getting closer. she had thanked you for staying and not running when you had the chance.

unlike Chad and Mindy, she didn’t see you as her little sisters friend, she hadn’t seen you grow up and she had just met you so she didn’t feel guilty to think you were rather attractive. being in cheer since you were a kid helped your body become more toned and Sam found no shame in checking you out whenever you were alone. she knew you had a crush on her, you weren’t exactly subtle, not that you even wanted to be. you were never the type to hide your feelings. it was on a random Friday night that those feelings really came to light, you had called her to come over so you could tell her how you really felt. one thing led to another and you hooked up. that continued up until you moved to New York when she finally asked you to be her girlfriend.

you always thought she wanted to keep it a secret for various reasons. one, you were Tara’s friend and four years younger than her. secondly, she wasn’t ready to have an open relationship after the shitty one she had before. so you accepted what you got and moved on.

once you all moved to New York you decided to go to college like the other three teens. at first you were going to room with a girl who was in a band meaning she would be up late practicing or writing music which was horrid. Tara had been the one to offer you to move in, you immediately turned to Sam but she quickly said it was a good idea. you’d be helping with the rent so she used that as her excuse. they only had three rooms and Quinn already lived with them so you slept in the living room (of course you’d sneak into Sam’s room once everyone was asleep and sneak back out in the morning) until you got enough money to get your own apartment. Mindy had said she’d be willing to move in with you during her sophomore year and you figured a couple more months of an uncomfortable couch couldn’t hurt. besides, sometimes Tara would offer her room as well.

loud music blasted around the house as young adults were talking to one another in small groups. you were talking to a girl who was getting a little too flirty in your opinion. you didn’t want to be there, you wanted to be with Sam out on a dinner date or at the movies - really anything as long as it was with her and you were out of her small room. but she had therapy so when Tara invited you to go out you didn’t have any excuse to say no.

you were dressed in one of your old cheer uniforms. it was basic but you didn’t care much for the party and you weren’t going to go out to buy a costume.

you listened to the brunette beside you talk about her high school years. truly you weren’t actively listening but you didn’t want to be rude by shutting her out or walking away. the brunette was cute, sure, but she wasn’t Sam Carpenter and you weren’t interested. she didn’t seem to be taking the hint though.

Mindy and Anika stood from their spot on the couch as they saw Tara about to walk away with some frat guy up to his room. you tried to move away from the brunette but she was still talking and you figured Mindy would be getting Chad which meant they did not need your help. you tried to seem like you were listening up until Chad approached you guys and aimed for the stairs where Tara was about to leave with the guy she met.

“hey partner” you heard Chad say. “Tara’s good down here”

you saw the douche glance at Tara and take a step down, “i’m sorry what? i didn’t catch that”

Chad chuckled, “uh, yeah. you did”

“Chad” Tara said quickly and walked down the steps until she’s up close to him, “it’s fine. i want to”

the dark haired boy mimicked Tara, “see Chad? she wants to” he said and turned grabbing Tara’s arm roughly to drag her up the stairs “come on”

“get your fucking hands off her” Chad was quick to grab the asshole and drop him down the steps making him bump into a stranger.

you quickly pulled away from the girl and walked up to Mindy as Chad and whatever his name is, began to shove each other roughly.

suddenly your girlfriend appears making them both stop to look at her. “guys. i’m sorry to interrupt i’m just gonna tase you in the balls real quick” you gasped in both surprise and awe. “don’t ever lay hands on my sister”

god she was hot.

you were finally standing near them and heard the asshole on the floor curse at Sam making you roll your eyes. what wasn’t so amusing though was Taras voice earning everyone’s attention, “Sam. are you fucking kidding me? you’re stalking me now” the younger Carpenter said and stormed off.

you sighed and watched your girlfriend look at her sister worriedly. you were so busy trying to make sure Sam was okay you didn’t realize the girl that had been latched into you the this whole time walk up to you with a flirt smile. shit.

“so,” she said flipping her hair to one side, “can i maybe get your number?” she asked with a smile that probably would’ve worked on you if you weren’t completely enamored with someone already.

you cleared your throat now noticing Mindy and Anika looking at you in slight confusion. you just hadn’t realized Sam was watching the whole interaction as well. “im sorry,” you said with an apologetic smile, “if i gave you the wrong signals but im not looking for anything right now”

the brunette didn’t seem offended or she didn’t show it and simply smiled before taking her leave. you felt a sense of relief wash over you, you weren’t sure what you would’ve done if she didn’t take your rejection so lightly.

your thoughts were cut off by a voice, “holy shit. it’s that psycho girl” a random guy said making you glance at Sam, there were people with their phones out recording everything causing the girl to shake her head and walk away. you, Mindy and Anika immediately followed.

you weren’t sure if Sam saw someone ask for your number so you made yourself invisible throughout the whole walk to the apartment. you didn’t say anything when Tara blew up on her and you tried to hold yourself back when some bitch threw their drink on Sam.

when you guys got back to the apartment the door of Sams rooms slammed shut with the girl on the other side. you sighed softly as Quinn got out of her room with a questioning look but as soon as she saw everyone’s face she knew what had happened. you saw Tara quickly follow her sisters actions minus the door slamming.

you took your time before going to Sam’s room, waiting until everyone was doing their own thing and finally opening the door and closing it behind you. there the raven haired girl was, an obvious pissed off look on her face as she sat on her bed looking into space. you sighed softly and approached her.

“im sorry” you said although your not sure why. you couldn’t help that another person was flirting with you, although you were sorry that people were shitty and there was nothing you could do about it.

Sam doesn’t respond making you frown, you knew this was all extremely upsetting. you couldn’t imagine being in her position, already having to suffer something so traumatic and then having to hear people say that it was all her fault and she was the real murderer. instead of saying anything else you sit on the bed beside your girlfriend and wrap your arms around her. she stiffens at first but slowly relaxes into your touch, her own arms wrapping around your waist.

“i love you” the words leave your lips like a breath of fresh air.

“i love you too” Sam responded in a slight murmur, her lips pressed against your neck. a smile appeared on your lips at the feeling. you expected the moment to be short and sweet but instead you began to feel her press open mouthed kisses from her shoulder up to her neck.

a breathy whimper escape you, “Sam” you said and tangled your hands in her hair, “everyone’s outside. they might hear” you said in a hushed tone and glanced at the closed door.

but the older girls lips didn’t leave your skin and slowly her kisses began to grow sloppier and rougher, her lips nipping and sucking at your skin which your sure will leave a mark.

“fuck Sam. i’m serious, we said no hickeys” you said trying to push the girl off of you.

“why? are you trying to hide the fact that your mine?” she said in a low tone. you could tell she was still pissed.

you rolled your eyes, “seriously? your the one who wants to keep us a secret”

Sam raised her head from your neck, “maybe it’s time we change that” she said and brought her lips down onto yours in a rough kiss. her action was swift and quick not giving you the chance to even think about her words.

her hands roamed your body until they were on your thighs where she began to squeeze roughly. the feeling of her lips alone were enough to turn you on. her lips were rough and hungry, her tongue invading your mouth without giving you a chance to return the intensity of it.

you wanted more, needed to feel her hands on you in more ways than just one so you moved your body to straddle her but she quickly stopped you. “no” she said and pulled away completely. “stand up” she demanded.

you were slightly confused at first but the look on her face made you hold back any questions as you followed her orders. soon you felt her warm body pressed against your back. you understood pretty quickly why she wanted you like this as you stared at your own reflection. there was a body length mirror in front of you.

“you look so pretty in this” she whispered softly into your shoulder as she pressed small kisses on it. even though her words were sweet you knew that wouldn’t last long.

her hands moved up your body and under your shirt to cup your breasts, she squeezed them roughly making your legs press together. you just needed her to fuck you. it seemed as if she had read your mind as her right hand left your shirt and moved down your body until she reached your skirt. her hand maneuvered under your skirt making you shiver. she grabbed your panties and roughly pulled them down your legs surely leaving a mark on your thighs by the roughness of her touch.

“why are you so wet baby?” she whispered as she began to rub your clit with two fingers. a soft moan left your lips making you bite your lip quickly after, you didn’t want anyone else in the apartment to know what you were doing. “did that bitch turn you on? huh?” she asked aggressively and both her hand on your chest as well as the one rubbing you matched her tone.

you shook your head to the best of your ability, “no, no baby.” Sam chuckled darkly.

“who makes you this wet?”

“you. always you” that seemed to please her and she slowly entered you with two fingers instantly making you moan louder than you should have. you right hand slapped against your mouth to contain your moans but that seemed to piss Sam off even more.

she slapped your arm making it fall beside you again. her pace was rough and fast and your knees were beginning to give in but you tried your best to stand upright. the pleasure was so intense your eyes were closed but every so often you would blink them open and see your girlfriend leaving hickeys on your neck with one hand in your shirt twisting your nipples and the other up your skirt. it only made you wetter and the allude sounds echoing throughout the room was proof of that.

“baby fuck” you whimpered and tangled your hand in the girls hair as you pressed her into your neck, this felt too good for her to stop.

“you like that?” she whispered and added another finger. you nodded quickly.

“yeah”

“cause your all mine baby. only i can make you feel this way. not that bitch at the party. me” you frantically nodded your head at every word that left her lips.

“only yours baby. only you make me feel this good” your answer pleased her even more as she began to curl her fingers inside of you making you see stars. the feeling was too intense and you weren’t sure how much longer you could last.

“such a pretty little slut” she whispered and softly bit your shoulder. tears were beginning to form in your eyes by the intensity of it and by how hard you were trying to keep yourself standing.

“please don’t stop” you whimpered desperately making Sam chuckle. her hand left your shirt and trailed your chest until she reached your neck. an excitement began to build in your chest at the anticipation of what was coming next. her hand squeezed your neck making you open your eyes.

your cheeks were flushed, your forehead glistening with sweat and the veins on Sams hand were beginning to show as she choked you.

“that’s it. open your eyes, watch how pathetic you look when i fuck you” your face was hot from both the humiliating words leaving your girlfriends lips as well as the sensation of your oxygen being controlled. she had complete and utter control of you then and there, her hand only letting a small amount of oxygen inside of your lungs every couple of seconds before she squeezed even more. you were beginning to grow lightheaded. you wouldn’t be surprised if she left a hand print on your neck from the aggressiveness.

it was too much for you. “i’m gonna cum” you choked out to the best of your ability.

Sam shook her head, “tell me who owns you”

you moaned and threw you head back onto her shoulder as her thumb began to circle your clit slowly. she was making this incredibly hard. you weren’t sure if you could stop yourself from letting go.

“you. you own me. i’m yours and only yours” you quickly said a lot clearer than you had before considering she’d loosen her grip.

Sam had a pleased smile on her lips at your response, “come for me baby” she finally said making your body unravel at once. your hand slapped against Sams arm and you squeezed tightly as the other pulled at her hair. your legs began to shake and Sam tried to hold you up with her body.

her name was thrown out into the room breathily and your eyes squeezed shut. her fingers continued to pump inside you slowly as she helped you come down from your high.

her hand competent left your neck and she wrapped it around your waist to keep you standing. once you felt like you had riches the ground again you began to whimper as Sams fingers were still inside of you.

“sensitive” you whispered and she quickly pulled out of you. slowly she helped you walk backwards until you reached the bed. she sat down and shortly after she pulled your front toward her and down onto her lap.

you were blissed out as you laid your head on her shoulder.

“i love you beautiful” she said gently and rubbed small circles on your back. even with the state you were in, a small smile formed on your lips at her words. she was always so sweet to you.

“i love you too” you murdered.

“are you okay? did i hurt you?” she asked pushing your body softly so you’d look at her and you pushed your head up so you were making eyes contact with her.

“im okay. i promise” you guys stayed like that for a little while, just basking in each others presence.

until you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing up the elephant in the room. “you reek like Cherry coke” you admitted with a soft smile.

Sam laughed as you pulled away to look at her once more, “you don’t like it?” she raised a brow teasingly.

“absolutely not” you laughed. “come on. shower. i don’t want you smelling like coke when we’re sleeping”

she chuckled softly and patted your thigh to signal you to stand. you did so with slightly shaky legs but your girlfriend was quick to place her hands on your waist to level you.

once you told her you’d be okay she pulled away and went to her dresser to get clothes.

you fixed your appearance a bit as well, you’d make the offer to shower with her but you’re sure everyone else was still in the apartment and you needed to leave Sams room before it got suspicious.

you turned your body to look in the mirror, your intention was to fix your hair and makeup but instead your eyes were focused on the huge mark on your neck.

“Sam, what the fuck” you whisper yelled and flipped your hair to the side of your neck as you turned toward her. she looked at you questioningly until she realized what you meant. she smiled.

“what? it’s about time people know your mine” she shrugged as if it’s no big deal.

“that’s great babe. really. but you didn’t have to give me five fucking hickeys the size of my neck in the progress!” you exclaimed.

Sam chuckled with a slight shrug. “they’re cute” she said simply and walked into her bathroom.

she’d be the death of you. you’re sure of it.

turns out all you needed was a little jealousy for her to tell everyone about you. as soon you walked out everyone noticed the hickeys on your neck and when they asked what the hell happened, Sam simply pecked your lips and sat on the couch as if it were no big deal.

[hees-mine]

𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐋. 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟑

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, sorry for the errors.

Genre: 18+, best friends dad, smut, single dad, minors do not interact!

WC: 1,695k

⟱⟱⟱

Days seemed to pass by slower and slower without you around. It was awful. Everything felt empty, not to mention how quiet it always was without you there.

He missed how you’d come to the kitchen like it was your own and help yourself to any food he had, whether that be a snack or his leftovers.

He missed the little sneaky kisses you’d give him on his cheek while he was cooking and his daughter was in her room and the occasional quickies in the kitchen or in his office.

He missed you just being around sure he had his daughter but that didn’t mean he never got lonely.

Especially at night when it was just him lying in a cold bed that begged to be warmed by the presence of someone who loved him.

What made it worse was the fact he actually had that, but he had to give it all away for the sake of his daughter’s happiness.

In turn, putting himself on the back end and masking his pain or what he thought was masking it.

He thought he was doing a pretty good job at pretending he was okay but little did he know he wasn’t and that’s what ultimately led to him being caught.

He was currently in the shower when his daughter snuck into his room, snooping for his phone. She made sure the shower was still running while swiping up on his phone and opening it. Luckily, he didn’t have a passcode, so leafing through his messages was easy.

She scrolled, and there were no new messages. “Odd,” she mumbles to herself and scrolls to the older messages, where your name can clearly be seen with a heart emoji next to it.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes tapping on the conversation between you two it was mostly good morning and goodnight but some were more flirty and others were just casual conversations.

Now it dawned on her no wonder he’s been on his phone so much, which in turn meant he wasn’t over you, and he was still reminiscing about the two of you together.

She heard the water cut off and she quickly shut his phone off and jogged downstairs waiting for him to finish getting ready for work.

About fifteen minutes later, he came downstairs to greet her. “Hey, you’re up early,” he laughs while going into the kitchen to make himself a coffee.

“Yeah,” she shifts nervously, watching her dad from the living room.

While getting a mug for his coffee, he unintentionally grabs the cup you used to use for water in the early mornings.

He remembers those mornings like yesterday, the ones where he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He was so smitten with you back then, and absolutely nothing has changed now. He just wished he had a bit of willpower at that time cause if he did, he wouldn’t have even made a move on you, to begin with, and the way he’s feeling right now could have easily been avoided.

He holds the cup in his hands for a few seconds and sighs loudly before putting it back in the cupboard and grabbing a new one.

He sat at the kitchen table, waiting for his coffee to brew while looking at the texts. He promised himself he’d stop, but he couldn’t. It was the only thing he had left of you, and besides, it was no one else’s business that he kept a secret on his phone.

He couldn’t help but smile remembering all the times he texted you on lunch break, and you’d sneakily answer him even if you were in class. He’d scold you so many times, but your little hard-headed self never quite listened. He wasn’t complaining either cause he loved texting you even if the timing was inopportune.

His daughter kept sneaking glances at him from the living room, and it was clear as day that the smile on his face was now far brighter than the many he had forced over the last few weeks.

And now it was obvious that he hadn’t been the same since the whole ordeal between the two of you.

She did feel kinda bad about it all, but how could not only her best friend but her dad betray her as well? How else was she supposed to feel? Was everything supposed to be sunshine and rainbows after she found out her dad and her best friend had been fucking each other and having a whole romantic relationship behind her back?

She sighed loudly and folded her arms across her chest, thinking in a whirlwind of never-ending possibilities of who was in the wrong here.

No wonder her dad seemed so much happier months back; no wonder you were acting so jumpy and suspicious around her. No wonder heeseung was smiling more.

Ugh.

It was happening all right In front of her face, and she missed every single last sign.

“Anyways,” he says, shutting off his phone and finishing his coffee. “That’s good 'cause I have to get some gas on the way.” She nodded, her head still lost in thought. “Everything good?” He asked. When he saw the indifferent expression on her face, he felt his heart drop for a moment, wondering if somehow he had been caught, but he breathed a sigh of relief when she replied that she was just tired. “Aww, don’t work too hard, okay? Maybe after school, you can invite your friends over, and we can have dinner like before.” he easily shakes the negative thoughts away, realizing he was just being paranoid. There’s no way she knew he was still caught up on you.

“Sure, I’d like that.” She forced a smile of her own this time.

“How are things with Jay still good?” He transferred his coffee to a travel cup and put on his suit jacket.

“Yes.” heeseung started to sense something odd again. Before, she’d been so enthusiastic about sharing stories about Jay with him, but now she was completely silent.

“Good, I like him for you.” She merely smiles and sits up from the couch, ready to go to school.

Heeseung monitored her strange behavior, and he couldn’t help thinking that maybe he had ruined his relationship with his daughter because he was with you. Maybe he fucked up every relationship he had because he was selfish and only acted on what he wanted without thinking of the consequences, and worse, maybe his daughter didn’t actually forgive him for what he did with her best friend.

He took a deep breath to calm his overworked heart, telling himself that he’d just have to talk things out with her and everything would be okay.

He had to convince himself of that because if he didn’t, he was not sure if he could even go to work with his mind being overloaded with nothing but worry and stress.

-

Later that night, when his daughter got home from school, she invited Jake and Jay over for dinner like normal, and everything went well. Heeseung still trusted Jay's intentions with his daughter, and Jake was still that overwhelmingly nice guy.

Once dinner was finished, heeseung cleaned up, with Jake insisting that he help out as well, which heeseung didn’t refuse cause he could use the extra help. After everything was cleaned, Jake joined the other two upstairs in his daughter's room while he went to his office to get some leftover work done.

Time flies by while he was working and the only thing that made him realize just how late it was was Jake knocking on his office door letting him know they were heading home for the night. “Oh really?” He chuckles and checks the time it was already ten at night. “Well, you boys have a good night.”

“You too, sir, thanks for dinner.” heeseung nodded his head softly, but something had been itching in his mind all night, and now that Jake and him were alone, he couldn’t help but ask.

“Say, how’s y/n been? She hasn’t been over in a while,” he casually asked while closing his computer so he could give his undivided attention.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Jake starts, and heeseung feels his heart drop.

“Know what?” His brows creased together in confusion, his heart rate picking up by the second with nothing but worry, but he tried to hide how concerned he was.

“Well, we kinda had a falling out, not me and Jay but your daughter and y/n. They don’t hang out anymore, so we kinda went our separate ways as well. None of them will tell me why, either. I tried hanging out with y/n, but she always tells me she’s busy, but I know she isn’t. She looks really sad and down all the time, and I feel bad for her cause I know she’s going through something. I just wish I could be there for her like before, you know?” Jake bounces on the balls of his feet and bites his lip softly.

“Oh wow, I’m sorry to hear that.” Heeseung pretends he doesn’t know that you and his daughter haven’t been hanging out anymore. “Well, hopefully, things get better. I’m sure it’s just a rough patch, and they’ll figure it out” he gives Jake false hope knowing full well that wouldn’t happen, and he feels even more like shit because not only was what he did affecting him, it was also affecting everyone around him.

He’s never felt so disappointed in himself.

“Yeah, me too,” Jake says with a soft smile. “We’ll see you around. Have a good night, sir.” Jake bids his goodbyes, leaving heeseung with nothing but his negative thoughts.

“Fuck” he buried his face in his hands, holding back tears, cause by now, he was sick of crying over this stupid fucking situation.

But you know what? Since everything else was fucked, why not fuck it up even more? In his reckless state, he stepped out of his office with only one thing on his mind, and that was going to see you.

Why not fuck up one last time?

⟱⟱⟱

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

[respectthepetty]

Wild Ass Theory - Killer Instincts

@heretherebedork, this is dedicated to you since your post reminded me that I forgot the golden rule of murder-mysteries while I was busy shipping Tin x Win - There are two murderers!

As you pointed out, the boys have different lighting, and normally, I'd think it was for balance, but there are barriers between them.

And, I thought it would be because Tin obviously has a crush on Win, so he has built up his walls to protect his heart from his playboy friend, which would also explain Tin's stiffness during their conversation.

But one of those barriers is Tul.

Tin is her older brother, but how much older? Is it old enough for Win and Tin to have been teenagers when the murders happened 18 years ago?

Win just got back in town and the murders have started again, but how long has he been gone? 18 years? Also, Win is warm, while Tin, even when he cares for his sister, is cold, which I took as him being a loyal Blue Boy.

But the two killers so far have been closer than originally expected.

Much closer!

Episode three's title card is "Red, Ritual, and Reappearance"

The copycat did his homework because he picked up on the red color which the cops didn't mention, not even in their review of the cases.

The original murderer killed women from the red-light district and tied them up with green rope in a specific note,

But the copycat killed a woman wearing red and tied her up with a green rope.

And the last two cases eighteen years ago weren't consistent with the original red-light district connection, and the women weren't wearing a red item. The first murders were all done by the same people, but the last two were to cover ups.

The copycat killer picked women with red accessories just like the original murderer, which, once again, wasn't discussed in the briefing.

But he also picked up on sending a blue gift beforehand.

Because we ended the episode with a blue gift from the original murderer.

But we have seen blue, red, and green together.

In Tin's house.

Win would be the obvious killer since his reappearance correlates to the murders picking back up, so I'm not saying sweet kind Tin is the killer.

But he is definitely hiding something, and it isn't just a crush, which he was adamant he didn't have.

BECAUSE I DON'T THINK IT'S A CRUSH!

Tin doesn't like surprises. Tin likes his house orderly and clean. Tin doesn't have a girlfriend. None of these things seem outrageous, but this is a murder-mystery, and the original murder victims were sex workers. The present cases deal with murderers who knew their victims, so if the dad killed his daughter after he found out what she was doing, what would happen if a sweet guy was surprised to find out something "dirty" about someone he loves? What would he do?

Basically, I don't think Tin is showing his true color, but it's going to reemerge now that Win is back.

And these ladies better watch their backs.

Because it would be genius to cast two BL boys we love in a GL and distract us into shipping them, so we wouldn't suspect them of being the killer.

Wouldn't it?

[coffeebooksrain18]

I honestly like Cersei more than HOTD Rhaenyra because Cersei is highly motivated and is more honest about her flaws than Rhaenyra is even if that means embracing them and getting worse. The comparisons between Rhaenyra and Cersei are rather apt and even then Cersei still wins out because she's funner to root for and hate.

I'm also surprised that so many people assume that Targaryens like Visenya, Daella and Aemma would automatically hate Alicent. If anything all of them would be understanding towards Alicent. Visenya would understand Alicent's desire to do what she thinks is best for her son by putting him on the throne. Aemma would sympathize with Alicent because she was the only other person that would understand how poorly Viserys treated her and would be angry that Viserys married another young girl just to set her aside for his kid, even if she'd automatically side with Rhaenyra. Even Daella would sympathize with Alicent if she had the capacity to fully understand the situation Jaehaerys put her in because she was treated like a pet by Rodrik Arryn, bullied by his children even though one of them was older than her and expressed how scary her pregnancy was in the one letter she wrote to Alysanne on her own. Alicent was put into a horrible situation, being used as an older man's backup plan and tossed aside when her kids weren't as valuable to him as Rhaenyra was. (I don't care if she was 18 in the books, she was still pushed into marrying a 29 year old man as a barley legal adult and it was implied that she was groomed by Jaehaerys before his death.) Just because someone is born into the Targaryen family doesn't automatically mean that their sense of sympathy is gone when they see an in-law being treated poorly by a spouse born into their family.

Exactly! Visenya wouldn't care about Rhaenyra. She wouldn't care that she wants to name her daughter after her because she would think it obvious to do so. She is a Conquer so why the fuck not? And she wouldn't hold back on calling the Strong boys bastards when she hears their last names. It's Visenya she isn't kind, she is a warrior queen who was probably the most politically savvy of her siblings next to Rhaenys. She would express admiration to Alicent because she took power in a place where her husband made it where she had none.

Aemma would've called out Rhaenyra the moment she looked at her sons and heard they were Velaryons. She is from the Vale, the second most religious kingdom in the Seven Kingdoms. She would instantly know and wouldn't hold back. It may seem kind but she would make it known what she thinks of those boys. And yes she would have sympathy for Alicent. And she would be pissed at Viserys. I mean she died to give him a son and now that he has three he ignores all of them? She would see it as a slander to her name and all she tried to give him before she ever felt honored he kept Rhaenyra his heir.

And Daella would be very similar to Aemma in the aspect of Rhaenyra and her bastard. I mean her parents were Alysanne and Jaehaeyrs. The same people who turned a blind eye to Saera for sleeping with a man before marriage, the same people who didn't care about their daughter Vissera so much that she died trying to have last night of freedom. And TB Rhaenyra stans think she will be kind to Rhaenyra? No she would stay quiet but she would judge her and eye her in the most obvious ways. And with Alicent she would feel awful she has no one with her with each birth because that is what Daella was gonna go through and did go through.

I've also seen some say Alysanne would defend Rhaenyra and I agree...until Rhaenyra had Jace. She would turn her back and help Alicent in any way she can.

Thank you for the ask Anon!

[brothersfuck]

hi me again, double dipping in your asks 🚬 would love to hear more about your girl!sam hcs if u have any 🙏 🎀

OHHHMYGOD I've been waiting for someone to ask me this thank you thank you THANK YOU❤️ For these specific hcs, I'll be using cisgender girl!Sam so if that's not up to anyone's liking, you're allowed to click off<3!!

Sam, even as a girl, hated the thought of wearing girlish things when she was younger. Hell, she was surrounded by her overprotective older brother and even more overprotective Dad, it was better for all of them if Sam didn't wear any skirts or crop tops. You know. Because it would be too revealing

And because both John and Dean would never stop thinking about it

The thing is, Sam is in her rebellious teenager phase now. Not that Dean never got to that point where he'd do whatever he wanted and sneaked out late at night, but it was different because Sam was a girl!! Dean reasoned.

(Sam--14, Dean--18) Dean never got to focus in school. Never. Any time John would drop them off in a different part of town and tell the teachers they'll only be here as temporary transfer students plus bullshit excuse, Dean watched Sam saunter off practically vibrating towards any group of nerdy boys who had the same interests as her. She wears her jacket (that was Dean's before) and her too big socks (those were John's before)(even now, they're still laying claim on her)

It gets Dean mad. Logically mad. Like how every brother glares at the boys their sister talks to, or beats them until they get the message, in a logical and normal and not weird at all way.

Dean and John actually agree on some things this time, like how Sam shouldn't even be allowed out of their line of sight, how Sam should never wear skirts (Lest it tempt one of them, or worse, both), how Sam should never grow ever again so they both could keep her under their thumb. Forever.

Sam, of course, the cheeky rat, starts wearing skirts just to piss them both off. She makes it obvious too, actually puts in boys numbers when they ask, bats her eyelashes at any nearby man (hell, sure, she could go for someone older...maybe illegally older? No, scratch that--) and whenever one of them asks if she wants to talk, they do.

She's in knee high socks, cute knitted skirts (even though she hated the feeling, she knew it was to rebel against her brother and her dad), and those sweaters that made her look sweet and delicious and, oh, Sammy.

John doesn't even ward the thoughts away this time when they start trailing off from the happy moments of his wife to bending his little girl over the counter and making her take it rough. Dean doesn't even try to hide the glares he gives to bar men trying to approach or too skinny nerdy boys wanting a hit of the good life. In fact, he starts more bar fights, more just because he can, and more because the cuter Sam got, the worse the feelings deepened.

Come on. John and Dean are fucking suffering here.

Years pass and Sam is finally out of that phase (it lasted maybe a year. Or half a year), she's all quiet now, reading, always trying to focus on actually studying rather than researching for what could kill a supernatural monster number 101 and Dean just knows they're losing Sam, just knows that sooner or later she'll do her own things without even asking for permission or a glance

...so when Dean saw the Stanford acceptance letter, he went to John.

And that's how Sam ended up forcibly doped on pills every day, barely remembering anything except for "must be a good wife for my brother<3 must be a good wife for my dad<3". Dean swore he didn't mean to do it this way, but he's cooing at Sam in sundresses barefoot cleaning around the house that they bought (it wasn't easy when the seller saw Sam tied up in the backseat)

And John won't stop moaning Mary's name whenever he's deep inside his baby daughter

[leighbaye]

🖤 ₊˚⊹ — eldest daughter of the malfoy family (2) #DISCONTINUED

parring ➵ draco malfoy x sibling f!reader

summary ➵ the beginning of the end, the initiation ceremony.

age of parring ➵ 16 - 18

warnings ➵ angst, mention of pain inflicting, broken families, flashbacks.

extra ➵ thanks to @cafekitsune for banners, extremely special thanks to @helendeath for supporting this story! mind you this chapter is long, you are responsible for your consumption. first chapter here.

before you knew it, the following school year was rapidly approaching. apparently it was the perfect time for him to conceive the dark mark.

for whatever reason for father, lucius, thought it was best for your younger brother to receive the dark mark. not thinking about the mental toll it will bring him.

the next moment, you were in draco’s room helping him get dressed and ready out the door. you weee buttoning his blazer and you then ran you hand though his hair, keeping it down. you then sigh.

❝ are you ready? ❞ you asked in a soft spoken voice, genuinely curious about his wellbeing.

❝ i-i guess, still unaware how the process will go. ❞

you then sat on his bed, patting his silk sheets to a spot next to you. he took the hint and approached you and took a seat.

❝ well whatever you feel uncomfortable, just reach out to me okay? ❞

he replied in a hum, he cleared his throat forgetting how observant his older sister was. like the both of you were in a in a pact and however he felt it will affect how you acted.

❝ how did you, yknow deal with the aftermath of embedding of the mark? ❞ draco asked hesitantly, wondering how you would answer his question.

you then stared off into space, all of the sudden the ceiling captivated your attention as you vividly remembered how it went down.

it happened in a different circumstance, but that you couldn’t remember why and when it happened. you wanted to spare yourself from revealing to much or it would most definitely get your brother more anxious then he already was.

you were also sixteen years old when your left forearm was tainted with the mark. the bubbling of a cauldron filling your mind also being the center of attention, plus witnesses taking your branding as amusing.

the pain was excruciating. it felt as if you were being held in the one of three unforgivable curses, the cruciatus curse.

the noises of your soft cries and the hot tears streaming down your cheeks fillings your memory as the dark lord announced your current loyalty to him to the rest of the death eaters.

the glittering green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth was now visible, you rubbed and pinched your skin as you were trying to rub fast drying ink off your skin.

how much you needed to see your baby brother in that very moment.

the final vision you saw was back at the manor, you were embraced by your father and you choked back sobs as he caressed your head. trying to comfort his eldest daughter, narcissa with tears welling in her eyes wiped tears away from your eyes.

draco was only fourteen when this all went down, of course he want present due to his young age. he wasn’t aware until much later that you had the mark.

how much you pushed him away from you, afraid of how would then perceive you. how much he wanted to be there for his big sister but it hurt him how painfully obvious you wanted nothing to do with him until these uncontrollable feelings subsided.

as you told him everything he wanted to hear, you noticed how much facial changes he made. slowly and slowly worsening his mood as he took in how he sister handled that all on your own.

not even able to take a full breath in and out, you embraced him as tightly as you physically could. sniffing being heard as mumbled, because you laid your face into his neck.

❝ i-i just want you to know i will be always be here for you, im so worried for you draco! ❞

draco eyebrows furrowed, responding in a hug back is his breathing struggled hearing you be in undeniable pain hurtes him because what you faced will happen to him next.

just without emotional support from him, which filled him with guilt although it was never his fault. he was just to young and still naive.

❝ i hate for you to go through this alone and just knowing i can be present makes me so relieved you have absolutely no idea! ❞ you hiccuped, whimpering.

you let yourself from a hug you know he needed. both of hands grabbing his face and making eye contact with him. his eyebrows furrowed, in a frown as he desperately tried to blink his tears away.

your fresh manicured fingers in a gentle manner rubbed his eyelids, you then kissed his temple as you always did. it was evident that it worked.

you pressed your forehead together looking at each other in a platonically loving way. reminding you of back when the both of you were kids.

the malfoy family, besides lucius, were now present in knockturn alley. where draco’s death eater initiation ceremony will take place.

as evident as it was, knockturn ally wasn’t the same as before. previously full of life, color, & and people of every blood status, it was now dark, gloomy, and isolated. reminding you of malfoy manor in a way.

how you wished to be home at this very moment, knowing you needed to prepare for the worst.

dressed formally, hair laid down held up in a ribbon. you made sure that your robes covered the dark mark. people were still around and you needed to have social awareness.

you and draco, in a quick pace, followed narcissa. stealing rapid glances around it seemed to be clear, you continued followed your mother and swiftly grabbed draco’s hand as the closer you got to the location he almost stayed put.

as if he even had a choice. it pierced you but it was the truth no matter what. little did the both of you know, harry potter, hermione granger, and ron weasley were watching you from a distance.

❝ harry, is it me or do draco, his elder sister, and mummy look like three people who don’t wanna be followed? ❞ ron asked as he observed with harry, which led with hermione whipping her head around.

then there you guys were, as mentioned previously, narcissa entering into a alleyway. and the sight of you and draco holding hands and following right away.

the golden trip exited, staying in a logical gap between the malfoy’s. awaiting for what revelation was about to arise.

the long alleyway lead to a staircase leading down, letting go of draco’s hand and lifting your dress just a few inches of the ground to prevent any tripping.

the next turn lead to the site of where the initiation would take place. borgin and burkes. you and narcissa entered simultaneously while draco stayed out, he makes eye contact with you as you held the door open for him. the ceremony would begin shortly.

the both of you were being lead to another room where the vanishing cabinet was stored. as that was happening, the trio went onto the roof as quietly and sneakily as the possibly could.

harry then observed through a window how close you and draco were than he initially imagined. the noticed the small detail of the matching stacking ring on the same finger. he thought it was a soft touch but let those thoughts subside.

you and draco ran your hands over every corner and crevice of the vanishing cabinet and exchanged in small talk in form whispers before narcissa and distracted draco by planting a kiss on her only son’s cheek, while you looked at other items the antiquarian held.

then the reason why you were held up here commenced.

a group of voldemort-sympathisers, including bellatrix lestrange and fenrir greyback encircled an old cauldron containing a bright green potion and, in the centre of the circle stood draco.

as draco extended his left arm, the potion in the cauldron exploded with light and, quickly, the group dispersed.

୨⎯ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡 ⎯୧

[s-brant]

Anything

Now that the council has been made aware of rumors regarding Anakin and his apprentice’s relationship, they’re put under the microscope of a careful investigation and must avoid rousing suspicion at any cost (or part three to teacher’s pet)

9k (18+)

Warnings: smut, p in v, somnophilia, dub-con due to the circumstance but they’re both very into it, choking, dom anakin, inappropriate relationships, unhealthy attachment issues, and strong language.

-

The ceremony itself was a quick, intimate affair.

How they pulled it off, neither of them knows, but they set their sights on a planet far away. Where nobody knew them personally or could know they were Jedi without their lightsabers visible. It wasn't a wedding most would've been satisfied with, but they were. It didn't matter that everyone they cared for couldn't know about it, nor did it matter to her that they couldn't exchange rings. What mattered was the fact that it was happening.

Dantooine ended up being the best option for them. On Naboo, he could be recognized by those who met him years ago when he was ordered to guard Padme's life, Coruscant was out of the realm of possibility for obvious reasons, and as easy as it would've been for them to go undetected in Tatooine, Anakin made it clear he had no fondness for his home planet and suggested Dantooine instead.

Using clothes they had from a mission in which they had to pretend not to be Jedi a year or so ago, they concealed their identities and traveled as quickly as they could. And though she tried to refuse given the fact that they didn't have credits of their own, a lovely older woman working for the man who married them insisted Y/N wear the wedding gown that was passed through her family for generations. In the short time they spent with these people, they learned that her daughter passed away long ago, and though the old woman had no living children, she hung onto the dress since it was the one she wore at her wedding.

When asked about their lives, it was surprising how quickly the lies spilled out of them. It was mostly her speaking while Anakin stood beside her, delighting in the way he could touch her and stand near to her without having to fear being caught there. She spun a tale of forbidden love, of her father promising her to another man and her running off with Anakin for the sake of true love, so it wasn't too far from the truth.

"Are you listening?"

The sound of Anakin's voice snaps her out of her memory-induced daze.

They are tucked away in a corner of the library where no one can see or hear them, leaning against the shelves and standing face to face. He asked her to meet him here before he was needed in an emergency council meeting that Obi-Wan warned him of ahead of time. It was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to catch Anakin off guard, but his old master couldn't help himself. There would always be a part of him that looked out for Anakin the way an older brother would. The reason for the meeting, he said, had to do with a troubling slew of rumors regarding him and his padawan.

"I'm sorry, I"—she shakes her head as though it'll do anything to clear her thoughts—"I don't understand. Rumors?"

Anakin's eyes move to look past her shoulder, scanning the room both manually and with the Force to ensure nobody has approached the area before focusing back on her. He steps in closer and says what comes next quietly.

"Obi-Wan didn't tell me what the rumors were specifically, but his meaning was clear. Someone knows about it...about us."

Much like it does whenever Anakin takes her out flying with him at the helm of the ship, her stomach drops at this. Before she can even think of what to say, she's already shaking her head in disbelief.

She mutters, "That can't be true. Nobody has even suspected us, let alone caught us."

He has to fight the urge to reach out to comfort her. His hand flexes at his side as he forces himself not to cup her face in it the way he knows soothes her when they're alone together. It's too risky, especially now after Obi-Wan's warning. All he can do is meet her gaze and offer her a phantom touch through the Force. She feels the presence of an invisible hand brushing her cheek and breathes more evenly in response to it.

"You're right, nobody has caught us. We've made sure of that. But someone does suspect us. I don't know how or why, but they do, and with a claim like that, the council has to take it seriously regardless of where it came from or a lack of evidence," Anakin explains. His expression hardens the more he continues to talk about it. "This is a very big deal, Y/N. If they discover the truth—"

She is quick to interrupt him.

"They won't."

There's a long pause after this, and she takes it as her chance to breech the distance between them.

The feeling of the soft pads of her fingertips touching his arm makes him take a step back at first in retreat, but she doesn't allow him to stray far. With one last look over her shoulder, she moves in close to him and throws her arms around his broad shoulders in an embrace. A kiss would be too daring, but a hug doesn't necessarily prove anything. They've hugged before, albeit after near death experiences during the war, so it could be overlooked again. It isn't the smartest move, but it's necessary. Because as soon as their bodies meet, he lets out a heavy sigh.

As relieving as it is, she's quick to pull away after a moment has passed. Her arms remain locked around his shoulders to keep him close, and the arms wrapped around her waist squeeze tighter as though she'll disappear the second he loosens his hold on her.

Those pretty eyes, a more vibrant blue than the oceans on Scarif, darken the longer he looks down at her.

"I meant what I said before," he says softly, calmly. "Nothing will take you from me."

She remembers that day so clearly. He said it with such conviction despite it only being their second time indulging in intimacy together, and she knew he meant it. It was clear in the way he looked at her as he said it, but it's different now. Now, the implication behind it is laced with something predatory and possessive, not a soft-spoken promise in the aftermath of tender lovemaking but rather a threat and promise tied together with a steely-eyed stare.

Her fingertips play with the sandy brown curls at the back of his neck as she nods and murmurs, "I know."

-

Y/N isn't sure why she hadn't anticipated her presence being requested in the council meeting regarding the rumors of her and Anakin's relationship. Now that she sits in front of all the Jedi masters who make up the council, she can't believe she'd been naive enough to think they would only question her master on the subject and leave her be.

They left the library five minutes apart. First, it was Anakin who left and walked out with a book to make his sudden appearance in the area make sense, then it was her. She counted out the seconds until she was safe to leave. They typically didn't need to take such precautions to avoid rousing suspicion. They had the perfect excuse to spend time together, after all, with him being her master and she his padawan. But now that the nature of their relationship has been put loudly to question, they were better off being safe.

The sun is setting in the distance through the windows of the room, casting everyone in a warm, orange-red light, and she chooses to focus on the beauty of that sunset rather than the nerves that tie her stomach into knots. They've hardly begun, but what has been said is already damning in and of itself.

"This is ridiculous," Anakin says with a straight face, although he is unable to keep the annoyance from shining through in his tone. "Ask everyone we've worked with and they'll tell you that Y/N and I have always maintained a professional working relationship. I care about her as my apprentice the same way Obi-Wan cared for me as his."

Obi-Wan's eyes flutter shut, and a deep sigh escapes from him as he leans back in his chair before opening them again. When they open, it's Anakin they're looking at.

"You forget your place in this meeting. Allow Master Windu to finish speaking, young one."

The inherent condescension present in the choice of words makes Anakin's chest muscles tighten up involuntarily. There are few things that make him as angry as being treated like a child despite being a Jedi Knight with an apprentice and missions of his own. But, he knew deep down, that would always be how Obi-Wan saw him, and he resents him for it underneath it all. In a way, he would always be the reckless and tempestuous boy they discovered on Tatooine all those years ago.

Hidden behind the overflowing fabric of his robes, his hand clenches into a fist with enough force that his fingernails nearly break the skin of his palm.

He has no choice but to keep quiet.

Master Windu watches the interaction carefully, as do the rest of the council, and waits for him to break. He waits for there to be a crack in the facade, for him to look over at her and reveal it all, but he doesn't break.

"As I was saying," he starts, shifting a bit in his seat to look at where she's sat across the room from Anakin, "we got an anonymous report yesterday, but, to be candid, these rumors did not start yesterday. They've existed for a few weeks now, but none of us would've insulted either of you by entertaining them. Not until now."

Her throat is dry, a lump forming at the very back of it, when she asks, "What exactly were we accused of?"

The way she says it is soft and calm, as she always forces herself to be in the presence of her superiors, but Anakin knows her. He can sense the rage bubbling beneath the surface of her skin that begs to be let out, and he's sure the others can too, but they won't mistake it for anything other than anger at whoever accused them. Still, she is told by Master Yoda to calm herself down before they proceed, so she tries her best.

A second passes, then Obi-Wan says as tactfully as possible, "Allegedly, the person who reported this witnessed inappropriate behavior between the two of you outside of the temple recently. At night. We have footage to prove you were, in fact, where they said you were, but none to prove this accusation of inappropriate behavior."

The news settles like a heavy weight in her gut, dragging her down and down until she has no hope of climbing out of this hole they've dug themselves in. They were always careful when they left the temple. Anakin had a keen awareness of where the surveillance cameras were as well as their blind spots, so she knows straight away that the footage they have is nothing more than them walking beside one another.

As if on cue, the footage is projected in the middle of the room.

"None of us are saying we believe these accusations without proof, but the existence of them is concerning nonetheless," Windu says. "Why did you allow your padawan outside of the Temple so late?"

Anakin stammers a little at first, the only sign of his true feelings thus far, before pulling himself together. He holds his head high as he always does and doesn't balk from the intense eye contact with Master Windu.

"It was just a walk. I couldn't sleep, so I planned to go on a walk myself when I ran into her."

"So, you had no reason relating to your duty to be escorting your apprentice into the city at night?"

The retort is fired back at him so quickly, he hardly has the chance to take another breath before opening his mouth to defend himself again. His palm stings from how hard he digs his nails into his skin as he begins to lose his composure little by little.

"Well, not exactly—"

"So, you decided to go for a walk?"

Before Anakin has the chance to respond, Y/N cuts in.

"It was my fault," she says, diverting everyone's attention away from the growing storm behind Anakin's eyes. "He was already outside of the Temple when he spotted me, and when he told me to go back inside, I refused. He stayed with me because he knew I was going to go out by myself if he didn't and wanted to make sure I was safe."

And while it's a perfect defense in comparison to them admitting the truth, it makes Anakin cringe internally all the same because it makes him look weak. It makes him appear as though he has no control over his padawan. Just another reason to deny him the rank of master, he supposes. Another to add to the list of reasons why he's a problem to them.

This admission, still halfway true, causes everyone to pause for a second.

Then, Master Windu sets his attention solely on her, and she knows that what's coming next will not be worded as carefully as what Obi-Wan said. It's never been in Windu's nature to be anything other than honest and straightforward. He has always treated them with respect, but he doesn't harbor the same fondness for them that Obi-Wan does.

"I have to ask you directly, for the sake of addressing the severity of the situation, has Anakin ever acted inappropriately with you?"

She stumbles for a second, drawing out the time between when he asks and when she responds, but it's deliberate. If they're going to accuse her of it, she will make them say it and stew in the discomfort caused by it. Let them be tortured just as equally as she is by this.

":..Meaning?" she questions.

The bluntness with which he speaks next knocks the wind from her chest.

"Has Anakin ever tried to instigate a romantic relationship with you?" he asks it with a stony, unbreakable expression, abandoning any attempts at sugarcoating it. "The report itself said he was kissing you"—the discomfort of everyone else is palpable in the air—"and...touching you. They alleged that it happened in a dark area, so they didn't recognize you were Jedi until they came closer. As your master, if this rumor were true, it would be an abuse of his power. To take advantage of a padawan..." He trails off into silence for a second before taking a deep breath to steady himself. "He could never be trusted again."

She doesn't even dare to chance a glance over at where Anakin sits with his face hardened into a mask of neutrality, refusing to give them anything to use against him.

Obi-Wan, in a much gentler way, says, "I know you both well, so believe me when I say I don't believe this to be true, but we must take these accusations seriously. Not only would it be an abuse of power, but forming such attachments is not the Jedi way."

This time, she scans her eyes across the room as though she's looking for all of their reactions, but all she's truly looking for is him. And the small glimpse she gets of him makes her heart ache. He is completely shutting down. His eyes are fixed ahead of him at the middle of the floor, refusing to stray and meet hers. It's all he can do to keep himself under control.

Windu then says again, "Y/N, I need your honest answer. It needs to be shown on record that you both deny these claims."

Without missing a beat, she speaks.

"He has been nothing but respectful and supportive," she says. Instead of looking at it as a lie, she frames it as a performance. She imagines herself as a character on the stage of a theater and plays the part. "Yes, I messed up by sneaking out of the temple, but Anakin never touched me."

In the back of her mind, she sees flashes of their memories together one after the next. His lips smeared against hers, his prosthetic hand clamped around her throat, and his flesh hand slipping beneath the waistband of her pants to feel how wet she got for him. But she fights to keep it under control, to keep the others out of her head as he taught her to.

"So, to answer your question, directly, honestly, and on the record, no. He didn't do anything he was accused of."

For the first time since they've been dragged in here, the members of the council have nothing to throw at them. Without their confession, they have nothing, and she would sooner leave the order than give him up.

Almost in response to this, Anakin looks up from the floor to find her glancing at him. It lasts a mere second, but it strengthens his resolve all the same it reminds him what's at stake.

"Anakin?"

The sound of Master Windu's voice brings his attention away from her. A few seconds pass before he realizes what they're waiting for.

"No. I've never done anything of which I've been accused."

The silence that follows is tense.

Neither of them knows what to do with themselves in the next few moments or so as the council discusses their alleged transgressions as though they aren't in the room with them, but they know not to look at each other. They already got one glimpse already, anything more would be reckless and greedy. After a long back and forth between Obi-Wan and Windu, they seem to come to an agreement.

Master Windu says, "It's settled, then. Y/N, you'll be temporarily removed as Anakin's padawan until we're done talking to witnesses and investigating. In the mean time, Obi-Wan will be your master."

-

It was a disgrace, an outrage.

Anakin's thoughts became poisonous as he was forced to walk out of the council meeting without sparing a glance at her, watching as Obi-Wan whisked her away to speak to her privately as her new master. Maker, even thinking those words made him grimace. There was something inherently wrong with the notion of her belonging to anyone but him. She was his first, he thought, much like a spoiled child having to share his favorite toy. After all, she was his apprentice, his best friend, his wife. How dare they try to keep them apart?

He could hardly process what Master Yoda was saying to him as they walked a little ways behind Obi-Wan and Y/N. It was something about letting the process of justice unfold without harboring any anger for the situation. It was clear in the way it was said that neither Yoda nor the others fully believed the rumors. They all entertained the possibility of them being true, but no one, except maybe Windu, seemed too suspicious of them.

Unfortunately for him, Master Yoda stuck by his side for longer than he anticipated, so he had no choice but to leave her in the hallway with Obi-Wan. If he lingered to speak with her, it would only fuel the rumors about them. He opted for going back to his room to meditate instead, but every time he closed his eyes, his mind became flooded with thoughts of her. Of the meeting, of the night they snuck out, and who possibly could have recognized them.

She, however, was too preoccupied with Master Kenobi.

He walked alongside her at a leisurely pace, speaking freely with her, "I know how upset this whole thing has made you both, but believe me when I say I tried to tell them it wasn't true."

Whether it be willful ignorance or outright denial, she didn't know, but he was being truthful. Of all the council members, he was the least convinced that these rumors could be true, and that was by their design. They've always been extremely cautious in his presence due to his close relationship with Anakin. Her husband taught her how to control her thoughts, to keep from projecting them and allowing the other Jedi into her head, and she practiced it every time they worked with Obi-Wan.

Y/N refrained from picking at the skin around her nails as she often did when nervous and nodded along to what he said.

"If it had to be anyone but Anakin, I'm glad it was you they chose."

"I actually requested it," he says. Upon seeing the confused look on her face, he adds on, "I know Anakin cares for you. I thought that it may ease his mind to know I'm the one stepping in as your teacher."

She can't help but offer up a slight smile in response to this. It was sweet. How Obi-Wan always looked after him, even when Anakin thought everyone was against him or didn't care about his feelings. His old master would always care about him. Later, if she has the chance to see him, she'll tell him about how Obi-Wan defended them to the rest of the council and made sure she was placed under his command.

"I appreciate that greatly," Y/N says. "And I think Anakin would too. He'd probably benefit from a talk with a friend right about now if you're able."

"I'll talk to him as soon as I can, but they'll be questioning me about the allegations in a few moments, so I can't yet. You have my word, though. I will speak to him."

The thought of Anakin being provided with some form of relief is comforting enough to let her contracted neck and shoulder muscles relax.

"Thank you, master."

He simply bows his head to her and offers his goodbyes before turning back toward the council room. In the distance, she sees Master Yoda waiting for him, and all she can do to stop herself from losing what little composure she has left is breathe deeply as she walks the other way in pursuit of the kitchens. Perhaps a light meal will soothe her nervous stomach.

-

It's an hour past the curfew set for apprentices to return to their rooms.

She relies on the light of the lamp beside her bed to read the book Anakin gave to her a few years ago. Annotated in the margins by Yoda, Dooku, Qui Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin, she finds it helpful to read a page or so before bed each night to settle her mind after the events of the day and bring her focus back onto what's most important. Her duty.

Every time she comes across Anakin's sloping, cursive penmanship, her face lights up with a giddy little smile. The page is worn beneath the fingertip she runs over the spot where he signed his name, as though this book has been carefully handled and passed down from generation to generation. Her night clothes are little more than a thin, plain shift that falls down to her calves, so she doesn't feel too warm with the sheet pulled up over her body as she flips through the pages to read all of Anakin's annotations.

However, the joy she derived from reading his thoughts along the margins is quickly washed away by worry. Worry as she begins to wonder where he is and what he's doing. Have they continued to interrogate him? Hopefully he's been allowed a break from their incessant badgering at some point. Perhaps Obi-Wan has found the time to speak to him privately already.

She's so lost in her thoughts, she doesn't even sense his approaching presence until the door to her room opens without a sound.

Already, she's flipping the sheet off of her body and tossing the book onto the side table to meet him as he crosses through the threshold to her private dorm. But what he sees when he shuts the door behind him isn't a happy, smiling face, it's an angry one, and he's already being chastised before he has the chance to greet her.

"Please, tell me you weren't seen coming here? What if they find you with me? Then everything we did today would be for nothing—"

The last word dies on her mouth with a surprised "hmmpf" sound when he reaches forward to cup the back of her neck and pull her into a fervent kiss.

Her hands shoot out to grasp his arms reflexively as he traps her in his strong embrace, one arm around her waist and his other raised to hold her to him by the back of her neck, and kisses her the way a dying man gasps for air. As soon as their mouths meet, she knows where he's been. The taste lingering on his lips is that of his preferred form of alcohol, and she grimaces at how strong it is for a second before pushing at his arms to break the kiss.

You'd think she struck him. His brows furrow and eyes widen at the rejection.

"Why won't you kiss me?" he asks with a tired exhale, leaning forward and angling his head as though he's going to steal another from her in retribution.

"Because it tastes like you drank the whole bottle," she says with a chuckle and keeps him at bay for now. "Where did you go?"

He lets out a sigh, overdramatic as ever, and allows her to slip out of his grasp now that he knows he won't get any kisses until he answers her. The walk over to the bed is short for him with his long legs. All it takes is a few strides and he's collapsing onto the mattress with huff. The glove is already being ripped off of his cybernetic hand before he conjures a suitable response for her.

"Out."

A scoff escapes her.

"I gathered that."

"I went to a bar."

Her brows furrow at him.

His hands come up to allow him to rub his eyes as he says, "Not that bar, I went to a normal one."

The casual reference to that bar brings a searing heat to her face. "That bar" meaning the one they snuck out to go to the first night they were together, with the secret back rooms he led her into and had his way with her in front of a few of the sex workers lounging there. He felt it necessary to clarify that he would never go to such a place without her present for obvious reasons. The thought alone of her thinking he would do something like that, putting himself into a situation no married man should ever be in, made his heart ache a little.

She allows herself to smile at him just a little, even though he can't see it, and walk over to where he's laying with his legs hanging off the foot of the bed. Feeling the mattress dip beside him with her shifting weight, he drops his hands back down and looks at her. And even when he's drunk, angry, and worried, he still finds it in himself to look at her like that. Like she's more important than the Force itself.

In return, she gives him the same look. It isn't too hard to summon. It comes so naturally when he looks the way he does right now; effortlessly beautiful with his overgrown hair framing his face and looking up at her through his lashes with a pink-flushed face.

"What did they say to you?" she asks softly.

Her fingertips are feathery-light where they touch his hair, brushing it away from his face in a way she knows soothes him. It causes his eyes to shut in appreciation of it, then, once he's fully taken in the moment, he answers.

"Not much." His body starts to shift to allow him to roll onto his stomach, and he wraps his arms around her hips. In this position, he gets to rest his face on her thighs, placing tender kisses along the soft skin. "They repeated the all same questions just worded differently each time. When they finally told me I was free to go, they were bringing in others we worked in close quarters with."

"Did Obi-Wan happen to talk to you?" she asks. This piques his interest straight away. His head pops up from her lap, his arms unwrapping from her waist to help him sit up to face her. "He told me he wanted to speak with you. To let you know that he requested to be my master in your absence because he knows how much you care for me."

In lieu of a response, Anakin starts to lean forward to nudge her face with his. Their noses brush as he captures her lips in a wet kiss, humming in satisfaction at how she instantaneously kisses back without thinking. Call him what you want for it, but he knows the effect he has on her and how to use to for his own gain. Right now, he's using it to redirect her back to what he wants. Which is, of course, to hold and kiss his wife. He doesn't think he's asking for too much.

She murmurs against his mouth, "Why won't you answer my question?"

His breath is hot against her skin when he pulls away to dip his face down into the curve where her shoulder meets her neck. All she feels is a soft pair of lips caressing her skin followed by the sharp hip of his teeth. He finds a way to shake his head through it all, not faltering for a second throughout the process of kissing her neck and nudging her slowly onto her back.

"I don't want to talk about Obi-Wan right now," he whispers.

With his body now laid flush atop hers, hips nudged between her parted thighs, he brushes his lips against hers softly. It's a sweet, gentle kiss. One she hadn't been expecting with how eagerly he was crawling on top of her seconds ago, but no amount of sweetness can make her forget that he's not in his right mind at the moment. So, she lets him kiss her for a few more seconds, giving him the chance to revel in what he so clearly wanted all night while he was out drinking, before looping her fingers through the soft hair on the back of his head to pull his face away from hers.

He winces at the slight pain caused by having his hair pulled, but they both know it's something he enjoys. His lips curve down into a slight frown as he realizes what's happening.

"Why are we stopping?"

She chuckles a little and cards her fingers through the hair she just pulled to soothe his mortally wounded ego.

"Because you're very drunk, and I'm also quite tired so I won't let you do it until you've sobered up."

His brows furrow.

"You won't let me?"

Her head shakes, a coy smile teasing at her mouth, and this causes him to stop as though in consideration for a second before groaning and rolling off of her. He ends up flopping onto his back on the mattress beside her, causing her to laugh a little at his dramatics before scooting closer to him and cuddling up next to his body. Her arm wraps around his slim waist and pulls tight as though she fears he won't remain here if she doesn't.

Sensing this, Anakin turns his head to look at her. His eyes soften the moment they land on her, and he reaches out with his flesh hand to brush his thumb over her lips.

"Sleep," he says quietly. A command, not a request. "I'll be with you. Always."

It takes a lot less time than it usually does for her to fall asleep once she burrowed beneath the sheet and rested her head on his pillow, right beside where his was laid. Part of it is due to him. Not only because his presence is soothing but because he breaks into her mind. She's so used to having him in there that she doesn't notice or care when he encourages her to sleep. For her body to relax far quicker than it usually would due to the soothing presence of his force signature.

For the first hour or so after she goes unconscious, he stays to ensure she doesn't wake. But, then, the boredom gets to him. Not to mention, he reeks of liquor and sweat, so he doesn't see any issue with temporarily leaving her for the sake of freshening up in the bathroom. The spray of the water hitting the floor hardly makes enough noise to reach the door, let alone beyond it into her bedroom, and he keeps checking, using the force to sense if she's still sleeping. By the time he is toweling himself off in front of the bathroom mirror, he no longer feels as impaired as he was when he first arrived.

The substance is still present in his system, yes, but he doesn't feel like everything is fuzzy around the edges anymore. Another hour has passed once he emerges from the bathroom with the towel wrapped low around his hips and his hair damp. What he sees when he lifts the sheet to slip into bed with her, tossing the towel to the floor on his side, halts him for a second.

She must have taken off her thin shift in the time he spent in the bathroom. It isn't uncommon for her to do this, rousing herself to a dazed state of partial consciousness to rip the bedclothes from her body due to the heat causing her to sweat in her sleep.

With the shades pulled shut over their windows to keep the city lights from invading the dark sanctuary of her bedroom, his eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to see her beside him.

A quick glance at the time projected onto the ceiling in faint red light proves he has been awake far too long, and it's hard for him to not huff in frustration as he rolls onto his side. Facing her...

The curve of her hip juts out in an exaggeration of its usual shape from her laying on her stomach with one of her legs bent up near her side and the other lying flat against the mattress. With the sheet pulled up just enough to cover her ass, looking at her is cruel torment for him. How else is he supposed to react when his wife insists upon sleeping in the nude right beside him? He refuses to feel shame for how his cock stirs to life at the sight of her nearly every night.

Anakin's left hand slides up from his side to grasp the thin sheet between his fingers, gingerly pulling it down until it only covers the lower half of her legs.

At first, his only intention is to touch her. To caress her soft skin, hairless and smooth for the first time in ages now that they're back on Coruscant where she can groom herself, and relish in the fact that she's here with him. There's something so intoxicating about watching her sleep. It occurs to him that that thought, if spoke aloud, would probably creep her out, but it doesn't feel wrong to him. It's nice to see her without worry for once. So much of their time together is spent fearing that someone will catch them, but when she's asleep, she's at peace.

His hand ghosts over the back of her thigh, climbs up the curve of her hip, and keeps going up until he finds her neck. So delicate, so pristine in the way he only finds women can be. Men are so rash, harsh, and unsatisfying to look at to him. Himself included. She, however, is a work of art. Everything about her, from the way her hips sway just so when she walks to how her hair blows around her face in the breeze, is beautiful. He has always preferred them as a sex. After all, everyone he truly cares for, aside from Obi-Wan, has been a woman. His mother, Padme, and, of course, his beloved apprentice and secret wife.

He thinks to himself as he allows his hand to dip down to cup her breast, They make more sense. Everything about them was designed with careful thought. In a way, he envied them. In other ways, he didn't. As his hand grazes down her navel in search of the apex of her thighs, he can't help but stare at her in awe. His fingertips dip into the delicate folds of her cunt. So warm. Soft. Inviting. Begging him to delve further and give her what she desires.

She has done this to him a countless amount of times—woken him up with her mouth around him, sucking hard into the back of her tight throat—so he has no qualms with returning the favor.

It becomes clear to him very quickly that he won't be satisfied with merely touching her. While it is invigorating to see her subconscious response to his touch, her thighs pressing together and trapping his hand there as he rubs her clit, he knows what he truly wants right now.

He wants to take back his ownership of her.

What happened today was nothing short of traumatizing for him. He isn't stupid, he knows what they're trying to do. If he isn't careful, the council will try to take her from him, just like every other woman he's loved has been taken from him. When he was assigned to protect Padme just before the start of the Clone Wars, he lost his mother. Shortly after, he lost Padme too. She refused to be with him in the end, saying she couldn't lie to the senate and the council. He refuses to let the same thing happen with Y/N.

Soon, he begins to feel a wetness seeping out of her. His fingertips dip down to collect it from her hole and spread it over her throbbing bud, rubbing faster. A soft, muffled sound escapes her lips at this, and that's when he loses whatever scrap of patience remained in him.

Anakin slips his hand out from between her thighs to stroke himself a few times. Although he's already hard, he takes it as a chance to spread her slick arousal along his cock to make it easier when he inevitably fucks her. With the stimulation now withdrawn, she begins to fuss a little. It isn't anything like it would be were she awake and aware, but she does writhe ever so slightly in her spot upon the mattress as if instinctually searching for the pleasure that evaded her.

He's careful not to wake her just yet. Since she was so tired, he thinks she should rest for as long as she can before she's woken up by him. So, he's gentle in how he guides her into the easiest position to allow him access. She remains on her side, but he brings her legs up closer to her chest, forcing her back to arch and offer up her soaked pussy to him.

From there on, it's too tempting.

He guides the broad tip, messy with precome, of his cock into her first, waiting a moment to listen to her deep breathing to assess if she's waking before nudging further into her inch by inch. Being inside of her is serenity itself. It's like coming home, and he delights in how responsive her cunt is to him even while she sleeps. Her walls clamp down around the thick girth of him only to relax a second later to allow him in the rest of the way. His mouth drops open in a quiet gasp at how good it feels to bury himself inside of her, pushing and pushing until he bottoms out with his tip nestled close to her cervix.

The hand that isn't devoting it's time to rubbing her clit reaches to cup one of her breasts. It squeezes softly at first, but, as usual, it isn't enough. With the first thrust he makes back into her after he pulls almost all the way out of her, he grasps her breast harder and rolls the nipple between thumb and index finger. Having both of his hands on her—one on her chest and the other anchored between her thighs—gives him better leverage to fuck her how he wants to.

"Feel so good," he murmurs into her bare shoulder, not caring that she cannot hear him say it.

He loses control of himself quite fast. It's all too easy to allow the pace of his thrusts to speed up little by little, but, more importantly, he can't help himself from going harder. He enjoys going slow sometimes, but he never goes easy on her. If he ever did, she would scold him. Most often, she has the control between the two of them when it comes to intimacy, and that's the way he's always preferred it. But now...He finds that he likes having total control over her more than he thought he would.

His lips press gently against the curve of her shoulder to help suppress the load moan that threatens to leave him in response to her squeezing down around him.

The haze of sleep has a strong hold over her still when her eyes begin to flutter open.

At first, she's certain it's a dream. Trapped in the space between consciousness and unconsciousness, her mind has yet to realize that she's slowly but surely coming back to consciousness. Her dreams have always been incredibly vivid, especially when they concern Anakin, so no alarms are raised at the feeling in the pit of her abdomen. It isn't until she feels his teeth graze her skin that she realizes that it isn't happening inside her head.

The light beyond the shut curtains, the only source of light at this late hour, illuminates just enough of her face to allow him the pleasure of watching her react to what's happening. Her brows pinch together, a crease forming in the skin between them, and, then, her eyes open slowly.

Y/N wakes to the overwhelming pleasure of him touching her, kissing her, fucking her—essentially doing anything he can to feel closer to her—and the first thing she thinks to do is reach being her to grab onto him. Her hand lifts from where it laid on the mattress to reach back for him, sliding down the side of his bare, muscled abdomen until it reaches his hip. There, her nails dig into him.

She says, evidently confused, "Ani?"

The second after she says the nickname, a particularly harsh thrust causes her to whine in both pleasure and sensitivity, head tipping back while he finishes sucking a mark onto the back of her shoulder. Even through the fog in her mind, she's thankful that he's only leaving marks behind in places she'll be able to cover. It wouldn't be wise to meet with Obi-Wan tomorrow morning with a love bite visible on the side of her neck.

He pulls his face from her neck to press his cheek against hers, lips pressing a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"I'm not intoxicated," he says as explanation for the euphoric wake-up call. "And when I came out of the shower, I noticed you ripped your clothes off in your sleep..."

This brings a sleepy grin to her face, and she can feel him grinning back at her with his cheek pressed to hers. The fingers toying with his clit continue at that perfect, toe-curling pace that increases the bliss she feels tenfold. That, when combined with how consistently he hits the sweet spot inside of her, is almost too much for her to handle so soon after coming back to consciousness.

"You're acting awfully brave. Aren't you worried I'll have to punish you for it sometime?"

Every word is punctuated with a panting breath as he drives into her harder and faster, her breasts bouncing with the force of it now. The palm he had molded over one of them slides up to grasp the very top of her neck, just beneath the jaw, in a possessive act of claiming.

He shakes his head, pushing hers a little further into the pillow it rests on.

"No," Anakin pants, "no, you won't be punishing me for taking what's mine. You forget that I'm your master."

Knowing how angry it will make him, she says, "Actually, Obi-Wan—"

The hand around her neck squeezes impossibly tight before she can dare to finish the sentence, and his pace becomes nearly brutal in a way it's only been a few times before. After a loss on the battlefield or a man leering at her in front of him. But this is...this is different. She can feel it—his anger, the possessiveness, the jealousy.

A second later, he releases his grip on her neck.

"Take that back," he mutters, seething, and pulls her hair taut from her scalp, eliciting a sound that's a strange mix of a moan and a wince. "Or I won't let you finish. You can do it yourself if you're so quick to betray me."

The mere thought is enough to make her brows pinch together in displeasure, and she starts to shake her head frantically. How cruel of him to wake her like this and threaten not to see it through to the end. Although, it does arouse her even more to think that he's simply using her for his own gratification now that she's "betrayed" him. The tension brewing within her, readying like an asp about to strike, seems to enjoy the notion of that.

And, worried that he'll stop, she cries out, voice breathy and soft, "You own me, master. Just you"—the next rut he makes into her is hard enough for her to gasp—"There's only you, Anakin."

"Yeah?" he asks, turning her face with the hand that choked her a moment ago to force her to meet his gaze.

The eye contact is so intense, she doesn't know what to do with herself when she's pinned beneath him like this. And, of course, everything is heightened by the vitriolic feelings roiling inside of him. He projects them at her without a second thought, letting her in to hear every thought that is practically shouted at her. She can't deny to herself that some of them are quite...disturbing. It's nothing too outrageous, but it's obvious to her that he perceived what happened today as a threat. A threat he will not take lightly.

She nods her head a few times, their noses brushing with the frenetic movement, and he can't help but smirk.

"Good girl," he mutters.

He keeps his lips as close to hers as possible without breaking eye contact with her. The urge to kiss her is heavily outweighed by the power he derives from looking into her eyes as he pounds into her. The whole day, he has felt helpless, mad, and scared, but it's all mended by her. By this moment. Not only due to the physical intimacy, but the emotional as well. He can feel how much she loves him. It's a feeling he wishes he could bottle and keep in his possession forever. He'd get drunk off of her if he could, but he can't, so this is the next best option.

When her eyes flutter shut in appreciation of her impending release, building inside of her like the swell of the sea, he says, "No, I want you to look at me."

Seeing that he holds the power regarding whether or not she'll come, she obeys his command immediately. When her eyes open to find his face so close to hers, the sight of him hits her like a punch to the gut, and that overwhelming feeling of love he felt emanating from her increases tenfold. She takes this time, the few, never-ending seconds before she's pushed over the edge into oblivion, to commit every detail of him to memory. The hair that falls in his face, the healing scar slicing through the outer edge of his eyebrow, and, most importantly to her, those sultry eyes of his.

Even outside of the bedroom, he has a way of looking at her that makes it obvious to anyone who looks too closely that he's undressing her with his eyes, but it's far worse when she's actually undressed and at his mercy. It makes her inevitable peak come on stronger and faster than either of them expected it to, her nails digging into his hip so hard that they break the surface of his skin.

She says breathlessly, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes, "Promise you won't let them keep us apart."

And though he's already reassured her countless times that they'll remain together no matter what, he surges forward through the small gap left between them and kisses her with a hunger that'll never be satisfied. It only lasts a second or so, but it's all she needs to reach her climax.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, kissing her deeply as she begins to tense around him. "Anything."

It's such a powerful, explosive surge of pleasure, she cannot do anything but tense in his arms and surrender herself to it.

The noises she makes are borderline pornographic, and if he weren't so in tune with her, he would probably think she's faking it. But there's no way of faking her body's natural response to him. As he guides his cock in and out of her at a brutal pace, the sound of their bodies colliding and how wet she is filling the room, he feels every spasm and twitch of her around him. There's no avoiding those guttural sounds, the slack-jawed expression on her face, or the tight cunt milking him with every unyielding wave of her climax.

Anakin's mechno-hand squeezes around her neck with just the right amount of force to restrict her gasping breaths and provide himself the amount of control over her as he loses himself in it all. His thrusts turn sloppy the closer he comes to his end, and he buries himself in deep one last time before spilling into her.

His face falls into her neck with a whine, teeth biting down on her shoulder to stifle the sound. Her constant clenching and unclenching helps him ride out his orgasm, and he continues to fuck into her in small, dying thrusts until every spurt of his release is trapped within her.

Y/N goes limp on the mattress beside him.

Her head has fallen back into its original place on the pillow, and all she can hear is him breathing heavily into her neck. Behind her, his chest rises and falls at a rapid rate against her back. The hand that was around her neck has slid down to rest against her stomach, holding her close as he always does in the vulnerable moments following his orgasm. All the excitement and emotion turns him into a clingy, needy little thing.

They lay like this for so long, limbs entangled in the sheets and racing hearts beginning to fall back into a normal rhythm, that she can't tell if it's been five minutes or ten when he finally speaks up. Sometime in between him collapsing onto the bed with her and now, he pulled out of her and repositioned himself against her. Both of his arms are snug around her waist, and his face is no longer buried in her neck but rather right beside hers. His cheek presses against hers as it had when they were in the midst of fucking, savoring the closeness shared between the two of them.

"I love you," he says softly.

It isn't the first time he's said it, but she always gets the same fluttering sensation in her stomach as though it is. As quickly as the anger and jealousy took control of him, turning him into a demanding and domineering lover, he shifts back into his usual nature with her. It's as though his mind goes on autopilot after having sex with her, exposing the true motivators that drove the anger. Insecurity. Fear of abandonment. Worry.

Knowing this, she doesn't hesitate to say it back.

"I love you more."

The feeling of his chest moving against her back with a soft huff of laughter brings a smile to her face.

"Believe me, that's not possible."

She then starts to shift around in place, forcing him to loosen his hold on her for a second or two until she has flipped over to face him. Those strong arms are quick to wrap around her waist and pull her in again, their bodies flush against one another.

"And why is that?" she asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.

He answers it so quickly, so sure, she cannot take it as anything other than honesty.

"I was made for you," Anakin whispers, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. "There's no purpose for me in this life without our love."

Her brows furrow in concern.

"That's not true. You have purpose regardless of whether or not I'm here."

He shakes his head, just once, and when she cups the side of his face in the palm of her hand, he leans into the touch. The tip of her thumb caresses the scar cutting through his brow, moving down until she brushes his bottom lip.

He says, "I don't want to know what it's like to not have you in my life. It was easier before. I didn't know what was waiting for me. But, it's different now. If I lost you, I'd lose myself."

Her other hand moves to hold the other side of his face, leaving him with no choice but to look into her eyes and hear every word, every thought, and every feeling that passes through her.

"You aren't going to lose me."

The soft look in his eyes transforms into determination at this, and he allows his forehead to rest against hers as he repeats what she said in his mind over and over again to reassure himself.

-

A/N: It's been a long time, but here's part three! I hope you all enjoyed it.

Tag List: @juniebugg and @riley12.

[writing-whump]

Hard to breathe

Rip hears some disturbing news from our second guest and suffers from a panic attack. A little feverish Dylan for comfort. Includes emeto while we are at it.

The only safe place for Rip to be was, arguably, the roof. He had the feeling the older wolves knew by now and agreed, for they didn't stop him.

It was ideal, wasn't it? No people, high ground, open sky. He could watch everything, but he was far enough to disturb others or be disturbed.

That's why it surprised him when a girl appeared on the highest floor balcony. Her almost white blond hair was ridiculously long, under her waist and all curly. And she was squinting in his direction with surprising focus.

Rip cleared his throat. Was this a coincidence? Was she watching for birds or something? Or was she looking for him- nah that was nonsense, why and who would look for him?

"Oi. You. Get down from there."

Okay, that was getting weirder by the second. Rip slid forward on the roof though, his feet dangling from the edge. "Yes?"

"I said, get down from there."

The wind picked up then, blowing her hair out and in his direction. When he caught her scent, his cells all but electrocuted themselves.

That was a witch. Small and fairy like, unreal looking. Ethereal. Was he dreaming?

"What do you want?" Rip caught himself saying.

"I want to look at you, dimwit." She crossed her hands on her chest. Her dress was flying and curling in the wind in synch with her hair. "You are Rip, right?"

Rip didn't react. He wasn't sure how he should react. Witches were too rare and too precious to waste their time on street strays. He didn't understand how she knew his name.

When he didn't move, the girl pouted at him. "Ah well. If you won't come down, I'll come up."

Rip froze at the words and even more so when he watched her climb up the railing of the balcony so she could reach the drainpipe on the side of the roof.

"Are you out of your mind? That's dangerous."

She shrugged. "You are up there."

Rip thought it too obvious to emphasise the natural differences between them. He had reflexes and strength, not to mention experience and skill. And a shadow that could heal him.

She had her magic and a enchanting witch smell and a charm on his senses and shadow, but neither of those would save her from a broken neck.

Rip got to his feet, looking over her as she balanced on the narrow metal railing to reach for the pipe.

"Out of your mind," he murmed under his nose as he reached over to catch her hands and pull her up.

When she caught her footing, he let go immediately as if burned. The traces of her touch sparkled warmly on his skin.

She looked him up and down, her face contorting in disgust. "You are Rip? For real? You look so young."

Rip frowned at her. "I'm over 18."

"Oh, so you are just small."

"Look who's talking," he grumbled, but lowered his voice so she wouldn't catch it.

"What's up with your arms? Do the scars go all the way up to your sleeves...and neck?" She sounded more and more disgusted as she looked him up and down like he was a statue she wanted to kick out of her window.

His eyebrows shot up. He had never had the luxury to look at himself for too long or consider how well or not the bitemarks looked. They played no role on the streets. If anything, the other wolves feared him more for them.

Street wolves, that is. A proper wolf shouldn't have scars.

What did Dylan think of them? He shook his head. What a weird thought.

"And the name too, is ridiculous. What about your last name? Pack name? Are you really as pathetic as you sound?"

"...Who are you again?"

The girl lifted her chin in indignation. "How do you not know? Lilian Levi, of course."

She said like he really should know. Rip rubbed the back of his head. Lilian, Lilian..."Levi's daughter?" Who else could take the legendary Executioner's first name and make it their family name, just so the association was clear?

Levi wanted to stay neutral and unaffiliated. His kids wanted to be affiliated to him though.

Lilian threw her hair over her shoulder dramatically. "Finally, stupid. But seriously. What about you exactly has the Executioner quality? You look like a crappy candidate for sure."

Rip's mind went blank. He knew at once what she meant and he also refused to accept such an implication. That was nonsense. He wasn't here for a reason like that. He wouldn't be and couldn't be picked for such a reason...

"Alright, what's going on?"

Rip blinked himself awake to see Dylan on the balcony. He still had his pajama pants on and a bare chest, sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

Lilian looked down at him with a twist to her lips. "You only just noticed? What a horrible example of a wolf."

Dylan frowned. "What's up with this fiery barbie? You know her, Rip?"

Lilian sighed loudly. "Why are you two so stupid? You should know who I am at first glance." She went back to the edge of the roof and reached our her hand towards Rip. "Help me down."

Maybe because it was a command said with such authority did Rip move before he registered what he was doing. It would have been by all rights irresponsible to let her get hurt in his presence. How many packs would come after him for that?

Lilian was a witch and an Executioner's daughter. That was an ace card many many packs would be fighting for. Whichever she chose to join or show her favour would gain a lot more standing on the food chain.

Rip helped her down to the balcony, then jumped to it himself. He took a few instinctive steps back and whispered her name in Dylan's ear. That girl was a ticking time bomb and she knew it.

Dylan did apparently not. "So what? Levi or not, who cares? Can't you see he wants some privacy when he is on the roof? You are not supposed to come so close to him."

"Pche. I'm a witch. He won't hurt me."

"Oh, I'm not worried about you. He doesn't like strangers getting this close or touching him."

Lilian gaped at them in shock for three long seconds, before recovering. "You gotta be kidding me. Isaiah finally picks an apprentice and it's scared wreck of a wolf who can't even be touched?"

Dylan frowned. There was that defensive anger that Rip only saw very rarely. "We are so done talking with you." He grabbed Rip by the shoulder and steered him away from the common balcony on the third floor.

...

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Dylan stormed through the steps and into their room, crashing their door loudly behind them. "Insulting, stupid, ignorant-"

Rip headed to the private balcony for their room, looking at the sea through the curtains. "It's okay, D. Leave it be."

"Is that supposed to be a big name or what? Self-rightous entitled little bitch-"

Rip turned around to watch the other wolf pace around him. His face was still flushed from the fever he sported at night. Rip let him sleep longer because of that, only leaving an hour ago to be sure he was fine instead of at sundown like he usually did.

"There must be a reason someone this important is here. This isn't a coincidence," Rip heared himself saying. The paralysing cold feeling from before came back over him as he remembered her words.

Executioner apprentice? Candidate? Him? In what world could that be true? He didn't have a pack or formal training, his backround simply didn't fit...

Not to mention what a betrayal it would be to all the other street strays that lived in his quarter...

What betrayal it would be to him to join that order of self-appointed killers who hunted him across Europe more times than he could count...

He wasn't about to kill anyone else. What did Isaiah think just because he knew about his father, he could blackmail him or make him into a regular serial murder or something?

The room went blurry around the edges. His breaths came in sharp shallow bursts, hurting his ribs on the way. Every attempt to get air felt like a bullet in his lungs.

"Rip? Hey, Rip, you okay?"

No, that couldn't be true. But why else was Isaiah helping? Why else would this pack save him? Did Isaish need a scapegoat? Were the other packs pressing him to choose and he took someone easy to discard and kill off?

Isaiah didn't seem very proud or pleased with his Executioner role. His pack didn't even seem to understand wha it meant. Wouldn't that mean that Isaiah chose him to do his dirty work for him? To send him on missions, fights, who to intimidate and who to beat up?

The floor tilted strangely. Rip's legs wobbled and he reached out for the support of the wall, but missed—how could the wall jump away from him?

He slid down to the floor, wrapping his hands around his head. It couldn't be real, it couldn't be real, was this the reason-

"Rip? Hey, hey, can you hear me?"

Another pair of hands, a warm weight on his shoulders. Everything was so muffled though, like there was a veil between him and the rest of the world.

Dylan's face was stuck to the veil though, his eyes wide, his forehead against Rip's. "Come on, Rip. Come back to me. It's okay, shhh."

Rip shuddered and then reached for him in turn, hands landing on Dylan's forearms. "I can't be an Executioner, that can't be why I'm here- I can't, I can't-"

"Shhhhh. No-one is making you an Executioner. Everything that girl said is bullshit."

"She is- but she is-" he gasped for breath, curling forward against Dylan. His heart was hammering a hole in his chest.

"Isaiah wouldn't do such a thing. He wouldn't force you or whatever. That's not why you are here." Dylan leaned forward and actually hugged Rip to his chest. "They are helping cause I asked them to help. And cause they are cool. My sister wouldn't choose a crazy maniac killer for a packmate, dude, trust me."

"You- you didn't know?" The sensations were coming back to him now, Dylan's skin burning under his cheek.

"Never crossed my mind and no-one said such a thing. This is all some kind of misunderstanding, I'm telling you."

Rip breathed in, the air painful and rough against his throat and lungs, but he could feel it coming in and out again. He coughed to clear his throat.

A wave of acute exhaustion rolled through him and he sagged in Dylan's hold. It would be fine. He could deal with this, whatever it was, true or not.

Right then he was just glad for the arms holding him up and together.

Rip turned his head to the side to breathe more freely, still leaning all the way against Dylan...when the next cough turned into a gag.

"Shit, are you-"

Rip retched emptily, convulsing, but managed to aim under Dylan's arm. The next gag brought up a mouthful of bile. His chest was burning and his eyes watered from the strain.

"...Okay, shhh, it's nothing. Can you get up? Let's go to the bathroom, shall we? Just a couple of steps-" Dylan was standing up already, dragging him up under the armpits.

With an arm around his back, he maneuvered them both into the tiny bathroom.

Rip fell to his knees in front of the toilet in relief, gagging and retching over the bowl. Nothing came up though, he didn't have breakfast yet and he ate little for dinner.

Didn't stop his body from straining and producing horrific sounds as spit dripped from his lips.

Dylan sat against the wall by his side, looking just as exhausted as Rip felt. Rip couldn't make himself lift his head from the toilet seat, but he could take an angle to study the other wolf's face.

His cheeks were flushed and puffer than usual and his eyes were drooping. Rip slowly brought the back of his fingers against Dylan's cheek.

Dylan blinked, startled. "What?"

"You look hot."

A delighted lazy grin stretched up on Dylan's face. "Oh, thank you."

Rip's eye twitched. "I mean you still look feverish, you moron."

"Ah." Dylan rubbed at his face. "Maybe. Hard to tell in this heat. You done with the puke fest?"

He felt his face flushing. "I didn't even bring up anything, you bastard."

Dylan brust into a laugh and it was the best sound Rip heard all morning.