#please I still have some luck for this banner

[spirit-of-creativity16]

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[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just needs your full attention long enough for you to tell him what's bothering you, and for you to pick out a new car. He comes home from golfing completely unwilling to let you gloss things over, but the conversation veers off course once again when you share some big news.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, oral, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

By the eighteenth hole, Bradley was restless. This was taking forever. He somehow forgot how meticulous Bob was when he teed off, adding probably a full hour to the golf outing. He bit his tongue and fought the urge to tell Bob to move things along so he could get back home to you. When he left hours ago, you were still sound asleep, and he was concerned that you weren't feeling well. He was also completely fed up with the way you were avoiding conversation.

He played through the last hole as quickly as he could, and when Jake and Javy suggested grabbing lunch and a beer, he made his excuses and a quick exit. "Next time. And it'll be my treat. But I need to get home."

"Angel's got you so pussy whipped," Jake drawled as if he wasn't currently driving his car around complete with a car seat for Jeremiah.

"Do you ever hear me denying it or complaining about it?" Bradley replied as he set his clubs in the back of the Bronco. "I don't think she's feeling great, and I need her to pick out a new car. I'm getting fed up with her dragging her feet. So she's picking something out today."

Jake laughed as he opened his car door. "Yeah, go try to show her who's the boss, buddy. Good luck with that."

Bradley grunted and rolled his eyes. You and he were a team, and if he had to demand that you hear him out, then he'd get his way about it. He was absolutely unwilling to return to a place where the two of you weren't communicating well. But as he drove back home, he was starting to get more annoyed. He already asked you so many times to tell him what was bothering you and what was on your mind, and each time, you'd burst into tears. He didn't even know what the hell he was doing wrong. 

"Fuck," he growled as he pulled into the empty driveway, honestly kind of missing your little shit mobile since it had made you happy. Today was his mom's birthday, and he wanted you to have a good day, but if he pissed you off, then he pissed you off. He was armed with his phone browser open to two options that would just have to be good enough. He left his clubs in the car as he strolled up the walkway to the porch in his white golf pants and floral print shirt. He would just have to get you to accept the fact that a new car needed to happen.

"Sweetheart?" he called out when he opened the door. You and Tramp both came running into the living room. "Hey, we need to talk about some of this shit. Right now."

"Okay, but-"

"Please," he said firmly, holding up one hand. "Just let me say what I need to say, alright?"

You were bouncing on the balls of your bare feet with your hands clasped in front of you. "Okay," you agreed, your voice breathy and light. All he wanted to do was collect you in his arms and smother you in kisses, but he couldn't get sidetracked right now. 

Bradley closed the distance to you but planted his hands on his hips. "I love you so much, but something is not working right now. And I'm not going to let us fall apart again. Ever. I want to talk it through right now, and I need you to participate. Starting with your car."

You reached out and let one hand rest on his abs as your lips parted, but he shook his head. 

"No, seriously, Baby Girl. I will do anything to make you happy, but could you please, please just pick out a car? I don't like leaving you home without one." He paused to lean in and kiss your forehead briefly. "I found a brand new, red Honda Civic with all of the same features as your old one. Same transmission, sunroof, everything. And it's on a lot in Chula Vista. We could go look at it right now."

"Bradley, I don't think that's a good idea," you told him, smiling up at him. He felt his resolve fracturing, but he kept going.

"Well, something has to give here! That's the best I can come up with. Unless... you want to go with the blue one I found online which is exactly the same as the one that I totaled. Same model year and everything, but it's in Maine. If you really want it, we can fly there and drive it back. I already talked to the owner about the price."

"Bradley, I don't want that one either."

He tipped his head back in frustration as your hand caressed him through his shirt. "For the love of god, Sweetheart, I am trying my best here. And you're giving me nothing. And it's not just the car," he snapped as he met your gaze again, eyes wide looking up at him. "You yelled at me for buying the wrong coffee when I thought they just changed the label, and you fell asleep while we were mid conversation. And I hurt you when we were having sex, but you wouldn't even talk about it afterwards. I need you to tell me if I'm not doing it for you, because I don't want to keep fucking this up!"

"You're not fucking anything up," you promised quietly. "You're not, Roo."

He examined your pretty, eager face and shrugged. "Then just tell me what's going on here."

You bit your lip and closed the remaining inches between your body and his, and then you smiled up at him so brilliantly, his breath caught in his lungs. As you carefully wrapped your arms around his waist, you said, "I'm pregnant."

He was frozen in time and space, barely able to process your words as his belly swooped and his heart raced. Pregnant. You were pregnant? He swallowed hard as he let his forehead rest against yours, trying to formulate words.

"Baby Girl, are you really? Pregnant?"

"Yes," you whispered, and Bradley had you in his arms, making you squeal as he lifted you up in the air. 

"You're pregnant?" he asked again, beaming at you as you wrapped your legs and arms around him.

"I'm pregnant!" 

"Holy shit!" he nearly screamed as you buried your face in his neck and laughed in delight. "Holy shit! You're pregnant!"

He didn't know what to do with himself as he held you tight against him, imagining a baby in your arms. His baby. And your baby. Something the two of you had been dreaming about for so long. The one thing he'd had to make himself understand he didn't need at the cost of a happy marriage, but that he'd still yearned for.

Your happy laughter and whispered words had his feet moving toward the bedroom. "You're going to be a dad, Roo." 

He set you down on the bed, covering your body with his large one, careful not to hurt you as your sweet lips met his. "I love you so much," he murmured between kisses that left him breathless. "I fucking adore you, Sweetheart."

You whimpered as he slowly let his hand drift down your body before inching your shirt up and running his knuckles gently along your belly. He kissed you hard on the lips one last him before easing his body down lower, kissing your sternum on his way to your belly button. He thought about the future as he said, "And I adore you, too."

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

You ran your fingers lazily through your husband's soft curls as his big hand rested on the middle of your belly next to his cheek. He was a little sweaty and still wearing his golf clothes, but everything was just perfect. The edge of his mustache tickled your sensitive skin as he whispered, "I love you."

Everything made sense now which made you feel more settled. Honestly, this was much better than the flu that you thought you had, and you giggled. "You'll be the best Daddy, Bradley."

He looked up your body before kissing you a dozen more times all over your abdomen. Calloused fingers stroked your skin as he looked at you with those big, brown eyes you were completely addicted to. "Fuck. I'm so excited. I don't even know what to do with myself," he told you as you sat up and climbed onto his lap. "You took a pregnancy test?"

"Yes. I had one tucked in the back of the bathroom closet that I bought a few months ago," you whispered, brushing his scarred cheek with your lips and the tip of your nose. 

"Where's the test?" he asked, scooping you up in his arms again as you told him it was in the bathroom. "I want to see it." You'd managed to pick it up off the floor earlier before examining it for about five minutes with tears in your eyes before you left it on the vanity. And now Bradley set you down, but he kept one arm around you as he picked it up. "Two lines means you're pregnant?" he asked, looking at you in reverence. 

You nodded and whispered, "Yes," and then his eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Roo."

"Sweetheart. You're pregnant," he said so softly. "We're going to have a baby."

"Yes," you confirmed as you wiped at his tears with your thumbs while he held onto the test. "I realized when I woke up that my period was late, and then I threw up. A lot. So I took the test."

He sucked in a deep, shaky breath before he kissed your forehead. "Do you remember what today is?"

You let your cheek come to rest on his chest as you said, "Of course I do. It's your mom's birthday. I already bought everything to make filet mignon and crab cakes for dinner. But I guess we ended up with a birthday present?"

With lips pressed to your hair, he muttered, "She would have loved this. She would have loved you almost as much as I do. And she would have been a good grandma."

And now you felt more tears stinging at your eyes. It had been nine months of trying for this moment, which wasn't extravagantly long in the grand scheme of things, but it had been stressful and hard on your marriage at times. Bradley was your teammate, and he'd worked as hard as you had to make sure the two of you made it back to a good place.

"Can we go to the store?" he asked suddenly. "Buy some more pregnancy tests so I can be here when you take one? And get some ginger ale if your stomach is still upset?"

"Yeah," you said with a laugh. "If you want."

"I want," he replied immediately, taking you by the hand and leading you toward the front door. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he was all smiles as he stopped on the driveway next to the Bronco and gasped. "The Bronco, Sweetheart."

"What about it?" you asked as he slowly backed you up until your butt hit the passenger side door. Bradley caged you in with a predatory glint in his eye before kissing your forehead softly. But you felt so calm as his hand slipped underneath your shirt, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your belly.

"A Bronco is the solution. It's so clear now. We'll swing by the Ford dealer after the drug store. And then we can drive home in two separate Broncos so you can take the tests. And then we can make my mom's birthday dinner."

Your lips parted, but no words came out, and Bradley dipped his head down to kiss you. He was smiling against your lips as his arms snaked around you. "Another Bronco?" you whispered. "You think?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed as his lips skimmed your cheek. "A lot more indestructible than your old thing. I'm not going to let our baby ride around in a little compact car death trap on wheels. Let's get a second Bronco."

"It wasn't that bad," you muttered, only slightly offended as you recalled the gigantic hole that he'd put in the bottom of your car with his foot. "Are you sure you don't just want to have access to drive two Broncos instead of one?"

Bradley leaned on one forearm against the door, still stroking your belly with his thumb and keeping you calm. "We need something big enough for a car seat to fit comfortably. If you don't want a Bronco, I think you should still consider another SUV. Preferably one I can actually fit in."

You looked up at his handsome and eager face, excitement bubbling under the surface of his expression. He was clearly as excited as you were about the positive test, and he just wanted you to be happy. Hell, he'd offered to drive a car back from Maine with you barely an hour ago. Before he even knew you were pregnant. You were still having a hard time wrapping your mind around it yourself. 

Tears stung your eyes, and Bradley's smile faltered a little bit. "Listen," he whispered, kissing your forehead. "Anything you want to drive, okay? Anything you want. But I think we need to look at the safety ratings and all that shit if you really want a compact car again."

"I don't want a compact car again," you hiccupped. "I was trying to tell you that earlier. We can go look at Broncos. I'm just so emotional. I can't seem to control it. But at least I know where it's coming from now."

Bradley smiled as he pulled you away from the door before opening it, and then he buckled you in. "It's coming from the little Bradshaw bun in your oven, and I couldn't be happier."

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

Even the brief walk around to the driver's side door felt like too much, because Bradley didn't want to stop touching you. As soon as he could, he slipped his hand in yours once again and smiled at you before backing out of the driveway. He'd been ready for this for a long time. He knew he'd always been a step ahead of you; his desire to date you exclusively startled you at first, but he knew pretty early on that you'd be wearing his mom's ring eventually. He was ready for this day before you were, too, but he had tried his best not to rush you here. As soon as you told him you stopped taking your birth control back in November, he was ready for you to be knocked up the next day. 

But now you were, and he was looking forward to all of it. The arguments had been worth it. The way he fucked things up before had been worth it, because both of you worked hard to fix things which told him you were unbeatable. 

"We're going to be awesome parents," he said, making you laugh as he parked at the pharmacy. When you tried to climb out your door, Bradley tugged on your hand and whispered, "Come over here. I don't want to stop touching you. I don't want to let go of you."

You willingly crawled onto his lap and let your cheek come to rest on his shoulder. "Don't let go of me."

"I won't," he promised, stroking your belly again like he just couldn't help himself. "Hey, should we call your parents this weekend and tell them the news?"

You pulled a few inches away from him with a little pout and shook your head. "I think it's too early, Bradley."

"Oh. Right," he replied, suddenly embarrassed that he wasn't sure about all of the timelines and exactly what everything meant.

"You know," you added softly. "In case something... happens to the baby. It's still so early. There's still a good chance that something could go wrong."

Bradley's body felt like it was sent into a freefall just thinking about anything happening to either of you. He held you tighter and kissed you a little rougher than he meant to, making you moan as he shook his head. "No. Don't say that." His voice was thick with emotion as he squeezed his eyes closed. "Don't say that, Baby Girl."

"Okay," you whispered, taking his face in both of your hands and caressing him with your soft and steady fingers. "I won't say it again." You kissed his lips and his scars as you pushed your fingers gently back through his hair which was probably already a mess from golfing earlier. But the more you touched him, the better he felt, and he took a few deep breaths as you said, "But I'm already so attached right now that it's a little scary. Already attached to the baby and the idea of you being a daddy."

"I am too," he promised as he opened his eyes to see you so close to him. "I'm so ready for this."

You kissed him one more time as you whispered, "I love you." And then you led him inside as he remembered all the times he played with Jeremiah and changed his diapers and read him books. Oh shit, he was so excited to have it for himself, he scooped up at least ten pregnancy tests while you laughed and chased him up to the registers. 

"Do you think that's enough?" you asked sarcastically as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

He picked some bottles of ginger ale out of the small refrigerator case next to the register as he said, "Listen, I missed the one from this morning, so you owe me. Just humor me, okay? I want to watch those little lines show up with my own eyes."

As he reached into his pocket for his wallet to pay for the collection of tests, he realized he was still wearing his golf clothes and shoes. In all of his excitement, he'd forgotten to change. And now he was getting excited all over again as he inserted his credit card and looked at you. Should he get you right home to take the pregnancy tests? Take you to bed and show you how attached he was, too? Visit the Ford dealer?

He groaned, knowing the Ford dealer was going to win out since he actually had your attention on the new car right now. "Here," he told you, handing you the bag as he buckled you back in again. "Drink one of the bottles so you'll have enough pee for the tests while I drive us to look at the new Broncos. Start thinking about what color you want."

"Red," you replied immediately. "It's what I had before, plus it's your favorite color."

"Fuck," Bradley practically whined, lacing his fingers with yours. "A hot, pregnant wife, a baby on the way, and two Broncos in the driveway? This might be the best day of my life so far. I don't know how much more I can handle here."

You laughed as he kissed you all over your face, resting his hand gently against your belly through your shirt. His to-do list was growing by the minute, and he was a little alarmed that his heart rate was elevated with no signs of slowing down, but every time he looked at your face he said, "I love you."

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

"It's just butter, Bradley," you said as you watched him trying his best to help you cook Carole's birthday dinner. "How are you this bad at melting butter?"

He shot you a playful glare before moving to stand behind you at the stove, wrapping his arms around you so that his hands were resting on your belly. "I'll just watch the pro then."

You shook your head, still a little startled by everything that happened today. An hour at the Ford dealership and the two of you left hand in hand after paying a deposit for the red Bronco that they were going to acquire for you from a dealer in northern California. Then you came home and took ten more pregnancy tests while Bradley sat in the bathroom with you, shooting you his big, soppy brown eyes filled with tears while he smiled. They were all positive, and they were all still lined up on the vanity, and you were pretty sure he kept occasionally sneaking off to look at them.

As you turned the crab cakes over in your cast iron pan, you whispered, "I feel like your mom is watching over us somehow."

"Oh, I have no doubt," he replied immediately, holding you a little tighter and nudging your sore breasts. "Goose, too. But especially her, on her birthday. She'd have been a mess over this news."

You set the spatula down and had to close your eyes. Your hormones were all over the place, and this was the thing that sent you immediately into a fit of body wracking sobs. "What's wrong?" Bradley asked with concern, turning you around and inspecting your hands. "Did you burn yourself?"

"No," you wailed. "I'm just so happy, but it's not fair that your parents aren't here. Like I can deal with the fact that I never got to meet them, but this is so not fair! And I'm sorry, but I can't control my emotions at all."

He pulled you closer and let you cry, kissing your ear and whispering that everything was going to be okay. As you got your breathing under control, he said, "If you're this emotional at like five and a half weeks, I guess I better buckle in for the ride."

You glared up at him before he leaned down to kiss your tears away with a smile, and you let him take the brownies out of the oven and load a plate with dinner. With your hand held in his, Bradley carried the meal to the table, but he led you to the piano instead of one of the chairs. 

"Remember how to play it?" he asked softly as he took a seat and patted the bench next to him. You needed a short tutorial, but he was as patient as ever as he reminded you of the notes. Then you helped him play and sing Happy Birthday to Carole even though it wasn't perfect, and at the end he whispered, "Thanks, mom. Let's go eat, Baby Girl."

You sat perched on his lap like always, mouth watering as you looked at the steak and crab cakes. Everything looked amazing, and you were starving. "How does it taste?" you asked as Bradley took three bites of dinner in rapid succession. 

"Fucking incredible," he replied as you cut yourself a piece of steak. It was buttery and delicious, and it practically melted in your mouth. You moaned as you tried the crab cakes, and they were pretty good, too. About halfway through the meal your stomach lurched, and you turned to look at Bradley. 

He smiled at you as you shook your head and said, "Oh no." You practically fell off of his lap as you ran for the hallway bathroom, barely making it in time to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. He was right behind you, rubbing your back as you sat down hard on the floor and caught your breath. 

"This is a pregnancy thing, right?" he asked softly. "Morning sickness?"

You nodded. "I think so. I was going to call my doctor on Monday anyway and tell her about my positive tests, but I'll tell her about this, too."

Bradley collected you in his arms and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," you whined, letting your forehead come to rest against his sternum. 

"I have an idea," he replied. A few minutes later, you were sitting on the couch with a plate of crackers smeared with peanut butter in your hand and the trash can on the floor in front of you. Bradley finished eating the plate of Carole's birthday dinner, and now he was working on cleaning up the kitchen while he dug into the tray of brownies. You gingerly bit into one of the crackers, and your stomach growled but didn't lurch. So you kept going. 

It took you an hour, but you finished the whole plate as you thought about how things would change around here with a baby involved. Nothing seemed too startling though, probably because you'd been subconsciously looking forward to this for such a long time. You knew Bradley was as well. And the way he came out to check on you several times as he cleaned up the house had you swooning over your husband a little bit.

You shared the last cracker with Tramp and then stood to take your plate to the kitchen where Bradley was leaning on the island looking at his phone. "What are you doing?" you asked him.

He looked up at you and blushed a little bit. "Looking at crib bedding," he replied, and you practically tossed the plate at the sink before hurrying to his arms. "You feeling better?"

You nodded. "Crib bedding?" You were instantly melting into his touch. 

"Yeah. I thought we could do airplanes?" 

You whimpered against his muscular chest as he pocketed his phone. "Yes, Roo, we can do airplanes."

He rubbed your back as you tucked your hands up inside the golf shirt he had been wearing all day and let your fingers skim along his abs. "I'm just really excited about this," he said, voice full of emotion. "All the baby stuff. And a nursery. I was already thinking about finishing the attic, but now we should definitely do it so your parents can stay up there when they visit their grandchild. And we can get those convertible car seats for both Broncos. And we should probably start looking at daycares before the baby is born. Like the really good daycares, you know?"

"Oh fuck," you moaned as you looked up at him. "Bradley. You're incredible." You rubbed yourself against the fly of his white pants, and both of his eyebrows shot up.

"You want to?" he rasped, and you started pulling him toward the bedroom. "Last time we had sex, I hurt you, Sweetheart. I don't want to do that again."

"You won't," you promised as you tugged off his shirt. "You won't, because I know what's going on now."

He nodded and reached for his pants zipper as you quickly got yourself undressed and climbed into bed. Bradley watched you as he struggled with his shoes and socks before he could take his pants off, and the two of you shared a laugh. Then you bit your lip as his hard cock sprung free, practically vibrating with anticipation as he plopped down on the bed on his back. 

"Come here," he whispered, but when you started to straddle his hips, he shook his head. "No. Up here." You leaned down to kiss him, and he welcomed you with a smile on his face, but after his tongue tangled with yours he broke the kiss. "I want you to sit on my face."

"Oh," you gasped as he reached for your butt and pulled you up until you were straddling his neck. Then his mouth was on you, and you were reaching for the headboard with one hand as your fingers grasped Bradley's curls with the other. He was so gentle, kissing up and down your most intimate parts before separating you with his nose. "Oh my god," you whined as he nudged your clit and looked up at you before starting to suck. 

You were already pulsing around nothing, your fingernails scraping along his scalp as you rolled your hips gently against his mouth. Bradley licked you up and back before sucking gently again. The more aroused you got, the more your boobs hurt, but it wasn't as bad as last time. Not when his mouth was doing everything to make you wetter as he gently ran his hands along the backs of your thighs and your butt.

It would have come as no surprise to you if he told you that you were dripping wet now as you whispered, "I want your cock."

Bradley practically growled as he released you, his mouth glistening as he licked his lips. "Only if I'm not going to hurt you," he reiterated, voice deep and gravelly as you moved further down his body. "Stop me if I am."

You lifted his length and slipped him slowly inside you as he grunted and propped himself up on one hand. "Feels good," you promised him as you pushed and pushed until he was fully seated. His eyes were big pools as he hesitated a bit before kissing the valley between your breasts, his lips feather light. And that was exactly what you needed as he brought his other hand up to your belly. 

"I love you," he whispered, letting his lips barely caress your nipple as you rocked slowly. "I love you so much, Sweetheart." 

When his tongue grazed your breast, you whined for more, so he took your nipple between his lips. Instead of sucking, he let his tongue drift along lazily as you barely rocked your hips backward and forward, playing with his hair. "I love you, Daddy," you told him as you smirked. 

He looked up at you as he released your breast and gently started to lick your left one as you cupped his cheek. Between kisses and soft nuzzles, Bradley poured his heart out to you as you enjoyed the feel of him, thick and delicious inside you.

"I'll take care of both of you. Always. I'm going to love you forever. I'll never stop. You're perfect. So fucking perfect. I can't get enough. I can't wait for everything."

You were barely moving on his cock when you came hard, your nipples wet to the cool air from his saliva and your fingers gripping his hair. "Bradley. Bradley. Bradley," you panted, squeezing him so tight as you pulsed around him. 

He grunted, watching your face as he let himself come undone, too. He was still breathing heavily as he leaned back against the pillows, and you sank down on top of him. "I didn't hurt you?"

"Not at all," you promised. "My breasts are so tender, but that felt amazing."

"Got it," he whispered, nodding as he wrapped his arms around you. Very slowly you let your body press to his, careful to get into a position that didn't make you want to wince. "I can be extra gentle," he promised. "I can be anything you need. Anything either of you need."

A chill rippled through your body at his words, because you knew they were true. You leaned up and looked at his handsome face, cheeks flushed and lips softly parted. When you kissed him, he tasted like you. His softening cock was still inside you, but neither of you made any move to get cleaned up quite yet.

"You can't stop touching me, can you?"

"I can, Sweetheart. I just don't want to," he replied softly from where he had his face buried against your neck. "Hey, we should go to bed early since you've been so tired. Maybe the baby needs the extra sleep."

"Oh," you gasped, pulling back and examining his face. "Early." You figured you had to be between five and six weeks pregnant, but the last time you had your period, it had come early. 

"What?"

Your mind was swirling as you did the math, and a smile broke out on your face. 

"What?" he asked again, looking at you in puzzlement.

If your period had been early, then you were probably only still ovulating for the very first day that Bradley had been home from his special mission. You started laughing as you kissed him over and over again before rolling onto your back and cracking up. 

"Tell me," he said, rolling to his side next to you as he started laughing, too.

"Oh my god, Roo," you wheezed. "I think you got me pregnant when you totaled my car."

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

A BABY!! A BRADSHAW BUN IN THE OVEN! MOM AND DAD! Do you want to read more of the pregnancy adventure? I hope so. The fact that this has been planned out for the past year is just wild to me, and I'm so happy I got to share it with you. Thanks for everything @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 28

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

[navybrat817]

A Real Prince Charming

Pairing: Librarian!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You get to see Bucky in his element. Word Count: Over 2.1k Warnings: Fluff, (f)lirting, feels, passionate Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) Graphics Talent: Edit by Nix (extra thanks for spitballing!), banner by @sgt-seabass, divider by @firefly-graphics - Thank you, lovelies! A/N: Follow up to Once Upon a Time and Far, Far Away. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Picking out on an outfit to wear to the library took you more time than you cared to admit. You didn't want it to be too revealing since you were visiting Bucky at his job and there would be kids around. You also didn't want to look too casual since you were going on a date.

"What's the big deal? It's just pizza," Tina said on the video call as you held up a shirt. "Wear a sweater."

Might as well have just told me to wear a burlap sack.

"It isn't just pizza. It's the first of many dates," Kim argued on your behalf. "Wear a dress."

You inwardly sighed as you tossed the top onto the pile with the others. While it thrilled you that your friends were interested, you were nervous enough to begin with and the call almost caused additional stress. They were only trying to help though and that mental reminder pushed some of the nerves away.

"Or just wear whatever you feel is comfortable that still looks nice," Nicole suggested, bringing balance to the optimist and pessimist. "Whatever you wear, he's going to love it."

I hope so.

"Nice jeans and a blouse it is," you decided.

I still can't believe he agreed to go out with me.

Kim clapped giddily. "You have to tell us everything, promise?"

"And keep us on standby if you need an escape, okay?" Tina asked.

One of the reasons you loved having her as a friend was because of her protective nature. No matter how blunt she could be, she would be the first to step up if anyone tried to hurt you or your other friends. At the end of the day, her heart was in the right place.

"I won't need an escape, but thank you," you assured them, smiling at your friends through the phone. "And I'll give you the details within reason."

Nicole's eyebrows shot up before she smirked. "Within reason, huh? Does that mean you're going to put out on the first date?"

Why did I say that?

"Did you see his picture? I'd put out, too. At the library," Kim grinned mischievously as you went back to the closet and searched through your clothes. “I would even let him put it in my-”

"Sluts. All of you," Tina joked.

"I'm hanging up now. Thanks!" you announced, disconnecting yourself from the chat after they wished you "good luck".

You pushed through a few more hangers before you stopped and pulled out a blouse, smiling as you looked it over. It was casual enough for the library and pizza, but still nice enough for a date. The shade of blue was nearly identical to Bucky's eyes.

Perfect. Now I just need to make sure not to fall on my face.

The Abraham Library was, unsurprisingly, quiet when you entered the building. The soothing light and smell of paper brought you back to when you were younger and eager to get your hands on a new book. Electronic devices made reading more accessible to some, but they couldn't beat the feeling of holding a book in your hands as you curled up and immersed yourself in a new world.

Fitting I'd go for a man surrounded by books.

You spotted Bucky as you made your way to the service desk and wished you had a glass of water with how dry your throat went from looking at him. He was every bit as handsome as when you met him on the subway in slacks, a sweater, and glasses. Though you witnessed firsthand how intimidating he could be, you had a feeling the kids adored him.

You couldn't wait to see if he proved you right.

You quietly walked over to the desk as Bucky spoke in a hushed tone to a colleague. You weren't about to raise your voice to get his attention and you didn't want to interrupt his conversation. Whatever it was, he sounded a bit worked up even as he kept his voice down. You hoped everything was okay.

"You realize that they're restricting access to diverse voices and censoring speech by banning books, don't you?" Bucky asked as he pointed to a piece of paper from the counter.

"They're not doing that," his coworker said.

"Yes, they are. They're saying that some experiences and topics are worthy of discussion and exposure and others aren't," Bucky argued as he brushed a hand through his hair and slowly exhaled. "They're reinforcing a way of thinking that limits others. Kids are trying to find their way in the world and they should have the right to choose and be properly educated."

You almost propped an elbow on the counter to watch and listen as you fell a bit in love with the hunky librarian. You didn't get to witness a man speak so passionately about his beliefs very often. Hearing that it was in regards to the type of literature kids could or couldn't read and how they should have the freedom to choose made it even better.

"It's not that deep, man. Let it go," Bucky's coworker said.

“You let it go, Greg,” he grumbled.

The retort made you giggle, which got Greg’s attention. "Sorry, miss. May I help you?"

"I'm waiting for him," you smiled as Bucky turned to you with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

"Hi," he said, swallowing as he pushed his glasses up and smoothed out the non-existent wrinkle in his sweater. "You look. Wow."

It's just a compliment. Don't preen.

"Thanks," you smiled.

"I hope you weren't standing there long."

"Just long enough to hear you defend what kids should have access to reading, which I happen to agree with you."

"You do?" he asked, running a hand through his hair again.

Adorable.

You hoped it didn't embarrass him that you overheard the conversation, but his cheeks still had a pink tinge to them. You wondered how warm they were to the touch. Maybe you'd find out at a later time.

Like when his coworker wasn't looking between the two of you with growing interest.

"I do," you confirmed. "I wish more people were passionate about topics like that."

The lopsided smile on Bucky's face was one you hoped to see again and again.

"You must be the new volunteer Bucky wouldn't shut up about. I'm Greg."

"Nice to meet you, Greg," you said, glancing coyly at Bucky. "You were talking about me?"

"Why don't I show you to the children's section?" he replied, shooting Greg a look before he gestured for you to follow him. "And for the record, yes. He may have asked why I wouldn't stop smiling after our phone call."

You almost swooned again. The wonderful, handsome librarian smiled at the thought of going out with you. Were you dreaming?

You pinched yourself.

Not a dream.

"You mean the call where you heard me shriek?" you asked, biting back a groan.

Why did I bring that up? Can I blame his handsome face for causing my brain to fritz?

"Yes, that call," he chuckled as you got to the area with bright colors and high ceilings.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said as he began to arrange some of the cushions in a semi-circle.

“You brought up the shriek,” he pointed out.

Touche.

“So, we’re forming a semi-circle?” you asked, following his lead.

“Yes,” he smiled, placing another cushion on the carpet before he looked around the area. “We do basic story time four times a week for some of the younger kids. A few of them like to go to the quiet reading areas after or do STEM activities, like the Tinker and Crafts Lab. Plenty of opportunities to play with the open floor space or use the technology at their disposal. There’s even an area for pre-walkers and a baby mat for tummy time.”

You smiled at the pride in his voice. Though you were only in the beginning stages of getting to know him, you sensed that the library wasn’t just a place where he worked. He was in his element here. Maybe that was one of the reasons he was so passionate about the kids being able to read whatever they wanted.

“Sounds like you put a lot of love and care into this library,” you said as he selected a book from the small stack on the nearby table.

“Yeah, well. I spent a lot of time here when I was a kid. Read as many books as I could get my hands on,” he said as he shuffled the book between his hands. “One of my best friends got picked on a lot for being small, so we hung out here some days. We’d read or draw until it was time for us to go home. Still one of my best friends to this day.”

Chivalrous, a good friend, and cares about the well-being of kids. A real Prince Charming.

“Sounds like you were lucky to have each other,” you said, brushing your hand against his forearm. “And you should be proud of what you’ve done with the place.”

Bucky didn’t blush, but the lopsided grin was back on his face. “You being nice so I’ll pay for your pizza?” he asked, gently taking your hand in his.

You didn’t realize there was only a few inches of space between you until you stared directly into his eyes. Your nerve endings singed with electricity and you wished were bold enough to drag him away to one of the bookshelves. If you were lucky, maybe another time.

Not when you were about to help him with a group of children.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you smiled back. “I can pay for my own pizza. Should pay for yours, too, for stepping in on the subway.”

“I thought we both agreed you could've handled it," he reminded you. "And I wouldn’t make my girl pay for her meal or mine.”

"Oh, so I'm your girl now?" you smiled wider, wondering if your stomach would keep doing summersaults around him. "You move fast."

"I don't do everything fast," he whispered.

Oh.

“Mr. Barnes!”

You jumped away from Bucky at the sound of a woman’s voice, but he didn’t let go of your hand right away. An elderly woman stood a few feet away with a little girl by her leg. She gave you both a tiny wave.

And gave you a chance to breathe.

"Greg said there was a new volunteer," the woman smiled.

“Hi, Mrs. West. Hi, Joely. And, yes, this is our new volunteer,” he smiled as he introduced you. "Are you excited for story time, Joley?”

“Uh huh,” she said, giving you another wave. “You’re pwetty.”

What a sweetheart.

“This very pretty lady is excited to help today,” Bucky smiled, making your heart speed up. “Is that okay with you?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded.

“Thank you, Joley,” you grinned. “For the compliment and for letting me help.”

“Thank you. She looks forward to this every week,” Mrs. West said as Bucky offered his hand to Joley and led her to the carpet as other kids began to arrive. “He really is a wonderful man. Joley was falling behind on reading and my daughter and her teacher did everything they could think of to help. He stayed with her to help, even when his shifts were over. He helped her fall in love with books.”

“He seems like the kind of man who makes it easy to fall in love,” you said, your eyes wide when Mrs. West stared at you. “With books,” you added quickly.

“Of course,” Mrs. West nodded. “You know, I’ve been bringing my granddaughter here for some time now and, I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hold hands with any of the other volunteers. I haven’t even heard him mention anyone special. I’ve asked, believe me.”

I'm not special to him already, am I?

“Oh, we’re not. Well, we are,” you tried to think of the right words. “I mean, we’re going on a date.”

“You don’t say? I hope it goes well. Maybe you’ll make it easy for him to fall in love, too,” she grinned before she walked away.

Your gaze flickered over to Bucky where he sat on the floor. He had Joley in his lap and held the book open, ready for the other kids to join them. It was a beautiful image.

As the librarian looked up at you and smiled, you hoped Mrs. West was right.

Pizza date to come soon. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

[rayslittlekitten]

Days of Fine Wine and Roses

Main Masterlist “Dad Will” Masterlist

A/N: Feels like it's been ten thousand years since I started this (probably some time last year, or even the year before), but it's finally done! 😭 It all started because I wanted a dance with Will. I'll spare the excess commentary. Thank you so much to @carni-val and @lovebarefootblonde for beta reading! Banners by @spaghettificationandpretzels. Hope you enjoy and thank you all for being so patient! 🙏 😘

Rating: E (18+ ONLY PLEASE)

Word Count: 5,150

Pairings: Dad!Will "Ironhead" Miller x Wife F!Reader

Summary: With Lucy going off to college soon, a spontaneous date night gives you a snapshot of what yours and Will's life could look like with having more time for each other.

Contains: sex (PiV), oral sex (M receiving), flirting/bantering, aging, sugary sweet fluff, Will finding reader irresistible, Will still being self-conscious about getting older (I think that's it?)

When Will and Lucy made up after DisneyGate, he lessened her punishment so this weekend she's away with her friends to enjoy their time together before they go off to college, which leaves the house to just the two of you.

"Hey, you know what we haven't done in a while?" you ask Will after plopping down next to him on the couch where he's on his laptop with his reading glasses perched adoringly on his slim nose.

"Make brownies," he quickly answers without looking away from his screen.

"Yes, but no," you giggle. 

“Stop by Astrid’s,” he quickly guesses again, still focused on his laptop, clicking and typing away.

“Oh my God, you and your sweets!” You nudge your shoulder against his, your reaction pulling a small smug smirk from Will.

“We haven't gone on a date in a while.” You loop an arm through his and snuggle against him.

"You want to be wined and dined?" He asks, bringing his arm up and behind you while pushing his glasses up on top of his head with his other hand to look over at you.

“I want us to have a nice night to ourselves.” 

"You don't have a nice night with me every night?" he teases. 

"You know what I mean!" you nudge him again. His smirk widens into a smile.

"How about we try that uh… oh! I've got an idea!" A light bulb goes off in his head. "There's like, this social media trend of couples making plans by blindly making choices," Will starts to explain as he closes his laptop. "For example, I'll write on two separate pieces of paper, say two different restaurants and you pick one without knowing what I have written on either, and we go to the one you picked."

"Okay, that sounds fun, but since when have you kept up with trends on social media? You don't even have social media," you say with a raised brow.

"Lucy showed a bunch to me the other day, but the cutest one was with a puppy choosing which outfit it was going to wear."

"Hm, I think it would be fun to pick out each other's outfits," you tell him, suddenly intrigued by this idea.

"Alright, how about this? We throw a couple of restaurants in a hat and we randomly pick one. Leave that to probability," he suggests. "But we each get to personally pick out what the other person wears. How does that sound?"

"Hmm..." you pretend to ponder. "Okay!"

***

After the luck of the draw of picking a bistro you haven't been to in a while, the next step is to figure out what to wear. The two of you take a peek at each other's wardrobe options after a long, refreshing shower where Will decided to join you.

“The navy blue suit? Really?”

“You look handsome in any color but this one really brings out your eyes,” you tell him. “But most of all, I love how your butt looks in it.” You smirk and give his behind a squeeze.

"Do I have to wear a tie?" he whines.

You nod.

“Fine," he submits. "Well, I haven’t seen you in this sexy number in a while.”

Will pulls out a dress from the back of your closet and presents it to you.

“Because I never have a reason to wear it.” You look at the bold red slinky dress with an open back as you walk towards It. “I can’t even remember the last time I wore this. Might’ve been Fish’s wedding. Don’t you think this is a little over the top for where we're going?”

"I'm wearing a suit and tie. I don't think you'll be the only one overdressed."

"Okay, that's fair."

As the two of you start getting dressed in front of each other, you notice Will watching you. You slip into your dress, hoping you still fit into it. The fabric snugs over your curves and contours in all the right places. The zipper in the back is low enough for you to pull on your own but Will helps you with it anyways. When he comes up behind you, you feel the heat of his body radiating against your bare back. He gently puts his palm on your lower back for a moment before sliding it down to the bottom of the zipper, holding it down while pulling the zipper up.

You expect him to walk away to finish getting dressed but instead, you feel him pressing his lips against your shoulder and neck as his hands knead your waist.

“Babe,” you giggle. “This is why I never wear this dress. Because we’ll never leave the house.”

“If my shirt wasn’t already tucked in, I’d take you right now, just like this.” He continues kissing and nipping at your skin as his hands continue to explore your body, drawing a moan out of you.

"Now I remember why I don't like you wearing this out. I wanna show you off, but at the same time I don't want anyone looking at you the way I'm looking at you now."

His eyes rake over your body in the mirror.

“You’re like this gorgeous rose I just wanna ruin,” he growls.

"Well, know that you're the only one I'm going home with."

Turning around, you and Will steal glances at each other as you help him finish buttoning up his shirt for him and adjust his collar.

"I think that gray tie you have with the stripes will go well with the suit. It'll also compliment my dress."

"You don't think it'll also bring out my grays?" He asks, pointing to his head.

"Maybe, but trust me, it's a good thing. I've never wanted you more than I do now," you reach up and affectionately finger his graying sideburns. "And you’re probably gonna have other women wanting you to take them home with you as well," you chuckle.

"Even if I wanted to do that, I can barely handle you in bed. I don't need to add another woman in the mix," he replies.

"Uh huh," you smirk. “Sure.”

"Besides, she's just gonna be watching because all my attention would be on you," he says as he pulls you in against his body.

"Or you would be watching. How about that?" you tease.

"Nah ah. I'm too greedy.” He shakes his head. “I don't want anyone pleasuring you but me."

"Most guys would jump on that opportunity," you say, taken aback by his response.

"Well, I'm not most guys," he points out before leaning in to kiss you, but you pull back.

"We should get out of here or we'll never make it to dinner."

"Why don't we just skip to dessert first?" His nose nudges against yours as his hands slide down to your ass.

"You mean the chocolate lava cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream that I know you're gonna get?" you tease.

"You know what I mean."

"Already? Was shower sex not enough to hold you through until after dinner?"

"Seeing you in this dress got me all excited again." He tries to kiss you again but you dodge him.

"Nah ah," you shake your head.

"Not even a kiss?" His eyebrows shoot up to his graying hairline.

You stare at him for a few moments with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth until you finally press your lips against his. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses your body against his as he deepens the kiss. You can feel a bulge poking you, making you giggle. You pull back, breaking the kiss and leaving you both breathless.

"Now go put on a tie while I throw on some make up and fix my hair," you tell him.

"Yes, ma'am!"

***

You weren't expecting live music, as the many times you've dined there, there never was. It's been a while and they've updated the place, adding a dedicated space for live entertainment for evening service and a Frank Sinatra cover band is setting the mood of the room. During dinner, you find yourselves being very touchy with each other. You toe at his ankle underneath his slacks and his hand caresses yours. Flirty eyes dart back and forth as you banter in innuendos. It's like when you first started dating over two decades ago. You're both falling in love with each other all over again, except with someone different. He's no longer a potential partner; he's your husband, father of your daughter and your best friend. At the core, he's still who you first fell in love with, but he's so much more now. He’s the man you've built a life with, who has walked beside you for the last twenty years of marriage. With Lucy going away for college, this feels like a preview of what your marriage could be like having all this sudden free time, getting to re-discover each other together.

“Mm, that is good, but not as good as mine,” Will reacts after you feed him a spoonful of your tiramisu.

"What is it?" he asks after catching you glancing at him.

"Hm?" you hum.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I can't look at my handsome husband?" you ask with a mischievous smirk.

"You mean your old and graying husband?" he jokes.

"You're still handsome," you tell him. "Maybe even more so now than when we first met."

"Oh yeah? How so?" he questions, indulging you.

"You're like fine wine. As you age, the tastier you get." You bite into your lower lip.

"Is that so?" He leans in with his elbows on the table, intrigued by your analysis.

“You’re in your prime. You’re older, but wiser. You see graying hair and wrinkles, but I see experience and maturity. I mean, your charm and personality also adds to it," you reply. "Fatherhood probably has something to do with it too, but in a way that gets me all hot and bothered.”

"Your opinion is biased because you're married to me and I'm your child's father," he points out.

"Why don't we go ask the young hostess? She was totally giving you googly eyes when we walked in," you challenge.

"What? No, she wasn't! She was just being friendly and courteous. It's her job."

"Babe, you're so adorably oblivious sometimes. She totally was! She never once made eye contact with me, only addressed you the whole time with a goofy smile - the same one you gave me when we first met."

"Hi! How were your desserts?" Your waiter comes over to check on you.

"They were delicious!" Will pulls back from the table as the waiter takes the empty plates.

"Yes, they were," you agree.

"Anything else I can get for you?" the waiter asks.

“No, we are good. I think we're just going to finish our coffee. Thank you!"

"Sure, here is the check whenever you're ready. Take your time, enjoy the music!”

"Your handsome husband also can't read small letters," Will adds as he pulls out his reading glasses and then perches them on his face for a second to look at the bill.

As quickly as he had put them on, he pulls them off and places his credit card with the bill. The cover band starts playing "Fly Me To The Moon". Will suddenly stands up and offers his hand.

"Care to dance with this tall bottle of fine wine?"

"Where are we going to dance?" you ask, glancing around at the other tables surrounding you.

"We can do it right here. We're not gonna bother anyone. There's enough space for us."

You finally take his hand and he leads you to the space beside the table. With one hand on your waist and the other holding your hand up, he starts slowly swaying. Your other hand rests on his broad shoulder.

"I wined and dined you and wanna give you a dance too," he tells you, pulling you in closer to him.

"Yeah, we haven't danced in a while," you realize.

He senses your hesitance as you're dancing a bit stiff and still glancing around.

"Don't worry about those other people. Let them watch,” he whispers. “I want everyone in this restaurant to know how much I love and adore my wife.”

He leans in and rests his forehead against yours. You let out a chuckle. Feeling a bit more relaxed, you're finally enjoying this intimate moment.

"In other words...I love you," Will sings along.

When the song ends, there's a round of applause. Will nudges the tip of his nose at yours before giving you a small peck on your lips.

"Give it up for this beautiful couple!" the singer announces and the applause gets louder.

After settling the bill, as the two of you make your way to the front door, Will notices you lingering behind.

"Are you okay? Are your heels bothering you?" he asks, pausing to wait for you to catch up.

"No. I just like watching you walk away." You flash him a wide smile and a corner of his lips turn up as well.

He offers you his elbow when you finally reach him, which you take, but not before quickly grabbing a handful of his butt. When you finally reach the entrance, the hostess thanks you for coming and hopes you had a great experience.

"We sure did. My beautiful wife here thought the tiramisu was to die for, wasn't it, sweetheart?" He turns to you, giving you that goofy grin you had mentioned to him earlier.

"Yes, it was amazing," you confirm. "We will definitely come back again."

"Anything you want," he adds.

"Are you okay to drive?" you whisper, looking at him suspiciously. "You only had one drink."

"I'm drunk on you," he replies, his eyes never leaving you.

You roll your eyes at his silly antics and turn to the hostess to wish her a good night, which Will also does before you whisk him out to the restaurant.

***

When you finally arrive home, you kick off your heels and groan, feeling the relief. As you bend down to pick them up, Will stops you.

"I got them, babe," he says as he loosens his tie and finally releases himself from the constriction.

“Why, thank you!"

He bends down to grab them for you as you start walking up the stairs. His eyes follow you before his body does, enjoying the view as you ascend. Before both of your feet can touch down inside the bedroom, your husband is already all over you.

"Babe!"

You squeal as he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls your back against the front of his body, groaning while he presses his crotch against your ass. He tosses your shoes into a corner while latching his mouth onto your neck.

"Mm," you purr. "You complain about getting old and gray, but your sex drive is still that of a teenager," you giggle.

"We've talked about this. You're my Viagra," he replies and gently bites your neck.

You reach back between the two of you and palm his crotch, feeling him starting to engorge. He moans into your neck, sucking harder, in turn making you slip out a moan as well. Your other hand creeps up to the back of his neck, fingering his blondes and grays at the nape. His palm glides up from your waist to one of your breasts, giving it a healthy squeeze. Sighing, your back arches and you cup his bulge, giving it a gentle tug. He moans against your skin and sinks his teeth into you. Your bottom lip finds its way between your own teeth while also eliciting a pleasurable sound.

Wanting to take control, you find the willpower to pull away from his touch. Whipping around to face him, you grab the edges of his shirt collar and pull him closer to you, smashing your painted lips against his. His hands snake from your waist to your lower back, pressing your body against his as he deepens the kiss, almost continuing where you left off earlier. You gently guide him to the bed until the edge hits the back of his knees, causing him to fall back.

You hike your dress up so you can climb over him and straddle him. Starting on his neck, you suck and kiss on his delicate flesh, leaving light pink marks. You then start unbuttoning his shirt, taking your time with it. As each button gets undone and his chest gets revealed, you place a soft kiss on his smooth skin. You give some extra attention to his scars as you come across each of them. He's always been self conscious of them, but you always tell him you like how it reminds you how rugged he can be. There have been times you've imagined what it could have been like to have met Will while he was still in the military, thinking about your man in uniform.

The scars are also reminders of how far he's come, his life experiences marked on his body. He's told you how he earned each and every one of them. Some are from protecting the country, some are a result of being careless as both a man and boy, and then there's the most recent one still so prominent on his lower abs. It's been so long, but he's got a constant reminder of one of the things that haunt him the most. You give it a tender kiss before continuing down his body.

When you reach his belt, you tug on his shirt until it gets untucked. Will looks down at you as you continue making your way down to undress him. He takes in an audible sharp breath and his abs tighten when you brush your lips on it. You look up at him and keep eye contact as you lower yourself, following his faint blonde trail until your knees touch the floor.

"Babe, wait."

Will quickly grabs a pillow and places it on the floor in front of you.

"I don't want you to hurt your knees," he tells you.

"Always so considerate, even when it comes to getting a blowjob," you chuckle.

"I always want you to be comfortable, especially when you're giving me a blowjob."

The pad of his thumb brushes against your cheek.

You reach for his belt and slide the leather out of the buckle. You can feel his erection growing as it brushes up against your palms. Once you have his fly undone, you grab the top of his pants and boxer briefs, gently but firmly pulling them down. He tilts his hips up and his thick cock springs out. Will groans when you give attention to the creases where his leg and crotch meets, kissing and licking the delicate spots, causing his cock to twitch. When you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, you run the tip of your tongue from the bottom to the top of his shaft. His blue eyes twinkle as he watches you kiss and lick him up and down.

"God, you're so fucking sexy," he growls. “How did I get so lucky?”

He cups your cheek as you take him into your mouth, making him hiss. Satisfied with his reaction, you're encouraged to go deeper. You relax your throat and push down further until you feel your gag reflex a hair trigger away from bringing your dinner back up.

"You don't have to do that, babe," he says, sensing your hesitance. "I appreciate you trying though."

You keep eye contact as you continue to suck on him, hollowing out your cheeks when you pull back. Will takes in a sharp breath watching himself disappear deep into your warm and wet mouth again until he taps the back of your throat. He fists your hair and grunts.

“Fuck,” he whispers. "Baby, you keep this up, I'm going to cum in your mouth.”

Taking that as a sign of encouragement, you move up and down on him, sliding him in and out between your lips.

"You want that, don't you?" he teases.

You pull his cock out of your mouth with a pop and slurp up the drool that dribbles down your bottom lip and corners of your mouth.

"It has been a while, huh?” you ask while licking him like a lollipop.

“You really want me to cum in your mouth?” He asks genuinely after studying your face for a moment, thumbing the apple of your cheek.

“Hm…” You take a moment to consider it. “Nah ah, I’m not done with you yet.”

You start to pull the rest of his bottoms down until they’re down to his ankles.

“Scoot back,” you command as you slip his trousers and boxers off his feet, leaving him in his dress shirt and crew socks.

As he follows your instructions, you stand up from between his legs and hike up your dress. You then crawl over him, straddling him again along the way, and lean down to kiss him. He eagerly kisses back as his hands grip your hips and then slide back to your ass.

As you continue to make out, Will’s hands move further down, teasing the hem of your dress until he slips his hands up under. He pushes the dress up as his palms press into your skin until he finds your ass again, this time bare and giving it a big squeeze. You grind down on him as his hips thrusts up, rubbing your covered slit against his hard cock.

Will’s fingers find their way between your legs, making you twitch when he lands on your wet opening beneath the thin fabric. He teases you, rubbing slow small circles, coaxing out your arousal. You moan into his mouth when you feel his fingers putting gentle pressure, threatening to penetrate you. Your hips start rolling, wanting more, but he just proceeds to tease you.

You continue to rock against him, but break the kiss. With noses touching, you gaze into his eyes, intentionally dragging your damp panties up and down his length. A sudden gasp escapes you when Will plunges his middle finger inside you. You bite your lower lip and push back as he pumps into you.

Taking back control, you reach down and lightly run your fingernails along his hard cock.

“You’re driving me crazy, baby,” he pants. His lust-filled eyes turn darker as you wrap your fingers around him and stroke.

Will dips another finger in as he thrusts into your hand. You stifle a moan and after a few moments, finally end the torture. Hopping off of him once more, you do a quick strip tease, unzipping your dress first and then pulling down the straps off your shoulders before shimmying out of it, letting it pool at your feet. The whole time you are amused by your husband who is watching while jerking himself. Tonight you wanted to make it all about him and to boost his ego, but somehow he always manages to boost yours even in the smallest ways.

Since he’s enjoying the show, you take your time stripping off your lingerie set. You turn around to show your backside and then unhook your bra. Coyly looking over your shoulder, you pull your bra off and toss it aside. With your arms crossed over your breasts, you turn to face him again. You release your arms, letting your breasts hang freely, to finally slide your thong off your hips and letting them fall to the floor.

Returning to the position you were before, you straddle him and grab his rock hard erection, guiding it to your aching pussy. You rub the tip against your dripping opening, coating it with your lubrication.

“Babe…” Will croaks.

When you’re ready, you finally sink down onto him and he lets out a guttural moan, your own voice joining his as he fills you up. With your palms on his chest, you start moving up and down, riding him slowly at first to get adjusted. You then bear down, sitting as deep as you can. You stay still to really soak in the fullness as he stretches you out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, drawing another guttural noise from the back of Will’s throat.

“I can stay like this forever,” you groan.

After getting accustomed to his size, you start moving up and down again, but only giving him short strokes, teasing just the tip. Will’s shaky breath hitches. You watch him as you continue the torture, seeing how he reacts to every move. Feeling yourself clench from all that teasing, you sink down further again, deep down, letting him stretch you out in all directions. Will reaches for your breasts and massages them while teasing your nipples, making your hips twitch.

“Mm, you feel so good,” you tell him.

You then start rocking back and forth, feeling it out and finding the perfect position and rhythm. It doesn’t take long for you to do as you’ve done this probably literally hundreds of times. Your hips move a little quicker, but not quite enough. Drawing out the tease, you move up and down on him, only letting the head penetrate you before sinking down all the way again, repeating the movements.

Getting impatient, Will grips your hips and keeps you still after you envelope him again, and thrusts up to push himself even deeper. Bracing yourself on his chest feeling his muscles flex under your palms, you let him take over for a bit. He pounds into you from beneath, with so much force you’re practically bouncing on his lap. You help him out by rocking against him. His hands glide behind you and he squeezes your ass, pumping up inside of you.

When he bottoms out, you take the reins again, repositioning yourself so you’re squatting over him. It’s one of his favorite views, watching you spread open for him as he disappears inside you. You slip him back inside and place your hands on his chest for support. Slowly at first, you start bouncing on him. As you pick up speed, you’re quickly reminded your knees aren’t what they used to be.

“Okay, this might’ve been a bad idea,” you laugh as you shift your weight behind you to ease the pressure on your knees and balance yourself.

“I got you, baby.”

Will grips the bottom of your thighs to assist you in dismounting him, but finding yourself in this new sexy position, you start carefully bouncing on him again with your weight mostly on your hips and arms, and with Will’s help, it’s effortless. From the twinkles in his eyes, you can see how mesmerized he is by what’s in front of him.

His hand wanders between your legs and his thumb brushes over your clit, spreading your arousal all around and making your elevated hips stutter. You are getting slicker as your orgasm starts quickly building.

“Mm, look at you, my sexy little mama.”

There he goes again with the ego stroking. You start moving a little faster and Will matches your rhythm, getting his second wind and thrusting up again. In the midst of the excitement, he slips out of you and you nearly crush his cock and balls.

“Whoopsie!”

“Are you okay?” he chuckles.

You nod and attempt to reposition yourself.

“Come here.”

He offers you his hands and you take them. He pulls you up towards him so you’re properly straddling him again with your knees planted on each side of his torso as your body prefers. After pulling you against his chest and stealing a kiss from you, he flips you onto your back and then practically tears his shirt off, tossing it on the floor. He props himself with his tattooed forearms, each of them on either side of your head. His head dips down to latch onto the side of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. He then makes his way down and pulls one of your nipples between his teeth, gently tugging on it and swirling his tongue around it.

You sigh as you gyrate against him. His attention turns to the other one, but only briefly. His knees spread your legs wider as he settles in the space, reaching down to align his cock with your opening. He shoves himself deep into you and you grab onto his broad shoulders as he drives into you over and over again. Your gut gets tighter with each stroke so you wrap your legs around his waist and start moving with him.

"You know, you keep complaining you’re getting older, but you sure don't fuck like you are,” you compliment.

Feeling encouraged, he hooks his elbows behind your knees and nearly folds you in half. The new position forces you to release his shoulders and allows him to penetrate you even deeper. Your eyes roll back when he hits your g-spot.

"I still can't believe you're my wife sometimes, even after all these years,” Will tells you, then leans down to capture your lips, slowing his hips for a moment to really savor the kiss.

He picks up the pace and slams into you with purpose. You clench up and instinctively find his hands which are planted beside your head. A few of your fingers hook onto his and you hold on as you chase your release.

“Come on, baby. I know you’re getting close.”

You start to unravel as he continues to pound into you. A cry shoots out of you and one leaves Will shortly after as you both come together. He doesn’t stop moving against you until your orgasms subside, slowing down to a halt.

He collapses on top of you to catch his breath. After a minute or so, he leaves a tender kiss on your forehead before rolling off of you. You turn to him to lay on his chest and he wraps an arm around you. The two of you remain silent as you let your hearts come back down to resting rate.

“You know, there is one thing I do enjoy about growing older,” he starts as his fingers caress your spine.

“Oh yeah? What?” You ask, cuddling against his chest.

“That I’m doing it with you.”

He looks down at you to meet your rolling eyes, but your already glowing face brightens up even more.

“We should implement a date night every Friday. How does that sound?” He asks.

“That sounds wonderful,” you answer with a wide lazy grin.

“I love you so much.”

Before you can respond, Will cranes his neck and lays a passionate kiss on you while pulling you in closer to his body where you remain to have a lazy post-bliss make out session.

[ppushable]

two ibuprofen

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 7.3k

part 1 of rose tinted hours

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Sunday morning. What's the best way to spend a Sunday morning?

Craned over the plaguefest of the guy I'm dating-not-dating, trying to shove two ibuprofen down his throat?

(It works the second time.)

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ao3 tags:

ok here we go / Alternate Universe - College/University / Sickfic / Sick Character / Fluff / Kissing / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / Texting / Vomiting / Not at the same time / Winter / gender neutral reader / i dont know how to make tea / mentions of sanrio / mentions of bagged milk / slight angst? i guess? if you squint? / reiner texts like a boomer and im sorry / POV First Person / Present Tense

i live in a special part of canada so excuse the bagged milk. (just kidding bagged is better)

reader is gn! if anything seems off please lmk. (do that if the text names are confusing too!)

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Bzzz.

The darkness and warm comfort of sleep cracks as my eyes peel open to the vibration of my phone. My blurry wall is bathed in orange light and the cold draft coming in from the open window carries the swoons and trills of birdsong. Pretty…

Holy shit I have class I’ll be late—

With effort, I blink until the shapes around me become clean and defined. Am I late? Sunlight on the ruffles of my quilt like a Renaissance painting. Coats and bags hanging from the hooks on the back of my bedroom door. Clothes from the night before, still on the ground from when I dropped them there, dead-tired. My phone buzzes again, causing an internal jolt that spurs me to snatch it off the nightstand and expel the charger in one swift movement.

mr. handsome: emergency alert! 🚨 alert! god-level threat!

mr. handsome: One image attachment

Oh, it’s a message from Connie.

Oh, it’s 8:19 AM.

Oh, it’s a Sunday.

The glowing numbers on the screen indicate the next minute and I toss the phone somewhere on the bed before re-curling myself into my nice warm quilt in this nice cool morning. Sorry, Connie, the grocery run to 7-11 for more sushi will have to be done by someone else. This is probably the happiest I’ll be all day, provided I stay sleepy enough not to feel guilty for doing nothing. The world goes black.

Bzzz.

This time, my eyes peel open on their own.

Fine, Connie, you win.

Trying to ignore the bitter taste of morning in my mouth, I grope for my phone and lift it above my head.

sashacado: BAHAHAH GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE BALDY

Another message pops up.

mr. handsome (replying to @/sashacado): 🖕

mikachu: you need to get out of there, connie. like rn.

lainah: Run while you still can! LOL! 🤣

Although the last text pains me on a metaphysical scale, I open up the groupchat. It’s getting fishy now: first of all, Connie’s never up this early, least of all on a weekend; secondly, he said ‘god level threat’ (which is apparently the worst level of threat), and third, Mikasa rarely speaks in the groupchat. Sure, she lurks, but she only ever emerges when something big is happening.

Some more people are active now and I have to scroll up to find Connie’s image.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Blurry and off-centre as the picture might be, it clearly depicts the ugliest green-and-white striped couch I ever laid my eyes on (“It’s an antique!” Connie had argued) that belongs to Connie and Jean’s shared dorm in which the latter of the two is curled up in (yet he still scrapes the armrests with the top of his head and toes). Littering the stained carpet around him — they prefer eating on the couch than on an actual table, so spills are inevitable — are wads of crumpled-up tissues. To really top it off is the Cars blanket that Jean won at a festival that’s seemingly in the process of being violently torn from his form, clinging to the armrest closest to the camera and pulling beyond. A message banner pops down from the top of the screen.

jean: i’m fine. and give me my fucking blanket back. i can hear you giggling from your bedroom. connie.

grammar police: connie give his blanket back

lainah: Haha!

grammar police: i swear things like this only happen when I’m gone

Right, Marco usually goes home for the weekends.

ymi: Lmfao that thing prolly gave you a disease in the first place

ymi: Have u even washed it once

mr. handsome: cut the ccrap Ymir we wash it more than you wash ur hair

sashacado: LMAOOO

ymi: At least I have hair

sashacado: AGAHAHH CONNIE

grammar police: you guys

grammar police: missing the point here

mr. handsome (replying to @/ymi): and its sad cuz mine is still better than youres

mr. handsome: like girl tf is up with the shaved sides

mr handsome: jojo siwa looking ass

sashacado: LMAOOOOO CONNIE EAT HER UP

Smiling, I return to the main chat screen.

ymi: Count your fucking days springer

ymi: At least I still have a girl

grammar police (replying to @/mr. handsome): ^yours

mr. handsome: ok nerd

grammar police: I’m taking away your Netflix

mr. handsome: I sincerely apoligize for my words.

grammar police: it’s the effort I guess

grammar police: back to Jean though

jean: i told u im prrfectly fine. just give ne back my blanket i’ll sleep it off

grammar police: do I need to come back to campus for the weekend?

mikachu: im stopping by the store. can grab some medicine

jean: ffs IM FINE GIVE ME MY BLANKET CONNIE OR IM TELLING THEM ABOUT THE GRATER THING

grammar police: Jean you need some medicine at least. I heard there’s a nasty flu going around and you’d be the type of person to catch it

grammar police: did you call your mom? I can call her if you want

jean: IM

jean: FINE

jean (replying to @/grammar police): DO NOT DO THAT

Poor Jean. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Connie’s a mild germaphobe, believe it or not, at least when it comes to sickness (he nearly went crazy during Covid) and is probably keeping a safe distance from his roommate. And it’s not like any of his other friends are willing (or able) to help out, with Marco out of town. He doesn’t have any siblings here; the closest relative he has might be his mother all the way back in Trost. Not even a significant other.

Well. I mean.

There’s me.

But we’re technically not dating. Not yet. We’re still trying to figure things out — hell, I don’t even know if he likes me back.

Well, okay, there was that time we kissed. But it’s just a kiss. And it was an end-of the year party, and everyone was feeling it. And it’s January now and we haven’t done it again so it’s nothing. It’s nothing!

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at my foundations like a tiny, evil beaver.

Wow. So you’re willing to let a guy suffer just because you’re unsure? Now that’s selfish. While you’re sitting here muttering to yourself he’s probably burning with fever and wishing he were dead. Real classy.

Shut the fuck up, beaver. It’s weird to just barge into someone’s house like that. And we don’t know each other that well.

You’ve known each other for a long time. He’s sick. At least take care of him. You don’t need to be his lover or whatever. Just be a good friend, huh?

I guess…

And you know Connie, too, don’t you? You’ll be doing him a big favour by getting this plaguefest out of his living room. He needs to finish off Breaking Bad so he can look at the memes without being spoiled. You’re not helping dear old Connie out, either.

Fuck, you do have a point.

Besides, everyone knows what happened between you and Jean at the Christmas party. They’re probably waiting on you to—

With great effort I manage to unfocus my eyes to see if anyone mentioned me but Connie and Jean have devolved into another stupid somewhat one-sided argument. So they aren’t saying anything outright. But they’re probably thinking it.

They’re definitely thinking it.

Okay, that’s enough from you.

I swipe off the groupchat to see all of my chats and open up my DM with Jean — right near the top — and start typing.

me: hey. sorry if this is weird, but i wanted to check on you bc ur really sick apparently

No, that won’t do. I purge the message.

me: hey fuckass. did you go out without a coat again? do i need to come and take care of

No, not that, either. Hopefully he isn’t looking at our messages or else he’d see me typing like an idiot. I tap the side of my phone as I think, stringing together ideas and words and different ways he could perceive me based on how I put them together.

I go back to the main groupchat.

me: @/jean @/mr. handsome im coming over. be there in 15

me: also @/mikachu could you pick up some lozenges and cough syrup? ty i’ll pay u back <3

I zone out at the screen until someone starts typing and throw the phone down on the bed again before scanning the ground for something wearable. Goodbye, sweet air and Renaissance scene and birdsong. After assembling myself and brushing my teeth, I check the mirror attached to the back of the shared bathroom door that Sasha decorated with some Sanrio stickers from Amazon. She had a phase.

Matching socks, jeans, campus sweatshirt, T-shirt underneath big enough to splay out underneath like a fan. Hair a mess. Face a mess. Good enough. It’s not like Jean will look much better. It’s not like I care that much about how I look around him.

I pull the door aside and collect my belongings — phone, bag, coat — before whisking through the door, full sail for Connie’s res building. I hit the stairwell running.

Do I know how to take care of sick people? I mean, more or less. It’ll be fine. All you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t puke all over themselves. Right?

On the way I stop by one of the cafeteria atriums, one of the smaller ones I frequent for its souped-up coffee counter with every additive known to man. I scan the containers on the counter — milk, cream, nutmeg — until I find the packets of honey and shove one into my bag while trying not to look guilty to the few people that dot the room. I more than paid for it just by attending.

Now on the main floor by the parking lot, I struggle to untangle my keys from the mess in my bag and, without looking, push the unlock for my car. It beeps faithfully in the same place I left it and I hurry to the sound like a moth to flame.

It’s a smallish car that’s starting to rust near the top. I open the drivers’ door and toss my bag in the passenger seat before throwing myself in and shutting the door, shutting out the world, disturbing the rubber Kuromi keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. My breath comes out steamy. The car comes to life on the third try — best to let it warm up a bit before I go.

Inhale, exhale. I open up the groupchat.

jean: you will do no such thing

jean: @/me

mr. handsome: so THATS what it takes for u to finally visit

mr. handsome: ive been keeping it nice and clean just for u 😙

mr. handsome: until mr covid came and ruined it

mikachu (replying to @/me): dw about it babes xx

sashacado: mika get me chocolate

mikachu: maybe. driving

Mikasa and I, weirdly enough, were the first to get our full licenses. A smile pulls at my face and I duck down to look at my lap. Jean had nearly begged us to give him driving lessons, and of course, I agreed. Days of close calls, driving under the speed limit, getting honked at, constantly checking the mirrors, nearly rear-ending people at stop signs, elbows touching on the armrest…

Of course, now Jean can drive without a hitch. Maybe not good enough yet that I’d sleep while he does it, but that’s a personal thing.

I almost put my phone down before noticing I have a few more private messages.

jean: seriously you dont have to come. im fine

jean: its acc not a big deal

jean: i had colds like this before. im not ur responsibility

Something about that last line stings. I guess he’s right, technically. We’re not that close. Who am I kidding?

But I already announced to the world what I’m going to do. And I already decided on it.

me: im coming whether you like it or not. watch connie for me

When I can’t see my breath anymore I start driving.

Stohess is a big campus. And while I’m not a huge fan of carbon emissions, I’m also not a fan of 20-minute walks in blistering, dry cold (or wet cold, for that matter). Also, I don’t want to keep Jean waiting. The eco society is going to kill me.

I pull in to the all-too-familiar parking spot, the one Jean pulled into a hundred times in preparation for his driving test in his new, expensive car his parents bought him because “he was doing so good with his driving!”

He’d thanked me profusely for helping him out, which, in hindsight, was mildly out of character for a broody, arrogant guy like him.

But then again, so was kissing me at that party. Not so much the kissing part. Just the me part. And the gentle-tight way he held me, the way he looked into my eyes…

I suck in a sharp breath. But I’m doing this as a friend. Not because of whatever we might be. If Connie was the one who got sick, I’d be here, too.

Steeling my nerves, I take my bag with an iron grip and make for the dorm.

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The door is already open when I arrive, propped open by a deflated volleyball. Weird. Some music that sounds like it was taken straight from Fast and Furious plays from inside. Knowing Connie, it probably is.

Nothing stirs when I open the door, but it is a pretty quiet door. The living room is right in front of me, ugly antique couch and all, but it’s completely empty. I didn’t walk into the wrong room, did I?

“Connie? Jean?” I slip off my shoes — Connie is insistent (I think shoes in the house is a crime anyway) — and creep through the dorm. “You guys?“

My voice rings through. Nothing. Peals of dread condense in my stomach and I pick up the pace, nearly barreling to a stop in front of the bathroom. I knock; first on the bathroom, then Jean’s bedroom. Connie left his door open.

“Jean? You in there?”

No response.

“I’m gonna— I’m opening the door, okay?”

And without time to think about what might be on the other side, I twist the knob and push.

Nothing. I even look behind the shower curtains.

Who even closes an empty bathroom?

Next is Jean’s room, but it’s also empty.

Where the hell are they?

I check my phone again and text the group chat.

me: @/mr. handsome @/jean where are you guys?

Waiting…

lainah: Gym

.

What.

me: are you sure.

lainah: One image attachment

Sure enough.

I should have noticed when his parking spot was empty.

me: dont let them leave. omw now

Sasha starts typing something but I throw my phone in the bag. I should have known they’d pull some bullshit like this. Well, not they. He. Something blistering and boiling threatens to spill over within me, but I take a deep breath. I’ll deal with him when I get there.

Jean’s a smart man, but not when he’s being stubborn.

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The car ride, despite being short, gave me a chance to cool my nerves.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I grip the steering wheel in front of the gym. It’s fine. And step out.

Anytime Fitness is a strange and marvellous place full of people you might not see anywhere else. I don’t care about them. I scan the machines and see Reiner on the treadmill, and he meets my eyes a moment after. He nods in a different direction and I follow his gaze until I see the unmistakable bronze and shaved hair combination. I mouth a thank you and he smiles.

I must look completely out of place here, weaving between sweaty and half-naked bodies in my coat and jeans like I have a demon on my tail until I’m standing behind the chest press.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Connie’s saying and by the way Jean grunts it’s definitely not the first time.

“Let it go. I’m fine, and I’m going to the gym like I always do.” Jean’s voice is thick and nasal. “Buzz off.”

“Look, I already left the house with you. I can’t let you die here.”

“I said I’m fine—”

At the end of Jean’s rep, I slip the pin out of the weights. Jean nearly lunges over as the heaviness suddenly decreases.

Both look at me.

Connie looks normal. Jean is already slick with sweat, hair askew, red-nosed, with a slight wheeze lining his breath as he sits on the edge of the seat. Not normal. Not fine.

“Jean. My car. Now.” I point at Connie. “You take his back.”

A slight smile cracks his visage and that’s all I see before whipping around like an army man and making my way out.

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There’s a lot of things I could be saying, but I don’t, because there’s too much. So we drive home in silence.

Now that we’re closer, I can really hear the struggle with Jean’s every breath, the occasional cough, the mucous-laced sniffs, as much as he might try to hide it. He just sits there, going on his phone, staring out the window, until:

“Pull over.”

And his eyes are closed, head tilted up, pained look on his sweat drenched-face. I move to the side of the door without question and he scrabbles for the handle — I unlock it for him — before opening the door and half-falling over as he pukes.

I pinch my lip between my teeth and look the other way as the smell hits right after. Fine my ass.

Ever since I was young, the sound of heaving has always unsettled me. Even fake gags. Like it flips a switch in my heart to induce a sudden thrill of terror as if someone horror-movie screamed. And yeah, it’s just throwing up, but I hate it.

My heart races as he unloads again and I just want to plug my ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t sit here.

When the coast is clear I hop out and walk around the back. Jean is squatting on the pavement right before it hits the grass where his vomit lays, poking up through the stiff shoots. Though we’re outside, the smell is even worse. I try not to look at it as I hand Jean a bottle of water and set a stack of napkins I filched from Wendy’s on the passenger seat beside him.

“Thank—” he manages to croak out before pitching over again.

He’s been growing out his hair. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but now it’s long enough to get in his face in this position.

I gather the strands in my hands — soft as that day before the turn of the year — and hold them on the crown of his head as he retches.

When he’s done, I consider rolling down the windows, but decide against it.

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Jean hardly notices when I pull in (again). Weirdly enough, his car still isn’t here — either Connie drives like a grandpa or he’s gone off somewhere.

“Jean.”

He inhales through his mouth, sucking up the new, pukey scent of my car, and opens his door with half-lidded eyes, leaning hard. It bumps against the campus van I’m parked beside and I cringe. Parked too close. He’s in no state to stand up on his own, let alone walk.

“Let me help you.”

He grunts in something like disagreement and I shut my door on him, going around the back again. Soiled napkins are shoved into the door storage and the water bottle is half-empty and crushed on the floor. Well. I offer a hand and after some hesitation he takes it, clasping my shoulder, and when I help him stand the added weight nearly crushes me. Jean is big, maybe not muscular like Reiner, but tall. Even through my coat and his too-thin sweater he radiates heat and he grunts a sickly air into my ear as he finds his footing. There’s barely enough room for the both of us between the car and the van so I shuffle us sideways, around the other side of the car and to the front. I gently lower Jean so he leans against the hood.

“Wait here.”

He doesn’t object as I shut the passenger door and lock the car before going back and offering my shoulder once again and I nearly fall over once again and we huddle together into the building. He’s never this quiet. Never so agreeable. Never so willing to take the help that’s offered to him.

This is a side of Jean I’ve never seen before. A side that I surely was never meant to see.

I swallow thickly and shuffle our bodies forward so I can push the button for the elevator. His head bumps against mine as it droops but he quickly straightens. “Sorry. Sorry.” His voice is gravelly and small, so small, as if it came from another person entirely.

I stare at the side of his face, but he’s focussed on something far away. “You’re okay, Jean.”

The elevator dings open and we go in. Seventh floor button. The door rolls shut.

Beep. Our knees buckle as the elevator accelerates and the screen above the button panel indicates that it’s going up. It usually smells of antiseptic unless it’s been raining.

Beep. The elevator’s always been slow which is why most people take the stairs instead. Connie calls it the ‘hellevator’ because he swears it almost dropped him once.

Beep. Jean’s trying to steady himself; hold himself up.

Beep. We haven’t been this close together since the party.

Beep. Jean takes an unusually large, wheezy breath and holds it. “Sorry.” His voice is hardly a rumble against my side.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask, quietly.

Beep. “For making you do this.”

Beep. The door retracts and muffled hip-hop fills the air. We walk off the hellevator and stand in front of the dorm. 704. An opaque plastic bag hangs off the handle and I take it in the same hand I hold my bag — thanks, Mikasa.

“You have your key?”

Jean grumbles and taps his pockets, pulling out a key ring. A rubber charm — Badtz-Maru, the little angry penguin — hangs from the ring. Sasha gave all of us one in her Sanrio phase. Keroppi for Connie, Charmy for Mikasa, Pompompurin for Marco, Cinamaroll for Eren, Kuromi for me. I (was forced to) help her choose.

The key retracts and Jean uses his free arm to turn the handle and shoulder the door open. He clears — tries to clear — the phlegm in his throat. “Alexa,” he gurgles. “Alexa, stop.”

The music immediately ceases and we stumble to the couch where Jean unceremoniously drops and tucks his head between the armrest and cushioned back, looking utterly uncomfortable.

“Get up, Jean.”

He sniffs.

“Come on. Bed.” I drop my bags on the coffee table. “Not couch.”

“No.”

“Connie will throw a fit. And so will I.”

“Just—” he tries clearing his throat again— “go.”

“I’m not leaving until you get better.” I blink. No, I’m not leaving him here alone. Why does that surprise me?

“I’m fine. I told you. Done it before. I’ll get better.”

“Done it before?” I giggle falsely. “What, you used to rawdogging colds all by yourself?”

A car passes outside, a familiar rising and falling sound against the unfamiliar silence of the dorm.

“Jean?”

“Go…”

And I swear he’s never sounded so… vulnerable before. Like he’s laid out all his organs on a big table and I’m holding the scalpel. Just waiting for the incision.

A little softer, I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jean.”

And I take the goodie bag and head for the simple kitchen — that is, an inlaid fridge, stove, and pantry cramped behind an island counter with a sink. I hold the electric kettle Reiner got for Jean’s and Connie’s fifth anniversary (he thought they were together at first) under the sink and let it fill to two cups just in case before setting it back and switching it on.

Then I rummage through the drawers and cupboards until I find an old, strangely moist box of tea packets. Yuzu mist or Cheerful Citrus? I opt for the latter.

Tearing open the package, I glance at Jean who still hasn’t moved. The teabag I dump into a printed mug that Jean likes to use.

NUMBER 1 COUGAR

I wonder where he got that.

The kettle clicks off when the water boils and I fill the mug. Oh. Honey would be good. I return to the couch and sift through my bag, shifting my keys in the process. Now Jean stirs.

“Are you leaving?”

“No, Jean.”

I keep rummaging. I know it’s in there. Might be in deep, but—

“Please don’t.”

I pause, emotions — affection? concern? — swirling like particles of tea in water. “Okay, Jean.”

I finish making the tea in silence with an almost-empty bag of milk left in the fridge. How do these boys even survive? All that’s in there are cold cuts and a bag of only bread butts, among some other, strange things. Including a pair of boxers.

“Can you sit up?”

Jean sighs into the cushion and braces against the armrest to push himself into somewhat of a sitting position.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

His eyes cast down. I swallow the silence that suddenly envelops us. Nothing weird. Just a room. I’m just a caretaker. “Come on, Jean.”

“Can— can you help me?”

I fall into the little divot in the couch where Jean sits and let him wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Ready?” I say. “One, two…”

We stumble up and pass through the already-ajar door to Jean’s bedroom and I nearly stop to take a better look. He has blackout curtains, currently drawn, painting the room in a dark blue light except for a thin bar of sunlight from between the curtains that propagates as a glowing line on the carpet. The walls are plastered in posters, sketches, paintings, sketches. Half-finished drawings on his desk and swivel chair and a few on the ground. A small compartment shoved into one corner with every art supply imaginable.

Still taking in the view, I (we) back into the bed, butt-first, and Jean unwraps himself from me.

“You won’t… do anything weird… to me?”

I smile. Conversational, that’s good. “Not unless you want me to.” And I wish I had shut up before the first word even came out of my stupid mouth. Standing, I look over my shoulder. “I’m getting the medicine.”

“Wait. Don’t.”

Under the doorframe now, I pause. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.” And I go to the goodie bag.

I should just work on keeping my mouth shut. Mikasa had picked out some ibuprofen, NyQuil, and lozenges. Pills should be good. I take the mug and the box and head back.

When I get back Jean’s sitting against the headboard, trying to uncrumple his blanket to get underneath.

“Let me help.”

He watches me then, helpless — Jean fucking Kirschtein, helpless! — as I set down the pills and mug on his glass nightstand and unfold the mess he’s got on the mattress. “Pull your legs up.”

He obeys. I pull the quilt over him.

I try not to stare. “You can put your legs down now.”

He obeys.

“Sit up, Jean. You need more pillows.”

Eyes glued to me, he leans forward so I can take his other pillow to prop him up more comfortably, leaning back when I touch his warm shoulder. Then I take the mug and offer it to him. “Drink some of this.”

Painfully quiet, he takes the mug with both hands and takes a tentative sip, lips curling around the brim of the ceramic to slurp up the soothing drink. He’s doing good. Until he hits a bump and starts sputtering.

Immediately I take the drink as he coughs up whatever went down the wrong way. When he’s done I realize I’ve been rubbing circles into his back so I take my hand off.

My phone buzzes in the living room. Shit.

“I’ll be back.”

Jean stares at his knees under the blanket and doesn’t move when I come back.

sashacado: omg yall

sashacado: theyre gonma be killed💯

armong us: What’s going on?

sashacado: @/lainah what did u do

lainah: One video attachment

sashacado: ONG LMFAOOO

sashacado pinned a message

mr. handsome: @/me im headed to urs with sash for a while. hope thats cool w you and all lmk if u need anything

jägermeister: are u fr leaving those two alone

mr. handsome: well good morning to u too pricness

Deleted message

jägermeister: oh right

sashacado: connor springer delete that message rn @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

mr. handsome: ok ok jfc im sorry

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: ok good

Whatever the hell they’re up to now.

Jean thrashes slowly and I feel a little guilty for staring down at my phone the whole time. “Are you okay?” I breathe, sticking to his beside like a magnet. “Are you in pain?”

“Hot,” is all he says.

I peel the blanket off. He is hot. Really hot.

Not like that. He’s feverish.

“Can you… help me?”

“Yeah?” I stare at him — help with what? — until he raises his arms over his head.

Oh. A few circuits in my head switch off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m can help.” Idiot.

Like touching something radioactive I grasp the edge of his sweater and slowly raise it, catching the shirt underneath for a fleeting second before it falls back down. Deep breath. Yes, I am helping out a guy I’m dating-not-dating who I’m definitely not attracted to to take off his clothes in his bedroom in his empty dorm. Because he’s sick. No problem. Because I’m a good friend.

The neckline catches on his jaw and I unhook it, delicately trailing the scruff on his jaw in the process.

And it’s off and on the ground. Holy shit. Jean’s been sweating. And I know all that dampness on his shirt, clinging feebly to his attractive sick form, didn’t come from his 10 minutes at the gym.

He doesn’t lower his arms. Oh, so we’re doing it like this.

Okay.

I come forward again, within earshot to the rattling in Jean’s chest with his every breath, and quite literally peel the thin white shirt off. This time it’s impossible not to touch his incredibly warm and damp body, not to scrape my nails against the softness of his skin, from his waist to his broad shoulders all the way down his arms. Now he puts them down.

I almost forget he still smells like puke.

“My pants…”

Ohoho. No way, buster. You’re on your own. I’m calling Connie. Nooo way.

“Okay, but unbuckle yourself.”

He does without question, fumbling first with his belt, which I help slide off, and then his jeans.

What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? This sounds like a smut setup. No. I’m just a friend helping out a sick friend, two friends who have never done anything even slightly romantic together.

“Sit up on the edge, okay?”

He heaves his sweaty self to the edge of the bed, palms leaving wet marks on the sheets, and, staring at the ceiling, I grasp at the hem of his pants (skirting his boxers or whatever he’s wearing because I’m not looking) and pull them (he lifts himself at first to help) all the way down. In one smooth movement I turn back around.

“Put your shirt over your… yourself.”

I wait a good few heartbeats before turning back around and lo and behold, he’s done as told. Frankly, it looks even worse now, like he’s lying in bed completely naked with just a shirt covering him. (But that’s only true if I think it’s true!) The jeans I’m still clutching for some reason I deposit on a chair.

“Jean, I’ll be right back, okay?” I wait for a response I should know isn’t coming before going out again, this time in search for a facecloth. Which I do find, shoved in the corner of the linen cabinet. I should be grateful they even have some, but then again, it might’ve been another gift from Reiner they didn’t have the heart to throw away. I rinse it under some cool water and announce my re-entry.

“I’m back. Sit still.” Folding some of the damp cloth over two fingers, I carefully dab at the sweat on his forehead. No, I need to… I pick off some strands of his sandy hair from his face, holding his hair back against his scalp, and try again. Better. “Jean?”

He opens his eyes halfway, and they raise lazily to meet mine. He’s sweaty everywhere and too late I catch myself stroking his head. I wipe his cheek next.

“Drink some tea, okay? I need you to take a pill.”

“Pillk?”

“Yes,” I say encouragingly, like training a puppy. Neck next. “Just a pill.”

He takes in a deep mouth breath. There’s a portrait stuck to the ground on the other side of his bed.

Is that…

“I can’t.”

My eyes snap back and I pause, dabbing at his collarbone. “What’s that?”

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if the action took too much effort. “Can’t… swallow. Can’t swallow pills.”

I blink. “You can’t take pills?”

A fleeting smile meets his lips. “Vitamin gummies. Not. Vitamin pills. Might get stuck in m’throat.”

I fold up the cloth into a rectangle and smooth it out onto his forehead. “Just take some tea with it.”

“Tried. No.”

Who knew? For a guy with such a big mouth, he sure has a small esophagus.

“Jean, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No.”

I pop open the box and break open the tinfoil seal to take out a single pill.

“Noo…”

“Jean, you’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now.” And I vow never to speak again.

When I push the little oval against his mouth, I find it won’t open. Jean is breathing laboriously through his 90 percent clogged nostrils.

“Open up.”

He purses his lips, further preventing entry, and I swear he’s smiling a little.

“Very funny. Take your pill. You’re gonna suffocate yourself.”

Still nothing. I pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise but otherwise doesn’t react.

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. At thirty-three I let go. “Are you really willing to kill yourself over a pill?”

“Don’t want. Don’t need.”

“Yeah, and I ‘don’t need’ you choking over your own puke in your sleep.”

“No…”

“Jean.” I feel terrible already for doing it like this. “Try. If you don’t at least try, I’ll leave.”

I bite my lip, awaiting his response. I really shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an asshole. Fuck.

“Okay.”

Deep breath. I push the pill against his bottom lip and the soft tissue yields against my fingers for a moment before he opens. The mug is to his lips not a moment after; he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tea in his mouth suddenly explodes out and sprays warmly all over my face.

All. Over.

I peel my eyes open after impact. Jean looks more awake than he did before, and with a discernible expression, too: terror.

Okay. Good!

Slowly, he reaches for the sweat-soaked cloth on his head and offers it to me. I shake my head.

“Be right back.”

Bathroom. Cold water. Cold water against my face. There’s two razors on the sink and the edges of the white surface have some hairs on them. Face hairs, I’m sure. I pray.

If whatever Jean has is contagious, I sure as hell have it now.

I turn the tap off and swipe the water from my face. Great. Okay. I bunch up my now-wet sweater. I can do this.

I re-enter the bedroom. Jean sits up a little straighter now, sipping in small increments. “Sorry.”

I put my sweater on the chair. “It’s okay.”

“I— really—”

“Jean, it’s okay.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get better.” Which is about the most complete sentence he’s said in a while.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t say anything. Almost unconsciously, I gravitate to his bed.

“You already did too much for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Why do… you do this?”

Now that gets me thinking. Because you’re sick. Because I’m a good friend. Because you’re my guinea pig for Hospitality 101. Maybe all three.

My eyes trace back to the scribbled portrait on the other side of Jean’s bed and I take the cloth from his forehead.

Thousands upon thousands of excuses, and a singular truth.

“Because I like you.”

And I take my time going back to the bathroom.

Cold water. Cold water against my hands.

“Coming in.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Jean clears his throat, almost inaudible against my beating heart. “Back at the party. Wasn’t… nothing.”

“Wasn’t all that much, either,” I say dryly. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. How shaky against his pallid skin.

Jean inhales and I can see the movement through his chest. “No. Wasn’t a lot.” He tilts his head up at a minuscule angle to scan my face, and maybe it’s the perspective, or the weird lighting, but I could swear he’s never looked at me like this before.

Except for that time.

“So I’d…” he swallows. “Like— like to have more.”

For a few seconds, it’s silent. For a few seconds, all that there is are his dim eyes and mine. For a few seconds, we fall into each other and tread water, sinking, fading…

I break our gaze and tremblingly pluck a tissue from a box on the ground; hold it to his nose. “Blow.”

He takes a shaky breath and obeys.

Fold. “Again.”

He shuts his eyes and blows.

“Again.”

He blows until his air gives out. I drop the spent tissue.

“Again?”

He shakes his head.

“Let’s try the pill.”

He nods and stares as I open the foil for a second time and pop the new one in my mouth.

He watches, confused, until a wave of realization seems to hit him.

He stays statue-still as I lean in, put a hand on the headboard on either side of his head.

His heat, like a barrier, raises the hairs on my skin. He cups my jaw. I cradle the side of his neck, and his pulse beats at a million miles a minute. The pill begins to dissolve.

Our mouths barely touch, and I make the final connection.

Jean is tall. Jean is arrogant. Jean will laugh at you when you fall.

But Jean has the softest lips, the sweetest mouth (even when he puked out a buffet no more than half an hour ago). Jean will melt like soft butter under your touch. Jean will accept your tongue, no questions asked, and retaliate with twice the vengeance.

Like I’ve been dreaming of since that brief moment at the party, I let my hand run insouciant through his hair. No eyes watching. No social boundary.

He gasps softly for air and I do the same, pulling his scalp so he tilts to meet me better with a small grunt. God, I fucking love his hair.

Now both of his iron-hot hands are on me, hooking under my shirt, running up and down, claiming every square inch, and I let mine fall from his neck down to his slick chest down to his stomach down to his abs. Other still planted firmly in his hair, pulling, twirling, pulling, and when I tug again Jean squeezes so hard, doubling down, suddenly hungry, suddenly a starving man. Wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer, I oblige, hooking a leg onto his bed, between his knees, and my thigh brushes against his still-damp T-shirt, and he groans softly into my mouth—

and swallows with an ulp!

and it’s over.

I stroke his throat as the pill goes down and he stares hollowly at me until it’s gone. I recline and smile.

“Is that enough for you?”

Unblinking, he pulls me down again.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Connie kicks the asphalt with his definitely real Gucci slides. “Are you done?”

“Shh!”

He shoots his friend a withering look — that is, as withering of a look that he can muster.

“This is creepy. And I’m cold. Can we at least—”

Sasha puts down her binoculars and shows him what a real killer glare is. He rolls his eyes and scans his phone. Eren’s sent a message to the matchmaker groupchat.

emo king🖤⛓️: are u sure this plan of urs worked out

emo king🖤⛓️: excuse me if this is harsh, but it’s probably the dumbest shit of ur dumbshit ideas

me: yeah try telling Sash that

sharmin ultra soft: Eren’s right. Chances are Jean puked and turned everyone off

intimidating woman: i think there’s a chance

emo king🖤⛓️: are u fr in on this mikasa

sashami: you guys shh the star coming

Sasha shoots him another look before putting her non-stalker scope away in preparation for the star of the day’s arrival.

“Whad’d I do?”

As far as he knows, Connie is doing everything right. He’d told everyone that he was sleeping over at Sasha’s. (Her idea.) And now it’s Monday, and it’s time for the star’s (code name) first class (and also Sasha’s), and now they’re sitting out in the cold like a couple of dumbasses watching the stairwell windows. (Also her idea.) What the heck?

“I’m going in the car,” Connie grumbles. He doesn’t wait for the inevitable retort and climbs in to the drivers’ seat.

The car. The one silver lining to this whole ordeal. He’d eaten, put his feet up in, and used up every last drop of gas on this baby and Jean couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

But the person coming through the door isn’t their star. It’s Jean. Huh?

Connie pops out of the vehicle and joins up with Sasha.

“Oh— you’re here, too?” Jean’s brow furrows deeper. “What’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Connie grins. “Looks like you‘re doing a lot better.”

“No thanks to you lot.”

“Where are you going?” Sasha pipes in, and he knows what’s coming next. She’s using her interviewer voice.

“Just… going to class.” Jean smacks Connie’s shoulder. “Keys?”

He produces them with a flourish and a jangle and the taller takes them, unlocking the car.

Beep beep!

Sasha casually tails him, twisting around to block the driver’s side door.

“Sash.”

“Were you a good host?”

“I mean, I was really sick.”

“You have actual, proper food, right? Did you feed your dear caretaker?”

“Uh…” he smirks. “Yeah.”

“Is your room clean?”

“It’s fine!”

“Did you sleep together?”

He rolls his eyes and wedges a hand between his car and the girl. “Okay, get out.”

“Answer my question!” Sasha cries as she stumbles back and Jean hops in. Without another word, the car backs out. Jean turns and comes forward so he’s perpendicular to the parking spot before lowering his window.

“Connie! You owe me 20!” And then he’s gone.

Dumbfounded, the boy looks to Sasha, finding her staring at her phone. “What’s wrong? You on your period?”

“Oh, fuck off. Look.”

star: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

star: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

And the mastermind screenshots the fruits of her labour.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

would you look at that. more kissing. *throws tomato* i did 80% of this in one day. no regrets!! (said eren.) (ill shut the fuck up now) i hope you enjoyed! it actually turned out a lot less gross than i originally planned (they were gonna do it with the nyquil ewwwww) but this is fine. right? i never actually kept a pill on my tongue like that for so long so for my sanity's sake let's pretend this is how it all works.

this started out as a oneshot. however,,, i decided to add more parts to it because i'm a sucker. check it out if you like! <3

byebye

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

masterlist part 2 - low tide

[lovelybeesthings]

The one that got away 1

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Word count: 2.k

Warnings: idk?

Chapter 2

(I’m sorry this like a time skip before the games)

“It’s me or Lucy are you willing to give your life away for her!” I said you wanted the plinth prize but it seems it’s a love show of Snow and Lucy grey” I say with a smile scoffing as I hold back tears “Your over reacting Y/N! I’m just trying to win you know my current situation you sound mad!” He spits back.

He doesn’t look back at me and bites his tongue and with that I know he’s made up his mind “her or me! Her or me please..” I say looking at him watery eyes rosy cheeks I swallow the pain in my throat “I wish you the best of luck and for her” I speak in a calm voice wiping my tears as I walk away my heels clicking to ground

As I watch my tribute reaper gather the body’s one by one in the center of the arena my eyes begin to water his act of defiance takes a full on me and when he rips the capitols banner down to cover the body’s he looks into the cameras shouting I can’t control the tears in my eyes and walk away from the televisions and see Tigris’s at the exit smiling watching the tv.

I soon heard of the victory of Snow and Lucy grey I was happy for her win but I decided to not speak to Coriolanus and soon made my way home resting my head in my pink silk sheets as I change into a much compterable formal look negreo I knew it days began to fly then weeks I soon got heard of how Coriolanus was sent away to one of the distracts which hurt to here he really did anything for Lucy..

I put up my mask for every social event every gathering the perfect daughter of a well named man in the capitol but when I was home I locked myself in my room taking care of myself my mind slipping to the memories of Coriolanus white blond curls causing me to form sweat small smiles.

I was soon going on dates my mother and father had made for me I obliged some guys were sweet but stuck up or handsome and cocky I soon to think my soulmate had left and I’d have to be alone until one.. Devesh Sebastian the son of a politician he was different form the rest brownish locks that looked beautiful in the sun his eyes a light brown and sometimes gold if you looked at them in a right amount time his hair was long but a small pointy tail in the back leaving a few strand hair in the front, he dress himself nice white buttons up with a black tie black vest black coat and ideal man.

We soon got together and I brought up my heath curling hair with a bow light pink heels a white ish pinkish dress that’s beautiful land a white fur coat for an event a apply pinkish red lipstick and lip gloss (the ideal outfit it is in the bottom)

As I enter with Devesh my hand on his arm smiling giggling to his jokes and kiss him on the cheek and we part ways as I say hello to my parents and family friends and introduce myself to people I wonder what’s this event for I walk over to my mother “what’s this event for mother?” She soon reply’s in simple words “oh just this man reentering the capitol I think” she says as I nod and walk over to the drinks and grab two glasses of champagne and hear footsteps behind me.

“Oh sorry my dress is a big I’ll get out your way!” I say with a sweet smile “No need” a masculine voice responds that sounds familiar and I soon turn to face…Coriolanus snow but now his appearance is different his hair is cut shorter and styled some way back white colar red vest red coat red and red pants black shoes he’s cleaned himself so well “oh my Coriolanus! It’s so nice to see you once again!” I say with a sweet tone my voice like honey as I place down the glasses and hug him and grab the champagne glasses again.

“Y/n you look so beautiful this evening I thought I’d not see you until 20 years” he chuckles he mite look different but the way he is still feels the same “how’s it been I heard that you were sent to distract 12 to see Lucy?” I say as I’m confused on what happened “things changed different view points but I was able to come back to study under Dr. Volumnia” he speaks in a bold tone with a small smirk.

“Oh well I’m sorry to hear the part about Lucy but happy that it worked out in the end for you I have to go though bye! Croyo” I say as I walk away with the drinks in my hand to Devesh as he watches we walk away he clenches his fist as he sees me with another man thinking to him self who is that man is that her boyfriend did she not wait for me?

END OF PART ONE

This is the dress ^. This is the fur coat ^

[justanoasisimagines]

Tries his Luck

Summary; Johnny clocks you walking into the office. He's not too pleased when a new recruit attempts to flirt with his wife Pairing; Johnny "Soap" McTavish x wife!FemaleReader WordCount; 539 Warnings; One swear word A/N; Requests are open! Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner and the divider

Johnny flexes his knuckles. His concentration has gone from his stack of paperwork. Inhale. Exhale. Johnny reminded himself this was not the place to lose his temper.

No one would blame him. Some people had no respect. No moral code to live by. Something he'd learned about the recruit in front of him.

Johnny would teach him. Slowly, methodically and painfully. He'd make sure he'd struggle through the recruitment process.

Lesson one; do not flirt with a superior wife. More specifically his wife.

Johnny wasn't blind. He knew why men flocked to you. Beautiful, funny, smart, friendly. Delectable in any piece of clothing gracing your body.

However, the ring on your finger should have acted as a deterrent. You were off limits. The recruit didn't seem to care or perhaps he was completely oblivious.

"Aye Si, whose the recruit over there flirting with my Mrs?" Johnny questioned as he pushed his chair away from the desk and stood up. Approaching the masked man within a few steps.

"Stevenson I think. Why?"

"Just prefer to know the name of the man before I threaten him" Simon chuckled as Johnny departed from him. Johnny stalked his prey, slowly making his way towards you.

Stevenson wasn't aware of the hell he was about to endure.

"Aye lass, what brings you to this side of the office? Bringing me something tasty to eat I hope" Johnny winked. You struggled to maintain eye contact because of Johnny's sneaky innuendo.

"Actually I-"

"I was helping her locate Captain Price's office. Sir, she has some important paperwork to sign." Johnny's jaw clenched. First, he was flirting with you. Now he's attempting to speak for you.

"She's been to the Cap'n's office plenty of times before. I'm sure she knows the way. Secondly, I was asking her, not you" Johnny growled.

"The lady is busy, Sir"

"Are you giving me orders recruit? Do I need to ask permission to speak to my wife?" Stevenson paled. As white as a ghost. For a moment, he'd presumed the revelation had done the trick.

"She still has a job to do Sir"

Perhaps not.

"You didn't seem concerned with her job for the past twenty minutes. While you were ogling and flirting with my wife."

"I think you're blinded by your insecurities Sir" The cheeky little shit. Johnny moved towards Stevenson. Yet your palm rested on his chest. You didn't push him away but halted his movements.

"Johnny don't. He's just attempting to antagonize you. It's a foolish idea. Especially since he is your drill sergeant this afternoon. Alongside, Lieutenant Reily."

"I'm sorry what?" Stevenson's eyes suddenly drifted between Johnny and Simon.

"You heard the lady, recruit. Oh, I should warn you. Her last name is McTavish now, her Maiden name was Reily. I'd rest up while you can. You're gonna it." Stevenson fleed almost leaving tracks on the floor. Johnny smiled when you broke out in hysterics.

"I've got to get this to John. Then I can give you guys the pastries I brought you." Johnny smiled as he watched you walk away. Every year it was the same process, and every year you two enjoyed watching the recruit flee when they found out who you were related to.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 30, Epilogue - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 634

Previously On...: You and Bucky are probably going to be okay.

A/N: IT'S OUT EARLY!

This is it! The last chapter! OMG!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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10 Months Later

“I refuse to accept this.”

“Well, unfortunately, Boss, it’s my decision to make, not yours,” you told Tony as you finished stacking up the last of your moving boxes. Sixteen years– almost half of your life, now condensed into neat stacks of cardboard, waiting to be loaded into the van that was waiting downstairs.

“What the hell am I supposed to do without you?” Tony asked, dramatically flinging himself on your now bare mattress. “How am I supposed to survive?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “It’s not like you won’t see me every fucking day, dude,” you admonished him. “I still work here, for fucks’ sake. Besides, you refused to let your realtor show me any place you couldn’t see from your terrace.”

“I thought it would be nice if we could wave to each other during breakfast,” he said, his face drawn into a pout now, “that’s all.”

You sat down next to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to cut the umbilical cord, Tony,” you said. 

“But you’re still such a kiddo, Kiddo,” he sighed.

“I meant your umbilical cord, Boss,” you laughed. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll try it for a year or two, figure out I absolutely hate it, and come crawling back, begging for my old room.”

“Don’t press your luck,” Tony said, sitting back up. “I’ll probably turn it into a sauna, or an indoor golf simulator as soon as you walk out that door.”

“Ah, there’s the Tony I know and tolerate,” you said with a smile.

“I’m just going to miss having you around,” he said, his voice now laced with sadness. “Sixteen years together– probably the longest stable relationship I’ve ever had. It’s not going to be the same around here without you.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I’m going to miss you, too. But you know I need this. After everything that happened last year with Carthage, and Barnes… me spiraling, losing a baby I didn’t even know about, getting shot, and the… complications; all that shit with Steve. I just think I need a fresh start, some place where I’m not reminded of her every time I walk around a corner. It’s the only way I’m going to truly heal.”

“I told you I’d move you to another floor. Hell, I’ll tear down the entire Tower and start from scratch. We can build a whole new compound Upstate or something. You’d never have to set foot in this hallway again,” he said. And you knew he was telling the truth– there was little Tony wouldn’t do to ensure you were comfortable in your old home, but you couldn’t rely on him forever.

“You’ve saved me so many times already, Boss,” you said, looking back at him fondly, “and you know I’m always going to be thankful for that. But it’s time I started working on saving myself.”

“Well, when you make it sound all empowering and shit,” he began, “I start to feel like a dick for protesting.”

You laughed as your phone beeped. Looking at the message, you told him: “Movers are on the way up. I guess this is really it.” You both stood and embraced, Tony leaning down to speak softly in your ear.

“You know you always have a home here, Kiddo,” he said. “Whenever you need it. Even if it’s just for a night, or if you decide you want to come back for good. Door’s always open.”

“And even if it’s not,” you said as the two of you broke away from one another, “I can always hack the system to break myself in.”

“I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

“You think Mr. Mitchell’s still practicing law?” you asked with a grin. “I can definitely afford to have him represent me, now.”

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[schrodingers-romy]

Silver-Tongued Devil [Usagiyama Rumi x Reader]

Pairing: Usagiyama Rumi x AFAB!Reader Word count: ~3,200 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: You somehow end up as the sacrifice for an incompetent cult. The demon they summon is not at all what they nor you expected.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Cults. Reasonably graphic depictions of violence and blood. Reader is injured (not extensively) but healed. AFAB reader; genitals are referred to by fem terms but no other gendered terms are used. Graphic Smut (MDNI). Strength Kink. Cunnilingus. Weird demon tongue. idk.

Notes: 3rd fic for Strange Lovers (my little monster!character x reader series for October)! Please ignore this was a day late i had such writer's block for this and i don't know why. I'm not sure if this is good or not honestly I just want to not have to look at it anymore. Mdni banner template from @/cafekitsune

I have the absolute worst luck, you thought to yourself.

Perhaps you had broken multiple mirrors in the past. Did breaking multiple mirrors mean the seven years of bad luck was worse, or was the period of bad luck just longer?

You supposed it didn’t really matter, but how else would you end up like this: hogtied and gagged in the middle of a red painted pentagram, surrounded by what sounded to be frat boys in cult getups.

One of the little fuckers had ambushed you on your way home with a handkerchief soaked in chloroform. Next thing you knew, you were tied up in the middle of the woods, surrounded by a bunch of college kids in dark robes chanting Latin.

You had no idea why you specifically were picked. You had a feeling it was just because you were the first person they had been able to grab; you weren’t sure whether that was better or worse than being specifically chosen.

So far, they hadn’t done anything to you other than knock you out and tie you up. Unfortunately, at least one of them must have been really good with rope, because you couldn’t budge an inch. All your screaming amounted to nothing more than a few quiet, unintelligible sounds through the gag. And just because they hadn’t done anything major to hurt you yet, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t. They had no problem with kidnapping you; you doubted your purpose in their demonic ritual summoning or whatever was just sitting there looking distressed.

The chanting had been going on for what felt like hours; yet however boring it was, your anxiety kicked back up drastically when they stopped.

The cultists stopped circling, and turned to face you. One of them, presumably the leader because of his unique blood-red rope belt, stepped forward until he stood right in front of you, close enough to kick if you had the freedom to do so (which unfortunately you didn’t, no matter how much you tried).

In a loud, booming voice, he started up another chant, different from the first. And then he pulled out a wicked looking blade from the shadows of his robes.

You tried to get away; you tried to scream. You could feel your muscles straining against the ropes, but they wouldn’t shift. The gag kept your voice to a mumble even as you tasted iron in your throat from your shrieks.

It was all futile. He crouched down, holding the knife above you; the blade glinted red in the light of the fire. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for pain.

The stabbing you expected didn’t happen, but you were not spared from agony. He roughly cut away the fabric of your shirt around your stomach, exposing it to the night air; his canvas.  Slowly, excruciatingly, he began to carve a shape onto your skin; some sort of crescent moon, maybe; you weren’t sure, too busy screaming from the burning pain of it.

When the knife finally paused, you sobbed in relief. It still burned; you could feel the blood flowing and dripping onto the ground, both too-cool and too-warm feeling at once. But at least there were no new wounds made.

You drifted in and out of awareness, missing the cult’s final chants, but you did not miss the culmination of the ritual.

Once the final words were spoken by the robed figures, a violent bolt of lightning lit up the forest blinding white. The thunder followed immediately after, so loud it caused your ears to ring.

Your eyes took a minute to readjust to the dim light of the torches, and then you saw her.

You noticed two things about her right away: one, she was beautiful; two, she was utterly inhuman.

Her general figure was humanoid…if humans were seven feet tall. Her skin was a human shade of brown, yet her eyes were crimson red with slit pupils. Her broad, almost cocky, grin revealed shining white fangs. Her hair was pure white, hanging around her face in long braids. It was interrupted by the curling black horns emerging from her skull, and the rabbit-like white ears springing from the sides of her head.

She only wore draping gold jewelry, which seemed to drip down her body like liquid, covering her most private parts delicately. This allowed you full view of her muscles. She was built like a Greek statue: thick arms, prominent abdominal muscles, and thighs that could probably crush a man’s skull like a grape.

She radiated power. If you weren’t writhing on the ground in pain like a tortured worm, you would be cowering.

The cultists do cower a little, trembling in their robes. Finally, the one with the red belt steps forward.

“O Great Miruko, High Demon of the Moon, please accept this humble offering,” he said, gesturing to where you lay. “As per the summoning, we only request one day of obedience in exchange for the blood of the sacrificed.”

The demon tilted her head, never dropping her wide smile.

“So you losers thought you would have control of me with this ritual?”

Her voice wasn’t quite what you expected; it was human-sounding at first, if loud, but it echoed around the trees in odd ways, making it sound like thousands of whispers repeated her words. It was…unsettling.

The cultists seemed to agree. Their leader flinched visibly when the demon spoke. “Y-Yes. According to the ancient tome—” he said, pulling a beat-up leather book out of seemingly nowhere, “—we started the ritual on the right phase of the moon, we recited the proper chants, evoked the correct name, provided the sacrifice for consumption…everything is correct. As per the ritual’s rules, you are summoned to the mortal plane to do our biding for a full day, then you return to the hell from whence you came!” He was starting to sound frantic by the end of his tirade.

The demon crossed her arms across her chest, emphasizing their definition. “Well, you’re almost right…except for the most important part.” She stepped closer, and bent down dramatically at the waist to look the cult leader in the eyes. He scrambled to step backwards; this caused his hood to flip back, revealing a face that looked both scared and young.

The demon seemed amused by his fear. She smiled, cruelly, baring sharp teeth at him. “The one who gives the blood is not the sacrifice…they’re the one with control over me. Not you.”

She stood up again, stretching to her full height. “I’m not ‘contractually obligated’ to give you shit. All the power resides in the poor person you have trussed up like a ham over there.” She gestured to you, finally making eye contact. You shivered at the glowing red gaze.

“So, hon, want me to take care of these guys for you?” she asked, focus still entirely on you.

You were frozen for a second. Your brain was spinning. You still didn’t fully understand what was going on…but you would like your kidnappers gone. So you gave the smallest nod, all of the movement you could manage.

The demon smirked, returning your nod, and then she was a blur.

Your head span just trying to watch her; it seemed like only a second before all of the cultists were knocked out cold from the force of the demon’s lightning-quick kicks and punches.

Once she had taken care of them, she crouched down over you to run her hands over your bindings. Under the caress of her large hand the ropes and the gag dissolved into puffs of smoke.

You raised your tingling arms up to your mouth and coughed. Your throat still felt terrible, and coughing too deeply flexed your abdomen, causing the cuts to light up with pain again. But your limbs could finally regain blood flow.

You looked up at the demon, who was still staring at you. You had a hard time meeting her gaze; instead you looked out towards the cultists lying on the ground. “…are they dead?” you rasped.

“Naw. Just going to be unconscious for a long time. Didn’t think you would want me to kill them all. I mean. I can if you want me to though.”

“Um… no, that’s fine.” No matter how crazy this weird cult was, even if they wanted to sacrifice you, even if they had no problem kidnapping and hurting you…you wouldn’t want their deaths on your conscious. You couldn’t do that.

The demon shrugged. “Okay then.” She seemed much less intimidating and more casual now, even though she still loomed above you.

You tried to swallow, wincing when your raw throat protested the action. “So…what now?”

“Well, I am at your bidding, for a whole twenty-four hours. Then I can go back to hell…I never introduced myself, by the way. I go by many names, but you can call me Rumi.”

You stammered your own introduction.

Rumi gave you a broad grin, teeth flashing. “I’m guessing the first thing you want from me is for me to heal your wounds?”

Your voice had a hopeful tilt to it. “Can you do that? Please?”

“Aww, sweetheart, how could I say no when you ask so nicely?” she purred.

You could feel heat in your cheeks. You’re honestly surprised you still have enough blood for such a silly reaction to her words.

She chuckled, and moved so she could slip both her hands between your lower back and the ground. She lifted you up as she leaned down, until you could feel her breath on the sting of the cuts.

You weren’t sure what you expected her to do. Maybe whisper some sort of weird Latin chant and then the cuts would just disappear? But you would have never predicted what she actually did.

Rumi opened her mouth…wide. Out came a tongue between the glinting teeth.

Her tongue was long, and flexible, the end almost triangle-shaped with the way it tapered to a point. It dripped saliva onto your stomach, and you flinched.

You let out a shrill noise of surprise as Rumi uses her strange tongue to lick at your wounds.

Her spit almost seemed to leak into your cuts, causing them to close and disappear before your eyes as she lapped across them. Soon, the pain has disappeared from your abdomen, replaced by the wet, warm feeling of the demon’s tongue. She continued to lick long after the cuts were gone, removing every spot of blood from the soft skin of your stomach.

You felt flushed and tingly. You would have liked to attribute that to whatever strange demon magic was in Rumi’s spit, but you couldn’t quite lie to yourself that much. You’re ashamed to admit it, but the feeling of Rumi’s tongue on you is almost…erotic. The wetness on your abdomen was emulated by the slowly growing wetness in your underwear.

You couldn’t help but squeak in embarrassment at the realization. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it) Rumi pulled away, tongue retracting back into her mouth like a snake.

“Feel better?” she asked.

“Yes,” you said, before losing yourself to another coughing fit. Your stomach was as good as new, no remnants of the strange carved symbol remaining, but your throat was still raw.

Rumi made a disapproving noise. “Well, it seems like you’re not all fixed up, hon. Something happened to your throat, right? Let me help.” She shifted her arms under you until she was holding you in a seated position, bringing your head closer to hers.

You felt as if your face was radiating heat. She was no less beautiful up close. It was hard to have such a lovely face right by yours, especially after said lovely face was just licking your bare skin.

Rumi removed one hand from your back, to press a single calloused finger against your bottom lip. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You should have protested, but the pet name in Rumi’s soft, low voice made your head feel fuzzy. You opened your jaw.

Your mouth was soon filled with the demon’s tongue. Your eyes closed on instinct, feeling her lips press to yours in a facsimile of a kiss. You had never had a kiss like this, however; her tongue slithered down your throat, filling it and your mouth up to the brim. You would have choked on it, but the soothing feeling of her saliva healing your injured throat made you relax enough for it to slip past your gag reflex.

It almost felt like you were being throat-fucked by Rumi’s tongue; at the mere whisper of that thought, you let out a moan around the slick appendage inside you.

To your disappointment, she immediately pulled back. Once you realized what you had done, you felt like you were going to faint. You reopened your eyes, almost dreading to see Rumi’s expression.

Your breath caught when you finally saw her. She had an almost…endeared expression on her face. It would have been sweet, if not for the sultry darkness of her eyes.

“Aww, honey, you like my tongue?” Her voice was hoarse, and you shuddered, face nearly radiating heat.

She laughed at your flustered expression. “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.”

You let out a low whine, less of arousal and more out of sheer mortification.

Runi’s smile sharpened. “You know, I can do lots of other things with my tongue, if you’d like. After all, I am at your bidding.”

While the first sentence made you feel like you had been lit on fire, the second one doused your flames a little. “I don’t want you to do something because I’m making you do it…if you don’t want to do anything, you don’t have to. No matter how I feel.” You felt a little sick at the thought that you could force her to do something like that if she didn’t want to.

“You’re so sweet, honey,” Rumi said, chuckling. “But I promise I want to just as much as you do.” Her voice dropped lower at the last part, almost to a growl, and you shuddered in her arms.

“Okay,” you whispered.

-

Rumi, as her figure suggested, was ridiculously strong.

She ripped your pants and underwear off like it was tissue paper. She hoisted her arms under you, maneuvering you like a ragdoll until you were in her preferred position. Your legs were hooked over her shoulders, your hands gripping her horns in a weak attempt to stabilize yourself as she lifted you until your pussy was level with her mouth.

You could feel Rumi’s smirk against your sensitive inner thigh. You couldn’t make yourself look down, lest you have to acknowledge your position and the way your cunt was dripping.

“Sweetheart.” A quick flick of her tongue against your clit, making you gasp. “Look at me while I eat you out.”

You reluctantly made eye contact with her. “That’s it baby,” she cooed.

You watched as her tongue slipped out of her mouth once more, the thin tip reaching out to lightly caress your clit. Even though the touches were almost nonexistent, each sent a flow of heat up your spine.

Your legs squeezed rhythmically around Rumi’s head every time her tongue teased at your nub. Your arousal kept building, filling your whole body with sticky heat, yet it wasn’t enough to push you towards any type of climax.

You didn’t notice you had begun to whimper, softly, but Rumi did. She finally took pity on you and started to lap at your cunt in earnest.

The first lick went all the way from your hole to your clit, dragging the broad part of her tongue through your wetness. She let out a rumbling moan once she got a proper taste of you, and abandoned her teasing completely.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as she licked and sucked at your pussy without mercy. Rumi was too caught up in eating you out to chastise you for this. Anyway, closed eyes only made the sounds louder; the obscene slurping noises from combination of your slick and her spit, and both of your moans, yours echoing and hers muffled against you.

You let out a shriek as her skilled tongue wormed its way into your dripping hole. You were so wet from your arousal and her saliva that she had no trouble working the appendage deep inside of you, deeper than you thought possible. She pulled you closer to her face, until her lips were pressed against the soft folds of your sex, and you thought you could come right then.

But this wasn’t the height of your arousal. Not yet.

She then started to move her tongue inside of you.

It felt like Rumi was desperate to taste all of you, the way her tongue squirmed inside your pussy. Every sensitive spot was rubbed against the rough parts of her tongue, and then soothed by the slicker parts. She was basically fucking you on her face at that point, powerful arms bringing your body away from her just to pull you back and impale you on her tongue. Every time your cunt met her face again, she would grind the bridge of her nose against your clit, sending another spark of pleasure up your spine.

Your body felt almost unreal. No longer did you have control over yourself; instead, Rumi did. You were like her little doll, a pretty little thing she could pick up and play with effortlessly.

The pleasure was so intense that you struggled to simply open your eyes without slipping back into mindless bliss. You wanted to see her, though, and so you forced them open, squinted and teary as they were.

Bringing your gaze down to her, you could see her eyes were black with arousal as they peered back up at you. Her entire face was soaked, slick and dripping from your cunt’s juices. She looked utterly bebauched.

The view made you come on the spot.

If you weren’t a doll before, you were now; your entire body went numb from your orgasm. It was like a never-ending series of delicious shocks travelling through your nervous system. Rumi hadn’t halted her movements, even as you soaked her face even more with your come. Your pleasure stretched out longer than you thought possible before your nerves started to turn painful. She stopped once your whines started becoming less come-drunk and more overwhelmed.

Almost lovingly, she laid your dazed form back down onto the ground, still cradling your head. It took you a few moments before you were even aware of your surroundings again.

In that time, Rumi had moved to straddle your head, hovering above your face on her knees. One hand was stroking your cheek softly, while the other held up the delicate chains that hung from her waist, revealing her own glistening cunt to you.

“You were so good for me, baby,” she said, voice husky. “D’you wanna return the favor?”

There was no world in which you wouldn’t want more of her.

“Yes please,” you murmured, opening your mouth.

[siconetribal]

Put it on My Tab 14

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Warning:

Working with customers, rude customer, that stressful work life is all the rage these days

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

As always, a huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

“I can help the next customer in line over here!” Y/N shouted over the din of the teenagers that came flooding in after school. It was a mix of private school uniforms and fashionable public school students flaunting their name brand accessories and latest phones. It really was a marvel to see how carelessly they would just flash their parents’ money as if it was their own hard earned pay. “Next customer in line, please.” She spoke a little louder and watched as a rather quiet but handsome looking teenager walked up. It was obvious that his clothing was well made, tailored to fit him, but it lacked the flashy logos that everyone else was wearing. A public school kid? He looks like he’s a couple years younger than me. A senior perhaps? “Welcome, what would you like for me to get started for you today?” She cordially asked, though once again, there was something about him. Just like the young detective, she felt like she needed to be cautious.

“A large cup black eye with ristretto, light sugar, and a bear claw.” 

“Did you want me to exchange the espresso with the ristretto or did you want me to add it with the espresso?” She hesitantly questioned, eyeing him a bit suspiciously. There was no sign of major fatigue aside from the slight bags under his lids. It was not uncommon to see some exhausted seniors who diligently worked to keep their top marks, but there was an edge to him. His gaze was not hazy from exhaustion. On the contrary it was sharp, too sharp.

“Add it to the drink and warm the pastry, please.” He pulled out his wallet and waited for her to ring him up.

A lot more crazy coffee drinkers on this side of Gotham than I originally thought. She hesitated for a moment before pressing the necessary buttons on the screen. “For here or to go?”

“Here.”

“The name for the order?”

“Tim.”

“Ok, your total comes out to $11.48, will you be paying cash or card?”

“Cash,” he quickly pulled out a $20 bill and handed it to her. The drawer sprung open with a ring and she handed him the change as she closed it.

“Please have a seat, we’ll call your name when your order is ready.” She gave him another cordial smile, waiting for him to move so the next customer could come up, but the young man called Tim did not budge. An awkward silence stretched between the two of them as he simply silently stared at her. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thanks.” He shook his head and dropped the change in the jar in front of her and left. Citlalli came over from her right, watching Tim as he sat down.

“Everything ok?” She whispered to Y/N who moved over to start his order.

“Yeah, we’ve dealt with much weirder things.” She shrugged it off to help ignore the sense of unease Tim gave her.

“True, but he was just standing there, staring at you.” She frowned, scanning the dining area quickly to see Tim watching them. “And he’s still watching you.”

“He’s probably thinking about what else he might want to order. Customers do it all the time, ordering one thing only to consider adding something else after the fact.” Y/N casually brushed it off. “You’re thinking too much about it, he’s just an overly caffeinated burnt out studious senior wishing for the school year to end already.”

“I guess,” Citlalli bit into her lower lip as concern for the safety of her dear friend doubled with her current streak of luck. “If he gives you any trouble, oi! Look at me, mija!” She grabbed Y/N’s face, squishing her cheeks while making her look at her. “You tell me right away. I'll have his ass kicked out at full speed!” She snapped her fingers after relinquishing Y/N’s face. “You've been through enough between that bill, my dumbass cousin, and the sudden midnight order that broke the window. Let me help where I can.”

“Thanks, Cici, I will, I promise. He's just like any other awkward teen trying to get out of high school that would pay big money for a coffee IV drip and I'm going to treat him as such. If he pulls any funny business, you'll be the first to know.” Y/N gently squeezed one of Citlalli’s shoulders before returning her attention to complete the order and call out to him for pick up. 

The next few customers were of the usual variety, a majority of them ordering the sugar loaded ice blended drinks regardless of how cold some of the days have been. It was the technical orders with the highly detailed instructions that irked her. 

If they think this is so easy to do, why don't they just go home and make it themselves? If I ever find out who came to with this ridiculous and disgusting sounding flavor combo, I'll throttle ‘em! She shared frustrated looks with her fellow baristas. It was clear that this drink would be burning through some of their supplies quickly. 

When the fruity whipped up topping heavy blended drinks were completed, they were placed out for pick up by her coworker while Y/N went back to the register.

Tim quietly watched his person of interest deal with the complex orders and demanding customers. The smile plastered on her face the entire time was an impressive feat. One obnoxious customer was one too many in his opinion, but there was nothing that he could do and he knew any retaliation on her end would lead to disciplinary actions against her. She was responsible, respectful, and resilient; but none of this information got him any closer to solving the mystery that was her. 

The customer is always right, like hell they are. He rolled his eyes at the passing thought. She’s smart, but is it enough to grab attention? What did she do with the ‘tip’ Dick gave her? Why did he think to give her that? What am I missing? He knows her, somehow. I need to figure out how. He finished the last of his order and stood up, tossing his trash and quietly leaving the establishment. He would need to observe her for longer and possibly try to gain some insight from the other customers and staff. 

The daytime quickly became dark, the days slowly growing shorter as autumn progressed. The number of customers dwindled down as the evening hours struck. There were still a few lingering customers with their laptops, typing away. The loyalty customers occasionally came to the counter for the complimentary refill on regular coffee while the non-rewards customers ordered something different each time. Citlalli had gone home for the evening and soon it was simply Y/N and two other baristas as a few late night customers came in.

“Hello, what would you like to order?” Y/N smiled at the older woman. Much like all the other customers, she was well dressed and carried a designer bag. Her long sharp acrylics were clicking and tapping against every surface she touched as she looked through the large bag for something. Finding whatever it was, she kept her hand inside to hold whatever it was.

“Hi, I would like to order a medium iced mocha macchiato with almond milk and an extra shot of espresso. Have the mocha drizzle divided equally in the bottom and on top of the foam, with light ice. Add 3 pumps of caramel syrup, 2 pumps of toffee nut syrup, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Serve it in a grande cup with a separate cup of ice on the side and a packet of sweetner.” She kindly smiled back after quickly running through the instructions. Any relief Y/N had felt froze up in her veins at the complex order that was thrown at her.

“I’m sorry, could you please repeat that a little slower? I want to make sure I have it down correctly.” The older woman pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Thank you for your understanding in wanting to make sure your specific drink is made exactly as you ordered.” Y/N added for good measure. It seemed to do the trick as she nodded and slowly repeated the overly complicated order slower. Y/N read it back to her for verification before ringing out the order. “You can have a seat, we’ll call you when your order is ready, Susan. Thank you, again, for being a loyal customer.” She added, this was something their boss insisted they say to reward members. 

“Ah, ah, I’m not done just yet!” Susan pulled out her hidden hand which held one of their decorative cups. “I bought this from your store and last time I was here I couldn’t help bit notice the little shelf over here.” She pointed to her left.

“Ah, yes, that is our discount shelf. Anything on that shelf is 30 to 40% off.”

“Exactly, and this thermos is on that shelf. You can see it on the second shelf towards the left over there.” Y/N leaned over to the left a bit to get a better view from the register before nodding her head.

“Looks like it’s there, so yes, it’s on sale now. Did you want to buy another one?” She offered, though she was not entirely sure why Susan brought her thermos. “Oh, did you want your drink made in your cup?”

“No, well yes, but that’s not why I’m bringing this up.”

“No, you didn't want to buy it or no, don't use the cup?” Y/N frowned, unsure which answer went to which question.

“No, I do not want to buy another one. Yes, put my drink in here. The reason I am talking about this is because I am upset. When I bought this thermos, I paid full price.” Y/N silently stared at Susan for a few seconds, unsure where this was even going as she took the cup and placed it with the ticket for use.

“Yes, because it was full price when you purchased it.’

“Do you see the issue here?”

“No, I do not. What is the issue?”

“Well, why is it on sale now?”

“We’re clearing out the overstock we have of those designs to make room for new designs.” She calmly explained.

“Ok, the problem is that I paid full price for a product that you’re get it rid of anyway.”

“Well, this sale started a week ago. This style thermos was brand new or one of the newer products when you bought it, so it was not on sale. If you bought this cup anytime prior to a week ago, you would have paid full price..”

“Exactly, you see how this is discriminatory, right?”

“Discriminatory,” she repeated the word and watched as Susan nodded her head excitedly. “How?”

“Yes, you can see how this is discriminating against customers, like myself, who bought this before the sale!” She eagerly explained.

“Uh, no, you just happened to buy it before it was put on sale. We don't have control over which tumbler or thermos will sell out or not. This particular design had a few items left, so they are now on sale.”

“Ok, here is the cup and here is my receipt.” Susan continued to push through, ignoring everything that Y/N was explaining to her. “I would greatly appreciate it if you gave me the difference of the discount in cash.” She held out the thermal sheet of paper. Y/N took the slip, checking the date to see if there was something that could be done. 

“Firstly, this was charged on a card. If I were to refund the difference, it would go back onto your card. That can't be done though, because you purchased this three months ago. This is proof that you did and are ineligible for a refund of the difference due to the current sale that has been placed three months after your purchase.” 

“And why not?!” Susan snapped as she became more and more irate as the conversation went on.

If you listened to a single word I’ve said thus far instead of spewing your toxic stupidity all over the place, maybe you’d already know the answer! “Because you bought it three months before the sale.”

“Young lady, this is completely unfair! If you were going to put it on sale, you should’ve never put it at full price! This is robbery! I am due proper compensation for such poor financial etiquette and discrimination!” Her voice grew shrill as she raised it. All Y/N wanted to do was slap a piece of tape over the brightly colored lips of the annoying customer and chuck the troublesome cup out the door with her.

“The only thing I am allowed to do is offer you another one at the discounted price. I cannot do anything else.”

“This is the most horrid customer service I have ever had in my life! How can you just stand there and deny a loyal paying customer what they want?! Where is your manager, I demand to speak with them!”

“I am the acting manager at this time.”Lucky me-not! “Even if I weren’t, the manager would have said the very same thing.”

“All you little brats act as a manager when it’s convenient to you! I swear, this generation is nothing but trouble, full of disrespect, and lying! I want to speak with the owner, Donavan, yes I do know him.” She smugly smirked.

“Mr. D is not in at this moment. He left for the evening two hours ago and will be back tomorrow. You’re welcome to come back at that time and speak with him.” Y/N flatly answered.

“No, call him now.” she slammed her manicured hand onto the counter, scaring some of the other customers and the other barista. A throbbing pain started to grow at Y/N’s temples as she took a few moments to keep her cool and not risk her job with a harsh response.

“Why don’t you call him? Since you say you know him so well, call him. Let him know that you’re harassing his employee for doing her job and following his rules implemented in his establishment.” A calm male voice called out from the end of the line. Everyone turned to find the owner, only to see a tall and strong looking biker with a helmet. He stepped forward and others made room for him. Pulling off his helmet, Y/N’s jaw fell open from shock at seeing Jason standing there.

He rides a motorcycle?! Of course he does! Wait, that’s not important! He’s going to cause trouble if this crazy lady actually calls Mr. D! Before she could try to de-escalate the situation, Jason turned so his back was to the register as he looked down at the rowdy customer. Y/N watched Susan’s face go from angry red to a blush pink the moment she laid eyes on the handsome young man. Straightening up her posture and adjusting her clothing, she turned to face Jason.

“I know how this might look just walking in, but she has been quite insolent this entire time. I am merely trying to teach her her place.” Her voice was calmer, sweeter, thick like molasses kind of sweet over a honeyed tone.

“Not from what I’ve seen since you walked up here. Did you forget you nearly hit a biker with your car and cursed them out? Hi, that biker was me. Now, get your drink and sit quietly or leave, or you can call the owner and he can check the CC footage to see what happened. You pick,” he calmly repeated. Y/N was not able to see the look in his eyes, but she could tell from the way Susan’s face paled that he was very intimidating. She quickly gathered her things, snatching the receipt as she hurried away to wait for her drink.

“Thanks for the help. I’m sorry you had to step in like that.” The genuine smile of relief she gave him was a direct shot to his heart, and the vigilante was none the wiser why. It injected warmth into his veins and filled his chest with immeasurable pride.

“Don’t mention it, I told you, I save damsels in distress. You just happen to be in distress more often than most.” He smirked and winked at her, earning an eye roll in response. “I’ll have to insist you clock out for the rest of the day though. You look exhausted and after all of that, you deserve a free night at the least.”

“Go on, Y/N. I’ll handle her drink. We told Cici already and she said to just clock out for the shift. She’s on her way now.” A coworker nudged her towards the back. “Don't keep your boyfriend waiting!”

“Yeah, you've covered enough of our shifts, go have fun!” The other joined in, ushering her through the back doors without giving her a chance to explain that they were not together like that. All she could do was sigh in defeat as she headed to the staff room to clock out and grab her things. This was a misunderstanding that could easily be fixed next time.

Returning to the front of the store, she avoided lengthy eye contact with her coworkers who were clearly having too much fun with this turn of events. One kept wiggling their eyebrows while the other was a fit of giggles. “C’mon Wonder Boy, let's go.” She grabbed his arm and led him back out the doors.

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali @antiquecultist

[spicybutterfly]

Lilac

Summary: On your way to your nail appointment, you run into the cutest, yet strangest boy you’ve ever met. 

Pairing: nonidol!Jimin x fem!reader

Genre: Strangers to lovers, Romance, Fluff, Non-Idol AU

Rating: 18+, MINORS DNI!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Explicit language, Nonconsensual grabbing (Jimin has no sense of personal space)

A/N: Hi everybody, it’s been a while! I wanted to put this out way earlier but I’ve been stupid busy with work and school so yeah, here it is halfway into the year loll. I proofread this myself so please excuse any mistakes. Also, I made this banner and I think it looks pretty good for my first time so please be nice or else I’ll cry ☉ᴗ☉

*Disclaimer all characters and events portrayed in my works are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persona or events is purely coincidental.*

Copyright © 2023 Spicybutterfly

All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for reading!♡

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It is 12:02 p.m. and you had thirteen minutes to make it to the nail salon for your scheduled appointment. Anxiously, you drummed your fingers against your steering wheel, nibbling at your bottom lip. This red light felt like it had been going on forever. You swear at least three songs have played over the radio already and you still had at least five more minutes to drive before you made it to Luxe Lacquer Nail Lounge. 

You weren’t too picky about your appointment time. A spot during the weekend was preferable, but if that wasn’t available any time after you got off of work would do. Unfortunately, neither of those two options was available to you. For some reason, your go to nail salon was virtually booked out for the next two weeks. Of course with your luck, the only spot they did have available was the most inconvenient to you. Twelve-fifteen on a Wednesday afternoon. 

Typically, on a Wednesday at noon, you’d be at work, hunched over typing away at your computer. The only possible way for you to make it to your appointment would be to go during your lunch break. Thankfully, they lasted an hour and your boss wasn’t too finicky about when you took them, as long as it wasn’t too early or too late in your work day. 

You couldn’t afford to miss this appointment. It had been practically a month since the last time you’d gotten your nails done and showed. You weren’t high maintenance per se, but keeping up your appearance was important and these nails simply were not it. Your cuticles were an atrocious sight, overgrown and brittle. The once neatly painted gel polish has lost its shine, now dull and chipping around the edges. Don’t even get me started on your shape, formerly a perfect square, straight across the top with sharp edges, now sported a rounded and blunt look. Your nails were in dire need of some TLC. 

“Finally,” you sighed out, pressing on the gas pedal as the light turned green. Briskly, you glanced over at the digital clock in your dashboard. 

12:03, twelve minutes left. 

Steadily, you continued your journey on the road trying your absolute hardest not to go over the speed limit. If you did happen to go over a mile or two, no one noticed. After three more excruciatingly long minutes, you eventually pulled into the plaza’s parking lot. 

The area was buzzing with people of all kinds. A group of people dining outside of a restaurant, young adults coming in and out of the grocery store, an elderly couple sharing an ice cream sundae, and a dad pushing his baby through the parking lot in a stroller.

“Come on, come on,” you mumbled, roaming around for a space.

Just ahead a black Chevy Silverado began to back out of its spot. A glimmer of hope spread throughout you as it seemed you were the first and only one to notice and would finally be able to park. Plus it was only two shops down from the salon! You pulled in behind them, giving them enough space to back out but at the same time showing them you were ready to move in. 

Just as they were almost completely backed out, you noticed just across from you an elderly woman driving an older Toyota Avalon. Through your windshield you could see how intently she was starting at your parking spot, inching forward as the Chevy rolled out. 

“Oh hell no!” you protested. This old lady was trying to steal your spot. Not today. 

 As soon as the Chevy was clear out of your way, you jerked your wheel to the left, simultaneously pressing firmly on the gas pedal. Your car swerved into the space before the old woman could even take her foot off the brakes. 

With squinted eyes, you watched as she begrudgingly drove away, flipping you the bird through her passenger window. 

You scuffed. The nerve of some people. 

After putting the gear into park, you shifted the key turning your car off before removing it completely. Snatching your purse from your passenger seat, you swung your driver’s side car door open, at last stepping out onto the concrete. 

The heat from the blazing sun warmed your skin instantly. Being blasted by the cool air from your car vents almost made you forget you were in the middle of summer. Internally, you thanked your past self for deciding to wear a flowy dress today instead of slacks.

12:10, five minutes left. 

If speedwalking in backless platform sandals were an Olympic sport, you'd be a gold medalist. You had no idea you could even move this fast. Rushing down the walkway, you dodged between the people crowding your path. Who knew it would be so jam-packed on a Wednesday afternoon? 

Relief immediately rushed through your body as the sight of the salon came into view. You made it with four minutes to spare. 

Just as you were about to enter the salon, your hand on the door handle, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. 

“Um, excuse me?” a smooth voice rang out.

With your hand still gripping the door handle you turned to face the stranger.

Before you was a man, but not just any man. He may honestly be the most beautiful man, or better yet, person you’ve ever seen.

 He looked around your age, maybe a couple of years older. Dressed in a cool-toned brown sweater and black slacks, he stood tall with quite impressive posture. Thick, fluffy black hair sat atop his head. A few strands lay delicately on his blemish-free forehead. Silver jewelry decorated his skin. His ears sported a pair of simple hoops dangling with every head movement. On his neck was a dainty chain necklace, it looked like it belonged to a designer brand. What caught your attention the most was the many rings that adorned his fingers. They shined prettily in the sunlight. 

The only way for you to describe his face was that of a fairytale prince. His eyes were tender and kind, a complete contrast to his sharp eyebrows but they paired well together. You wondered if he routinely got them threaded. His cheeks were round and breadlike, making you want to reach out and squish them against your better judgment. And don’t even get you started on his lips. They were the softest, plumpest pair of lips you’ve ever seen. You just know he goes through tubes and tubes of chapstick frequently.

 He smiled gently at you when your eyes finally met. Your heart fluttered. Whatever this guy was trying to sell, you just might have to buy.

“Hi, I’m sorry to disturb you but I-” With a voice as warm as his you could listen to him speak all day. But you were on a time crunch and now had three minutes before you had to go in for your appointment.

“Ahh, actually,” you interrupted wincing slightly. “I’m kinda in the middle of something. So if you’ll excuse me.” You turned away again, this time slightly opening the door. 

This time you felt him grip your free hand, intertwining your fingers with his.“Oh! This’ll only take a second I promise.” 

“What the hell!” you yelled, snatching your hand away with a quickness, spinning on your heels to face him again. Straight away this garnered the attention of a few strangers, looking nosily to see what was happening. 

“What is your problem?! I’m not interested in whatever you’re trying to sell!” You don’t care how attractive this man is, he’s definitely lost his mind.

He seemed surprised by his actions, staring back at you in shock with both eyes wide open. “I’m so sorry!” he rushed, waving his hands out in front of him. “I’m not trying to sell you anything, I swear! I just wanted to tell you that I thought you were gorgeous and that your hair looked beautiful! I never meant to offend you, really!”

He was a stranger to you. It was absolutely inappropriate of him to grab your hand without your permission. You had no obligation to believe a word he said. But there was just something about the sincerity in his voice that made it difficult for you to harbor any lingering anger. As crazy as it sounds he seemed genuine and you believed him.

“Oh,” you muttered, calmer now. “Still you can’t just grab people you don’t know, it's rude. And thank you.” You avoided his eyes, instead focusing on the loose thread at the bottom of his sweater. 

“Again, I’m sorry. My friends remind me all the time about how handsy I can be. I’m working on it. And, you’re welcome.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m Jimin,” the man, or Jimin grinned, sticking his hand out towards you to shake. You looked at his hand before looking at his face. His eyes were nearly completely shut with how hard he was smiling. It was insanely endearing. 

You replied with your name, shaking his hand in return. The softness of his skin didn’t surprise you at all, you could tell he took good care of himself

“Going to get your nails done?” Jimin questioned, nodding his head towards the salon. 

“Mhmm,” you confirmed, looking at your hand as you inspected your overgrown nails. “I’m in need of a long overdue manicure. I actually have to go in for my appointment in about-” You looked at your wristwatch. “Two minutes.”

“Have you decided on a color yet?”

“Not yet. I was thinking of maybe getting-” You cut yourself off at the feeling of Jimin taking your hand in his once again. Ignoring the butterflies that instantly fluttered through you, you watched as he brought your hand in front of his face. You almost giggled aloud at the vision before you. He looked like a mad scientist, examining your hand that close to his face.

“You really do have no sense of personal space, huh?”

“I think you should get…” he paused for a moment thinking to himself. “Purple.”

“Purple?”

“Mhm,” he confirmed, nodding. “But not just any purple. Maybe a pastel purple? Like ..lilac! Yeah, lilac! I think that would look really pretty against your skin.” With a satisfied smile, gently, he let your hand fall back to its previous position. 

You felt your whole body flush with warmth. You know if you were lighter you’d definitely be blushing all over. Thank goddess for your brown skin. 

To mask your shyness, you grabbed your phone out of your purse checking the time. Yeah, you were wearing a watch but you needed to look away from him before you exploded. 12:16. Oh shit! 

“I’m late!” you shrieked, turning back towards the salon. “It was nice meeting you, Jimin, but I gotta go.” It was really nice talking to Jimin, but you weren’t missing this appointment for anyone.

“Wait!” He called, coming up beside you.

 “You should send me a picture.” You raised an eyebrow.

 “Of your nails! You should send me a picture of your nails when they’re done, I mean. You know because I suggested the color. But only if you want to, of course, no pressure!” 

Jimin twisted the ring on his left pointer finger, awaiting your answer. You thought his sudden nervousness was sweet. 

Usually, it would take a lot more for you to give your number out. Especially to a random stranger you’d only met and known for a couple of minutes. You’d seen too many true crime documentaries for that. But Jimin raised no red flags to you. Sure he was a little weird and awkward but he was also sweet and charming. To be quite honest you enjoyed spending these past few minutes with him, and you wouldn’t mind seeing him again. 

“What’s your number?” you smiled unlocking your phone. Jimin grinned again, eyes nearly shut and cheeks raised high, before reciting his number to you.

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You were so damn lucky you had history with your nail tech, Sandra, or else you would’ve been out of luck. You didn’t make it to your appointment on time, in fact, you were three minutes late. It may or may not have something to do with you and Jimin giggling over which photo to use as his contact picture in your phone. 

The pure look of irritation on Sandra’s face when you finally did make it inside the salon to check in at the front desk nearly made you visibly wince. You knew you were being an inconvenience, coming in late even though you were standing right outside of the salon. But c'mon, you were only three minutes late! It’s not like you arrived an hour later or no called no showed. Still though, it was rude of you and you made sure to apologize and leave her a hefty tip for being a bother.

Back in the front seat of your car, you admired your nails. No matter how irritated your Sandra was, she still killed this set! You opted for your usual square shape, you couldn’t see yourself veering away from it, it just had such a polished look. For your nail color, you were stuck between three shades of purple that could be considered lilac. Instead of wrecking your brain, you sent a picture to Jimin letting him pick the shade closest to the one he envisioned and he did not disappoint. Delicate yet bold, the lilac complimented your skin tone perfectly. You’re not sure if this was a color you would’ve ever chosen on your own and you’re so glad Jimin suggested it for you. They were simple but cute and you loved them!

Posing your left hand you snapped a quick pic of your new nails before sending it over to Jimin. 

Cute?

He responded almost instantly. 

Jimin (◠‿◠)

Very! See, I told you it would look good :)) 

Whatever lol, I guess you did an ok job.

Jimin (◠‿◠)

I think what you meant to say was. Thank you so much, Jimin!

You rolled your eyes before responding. 

Thank you, Jimin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you! You are truly god sent!

Just then your phone began to vibrate, Jimin’s contact and goofy contact picture popped up on your screen. You clicked the answer button before it could ring a second time. 

“You’re so very welcome, _____! I’m glad I could be of assistance to you!” Though you couldn’t see his face, the smile was present in his voice. You laughed aloud, thinking of a response. You definitely didn’t want this to be your last time speaking to Jimin. There was an obvious connection between you and it would be silly of you not to explore it. Hopefully, you weren’t reading the situation wrong and he was just as interested in you as you were in him. 

“Hey, um, what are you doing later today, around let’s say 5:30-ish? My appointment took a little longer than expected so I can’t pick up any lunch and I was wondering if you would like to try that new pizzeria downtown with me?” you asked, heart hammering in your chest. You felt like a teenager talking to her crush for the first time. It’s been a while since you’ve done something like this. You’ve been so focused on work recently, hardly allowing yourself any free time. Dating just wasn’t at the forefront of your mind.

Restlessly, you drummed your fingers against your steering wheel awaiting his answer.

Jimin hummed as he thought. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Oh shit.“Huh!? A date! I wa- uh I mean-” “Because if you are,” Jimin interrupted, ceasing your rambling. “Then I would say yes. I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You actually beat me to it. I wanted to ask you out for ice cream after your appointment.” 

“Oh!” you voiced. “Well, we can always go after the pizza?”

“I'd like that.”

“Okay! Cool,” you grimaced at your response. Gosh, why were you so nervous?

“Cool,” he giggled. “I’ll see you there, then?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there,” you smiled, giddy all over. Bringing your phone from your ear, you pressed the end call button. It took a moment for the realization to set in. Did that really just happen? Before you knew it an elated squeal escaped your lips. Nerves now replaced with excitement, you began your journey back to work, eagerly looking forward to your date with Jimin.

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Copyright © 2023 Spicybutterfly

All right reserved.

Distribution, copying, reposting, or translating of any kind is not permitted. I will take legal action against those who attempt to steal my work.

[navybrat817]

Epinephrine

Summary: Bucky races to win as you watch with anticipation.

Pairing: Motocross!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Nerves, K-I-S-S-I-NG, swearing, POV switch, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @saradika. Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: My third Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 3) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in my Dialed In AU, but can be read as a standalone. Apologies for any inaccuracies, but I'm human and still had fun writing this.❤️ Thank you @targaryenvampireslayer for the POV switch suggestion! Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Epinephrine. Both a hormone and a neurotransmitter, the chemical messenger transmits nerve signals to prepare your body for fight or flight. Most call it adrenaline. Some liken it to pre-race jitters.

Bucky considered it his own personal fuel.

Just breathe.

It amazed him how so many wrote off motocross as just another sport without considering the physical and mental training they put into it or how dangerous it was. Position, weight distribution, and correct form on the bike were all things to consider when practicing and racing. Not to mention no two tracks are alike, the conditions constantly changing. You had to take the hills, jumps, turns, and distance for your own safety and those around you.

He mentally wished Steve and the others a safe race, even Rumlow. Prick or not, he didn’t want the guy to get hurt. He sure as hell didn't want to lose to him either.

"For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t hit him. Because he would have won and guys like him don’t deserve to win."

No, he doesn't.

His heart raced a little faster, his right palm starting to sweat as the nerves and excitement clashed in his chest. The knot in his stomach settled as he waited for the race to start, his focus on the path in front of him. The rough terrain ahead called to him, urging him to unleash whatever anger, fear, joy, and anything he had built up inside. He would go all out, leaving no regrets in his path.

All leading to you after he crossed the finish line.

"Good luck."

Gave me all the luck I need, Spitfire.

With your voice in his mind, it quieted any doubt that lingered. He knew his strengths and even his limits when it came to the sport. Getting back on the bike after his accident already proved that he was a winner. He didn't need to prove himself to anyone else.

But he hoped you would see his worth.

And as the gate dropped, he smiled behind his helmet.

You grabbed Natasha's arm as the riders took off, keeping an eye out for Bucky. She didn't pull away or make a comment when you dug your nails in. You appreciated her a bit more because of that. You also didn't understand why you were nervous when you weren't the one on the track.

I've seen plenty of races, but I didn't have anything at stake before.

"Sorry," you muttered as you let the redhead go.

"It's okay. He's got this," she assured you.

You nodded, doing your best to give her a smile. A mile and a half long course and likely a twenty to thirty minute race and extra lap, you knew it was standard. But watching the dirt fly as you focused on Bucky's helmet, your heart felt like it was in your throat. You didn't just want him to win, you wanted him safe.

Just breathe. He knows what he's doing.

"If he gets hurt, I'm kicking his ass," you said, sucking in a breath as another rider got close to his back wheel.

"And nurse him back to health," Natasha teased.

"Yeah. With a uniform and all," you teased, actually kind of into the idea.

Down girl.

You got uncharacteristically quiet after that, your stomach dropping when Maddox gained on Bucky. He was still in a good position, his friend, Steve, up there with him. It was almost like witnessing a roller coaster ride, the ups and downs, the twists and drops. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you could only imagine how the guys out there felt actually experiencing it.

Exhilarating.

As the riders got close to the final lap, you jumped up. You somehow stayed on your feet when your head spun, but you weren't going to miss this. Bucky and Maddox were almost neck-in-neck, but Maddox probably thought he had it in the bag. That kind of cockiness didn't always pay off.

You sure as hell didn’t want it to pay off today.

"Come on, Hothead," you whispered.

While Maddox turned his head to look at Bucky, the latter kept his head facing forward and elbows up. As if he didn't care that his competition was there. He raced smarter, not harder, as you watched with bated breath. He kept his lead toward the finish line as you couldn’t help but smile.

Bucky Barnes won the race.

He won. He fucking won.

"Fuck yes!" you shouted, uncaring of your language as Bucky took first, his left fist pumping in the air. The way everyone else cheered, they probably didn't notice. But you finally felt like you could take a proper breath, the mental ride coming to a stop. "For the record, I'm just happy he made it across the finish line. This has nothing to do with the date."

I can actually smell my own bullshit.

"Wow. You managed to say that with a straight face. Impressive," Natasha said, nodding toward the course as the race wrapped up. "Come on. Let's go congratulate him. And by we I mean you."

"He raced a good race. It was very exciting," you said evenly, but you eagerly pulled her along to get out of the stands and through the crowd.

You weren’t sure if you were actually allowed to go up to greet him, but people moved to let you through. Was it your strut or Natasha’s subtle stare that made everyone jump out of the way? As you got closer to Bucky and the other riders, you felt like your heart was going to race out of your chest when you stopped at the edge of the course. Especially when took off his helmet, a light sheen of sweat on his face as he shook his hair out.

Fuck me in the dirt, please.

“Go,” Natasha encouraged after some of the guys congratulated Bucky, except for Maddox who stood feet away with a glare on his face.

Sore loser doesn’t look good on him, but he’s not why I’m here.

Holding your head high, you locked eyes with Bucky when he looked your way. Seemingly forgetting the others around him, he walked toward you to meet you halfway when you stepped in the dirt. The two of you stood there for a long moment before he smirked. A slight one, but still a smirk.

“Looks like I won,” he said, his voice rough.

“You did. Congratulations,” you said, stepping back to hold out your hand. “And it looks like you get to go out with me, so double congratulations,” you simpered, previous annoyance that he bet a date with you completely forgotten.

“Are we shaking on it?” he chuckled, his gloved hand reaching for yours. A spark of electricity moved up your arm once he took it and you refused to deny your attraction at that moment.

“You could say that,” you smirked, yanking him close. “But I prefer to seal it with a kiss.”

You took a moment to appreciate how soft and warm his lips felt when you initiated the kiss this time. You allowed his tongue to slip inside and explore when you parted your lips, feeling the beat of his heart as he pressed his chest against your body. It wasn’t hard or urgent, but excitement and passion consumed you. It didn’t matter if he got your clothes dirty. Or that a few of the riders whistled and cheered at the display.

He smiled against your lips when you had to take a breath. “I thought you said you weren’t a prize.”

“And I thought you said your ass was all mine after you win,” you reminded him, almost wishing you reached around to squeeze it. Even dirty and sweaty, he still looked and smelled amazing. It was a phenomenon.

“I did and I meant it,” he said, sneaking in another kiss before he had to pull away. “You sticking around?”

“I’ll be with Nat. Go do what you have to,” you said, turning away to back to your friend. She had a smile on her face. You had one on yours, too.

“I still have to get your number, so don’t go anywhere!” Bucky called after you.

“Who said I was giving you my number?” you asked over your shoulder. “I never agreed to that.”

“How am I supposed to take you on a date without it?” he asked.

“You seem like a smart guy. You’ll figure it out, Hothead,” you teased, egging him on just a little.

“Want me to get on my knees, Spitfire?”

Yes and split me open with that talented tongue of yours.

“She’ll give you her number,” Natasha said, waving Bucky on as you laughed. You may have checked his ass out again because he did say it was yours. And he no doubt checked yours out as you walked away. “You are giving him your number before we leave.”

“I will,” you promised, giving her a small smile. “I’m glad you introduced me to him,” you added gently, looking forward to getting to know him more.

“And I’m glad you put a smile back on his face.”

Hearing that felt like a victory.

I guess we’re both winners today, Hothead.

Yay! He won! Was there ever any doubt? More to come. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[gingernut1314]

The Luck Child - Chapter 3: Discussions of Pain and Chaos

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy throws a temper tantrum and you are less than happy to sit around and wait for him than his senior officers. Especially when your position on his crew has yet to be decided.

Warnings: spoilers for the anime (Marineford Arc and onward), canon divergence, canon typical violence

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: This is done in collaboration with the wonderful @fanaticsnail and her Sapsorrow series--go read it if you haven't already!!! And thank you @i-am-vita for creating the beautiful banner and storyteller collab masterlist!!

↞ to The Luck Child Masterlist | The Storyteller Collab Masterlist | Buggy the Clown Masterlist | One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

Buggy had been a snapping firecracker of chop-chopped limbs, screeching and screaming, angered tears, and cruses upon Red-Haired Shanks’ name. A firecracker that burned bright and fast, flying off to bar himself within his large, red and white striped tent, now very crinkled map in hand. 

There had been throwing and the sound of crashing and then--silence. Utter silence that had lasted for longer than you could have ever believed the clown could stay as such. 

So long, you were beginning to convince yourself he had died. There was no other logical option, really. Because the Buggy you knew could not physically keep his mouth shut even if it was to save his life.

But firecrackers were, if anything else, short-lived things.

His senior officers seemed utterly unphased by Buggy’s temper tantrum. 

Cabaji had walked off to shout commands and insults at his subordinates fixing their Captian’s ship, the Big Top, while the rest sat just before Buggy’s tent in chairs made of wax. 

You paced. Had been pacing since Buggy had locked himself in his tent and continued to pace as Galdino came back over to the assembled group with a silver tray in hand. Intricately designed porcelain tea cups full of steaming dark-amber liquid sat on top of it, a matching teapot in the middle. 

You watched, turning back around to pace before the tent flaps, as Galdino handed Alvida one of the cups. Watched her, from her spot on a wax-made couch she lounged out upon, take the tea from him, an all-too-pleasant thank you leaving her red painted lips. Lips that pulled up in the smallest of smiles for the man. Galdino nodded his head, a near-matching smile on his face. 

You turned on your heels once more, after making it to the other end of the tent, and headed back for the other side as Galdino handed Mohji a cup as well. The fur-covered first mate nodded his thanks and took a sip of tea, a pleased hum on his lips. His larger-than-normal lion, whose name you remembered was Richie, napped at his feet like some overgrown cat.

Galdino turned towards you and your pacing body, his lips thinning. 

“Would you like a cup? It’s earl grey--made the bled myself just yesterday.” He spoke, pride welling in his voice at such a fact. 

You paused in your pacing. Paused and stood perfectly still as he came up to you, taking your settledness as welcome. 

You lifted a hand to take the delicate cup from his, Galdino grinning at you. 

“See? Isn’t the simple pleasure of a nice cup of tea much better than such--” You grinned a wolfishly wicked thing in his face as you sharply threw the cup away, it shattering into little pieces against the hard surface of a nearby rock, which grew damp from the spilled, homemade tea. “...brutish nonsense.” The former Mr. 3 finished, a deep frown cutting down his face. “That was a part of a set.” He snapped.

“Boo. Hoo.” You answered, starting up your pace once more. 

“It’s not worth trying to tame such a savage beast.” Alvida’s silky smooth voice spoke as she raised the porcelain to her lips, sharp eyes tracking Galdino as he started for his own wax-made chair next to her couch. “It’s best to either give them a wide berth or hunt them down for sport.” 

“You might be right. And she does have such a nice bounty on her head.” Galdino mused, sitting down all prim and properly in his chair. Alvida took a sip of her tea, turning her head so she could continue to glance his way.

“Then why vogue for her in such a way? We would do best to get rid of her. Stray animals should stay as such.” She said with a smirk and another sip of tea.

“Because, dear, what a nice asset she would be to us if she were domesticated.” Galdino took a sip from his own cup, turning his gaze onto Alvida with a growing smirk of his own. “Maybe we would do best to invest in a shock collar. That would keep her from causing too much mayhem.” Alvida gave a luscious chuckle. 

“If we are to keep her, dear, then we best invest now.” You ignored their taunting, finding it not worth your time. Especially when your time was already being wasted waiting around for that pathetic excuse of a man still hiding away in his tent.

“How much longer does he expect us to wait around for him to sulk?” You snapped, turning sharply on your heels once more to march back over the white sand you had been leaving a consistent trail of boot marks in.

“We find it best to…leave the captain be when he gets like this,” Mohji spoke, taking a sip of tea. “He’ll come around…soon enough.” 

“Soon enough is not good enough. He should be out here discussing a play of action.” Mohji winched at your words.

“I would not push him.” You snarled at the fur-covered man who all but sunk into his chair as if to get away from your wrath. His lion stirred, seemingly sensing his master's unease. 

“Galdino, dear, make a note to also purchase a muzzle.” Alvida’s voice hummed. 

“Yes. Our budget definitely would allow for that as well.” You turned your snarl onto them. 

You would only take so many slights against your name.

“You best remember Galdino that I will take no such disrespect from you or anyone.” You hissed, making the man pale. Alvida only laughed, its ambrosian ring floating over the soft breeze, not understanding the true meaning behind your words. 

Galdino was best to remember that you still held power over him. Best to remember you held his daughter’s life in your hands and that one simple call would send her into the pits of hell. 

“And what will you do, wild woman? You are trying to join our crew and you have been doing very little to earn your place.” What you would do to that woman had her words not rang true. What utter carnage you would have wrought against her and this crew she belonged to if you didn’t have this mission to complete.

You snarled at her for a moment longer, a moment long enough for her to take yet another sip of her tea and swallow before you barged into the tent you had been pacing before. 

You would drag that fool from his den before you sat there any longer and allowed that woman to insult you. 

Darkness enveloped you. A darkness only broken up by the round hole in the apex of the tent, which allowed the smoke from the fire at the center to escape through. The fire flickered and swayed at the sudden rush of wind you had created in your rush. 

Its swaying light illuminated more of the space. Illuminated a broken desk, shattered mugs, and torn papers. Brightly colored clothes lay sprawled over the floor, causing the fire’s light to reflect off the sparkles and gems on them to shine like a sea of diamonds. Glass beer bottles rattled together as you slowly made your way through the large space towards a pile of pillows that looked like some strange birds nest.

And in that nest, laying on his front, body parts chop-chopped apart, and flowing blue hair splayed around his head, was Buggy the Clown. 

He was quiet. 

Too quiet. 

You’re earlier thought crossed your mind in a flash.

He looked dead. 

Maybe he was--died of his red-hot dramatics. 

What an easy mission that would make, but you knew your luck wasn’t that great. Knew Buggy’s “prophesied” luck was stronger than your own and he was still alive under that sea of blue hair and fluffy blankets. 

“...Buggy?” You questioned, coming to a stop just before his bed space began. 

He didn’t answer. He didn’t move. 

It pissed you off. 

Submission. You had to be--supportive of your new captain's antics. 

Gods--it almost made you want to gag. 

You made your way into his bed space, stepping over pillows and blankets to come to a stop next to him. 

“Buggy?” You tried again, but once more he remained silent as the grave. It was almost eerily how silent he was being. 

With a huff and a manhandling of your will and pride, you sat down next to him and---

Pffffffrrrrrfffttttt. 

The tent grew still once more.

A--a fart…that had been a release of gas-made air. 

Had he--no--that ghastly sound had come from under you, but you knew good and well that you had done no such thing. 

Buggy moved then. 

A small shake of his shoulder that grew so powerful that it began to rock his whole body up and down. 

Buggy was laughing at you. A laugh so intense it was utterly quiet. 

You reached under you and grabbed up the deflated pink, rubber cushion beneath you. 

A whoopee cushion. 

Of course Buggy had planted a whoopee cushion for you to fall for. 

Buggy gave a deep inhale of breath before belting out the loudest, funkiest laugh you’ve ever heard him produce. One that had your anger stifling, if just for a moment, to listen to the utter joy your personal embarrassment had brought him.

“Good one.” You grit, throwing the whoopee cushion at him. Buggy hardly seemed to feel it or care as he turned his head to look up at you, his blue hair cascading over his face and blocking some of his smudged and running make-up. He looked--almost too beautiful in that moment. 

It made you want to chop-chop his head off and punt it into the sea.

“Holy shit! I’m--I’m--BWAHAHAH!!” Another fit of laughter overtook his words, tears brimming at the corners of his cyan eyes. “I’m--I’m sorry but holy shit! You’ve gotta admit I gotcha good!” You clenched your fists tightly in your lap to keep from beating the absolute shit out of the clown laying next to you.

“...you got me.” You said, teeth hardly even letting you get the words out. It only threw Buggy into yet another laughing fit, one accompanied by the slamming of his fist on the ground and feet kicking. 

“I did! I really did!” You let him continue his hysterics, knowing you would prefer to deal with a teasing, happy Buggy, than a Buggy who wouldn’t speak. 

But that silence that had lived in the tent before his prank filtered back in, stealing his laughter and smile and filling those bright eyes with those haunting shadows he had almost convinced you had ceased to exist. You watched him as he let his head fall into his awaiting hands, the heels of his plam digging into his eyes in a rough manner that would further smudge his clown-like make-up. 

It made your skin crawl. Mabe your anger roll in your chest, your fist begging to hit something. 

You forced your fingers to uncoil from their pale knuckled hold on themselves. Forced yourself to think your re-sparked anger was because he had laughed in your face…not because his quiet was making you feel--strange. Not because whoever had put that hauntingly hurt look in his eyes was pissing you off just for daring to make his brightest fall away. A hurt you were carefully piecing together must have something to do with Red-Hair. 

People didn’t just have that kind of reaction to a Jolly Rodger they hadn’t memorized--hadn’t let burn into the forefront of their mind and rage shimmer in their veins at its mere sight. 

No. Nope. Your anger had nothing to do with any of that. 

“I didn’t know the map had anything to do with that Emperor.” You spoke low and slow as if you were approaching some sort of wild beast. Buggy scoffed at you, rolling his head in his head to look back up at you. 

“Of course, you didn’t know. You didn’t even think to smell the damn map.” Buggy said like it was utterly ridiculous that you hadn’t thought of that. 

“Who smells a fucking map?”

“Any pirate who has a true heart for the hunt. Obviously.” You rolled your eyes as you pulled one of your legs out from its crossed position so that you could rest your forearm on your knee, leaning down closer to the clown. 

“Obviously the map wasn’t for me. I care more for the wildness of the adventure than any treasure at its end.” That spark of brightness began to filter back into his eyes as a teasing smirk tugged at his lips. 

“That makes us perfect together then, huh? I like the shininess of gold and silver and you like the shininess of blood and marrow.” You couldn’t help that wolfish grin of yours from pulling to your lips at his words. 

“That I do. Which is why I make such a wondrous addition to your crew.” Those cyan eyes scanned over your face, lingering on your lips for far longer than you liked. Your fists were clenched into fists at the rising beat of your heart, ready to strike him in his far too loud mouth. 

“I still can’t wrap my head ‘round that, Minnow. You don’t like me. You don’t like my crew. You were once a part of a crew whose membership I hear is very difficult to earn. I know your nature well enough to know you wouldn’t just give that up without a true reason.” You watched Buggy who watched you with those eyes of his. Eyes you would never admit had found their way into the shadows of your dreams. Eyes that had your fluttering heart turned blazing in red-hot anger. 

“I’ve already told you. I saw you fight at Marineford and--”

“Cut the crap!” He shouted, rushing to sit up on his knees. To tower over you, grabbing hold of your shirt so that he could yank you closer to his bared teeth. 

Close. How close he had grown. And that anger. Oh, that utterly wild anger had your toes curling in your boots.

Your muscles and temper wanted to grab him and break his hand for ever thinking of touching you, but your brain sharply reminded you once more to submit. 

“You ain’t tryin’ to join me 'cause you saw some fuckin’ broadcast. You ain’t tryin’ to join me 'cause you think I’m powerful. There’s somethin’ you want. What is it?” Buggy hissed in your face. 

Submit, submit, submit.

You grinned up at him, pulling yourself onto your own knees so you could press your breasts into his chest and run a hand over the warm skin of his exposed arm, which was flexed from the hold he had over you. Buggy watched you in pure shock as his face grew redder and redder with each passing moment.

“What I want,” You purred, letting your eyes greedily drink in the thin curve of his lips beneath the smudged paint. “Is to serve you. I want to be your weapon. I want you to wield me however you choose against whomever you choose. I want to see you achieve greatness.” Those eyes of his, so wide and full of disbelief, fluttered to your own lips. 

“But--but you hate me.” His voice grew soft, near whispering along with the loosening of his fingers around your shirt.

“The past is in the past.” You saw that hurt flash in his eyes. That haunting darkness. “Shall I kill off that Red-Haired Emperor for you to prove my loyalty?” Buggy blinked, snapping himself out of whatever haunting pasts had started to invade his mind.

Good.

“W-what? No. You wouldn’t last a second against that guy.” You shrugged on an agreeing nod.

“Yes…but his crew isn’t as unbeatable. I could select one of his senior officers, hum…let’s say their Doctor, to wipe off the chess board. It would be an assassination of stealth--of shadows. It would leave them scrambling to figure out how it had happened. Who had done it. Leave them distracted--hurting.” Buggy’s breath hitched as you continued to speak, bringing your voice low and filling it with honey-thick and sultry tones. 

“I would then go for his chef, then his sharpshooter, and on and on until I get to that pesky first mate of his. Now he would be tougher to kill. I would have to catch him off guard, and on guard he would be after such a massacre of his men. Get him at his weakest state--in his blind spot and strike. Your crew could handle the rest of his underlings and then poor Red-Haired Shanks would be left to wallow in his mourning. He would be weak and utterly alone.” You brought your lips ever closer to his, which parted on a stuttering inhale of air. 

“And then, if you commanded it, I would go for Red-Hair himself. A little poison in the drink he would no doubt be drowning himself in would weaken him enough to make it ever so easy to,” You ghosted your fingers over his neck, feeling Buggy’s rapidly beating pulse and the bob of his Adams Apple on a sharp swallow, “take his head.” 

Buggy watched you for a long moment, tongue wetting his lips and pupils growing with each passing moment he stayed within such close proximity of you. And for a few of those moments, you thought he might try to close that distance. And you might have let him that close again, especially after getting yourself all worked up on such discussions of pain and chaos. 

“Fuck--” Buggy cursed on a huff of air, those eyes of his narrowing as he tried to refocus himself. “I forgot how fuckin’ crazy you are.” You hummed in agreement, fingers continuing to touch his skin. Skin that was all too warm and inviting. 

“And all my instantly is yours now, captain.” Buggy gave that funky laugh of his, a smile pulling at the edge of his lips.

“You’re truly persistent, ain’t ya?” You nodded, thumb brushing over the stumble of his jaw. Buggy shook his head in amusement, finally letting go of your shirt as he flopped back amongst the various pillows that made up his bed space to rub at his face.

“Fine.” He said, voice muffled by his gloved hands. You huffed a smirk, crawling your way over so that you could peer down at him and his sea of blue hair sprawled out around him. 

“Fine…what?” You lulled, peeling one of his hands away from his face so he could look at you. That blush you had pulled from him moments ago dusted over his skin upon finding you kneeling over top of him.

“Alvida is gonna kill me.” He groaned, brows furrowing. 

“And is she your captain?” Buggy gave a huffing chuckle at your question.

“Technically she’s my co-captain. We have this alliance goin’.” You narrowed your eyes down at him, making that blush only deepen. “B-But ya know that’s--she kinda just does her own thing--follows me around. I’m the captain.” You nodded, leaning ever the more closer as your grin yanked at your lips once more.

“Good. I will not serve under her. I will only serve under you.” Buggy swallowed, those alluring eyes of his scanning over your face rapidly. 

“Heh--yeah. Und-under me.” He cleared his drying throat, that blush continuing to bloom. “Yep. On my crew--serving me.” You boredly blinked at his ramblings. 

“What shall your first command be, captain?” You asked, making the clown clear his throat once more.

“Right. Command. Well--if we’re gonna find this treasure, we’re gonna need to find Shanks.” Buggy said, bitting the name of the red-haired emperor out, that anger you so enjoyed seeing flashing through his eyes. 

“And like I said before, I am exceptional at gathering hard-to-get information. I will find him for you.” You said, pulling yourself up and away from the man who you now officially called captain. 

A gloved hand shot out to grab your wrist before you could stand, pulling your blistering hot attention back onto him. 

Submit. Your brain screamed, but your body wanted to punch him right in that rounded nose of his for continuing to touch you.

“No grand assassination attempts--though very flashy indeed.” You nodded, your head, going once more to stand but his hand held firm. “How are you going to find him?” 

“There is a large town on one of the islands bordering this one I will go to ask around. Maybe find a Marine--”

“Minnow, you ain’t gonna find any Marines here.” You blinked down at him, calming your raging anger. “This island is home to one of the biggest pirate havens around. Hidden away from the watchful eye of the World Government. It’s why I came here. Needed to get off the Marine’s radar for a little while.” You almost scoffed at him.

If only he knew he’d let one right into his confidence. 

“Oh?” You said in your stifled angered state. It was all you could say without lashing out at him. 

You hadn’t heard of any pirate haven on this island. The people of the town you had talked to said nothing of it, even after your bribes of knowing more about this island. All they had said it was full of was sand and forest and the Buggy Pirates who had washed ashore the night prior. 

Luck child. Your brain purred back at you. A purr you shoved down to keep your anger from spiking any further. 

“Oh?” Buggy said, a smirk growing on his painted lips as he pulled himself to sit up once more. “You don’t know? And here I thought you were exceptional at gathering hard-to-find information.”

Oh, how you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. To beat him into a pulp before he ever thought to question your skills again. 

Submit, submit, submit. It made your weakly caged anger rile in its chains. 

“I am. But I was not in need of finding any pirate heaven here. I was in need of finding you.” That blush was back in seconds, his mouth falling open and shut like a suffocating fish. 

“Heh--right.” He chuckled awkwardly, letting you go and allowing you to stand. 

“I’ll find this pirate heaven and I will find that emperor for you by the time your ship is ready to set sail tonight.” You said, bowing your head in show of respect before turning on your heels to leave. 

“Uh--wait!” Buggy called the sounds of him scrambling to get up sounding behind you. 

“Yes, captain?” You asked, clenching your fists as you faced the disheveled man.

“I’ll come with you.” Your anger rolled in its cage once more. “I don’t think I trust ya to get there without gettin’ lost.” He said on another chuckle meant to tell you he was only teasing. It did nothing but heat your anger further.

“Of course. Your knowledge of this heaven will be useful.” You said through slightly grit teeth as the clown came sauntering up to you. 

“Exactly what I was thinkin’, Minnow.” He said, that wide grin of his pulling to his face as he leaned close into you again. You allowed it, your attention being stolen by those damn eyes on his once more. “And hey, maybe we’ll have a little bit of fun together.”

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Tag List: @lostfirefly , @mydearlybeloathed , @sordidmusings , @fanshavegottensotoxic , @khaleesihavilliard, @sukilovesyou

[midnight-ranger-general-jiyan]

((

My luck in WuWa has so far been the best in all of the Gacha games and it has become a curse in some manner.

I have a S1 Jiyan with his signature weapon

I have S1 Calcharo

I have S1 Encore

I have S0 Lingyang.

All of these came relatively early (not high pity circumstances. Calcharo was my choice in the free 5 star selector and the beginner banner selector. Lingyang came in the standard banner. Encore came in the first begginer banner and as loss of 50/50 in my first 10 pull in Jiyan's banner)

I think I have all the 4 stars in the game.... except... Aalto! And he is the one four star (apart from Mortefi who I have) that I want. Ugh...

Sent this to my friend the other day but I am still salty about it.

Me: Oh wait! Aalto is in Yinlin's banner. Let me pull for him.

*several pulls later*

Me: still no Aalto. Hmm.. let's pull carefully.

*pulls one wish to get a Baizhi con.*

Me: Oh okay. She's my healer, I can use her con. Let me pull another.

*pulls another wish to get a Yuanwu con*

Me: Not Peepaw (my friend calls him that and I think it is hilarious!) Okay, one more pull.

*pulls another wish to get a 4 star broadblade called discord.*

Me: wtf... still no Aalto?

*pulls again and the dreaded thing happens. The tide turns gold.*

Me: please let me lose 50/50, please let it be a Calcharo or Verina. Please.

Yinlin: What's that look on your face for? Surprised to see me?

Me: 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

I DIDN'T EVEN WANT YOU. I DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH ECHO XP MATERIAL TO BUILD YOU!!!!!!! ))

[gx-gameon]

Episode 27

Syrus finding out Professor Banner is up to some shady things.

I’m sorry the runes that have a tomb in them? Where shadow games used to happen? Seto Kaiba I have some questions for you about your school.

I love how well Jaden knows his friends. Alexis tells him that these runes are where the shadow games took place and his first thought is sweet we can find clues about your brother!

“You get pizza and we get… whatever it is I’m holding!” Curse you dub writers!! That is Onigiri and it’s delicious. I won’t forgive this blasphemy.

Backpack Pharaoh!!! And so it begins

Not Pharaoh starting everything because he pawed at an ancient object. The most realistic thing here is a cat causing problems on purpose.

Jaden please listen to winged Kuriboh when he tells you to run

Jaden what do you mean you’ll lead the storm away?? Take cover. As much as I blame his friends in later seasons for making Jaden solve their problems he really does have a hero complex. The boy needs to learn to value himself.

Really duel spirit Winged Kuriboh!! I forgot we got this so early on. Jaden is so excited about being able to touch Winged Kuriboh.

The grave keepers??? Oh that has to be weird for AU Jaden who knows the tomb keepers.

Offta all of his friends are in coffins and he has 5 spears pointed at his throat.

“If it’s for my friends Tehran there is no doubt I’ll win.” “Buried alive? Then who will save my friends?” Jaden I love his selfless you are but please worry about yourself to.

“Good luck Jaden we are all rooting for you very very much” - banner. “Jaden!” - Syrus. “Come one Jaden save us.” - Chumley. While they are all tied up doing nothing. And so it begins. Jaden the savior. We shall sit back and not try to save ourselves and how Jaden wins a card game for our lives.

I do love Jaden mentally communicating with Winged Kuriboh.

Jaden why didn’t you attack? He only has a face down monster card on the field. Like you could have taken one monster out and then you wouldn’t have been attacked twice in the next turn. It would have only been once and bubble man would have blocked most of the damage.

Especially since this duel is real!

Au Jaden knows that this is so dangerous. He’s in the spirit world dueling with real damage with all his friends lives in the line

Way to give up on your student professor banner.

Episode 28

“Hey winged kuriboh you always have my back!” “He’s not a weakling he’s my very best friend.” Love the Kuriboh love

“I summon myself” ah our first duel against a duel spirit. It’s so wild how the person you’re fueling can just run over and attack you.

“Behold the power of the shadow game” Jaden falls to his knees “shadow games”

What a crazy moment for Au Jaden who grew up hearing of but never seeing or playing a shadow game. (Well he did earlier this season but still it’s a shock to the system every time.) He has to be freaking out. He knows how dangerous this is.

“You should have attacked faster.” I love that this implies that the monsters have control over how quickly the attacks land. (Which is the point she’s alive and doesn’t want Jaden to die.) but it’s funny hearing someone blame their monster. Plus Jaden’s “it’s not her fault you messed up!” Yes Jaden call him out

Jaden just got impaled and attacked by magic. He’s physically suffering. And he’s laughing. You maniac. He’s having a fun duel.

Way to find a loop hole Jaden. He can’t access card effects targeting the graveyard but not the monster effects of cards in the graveyard it’s also a great debut for Necroshade.

And to use the effect to get bladeedge out for the win.

The Chief is hurt after the match and Jaden was instantly concerned for him. Love Jaden complimenting all of them. I had a great time, you guys are great can I duel you again without my friends in a coffin?

Love Jaden getting half of a medallion and the foreshadowing of Atticus. (If only he won an on screen duel)

Not banner accidentally saying this was a test and no one buying his excuses.

Why does this school have so many entrances too the shadow games and spirit world? Seto I have some questions for you and so does Jaden. Like he’s feeling like a hero but also what is going on at this school?

Nlove Gravekeeper’s assailant protecting Jaden.

Syrus you weenie. You see a pretty girl that knows Jaden and “aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend.” Jaden - “get your own friends.” Thank you Jay. Syrus even had the nervous hand ringing going on.

I love that she has a crush on Atticus and Jaden recognizes it.

Winged Kuriboh leads the way to saftey. They can all see it. How does

Love that Jaden won’t leave Chunly behind!

Oh my goodness I forgot Des Koala spirit showed up. And to carry and injured Cumley to freedom!!! (Also Chumley yelling “I love running” as he’s being carried is such a real thing)

Question Alexis and Syrus just saw all these real duel spirits. They saw how they helped them. Why in later episode do they act like Jaden’s crazy for talking to his spirits? Specifically Syrus?

Yes the wake up outside of the ruins. But come on you know it wasn’t a dream, Jaden has the amulet.

Also I love the detail of Winged Kuriboh and Des Koala’s cards being out and next to their masters since their spirits were with them in the spirit world.

Episode 29

The shadow riders are here! It’s time for Nightshroud!

Love the reveal that he has the second half of the pendant right away.

Not Chazz roasting Jaden for being called to the principals office only to be called in as well.

And Crowler taking every opportunity to mock Jaden. And Jane turning it right back on Chazz!

Also why are the ‘best duelist’ at the school made up of 2 teachers (are there no other teachers, there should be more teachers) 1 senior and 4 freshman. Like at the 3rd and 2nd year classes just full of duds??

Jaden just found out about the Sacred Beast cards

“Our 7 best duelist!! Well really 5 best but I need 7.” Said directly to the Teachers!!!

Of course Jaden the first to grab one. (Followed by Zane, Bastion, Alexis, Chazz, a bragging Crowler, and Banner)

Love Alexis think Jaden is going to be a target because he’s a Slifer (she’s right)

Nightshroud does have a sick entrance, and a duel in a volcano

Of course Syrus and Chumley are bait again. At least Chumley offered to help.

Jaden- “it’s not my first shadow duel! I just hope this one doesn’t hurt”

Au Jaden is really debating calling in the professionals how freaked out do you think Au Jaden is by frighting Red eyes black dragon in a shadow duel? Like that is Uncle Joey’s card. It has always protected Jaden. He’s never been scared of Red Eyes until this moment.

But he’s also fueled against it a hundred times. So he knows what works and what doesn’t.

Except this guys has a deck built around Red Eyes. And he’s able to get over Jaden’s monster with a spell card to attack him directly. Jaden can feel the full power of Red eyes and it hurts. By the time the episode ends Jaden is struggling to stand and panting for breath. He’s really hurt

Also he’s what 14/15 and dueling for his friends lives and the world. No wonder he has anxiety by season 3

Also Alexis how have you not recognized those cards yet?

Episode 30

Okay Jaden finally gets a monster with equal points as Red eyes, takes it out and goes for direct damage with Burstintrix.

Jaden asking him why he’s not acting like he’s hurt is honestly funny.

Way to get extra cards in your hands Jaden.

Jaden refusing to lose even though he’s been hit again and is almost brought to his knees.

He gets a good hit in and finally get his moment to flinch in pain.

He’s got so many Red eyes cards.

4,500 is crazy in early Yugioh. Plus Red eyes eternally dark fire has such a sick design.

Everyone else recognizing something is wrong except Crowler is amazing.

Jaden just took two heavy hits and collapsed. Love Alexis offer to take over the duel and he gets her soul if she wins or loses. I love the attitude. But maybe actually do it rather than continue standing to the side while Jaden gets back up and keeps going.

Great win Jaden.

But home boy just passed out from damage.

Atticus is back!!

I was thinking about giving Alexis or Zane this duel but the trauma of Jaden having to stare down Red Eyes and fight for his life.

Also Joey’s reaction to Jaden telling them about how he fought a red eyes deck that tried to kill him. Maybe he missed his check in call because of the damage caused. When he finally does call home they can instantly tell he’s hurt and they are all freaking out. More shadow games?? What is this the fourth one?

Maybe Jaden’s been keeping them a secret until now as they were one off events but now he can’t hide them any more.

Or maybe he has told them but said he could handle it as they were one off events. Not they are definitely not. There are seven duelist coming for Jaden and his friends’s souls.

And how does Joey handle one of his favorite cars being responsible for the banged up condition Jaden is in.

Episode 31

Camula stop spying on peoples cards and why are you stalking the 17 year old.

Why are both teachers cowards?

I love seeing Crowler in action as a good guy.

Crowler how did you just figure out that the fuel was real.

“I won’t let you let you lay a finger on MY students. I am the leading professor at the most prestigious duel academy in the world and if you want to get to my pupils you’re going back o have to go through yours truely.” Yes!!! This is the Crowler I want barely able to stand and protecting his students until the end.

“If you want help with your strategy feel free to drop by my class.” We love the confidence.

I love that he’s getting his bit kicked and the kids want to step in but Crowler keeps telling them to stay out. He’s protecting them.

And when everyone else is doubting him Jaden arrives (being supported by Syrus). And he embodies Aunt Téa as he tells him he can win this. That he can come back and get his game on.

I believe this is the moment that Crowler starts to respect Jaden

Not Camula admitting to spying on everyone.

Crowler using his last moments to encourage his student. And then when he loses “avenge me Jaden my boy.” Like Zane right there but he doesn’t ask him because Crowler knows deep down who’s going to win this.

Oh doll crowler is way creepier than I remember. And Jaden becoming furious when she tries it to the browned only to be held back by Zane. Because he knows Jaden is still really hurt form dueling Atticus

What a great episode.

Episode 32

I love that Jaden is still healing, and Chazz holding the Crowler doll.

Chazz stepping up to duel in Jaden’s place because Jaden is still hurt.

Zane leaving to handle the problem. When Syrus chases after him he gives his little brother such a fond look. I like that you can tell just how much Zane cares for his brother even if he’s bad at showing it.

Chazz not only has the crowler doll with him but his obelisk uniform hung up ready to reclaim his place. You sentimental boy

Love Ojama yellow figuring out Crowler is alive in the doll

Chumley carrying Jaden!!! I love this boy

Zane just rushed his duel. And Syrus caught it. Amazing growth. But Zane didn’t misplay he had a back up planned. What a great way to show Syrus’s growth while also uplifting Zane’s duelist skills.

She’s going to sacrifice Syrus’s soul if she loses. I love how distraught Zane is about it. He could absolutely win but he won’t because his brother is more important to him than the world. What a Kaiba move of you Zane.

Syrus “Sacrifice me it’s okay?” Like I hate how little you think of yourself?

And after that impassioned bleach Zane tells him he loves him and stands down.

Doll Zane!!

Can I have season 1 Syrus in season 3??? Like give him some more confidence.

They also animated the kid having a panic attack that’s wild.

Jaden swearing to beat her when he can’t even stand.

Okay I get he’s determined to duel but like Chazz, Alexis, and Bastian are all in way better shape than he is. Why is he the one dueling? Like I get Zane was the best but pull your weight guys.

Episode 33

Um Seto you need to check in on your school. The head master is talking to the head to the shadow riders

I love Atticus waking up just enough to give Alexis an idea

Syrus and Chumley trying to make Banner carry his weight. (He is the only remaining adult) and Chazz and Bastion ready to roll.

Alexis what do you mean you brought the ‘Calvary’ that’s just Jaden and he should be resting!! I get that Jaden is the ‘only one with a shadow charm’ but please he’s on shaky legs.

Jaden starts out strong but Camila is already trying to sacrifice everyone. If that dumb shadow charm hadn’t kicked in they would all be dead.

Offta Jaden just had tempest turned against him. But he got it back pretty fast.

Chazz why is your professor in your pocket???

Jaden did you forget that she admitted to spying on y’all with her bats already?

Jaden you are barely hanging on. The Chazz even says it. “How did we let him do this?”

We just got some crazy vampire lore for the world of Yugioh!!! What?? I forgot all about this. She’s the last vampire in the world?? This is crazy.

Did she just accuse Jaden of Chesting because she didn’t see his card when she was cheating?

Also Jaden I love you. “I didn’t even sneak it in. I just figured since you were all about the shadows I should bring something light.”

She just got dusted!!!

Zane’s back and Crowler. He just appeared out of Chazz’s project.

Au Jaden has to be going through it. Because at first he had to make a decision. To call dad or to not call dad. He has told them about the one off duel with Jinzo (the first shadow game against a duel spirit) and the duel with Titan (the guy with a fake Millennium puzzle, it started as a fake shadow game but then became real)

And his family has been so worried each time he brought one up. That fake Millennium Puzzle really ticked them all off. He knows how worried they are.

And then he goes to another dimension and duels the tomb keepers and isn’t that weird, and earns his own half of a shadow charm. Does he call Yugi? This is his third Shadow game and this time it took him to a different realm. But his dad and his friends have already fought for the world. They don’t need to do it again. It’s Jaden’s turn to protect them.

On the next call with Yugi he doesnt tell him about the shadow game and the tomb keepers. Yugi notices the new necklace but Jaden just tells him he won it in a duel.

Later when Nightshroud and duels Jaden the duel is much the same. Jaden passes out from pain and exhaustion and sleeps for a few days.

In those few days he misses a call with Yugi. Yugi is trying not to panic. Jaden hasn’t missed a call yet but he can be forgetful. Maybe he got caught up in a duel and forgot to call. But as the days stretch on Yugi gets more and more worried. He doesn’t want to over react and go to the school, but it’s not like Jaden to ignore his messages. Seto looks up the attendance record. Jaden hasn’t been going to class, but he’s listed as clinic. Why is Jaden staying in the clinic????

They are in full freak out mode when Jaden finally calls them. Yugi answers the video call in a panic. Jaden is sitting up in a bed in the clinic and he’s obviously hurting. He looked exhausted and is slumped over and in obvious pain. Yugi freaks out “what happened!”

And Jaden can’t hide it. So he tells them about his duel with the tomb keepers that got him his pendant. The keys and the Sacred Beast. And the Shadow Riders. Jaden tells them about the duel with Nightshroud. How it was a shadow game. His 4th shadow game. (4 shadow games to many in Atem’s opinion) it’s been days and Jaden still hasn’t recovered. His hands are shaking on the call and his eyes are drooping as he fights sleep to talk to them.

Yugi’s ready to go. Normally he’s the one telling Seto and Arem to wait but that’s his baby boy trembling and barely able to sit up. But Jaden argues that they (he and his friends) can do this.

Seto asks the winning question “who is we?” When Jaden tells them it’s 4 1st years 1 3rd year and 2 Teachers Seto is ready to fire everyone at the school. Who put these children in charge of keeping the world safe? What adult did this? “Well be there in 2 hours”

“No! This is my fight. We can do this I promise.” -Jaden

“Jaden you can barely sit up. We’re coming.” - Seto

“It’s not just me. The others are great duelist. Look I promise I’ll call you if things start to get out of hand. But right now Trust me.” - Jaden

And Yugi hates it. Hates remembering being the kids responsible for saving the world, why is that his son’s job now? But he can see how much this means to Jaden. And arguing with him is just making the situation worse. He can see the strain and stress this is putting the boy under.

“Stop both of you.” He stops his husband and son from arguing. “Here’s how we are going to play this. Jaden the moment you feel you can’t handle it, even for a second, you call us. We will handle it. But until then Seto is going to send you a vital band.” They used them to monitor vitals of people when they do research of virtual worlds or dimensional traveling. “You are going to wear it the whole time. If you’re vitals ever drop passed what WE determine as safe, we are coming no arguments.”

Seto wants to keep arguing that they go now but he understands Yugi’s compromise. They had several long talks after Jaden’s first and second shadow game. About how unfair this was, how they wanted to protect him, but he was growing up. They couldn’t shield him forever. He was the son of the King of Games and Seto Kaiba, Nephew to Atem the pharaoh who defeated Zorc. His life was always going to be dangerous once people found out.

At least he was somewhere with at least 2 competent adults (ha they don’t know it’s Crowler and Banner) and several friends to help. He’s not alone (he’s going to do most of the work but they don’t know that now) and they can get to him in a matter of hours if need be. Jaden is strong. He’s hurt right now and that is being out every single one of Yugi’s dad instincts right now but he trust Jaden to know his limits.

“Thanks for believing in me Dad.” Jaden’s smile almost makes it worth it.

Either Jaden will handle this with his friends of Yugi will step in. They are keeping the plane on standby just in case.

Camula starts causing problems literally the next night. And as Jaden watches his teacher fall and he’s to week to stand he wonders if maybe he is in over his head. Then Zane goes down and he’s about to call home when Atticus wakes up and is like “no you need a shadow charm” and now Jaden knows he can’t call them. If he does then what happened to Dr. Crowler and Zane will happen to his family! No he can do this. He can win back his friends souls, save the world and keep his family safe.

After his duel with Camula Jaden does get a call from Yugi because his vitals were acting weird. Not the agreed upon low numbers but still weird enough to check in (Yugi is looking for excuses at this point to check in on his boy.) Jaden tells him about Camula (there’s no point in keeping secrets) and Yugi is stressed but he’s trying not to show it because he can see the anxiety rolling off of Jaden. Maybe it’s time to visit any ways…..