#sometimes i wear all black in honor of him

[wildsaltair]

@streets-in-paradise and me mourning our fictional husbands

[smokingsoothesthesoul]

# DREW STARKEY — LIVE TALK SHOW

ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ ────୨ৎ──── drew’s first time on a talk show, which just so happens to be jimmy fallon’s and he’s known for scheming. he surprises drew starkey with his celebrity crush. which just so happens to be you.

ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ — pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey !

author’s note: please show some love, also this is my first time posting on here, and i don't know how good my one-shots are. enjoy!

word count : 1.8k

you were known for being one of the most famous actresses sought after. they’d been right for it, your acting was phenomenal. as much fame as you had, you never really let it get to your head, knowing where you had come from was the most important thing to you. 

not only that but you were also known for the activist and humanitarian organizations you’d created or supported alongside other celebrities, like angelina jolie, phoebe tonkin, daniel craig, etc.

so when daniel craig’s managers reached out to you it wasn’t a big surprise, apparently they had been reached out to by a talk show if they could invite you along as well. knowing daniel was more than glad to pass the invitation along, you accepted. 

you wondered why they’d want you there seeing as queer had just premiered, and that had nothing to do with you

—

drew had been nervous, he’d be on a talk show, but nonetheless he was a wreck. it took him forever to decide what he’d be wearing, ultimately deciding on a charcoal grey, and white tux with a black tie. he hoped his outfit would be fine for the show.

as he waited backstage for his introduction he paced around nervous, spinning his gold ring on his finger, an anxious tic he had. 

before he knew it, he heard jimmy fallon, “ladies and gentleman, let’s welcome the man everyone's been talking about, he’s rising to fame, the one and only drew starkey!” he announced as drew walked out and shook hands with the bodyguard on his way to the main set. 

hearing the loud cheers and roars of everyone was amazing and he couldn't help but be shook to his core, never in a hundred years would he have expected this. 

he waved to everyone as he made his way over to jimmy and shook his hand, before he proceeded to sit down in one of the couches.

“so drew we’re glad you accepted our invitation, isn’t that right?” jimmy asked the audience, before they all roared in agreement.

“i’m honored, thank you for inviting me.” drew replied confidently, knowing he was nervous inside.

“so we know you’ve been chasing gold for about four years, and now you’re in a queer relationship with daniel craig, james bond, which has premiered if i’m correct?” jimmy asked, knowing the answer but trying to build up the conversation.

“yes, out in theatres about a week ago.” drew replied. 

“how did that transition work, you know, from filming a show where you don’t really have a romantic relationship until recently to a full blown queer relationship?” jimmy asked curiously.

“honestly, a bit overwhelming and a lot of anxiety from my part. not more so because of the transition but just because i knew i had to ace this role. getting the opportunity to work alongside daniel craig and for luca guadagnino was truly the opportunity of a lifetime. whatever time it was, i knew i had to give it my all. sometimes i doubted my performance but daniel helped me and gave me advice whenever i needed it,” drew replied, while he felt himself relaxing a bit as he got comfortable enough to share personal details.

“there was even a time where,” drew began before lightly biting his lip amused at the story daniel shared with him, before continuing, “daniel told me of an experience he had with another co-star. basically when you first film scenes and most of all when they’re scenes like we were filming, the first day on set really is just practice. not reading lines, but actually practicing how certain scenes will go. in our case mature scenes were what we focused on at the beginning seeing as we’d be testing out our chemistry.”

“anywho the point is that once we were literally in the middle of a bed scene, nothing too explicit, and daniel chuckled when i fucked up a line because instead of saying ‘we can’t be doing this’ i said ‘we shan’t be doing this.’ he literally rolled out of bed and said he had to take a breather, i was confused, i mean we fuck up lines sometimes but never enough to call break,” drew explained.

“yeah normally that doesn’t happen, i would’ve been nervous,” jimmy commented.

drew laughed and nodded his head, before continuing, “i was dying of anxiety in the inside, i was like did i fuck up this badly. and i guess daniel could see it written on my face, which is when he walked over and explained how in his last role the same thing had happened with his co-star. and i couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief and literally said, ‘thank fuck’ to which he laughed at as he walked away to get a water.”

jimmy let out a chuckle at the ending of his story, and said, “oh my god i would’ve died of laughter too.” 

drew nodded as he swiped his backhand on his nose, a reflex of his, before replying “yeah i definitely would’ve too but honestly i was too nervous at the time, now i think back on it and laugh about it.”

“actually there was something i was looking forward to, with you here, let’s show this clip,” jimmy said motioning towards the tv for the audience.

before they knew it, drew was being interviewed by a reporter who asked who his celebrity crush was, ‘y/n y/ln’ he answered without falter.

as the video ended drew couldn’t help but let out a chuckle and turned to jimmy while he began, “is that still true?” 

drew knew the answer to that, and nodded, “yeah it is,” he replied confidently.

“we have a surprise for you if you look at the monitor,” jimmy said before motioning towards the tv.

if the world could swallow drew up whole, he’d let it. at that moment. because then and there on the tv, where times he’d stated his celebrity crush was y/n to interviewers and it was playing in chronological order.

as the video ended jimmy looked at him and playfully asked, “anything to comment?” 

drew couldn’t help but cover his mouth with one hand before sliding it down to reply, “genuinely that’d be mine if i could somehow reach her.”

“well who knows maybe one day you will,” jimmy commented supportively.

“unless i get the courage to actually dm her, it’ll be a pending matter,” drew replied.

“why the need for a dm? i’m right here,” you said after making your way quietly behind him signaling the audience to not spoil it.

at that moment, drew froze up, and instantly rose up from his seat but slowly turned around, not knowing if it was real.

as he slowly turned, you waved at him and slightly giggled at his nervous reaction. you waited for him to say something before you said anything else.

as you stood there waiting, drew finally caught a grip and let his charm play out even if he was a train wreck inside. 

“i’m drew starkey,” he introduced, stammering quite a bit. 

“i know,” you replied smiling.

hearing that drew’s brows rose in confusion, he didn’t expect that. he was a nobody and you were everything.

“i was invited to your premiere but i ended up in the er or else i would’ve been there, apologies,” you said, genuinely honest.

drew was lost for words, yet jimmy asked him, “drew you still there or are you too starstruck?” 

“mhm,” drew nodded, not necessarily indicating which one but they could all guess.

he couldn’t get over the fact you’d just apologized for not attending his premiere, gosh he was literally about to faint before he talked to himself in his head ‘get your shit together before you scare her’ which he proceeded to do, and extended his hand for her to shake.

“none of that, my mama taught me better than that” you replied before walking closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

drew couldn’t believe this was happening but reacted fast enough to not make it seem awkward for the audience, at least that's what he hoped and reciprocated the hug. wrapping his hands around your body.

as they pulled apart, you walked up to jimmy and shook his hand seeing as there was a literal desk between you both and greeted him. 

“jimmy it’s been a while,” you commented.

“glad to have you back on here,” jimmy replied genuinely.

“now that we’re dealing with a starstruck man, we actually have a few live questions, if you don’t mind answering them?” jimmy asked.

“of course, ask away,” she replied amused, wanting to know what was being asked.

jimmy read from his phone, “how does it feel to be drew starkey’s celebrity crush?”

“well honestly, and i quote, from the man himself, ‘i’m honored,’” you replied knowing drew was known for his replies of being honored.

next to you drew couldn’t help but smile amused knowing he said that quite a lot, he hadn’t been lying he really was honored. but to hear that you were honored he thought of you a certain way, well that was the most fucking honored he’d be in his life. before, now, or after.

“what do you think of drew starkey and his roles?” jimmy asked, reading off the second question being asked by the audience.

“well honestly, i’m definitely an outer banks fan. i’m glad he’s finally getting the recognition he deserved, i’ve been there since season one, people now are barely catching on,” you started.

as you replied, drew couldn’t help but feel touched at what you were saying. he really had just risen to fame this past year, with the new season of outer banks even though he’d been there since day one of the show.

“i’ll admit this new season and the past one that came out, i couldn’t help but feel a tad bit jealous that our local psycho was tied up and locked in with someone,” you admitted lightly, chuckling amused.

“for me this is a situation where i love the actor but hate the character unfortunately, because rafe deserved better, in this season four that came out. sofia betrayed him and genuinely frustrated me,” you explained.

drew couldn’t help but feel touched at how you were talking about his character, because it was something he’d poured his heart into. 

“one last question for both of you before we go,” jimmy asked before a drum roll sound came on to build anticipation.

“have we created a successful cupid match?” jimmy asked, to which the audience cheered, curious as well.

at that moment both drew and you gazed into each other's eyes, “only time will tell,” you answered truthfully, ‘but maybe we’ll get there’ you tried to communicate that through your gaze with drew. 

the cameras cut and now there was a rising to fame actor, holding out his hand for a famous actress to take. 

and that she did.

[eldritch-bf]

Recently learned that the color of the vest and tie Arthur wears during the Saint Denis ferry gambling mission changes depending on if you have high or low honor (blue for high and red for low) so now i am obsessed with the idea that the prominence of the colors red and blue on certain gang member’s outfit also reflects their honor level.

Whittemore variants versus Arthur’s default outfit, which doesn’t have a scrap of red on it, however no matter what his blue shirt is always fucking dirty and stained. And remember the gang criticizes you if you have blood all over you.

Hosea wears the blue vest (sometimes brown) but he generally has his red neckerchief on, but he also owns a red and black scarf. Mostly good but a little bit of bad.

Red is prominently featured on Micah. His entire shirt is red and he’s usually wearing his jacket like he’s disguising his nature. Even the the grips on his guns have red. And when you rescue him from Strawberry he does not have his coat.

Dutch is the most interesting to me. He has the checkered red scarf which he rarely wears and the red pocket square over his heart. Only the back of his vest is red, like he’s in denial about it, or that it’s only possible to see who he is when he isn’t facing you and putting on a show. Meanwhile on guarma his vest is suddenly reversed!

EDIT: addition

When Hosea is killed he is wearing a completely different outfit with a blue vest and absolutely no red, and both Milton and Dutch are covered in red!

[nymphea0]

Kurkans Mate.

The Beast And The Bunny.

Yan! Ishakan x Reader

Part 2.

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Manhwa :약탈혼 / predatory marriage

/ 약탈혼 (완전판)

: Adult Manhwa (18+)

Author/Illustrations : Saha / Hera(Art)

Word Count : 2.34K Word.

Hello.. Neva again here, I hope you are well and happy and have a nice days

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love much.- Neva🦋🦋.

- Kurkans Mate Pt.1

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It's been about 3 months since you lived with Esmera, you helped Esmera not only because she saved you, Esmera was also willing to take you in.

Your activities are very ordinary, not much different from how you spend your days in Antra village, looking for herbs and mushrooms and planting vegetables, and collecting firewood.

It's been 3 months since you last met an exotic-skinned man who was injured in this forest.

You sometimes think is this a good choice to save this man? Indirectly you also reveal your identity to the foreign man through your blood healing.

And from the bottom of your heart, you feel a very bad feeling, but you don't know what causes that worry.

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Ishakan, a man from the Kurkans tribe, has an extraordinarily handsome appearance and abilities that are above average humans.

The Kurkans have no shame and are openly hostile to anyone they don't like, the Kurkans will kidnap those they consider to be their partners. Either by force or not.

The Kurkans tribe, is a tribe with the blood of the beast. Animal blood. For some of the continent's inhabitants, the Kurkans are barbarians.

However, on some continents, the Kurkans are also used as slaves, either sexually or just as guards. But slaves are still slaves.

Ishakan is one of the slaves of the nobles, freed by a princess from the kingdom of Estia, Princess Leah Von Estia.

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At night in a brothel, Leah walks in wearing a robe and wig to cover her real hair, which is white as the moon.

Walking slowly towards a man with an athletic body covered in a black robe.

"So you are my bed partner?" The voice that sounded quite rough, it can be seen that this is the voice of a noble lady.

Ishakan who saw the princess, could only grin and guide the princess into the room that had been prepared.

Closing the door, then with one push Ishakan pushed Leah against the wall, causing her wig to fall off, her face flushed red when she saw how handsome Ishakan was.

"Why would a princess go to this dirty side of town?" Grinning slightly at Leah, with a voice that sounded seductive, Ishakan asked.

Leah gave explanation after explanation to Ishakan. Leah had no hope of living anymore, with the fact that her family sold her to a nobleman who was as old as her father, Leah could not accept her virginity being given to that nobleman!

Chastity is the highest honor in the kingdom of Estia, because it concerns the dignity and self-esteem of the family, especially a royal family, so Leah has a mission before she gets married, she will embarrass her family by removing her chastity.

Ishakan looked at Leah with a difficult look, on the one hand he didn't want to take Leah's chastity, and on the other hand he also couldn't let his savior suffer, even though Ishakan was sure Leah didn't remember him, because the incident was so long ago.

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Morning finally, the experts took Leah's purity, Ishakan negotiated with Leah, he would help Leah, although at first Leah really didn't trust Ishakan especially when she found out Ishakan was a kukrans!, a barbarian with animal blood.

A delegation took place between the Estia kingdom and the Kurkan kingdom, where this delegation included peace and an end to war as well as looting and slavery.

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It has been about 3 months since Ishakan has worked as a Kurkan king, the case of the gyipsey that sold drug and sorcery and the case of the attempted release of the Estia queen who turned out to be a dark witch or as the sorceress

And it has been 3 months since he last saw his wild rabbit, you.

Ishakan still remembers the taste and smell of you and your blood. So much that Ishakan is looking for and exploring about your blood, a blood that can heal wounds!

The Antrabeth tribe, Ishakan only knows as a mythical tribe that is said to be a tribe that fights nature because their blood can heal every kind of wound and disease, as well as long life, a tribe that is loved by nature.

However, all of his efforts to find traces of the Antrabeth tribe were in vain, once the world was shocked by the appearance of soldiers carrying blood and a head with blue hair, the Antrabeth tribe became extinct.

The witches, kings and nobles, tried to drink the blood of the Antrabeth tribe, instead of getting long life and healing from the illnesses they experienced, they actually experienced very terrible conditions!

Their skin blistered with bumps all over their bodies that moved, until a nature witch discovered that the blood of the Antrabeth tribe would not work.

if the owner of the blood does not give consent to the blood that is drunk. Those who drink, take and kill the Antabeth tribe, the child of nature by force, they will experience the curse of 1001 nights, a curse where they will not die but also not live.

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Closing the book entitled History of the Child of Nature, Antrabeth.

Ishakan sighed, grinning slightly, something inside him screamed very loudly since he met you, his animal instinct, the kurkans instinct.

If the Antrabeth tribe is extinct, then you are the only one left, Ishakan can't help but claim you, make you his mate!

'Tok'

'Tok'

'Tok'

Genin, Ishakan's aide who doubles as his right hand, entered the room while carrying several rolls of old parchment.

"Your Majesty, here are some carefully selected candidates for the kurkans queen."

Genin handed the scroll to Ishakan.

Ishakan just nodded and opened the scroll, several names of princesses and noble ladies were visible, one of them was Princess Leah Von Estia.

"Take it away, I have found my mate" with his deep voice Ishakan said while grinning.

Ishakan stood up slowly then looked at the genin and said.

"Prepare my horse, I will pick up my wild rabbit" laughed softly as he left his king's room.

Leaving the Genin who stared at Ishakan with goosebumps, every time Ishakan laughed there were only 2 conditions, 1 Ishakan was in a bad mood where usually Ishakan would return to the palace in a state of blood from his victims, and the second condition Ishakan was in a good mood, where every object of his pleasure would definitely end between happiness or... death.

Genin, who never believed in the god of the kurkans in her entire life, prayed to the old gods for the poor creature who managed to catch the attention of Ishakan, the strongest king of the kurkans in the history of the previous kings of the kurkans.

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Ishakan with his stallion as dark as night moved almost more than 5 hours to the place where his wild rabbits were. Normally if he rode a horse he would need 12 days to get here, but because of his animal instincts which also led to his horse, what was originally 12 days, became 5 hours, strange but it's the kurkans we're talking about.

Ishakan with his sharp memory and navigation from your scent, of course he could easily find the forest where you live.

The same forest where Ishakan was injured and resting.

Looking around the forest, Ishakan with his golden eyes like an animal shone brightly as soon as he found the forest he was looking for in front of his eyes, Ishakan could feel the circulation of illusion magic around this forest.

Smirking softly, Ishakan then got off his horse, walking slowly but full of unstoppable enthusiasm, Ishakan entered the dark forest, as soon as Ishakan entered a thick fog covered the forest.

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You, are helping Esmera make gingerbread cookies, and various other cookies.

You are currently not in the disguise of the 1 drop potion for your hair and eyes.

Esmera saw you who was right across the kitchen table could only stare in awe. Your bright blue hair shone brightly at night caused by the reflection of the moonlight, which was as bright and blue as the sky or aquamarine crystal.

But it wasn't just your hair that fascinated her, but your eyes were also very enchanting, as if your eyes were sky stars, a mixture of purple, blue, yellow and gray and there were small white spots around your eyes, like beautiful sky stars.

Sighing softly, Esmera continued to mold gingerbread cookies, while asking you who looked so enthusiastic about decorating gingerbread cookies.

"So excited, huh? Have you never baked before?"

You who were so excited decorating the gingerbread that now looked like a person but in a small and bald version, looked at Esmera and shook your head slowly.

"My family doesn't have much money, so every week we can only bake bread that lasts for at least 1 week.".

In Esmera's eyes you are like a very small, cute and weak kitten! A kitten that needs to be protected and kept safe from the cruelty of this world.

Before Esmera could speak again, the door of the hut was forcibly broken down by someone who broke in!

Esmera was as fast as lightning even though Esmera was old, Esmera was still a nature witch. Esmera placed you behind her, with a silver dagger in her hand.

Esmera's heart screamed in panic!, how could she not feel the ringing of her illusion magic when someone entered the forest?!. There were only 2 answers, one could be that this person had a low life force so that her illusion magic considered something harmless, and the second was a kurkans, kurkans are strong, more stronger the kurkans, more useless a magic is!, but how could kurkans be here? The desert oasis of the kurkans tribe takes at least 12 days to get here

Both you and Esmera look in horror at the entrance to the kitchen.

The sound of heavy footsteps can be heard getting closer to the kitchen.

You of course hold a kitchen knife in your hand.

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Ishakan walks through each forest carefully, until he stops and sits sweetly on a tree trunk, looking towards the hut, Ishakan can see an open window, looking around the room, it must be the kitchen.

Grinning softly until he sees you taking a tray of cookies, your hair that he thought was brown, turns out to be as blue as the sky?!, oh by the old gods of the kurkans, Ishakan wants to come to you, claim you as his!.

You are so beautiful, so fragile and weak, so perfect for him!, his life partner!, his mate!.

With one kick, Ishakan came down from the towering tree, walking towards the door of his wild rabbit hut.

With one kick, Ishakan entered the house whose door had now been destroyed and fell to the floor miserably due to his powerful kick.

Walking slowly until he entered the kitchen, looking towards the corner of the room, where Ishakan was sure the old woman in front of you was a natural witch, because only natural witches used bone necklaces.

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Esmera stared in horror at the figure not far in front of her, tall, with a black leather robe, and a long-handled sword, and a smell that reflected an animal, kurkans!

With a sharp voice full of alert Esmera asked.

"Who are you?!, what do you want from our little hut?!"

Instead of an answer, a laugh! That deep and rich voice was what laughed at them.

You who were behind Esmera were increasingly panicking in your heart, afraid and thinking that this person was an enemy soldier who was still looking for you!!

"Calm down woman, I'm only here to take what is mine, my mate"

That deep voice that sounded very arrogant... have you heard it before! That exotic skinned foreign man with golden eyes like an animal?!.

"You?!"

Loudly and pointing a knife at the figure you pointed at him with full courage.

Esmera looked at you confused, wondering if you knew this figure.

Ishakan he laughed, seeing you in the corner of the room, very small like a rabbit or kitten that was growling at him, oh.. his partner was so cute and fragile. So soft and weak, really in need of protection.

Ishakan gently opened the hood of his robe, revealing his handsome face, decorated with a wide grin showing a row of neat and clean teeth and some of his fangs.

"You remember me right? I came here to take what is mine"

Esmera, she immediately knew what this figure meant!

"Listen Kurkans! You can't take her as your mate! This child is mine, I found her first!"

Emsera ran while carrying a silver dagger in her hand towards this stranger.

But what Esmera fought was a kurkans, of course Emsera was immediately defeated with just one flick of the sword handle that Ishakan didn't even open!

Esmera fell unconscious on the floor.

You who saw Esmera, the figure of the witch and your savior was already on the floor, in a state of fainting caused by the stranger you saved.

You froze stiffly, not realizing that the stranger you saved was already in front of you!

Your chin was raised, your galaxy eyes met the eyes with the golden irises of the animal.

The stranger spoke in his deep voice.

"Don't we know each other, my wild rabbit?"

Chuckling softly while stroking your face and your bright blue hair, a stark contrast to his brown hair, so smooth like silk.

The man brought his mouth close to your ear, whispering in his deep voice.

"I am Ishakan, Ishakan Kurkans, Your life partner. Your mate."

You stared at this man named Ishakan in horror as he stared at you with eyes full of love, passion and animalism.

His grin was the last thing you saw before darkness descended upon you.

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*Source Image : Pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Series.

Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

[narcjsistx]

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 | OS

shidou ryusei x fem reader ; words: 1.0k (1086)

coming from this event, fourth day, 21/12

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: during the christmas period it was normal for the association to invite the players, and their girlfriends, to organized dinners. shidou loves to show up at these dinners with you, where everyone asks you how you can be together even though you are so different

Shidou Ryusei is a beast, both on and off the field: the boy's sparkling soul is recognized by everyone in the industry, and his own fanbase boasts of having as an idol someone who is extremely unpredictable, but who always manages to shine. The beast has someone who loves him and with whom he is extremely in love, and that person is you. If he is a beast, you are an angel

If he runs, you walk. If you talk, he screams. If he shoots deadly kicks into the opponent's net, you move with unthinkable delicacy. If he has to be the beast, you are his guardian angel

The diversity between you is probably the thing that makes your relationship work, which experiences a new chemical reaction every day. When the world came to discover you, it was shocked to see someone so different next to the zesty demon, and many had bet that you would not last long, if not a few months. Evidently they were all wrong, because by now you had been together for a few years. The secret dates at the beginning of the relationship had turned into official dinners that it was the industry itself that invited you to. The association loved to invite its players, and consequently their girlfriends, to extremely endless dinners, with many special dishes and nonstop alcohol until the next morning

Christmas dinner was one of those occasions. The white suit and black tie highlighted Shidou's figure, who was forced by you to wear something more elegant than usual. Your long red dress had been chosen a few hours earlier by your boyfriend, who had the honor of being able to choose from the proposals you had proposed to him. Having got out of the car, at least an hour late, the photographers had been waiting for the scandalous couple all evening

It had become a habit to have all eyes on you, and god, you loved it now: seeing people's fascinated looks had become a priceless prize. At first, when it happened, you prayed for it to end as soon as possible, but Shidou had quickly pointed out to you that they were beautiful looks, and not bad ones: as a couple you caused a scandal, but in a good way. The glances increased your love

"Shidou, Shidou, here!"

"Y/n, a closeup for the local press"

"Look here, both of you!"

You were objectively loved, you were iconic, everything about you and your diversity was iconic. The only envious glances are from the other girlfriends of the players on the team, who have never had the same success as you. Aside from the always iconic entrance, the dinners are actually quite boring and monotonous: there is always the same group of players who are really friends, those who join but don't understand much and those who would gladly go to their house and sink into their partners' bodies. Shidou always created a category of his own, even if sometimes he was part of the last one. A few years ago he was the one who almost got arrested because he was about to beat up a butler who had been a bit too cocky touching you; in the last one he had made everyone drunk because of a game played by all the dinner guests, including the managers. And you, always at his side, tried to mediate the behavior of your beloved cockroach

"I wonder how she survives"

"They probably don't really have that much harmony, they just work"

Often, beyond the thousand compliments, you also heard these words. They were words that actually slipped by you, that occupied your mind for no more than two minutes. They were simply things that you considered false, because hell, you couldn't tell everything that happens between you. It would be too long a story and you would even have to invent terms that are still unknown, because everything that has to do with your boyfriend is yet to be discovered

The others don't know how much Ryusei is a lovesick person, and that he isn't afraid to show it. The others don't know how obsessed he is with your love, how dependent he is on it. The others don't know that for him, you seem to be his first in everything, even though he has an experience behind him that could be talked about for a whole week without getting bored. Others don't know how much he really cares about you, in a way that in the early days of the relationship seemed like who knows how many treatments before ghosting, but that is now normal and that you deeply appreciate with all your heart

Others don't know how much the situation changes when you are within the walls of your home, how he becomes the angel and you the beast of the situation: how you affectionately attack him every time he comes home or when he too has bad moments, since even though he is a demon, he remains a human, someone in reality much deeper than others might think

Others can seriously think what they want, you're fine as long as you know the truth. This is yet another trait that Ryusei has changed in you, he who has always been indifferent has taught you that you should care little about other opinions, the superfluous ones, because they are often made only out of malice. This was yet another difference, before the change

Maybe you're not really that different, or rather, you're convinced that you're not as different as everyone thinks: you balance yourselves in a way that you believe only the two of you can do for each other, alternating between heaven and hell

"Fuck everyone, as long as I have the chance to be with you I don't care about the differences. Love me as you think is best, I'll adapt to your way. We do what we think is best for each other, outside opinion is just a way to make us famous, right? If they hated us they wouldn't talk about us so much, but they obviously love us for being so interested"

There is no angel without black wings; there is no beast without a heart. There is no Y/n without Shidou Ryusei; there is no Shidou Ryusei without Y/n. As long as you had the chance to be close, to love each other, to kiss each other, you would never have cared about the differences that actually tied you together

TAG: @natmagaesp ; @kittenish0 ; @x3nafix

[briarscreek]

Mediaeval Prisoner!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley had a proposition

your arrival at the celebratory ball was nothing short of extravagant. everyone was finally excited to put their talents to use again, from elaborate cakes and dresses down to new embroidered napkins. seems like everyone agreed to let the past few years go and enjoy life again.

the announcement of your arrival snapped you out of your thoughts, squaring your shoulders and wearing a polite smile as you entered.

everyone marveled at you. no longer was the bumbling, nervous maid but a strong leader who commanded the room without words. it was king price who spoke first.

“welcome back to the capital, countess.”

“it is my honor, your majesty.”

“please let the celebration begin.”

as you wound yourself through the open ballroom, one person wasn’t here. his presence was always glaring, though absent or not. it just set off your anger even more. the coward couldn’t even be here to face you. typical.

a hand caught your arm as you were lightly conversing with a foreign princess.

“apologies your highness, i must borrow the countess for a quick word”

“of course! let me know when you’re free again countess. i’d love to chat with you over tea sometime.”

“i shall be waiting for your call, your highness.”

as doctor laswell pulled you along, you couldn’t help but look back as king price had approached the princess. he had taken her hand into his for a kiss upon her knuckles, which caused a blush to spread across her cheeks. perhaps you should ask about that later.

the wine you consumed throughout the evening had dulled your sense just a hair but not enough for you to miss the scenery changing.

“wait laswell, where are we going?”

“somewhere you are going to hate me for. but not for long.”

familiar steps up into the one place you hadn’t been in almost a year and a half. the tower. a pit formed in your stomach.

“kate—“

“please just trust me and give him a chance”

“w-wha-“

she had promptly thrown you into the top of the tower without another word. your banging on the door and yelling of her name didn’t sway her either.

“i’ve tried that before”

a voice— no. his voice echoed in the room.

you turned to see him, standing there in his traditional knights uniform. complete with a black chest plate, a red sash with medals adorning it, and a stark white painted helmet.

“you look goregous, love”

“that is countess to you.” you spit out angrily.

his shoulders deflated and admittedly, you hated it. you hated how much your words affected him and how much you cared.

“i suppose this is your doing?”

“mainly laswell’s but i did agree with it, countess.”

“if you have something to say then let’s get this over with”

you leveled him with a neutral glare, mostly uninterested in what he had to say.

“there was a lullaby my mum used to sing to me. it was about a sailor, who had lost his way because he couldn’t see his love anymore. but his lover found a way to lead him back to shore with a light. taught me that sometimes if your lost, someone will always care enough to look for you.”

you remember this lullaby, it became popular when you were just a few years old. especially when you had befriended a child on your street with roughed up knuckles and knees, a voice whispering promises of protection, a blonde haired kid who—

you can’t picture his face anymore, daydreams long since buried when his family’s house burned down with all of them still inside.

“what’s your point lord riley?”

“it was the first song you sang in the stairwell.”

he—he remembered? he was listening back then?

his eyes met yours, holding it with an emotion you had never seen before.

“thought it was my mum calling me to join her with my dad and little brother. but it was you.”

your mouth ran dry. you couldn’t figure out where he was going with this.

“you are the only other person who my mum taught the lyrics to.”

your stomach dropped. no, there’s no way life had turned out like this.

“we have a deeper connection than you remember, countess. i promised i’d always protect you, but i couldn’t protect you from myself. a selfish bastard i was. wanting everything about you. to see your smile again. to hear your laugh.”

he had kneeled before you somewhere during his explanation, but you were in a trance with his words. involuntary tears started to stream down your face while your words mumbles out of your mouth.

“w-wait. we’d both been working in the castle for years, run into each other numerous times. did you know the entire time?”

“no. i always had an unexplainable need to keep you safe but i didn’t know why until you sang. when i came to my senses and wasn’t dying, i knew it was you. and i was going to use the rest of my life to stay by your side. even if i’m nothing more than a doormat for you to wipe the dirt off your shoes; so that you would still need me. because i love you. i always have.”

that last sentence is when you started sobbing. you couldn’t keep it in anymore. the confusion, the relief, the joy, the need to figure this out. you started to pace in front of him trying to gather your thoughts until you heard movement.

and there he was. lord simon riley without his trademark helmet. nothing but the clean skin he showed with blonde hair atop his head, deep brown eyes, and scars littering his skin.

“oh my god si, it really is you.”

“i’m here my love.”

you pulled his head down to your height and kissed him with all the fervor you could muster. with all the years of desperation you had stored within you. one last question lingered in your mind as you pulled back.

“ but wait, what of your fellow knights writing about calling you the count?”

a giggle escaped his lips as a grin bloom on his face.

“all bastards the lot of ‘em. teasing me for all they could. in truth, on our wedding day, i never would have become a count. would never take that lead title away from you, lovie.”

that lifted your spirits tenfold.

“oh, our wedding day? i haven’t the faintest clue i was getting married.” you said as a teasing smile was portrayed on your lips.

he slithered his hands possessively around your body and pulled you flush against his armor.

“would fight in a tournament just for your hand in marriage lovie. no one else gets you but me.”

“and don’t you forget it.”

lord simon riley was many things to you. a friend in childhood, a knight who saved you, a stranger you became familiar with, and now the most exciting change of all.

a husband you would love unconditionally.

and even a future father who would do anything for his children.

<<PREVIOUS

THE END

[blackynsupremacy]

WHATEVER YOU LIKE

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: nicholas spoils you rotten on your special day.

contains: fluff, romance, nudity, a little suggestiveness (they get interrupted), nicholas spoils reader, love, happiness, kissing, mild swearing, tears of joy.

a/n: my first birthday on tumblr! i’m ready for chapter 2️⃣6️⃣! 🥳🎂

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy

the morning of your birthday arrives and you’re woken up by the aroma of all your favorite breakfast dishes along with a cup of coffee served on a silver platter by your man, nicholas, who sauntered in your shared bedroom wearing nothing, but an apron and white briefs. at the sight of his attire, the grogginess you usually felt every morning had departed as your face heated with laughter. nicholas couldn’t help, but to catch the contagious disease of your smile before he gives his one of many birthday wishes.

“happy birthday, beautiful!” he enthusiastically chimed, placing the tray on your lap. you excitedly squeal out your gratitude by planting a peck to his lips and squeezing him into a bear hug. you start to pick up a strawberry and put it in your mouth, but nicholas promptly stopped you, taking the fruit and guiding it towards your mouth.

“nope, you’re not gonna lift a finger—unless it’s to get your nails done for your party tonight.”

your face heated as you took a bite, humming at the sweet, fresh taste. it was as if they were freshly grown and nurtured right before they were served on your plate. the mention of the party that was thrown for you made your stomach engage in somersaults. this was your first birthday with nicholas and he wanted to go all out for you this year by organizing a grand soirée in your honor. he made sure everything was in order from the invitations right down to the cake. nicholas flashes a toothy grin.

“that good, princess? you want some more?”

“mhm.” you giggle after swallowing and opening your mouth to allow nicholas to feed you the rest of your breakfast.

“only what’s best for the birthday girl. eat up, gorgeous. you got a long day ahead for you.”

you thanked him with every bite as the food was delectable beyond words. when you were done, he placed the tray aside and took your hand to lead you out the comfort of the sheets. you were caught off guard when you felt his hand swoop under your knees, his burly arms securely held you up as he started towards the master bathroom.

“just what do you think you’re doing?” you giggle out as he placed you on the counter near the sink, you swing your legs back forth while you watch him gather two bottles of soap, body scrubs, and an african net washcloth before he turns the warm water on in the tub.

“like i said, you got a long day ahead of you and i want to make sure you feel special for every second—now which one would you like? vanilla coconut or lavender?” he inquires holding up the two bottles, you made your choice and he squirts some of the contents within the running water. as the white suds began to rise, nicholas steps over to the counter, standing in between your legs.

“arms up, pretty.” he kindly instructed, fiddling with the hem of the oversized t-shirt of his that were you wearing. you do as you were told before he swiped the garment off to reveal your bare upper half, it wasn’t long before your cotton shorts and satin bonnet were removed. nicholas had to take a step back. his brown eyes raked your figure, but not in a “i’d like to ravage this piece of meat” sort of way, but there was a glint of pure appreciation that made him feel warm as he examined every inch of your body, it was just so stunning the way it is. sometimes, he’d had to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming. he’s seen you naked before, but with each glance, there’s always a look of pure love in his gaze. the longer he stared, you were starting to get bashful, the heat of embarrassment rose on your melanated face.

“nicholas, is everything okay?”

“nothing it’s just— you are breathtaking.” nicholas sincerely confessed, returning to his position between your legs to rest his hands right on your hips. being the lover boy that he is, he planted kisses on every inch of your face. when his lips reached yours, they obviously lingered for a minute before he sprinkles his affections on your neck. with your hands gripping onto his shoulders, you flutter your eyes shut and sigh to throw your head back before they open, cutting to the still running water. the bathtub was filled to the brim. as much as you wanted to go further on this counter, you couldn’t risk for the bathroom to be flooded on day such as this, so you tapped on his nicholas’ shoulder, signaling for him to halt.

“nick—nicholas!” you said without too much panic as the bubbles got higher.

“hmm?” he murmured against your skin as he reached your chest, his hand coming up to give a squeeze to the plush skin.

“babe, the water!” your frantic tone caused him to move away from your body.

“oh, shit!”

once he took a glance at what you were talking about, he hastily strode towards the tub to adjust the faucet, stopping the water to flow any further. nicholas turned to you and it was a pause of silence in the bathroom before you started to giggle, his own laughter following suit. the sound of your giggles filled the bathroom, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. nicholas leaned against the edge of the tub, a playful glint in his eyes.

“well, that was almost a disaster.” he said, shaking his head with a grin.

“you’re damn right. we got a little too carried away.” you quip, chuckling as you run a hand through your hair.

“i mean—can you blame me? you were just sitting there in all your naked glory, i just couldn’t resist.” he replied, raising his hands in feigned surrender. with that cheeky grin, he stepped closer, the air between you crackling with an electric tension.

“mm-hmm.” you wittingly hummed, titling your head as you matched his gaze. “alright, romeo, let’s focus on the bath first before we turn this into a water park.” nicholas chuckled, his gaze lingering on the natural bronze glow of your face. “okay, okay, bath first. i guess i need to save that gift for later.”

you playfully roll your eyes, but your face still heated at what he was referring to. he took a step back again, this time to hold open his palm. you turned to the tub, the warm water still inviting. “allow me, pretty.” he said, smiling as you took his hand. with deliberate steps, he lead you to the tub. you put one foot in and the other before warmth of the bubbles enveloped you, and you let out a content sigh as every muscle within your body began to relax. nicholas observed you, his heart swelling with affection. you caught him staring again, you lean up against the edge with your arms resting on top of the tub. “well, are you just gonna stand there or join me?”your voice broke him out of his trance. it was like clockwork as removed his own clothing before joining you, the water splashing slightly as he settled beside you. nicholas reached to grab the washcloth and body wash before he squirts the liquid in the cloth, giving it a good white lather.

“c’mere, my love. let’s get you clean.”

you smiled, scooting backwards to bring yourself closer to him. as he began to gently scrub your skin, you felt the tension ease between you. “ah, that’s nice. thank you for this, nick. this means a lot.”

he paused, to peer into your eyes over your shoulder. his expression serious for a moment. “of course. y’know i’d do anything to make you feel special on a day like this—you deserve it.” ugh, this man—the pure sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter. you leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against his. “y’know make me feel special every day.” you softly whispered, your breath mingling with his. in that moment, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the warmth of the bath and the gentle sound of water. nicholas closed the distance, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss, in which you eagerly returned. as you pulled away, both of you were smiling, the laughter still dancing in your eyes.

“okay maybe we should keep the kissing to a minimum before we get behind schedule.” you teased, your cheeks flushed. as nicholas was getting you clean, he raved about how this was only the beginning of what he had planned for you to prepare for your party. he would send you a list for all the places to go where you get the proper pampering to be clean and polished to death.

“first, you’re gonna drop by the spa to get the full relaxation package. then, you’re gonna head to the local nail spot you like to get whatever you want—full set, pedicure, brows, it doesn’t matter. after that, you can take my card and go an unlimited shopping spree—”

“woah, woah, woah! hold on. nicholas, isn’t that gonna cost too much? you don’t have to—”

now it was his turn to cut you off, turning you to face him and placing a finger on the center of your pouty lips.

“baby, listen. i’m doing this because i want to. i’m doing this because i love you. you deserve the most beautiful things because you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. i obviously know that you’re not with me for the money nor the fame, but at the end of the day, i want to show my favorite girl that she’s cherished. y’get what i’m saying? let me do this for you.” as he finished his speech, his eyes never left yours when he brought your hand upon his lips to plant a searing kiss to it. by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t playing around. conceding, you smile.

“nicholas, i—oh my god.” you try to muster the strength to speak, but you find yourself getting choked up. most birthdays had been shit. it wasn’t about not getting presents nor a party, you were just missing the joy that everyone should have on their special day. the joy of laughter, the joy of love, and most importantly, the joy of connection. fortunately, you found that with nicholas and those words he spoke made it all clear for you. he gave you a look of concern, instantly cupping your face hands, the pad of thumbs wiping away falling tears.

“baby, what’s the matter? if it’s something i said then i’m so—”

“no, no. you did nothing wrong! these are happy tears.” you chuckle out of slight embarrassment, “m’just not used to being spoiled like this—by anyone, but i want you to know that your love is better than any spa, makeover, or shopping spree. they’re all fantastic, but they can’t compare to this.” you confess, laying your hand on the section of his chest where his beating heart is. “i appreciate everything you do for me, nicholas.” you pause to lean in and place a tender kiss on his lips. “i love you so much.”

nicholas wraps his arms around your sud covered body, bringing you in closer to his.

“and i love you more, sweetheart, don’t forget it. just know that with me, you can have whatever you like and i mean whatever.”

you giggle a bit, thinking he’s exaggerating, but that same serious glint from earlier never left his coffee pupils.

“okay, okay. fine! just don’t go too crazy, nick.”

you both chuckle as you continue to listen to the glamorous itinerary he set out as he got you cleaned and ready for your next chapter of life.

[awordsmith]

graveyard flowers 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶��� in which you are seen at Emily’s funeral looking conspicuous and are questioned for it because no one knows who you are or why you’re at their friend’s funeral.

who? spencer x unknown!reader  when? s6 category: angst (comfort) fluff? content warnings: reader is a professional killer, mentions of father with a psychological disorder and i think that's it, reid with interest...  word count: 8k a/n: this was suppose to be smut and i think i got sidetracked, also this would not at all have been possible without a special someone sending me edits, a few honorable mentions will be left down below

Spencer didn’t notice her instantly, he was more laser-focused on keeping his tears in his eyes. He couldn’t fathom the fact that Emily was gone. Emily was like his best friend, his only friend if you didn’t count the eight-year-old in the park near his apartment he often played chess with.

The day was bright, so opposed to the way he felt. The sky was blue and the casket being lowered into the ground was white. The image tugged on his heartstrings; he didn’t know whether to scream or throw up. He had a headache and when salt water stung the corners of his eyes, he went to wipe at them–that’s when he noticed her.

She was wearing all black, dressed perfectly for a funeral. For a moment, without thinking, he thought she looked odd and out of place. She was gorgeous, she had that type of beauty you’d see in a flower–not a graveyard, and that’s what she was: a graveyard flower.

He thought the insinuation ironic, considering she was probably in mourning just as he, but then it occurred to him she was mourning the same person he whom he was mourning, and this was a closed funeral, so he wondered–he wondered who she was, but more importantly who she was to Emily.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat, catching the gazes of Hotch and Rossi. She was far off, but he could make out a few of her prominent features, such as her hair, her nose–and the color of her nails. “Do any of you know who that is?”

JJ and Penelope’s ears perked up, “what are you talking about Spencer?”

His brows furrowed and he stepped forward, “that woman–”

“No,” Morgan shook his head, “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Maybe she’s an old friend.”

“No, Emily didn’t have any friends–”

“Someone from Interpol?”

“Reid’s right,” Hotch’s eyes bored into the woman’s, eying her–analyzing her.

They watched the mysterious woman wipe her face, and then all of a sudden her body went rigid as if she’d been startled by something. She lifted her face and Spencer could see clearly now, she was gorgeous, and she was looking right at him. But it wasn’t him her eyes strayed to, Spencer watched them flit across the groups, landing on–no doubt–Hotch’s.

He was curious and quite cute–the young one with glasses–you wondered if your sister had worked with these people or if they were merely her friends. You didn’t know much about Emily, you hadn't even known of her existence until a few months ago, when you’d hired a private investigator to look into your family line as you’d begun to discover your father had kept quite a bit from you. He wasn’t dead, but he had Alzheimer's and through his mistaking you for your mother, or sometimes his sister, he began to divulge things–things he otherwise would have kept to himself.

Llike the fact that he had a wife before your mother and that he had another daughter. Emily, he called her. He used to cry for her, ask how she was doing, and more than once you’d have to argue with him that you were not Emily. You were sure you didn’t even look much like her, perhaps you got her build, but you had two different mothers. You looked more like yours and you were sure–because your father’s genes were so minor–this ‘Emily’ looked like hers.

You knew so little–but you’d wanted to get to know her, that’s why you had tracked her down after all, and instead of figuring out how to start up a conversation, you were shopping for funeral clothing because she had “died in the line of duty.” What bullshit was that? You’d scoffed.

No, you didn’t know her, but you were family–her sister for heaven’s sake, and now you would never even get the chance to introduce yourself. She died knowing nothing of you or your side of the family, she died an only child and you didn’t know how to live with that. Could you even call yourself siblings? All you had was blood. And that–to you–was the worst part of it all.

They were watching you, you didn’t know who caught wind of your presence first, but there was one person–an old, mean guy with an angry expression looking as if you had something to do with the death in front of you. You had no idea who these people were, all the private investigator was able to give you was the address of the restaurant she often frequented, and her home address. You had no idea where or who she worked for.

She “gave off a vibe” and he didn’t want to get too close. Well, you didn’t pay him half a thousand to ‘get a vibe’ did you?

Your body seized once more and before you could watch him take that first step, you were spinning around and heading back toward the parking lot.

It was early morning, you always woke up around 4–unless you were on a job–your work wasn’t put on hold simply because you had personal issues to deal with. If anything, going to Emily’s funeral was lenient. You clocked in around 6 and headed straight for your boss’ office.

The normal person would frown at your job, teenagers might think it was cool, but in truth, your job was neither cool nor disfavored. Did you like it? Well, it depends on what day you were asked, some days were easier, others just shy of a struggle–but you chose it, and however gruesome it seemed, you wouldn’t have chosen anything else given the opportunity.

Spencer found this curious about you as he scrolled through your history. On their off time, the team had taken to figuring out who the mystery woman at their friend's funeral was. It took a little while, but eventually, three months later, Penelope and Spencer not only acquired a photo from a CCTV camera, but through that visualization, they secured a name–your name.

Spencer found you particularly interesting because you seemed to have quite a normal upbringing, and now you were a hitwoman for the United States Government. The team had discussed what to do with the information on you and whether or not they should leave it alone. Spencer was set on approaching you. He wanted to know more.

You must have come across Emily somehow, for you to know her so well–but how was the question? Who were you to Emily and why had she never mentioned you? Why were there no photos of you together, why were there no clear lines that drew a connection to you?

He didn’t know exactly what–though he was trying to pin it on your somehow connection to Emily–but he was drawn to you. Something in the way you carried yourself, even when walking away from the funeral of someone you held dear.

The sky was graying, the trees had no leaves on them and the mornings were cold. He stood outside the roundtable room, leaning against the wall as Hotch and Penelope went back and forth about you. When Morgan arrived, Spencer didn’t notice like he normally did, he was so intent on hearing what his other coworkers were talking about.

“Hey Pretty Boy,” Morgan nodded toward the room, “hear anything you like?”

Spencer ignored him audibly, but pressed his lips together and shook his head. He wanted to approach you, but more than that, he wanted to be granted permission to approach you. He wanted to have a reason to begin communicating with you, but he wouldn’t get it, and so going against what he knew he would eventually be told, he stole your information.

Okay…stole was a big word, Spencer preferred collected. It kind of fit, Spencer thought himself somewhat of a collector, like Gideon, a collector of stories, but instead of keeping photos, he kept memories. It was mostly out of his control, but for the very select that was…

He went through the day as best he could without thinking about you–you and Emily. For the most part, he was good at it, and at one point he even thought he might get away with his plan–but then Rossi pulled him aside in the car park and said, “You’re going after her, right?”

Spencer hadn’t expected the question, but there it was: out in the open. He thought about lying his way out of Rossi’s confrontation, but that would be too easy, and besides–he wouldn’t accomplish that feat even if he tried–Rossi might be getting to a certain age, but his mind wasn’t leaving him anytime soon. Well, that and he practically started the BAU.

This was his plan–to approach you cautiously and calmly. It had been a few months since Emily’s funeral and he wasn’t even sure you would recognize him–what he didn’t know is that just as he had been trying to track you down, you had been spending your time doing the same thing.

You tried to ignore the obvious reasoning as to why Spencer in particular caught your eye. He was cute, definitely your type–and no, you hadn’t been there looking for anything other than closure and to mourn your sister whom you never got to know–but there he was–and when the sun hit his cheeks, you had been able to tell he had been crying. His cheeks had glistened with the lightest shade of red, ti was beautiful, really.

And it tugged at you. 

You typically worked alone, you didn’t have just one homestead–you had multiple all over the country that you used when you needed to. Traveling from place to place gave you much more free time than one would think. Your main focus was your target, but just below that was figuring out the relationship Emily had with the rest of her team–with Spencer Reid, especially.

Your boss looked at you, eyes raised, “are you sure? — think about this–are you absolutely positive?”

“I’ve thought about it long enough–this job has served me for the timebeing–but now I’m ready to move on.”

He hesitated, eyes tracking the sealed envelope. A heavy sigh escaped him and his eyes shut, this–you knew–meant he was accepting it. He would no longer have you under his disposal–you were resigning. But–more than that, you were beginning a new job. To be sure, you had one lined up, though you neglected to share that with your boss–you were never particularly close with him, nor any of your other coworkers. You worked best that way. You had but one friend from your hometown, and even then, you only contacted her on occasion.

It was safer that way–for both you and her.

“There will always be a place here for you, you know that?”

You smiled, though it was grim. “Thank you for your time, Sir.”

Spencer never particularly preferred any one spot in his favorite coffee shop. He only had one rule, he wanted to be able to see everything. He either sat in a corner at the front, or near the wall in the back. The stools that sat in front of the large window pane were okay–and because the other spots were taken, it was where he now resided.

He was reading Dostoevsky, his Russian was a bit rusty and he wanted to see if he could finish the House of the Dead as he once had a few years ago. He took to analyzing the punctuation and pronunciation of words that threw him off. Every few seconds he would realize the definition of a word he thought he had forgot.

He was into his book, sure, but it didn’t stop him from noting the girl watching him. He knew better than to think he was imagining it, even if she was pretty and most definitely out of his league. He knew better because he knew your face. You weren’t just some pretty girl, randomly flirting with your eyes, you were — —, and he was just close enough to tell you most likely knew who he was. He held his breath, waiting to see what you’d do when you realized he had caught on.

You smiled. His stomach dropped at the image. He swallowed and shook his head, trying to grab hold of his thoughts. Without warning, you stood and headed right for him, aiming for the seat to his right. He kept his head down as you lifted yourself onto the stool.

You brought over the lemonade you had been nursing–Spencer didn’t even know this shop sold lemonade, that’s what he kept assuming was in your cup at least. 

“Spencer Reid.” You murmured, annunciating each syllable.

Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line, so he was right–he didn’t know exactly how much you knew, but he didn’t want to let anything slip just in case you didn’t know everything there was to know.

“—,” he only said your last name, but it was enough to make you smile slightly.

“You know me?” Though you tried to neutralize your expression right after, Spencer caught the way your eyes widened briefly. You were genuinely surprised, unlike Spencer, you hadn’t used his information to profile him the way he did for you. Though he wondered if it was a lack of training or skill, he went for the first as it seemed entirely possible assassins were not trained to profile their target. You knew basic personality traits, but you never had to get close enough to get into the psychology of your targets. 

“You know me,” he shrugged, sliding his bookmark into House of the Dead and setting it aside, to which you found yourself analyzing. This was the training you were preparing for. You were ready, but you still had to ace the interview–you had to be better than every other agent. You could do that–no you’ve never worked with a team before, and no you’ve never dealt with serial killers but your shots were lethal and you never missed, that had to count for something, right?

“Yes,” you twisted your body in the chair. The man in front of you dressed like a schoolboy, your eyes twitched and you asked, “You were bullied as a kid, right?”

Caught off guard, Spencer blinked, “uhm–what?”

You shrugged, “you’re a genius, I mean, in the worldly definition–but you don’t believe intelligence can be accurately quantified,” you bit back a smile, “I read a few of your papers. I was pleasantly surprised.”

“You were?” He raised a brow, twisting his body to face yours.

You averted your eyes, if you could impress him, that job was yours–you didn’t have a single doubt. Yes, maybe you should have secured it before resigning–but with your schedule, if you hadn’t you never would have made it to this final interview and your opportunity would have been lost until someone else quit or another died. Your eyes flashed at that thought–it had come out of nowhere.

Spencer–of course–saw this as well, but he said nothing. Instead, he noted the single earring you wore, he nodded toward it, “Your father gave you that.” Your heart seized itself, did Spencer know? Had he figured it out? “He passed away last year, that must have been hard.”

Though his expression and tone led you to believe he was genuine, you couldn’t help but feel this had turned into a game. Who knew more about the other–and maybe if you won, he wouldn’t be too mad when he found out you were interviewing for Emily’s position. “You had an addiction problem, it wasn’t recent, but it must have been hard.”

“What? Getting over it?” Spencer didn’t miss a beat, though you thought this would be his trigger, it wasn’t, so there was something you were missing. Something in which he carried with him that was heavier than his addiction.

“No, admitting you needed help.” You reached out an arm, pulled your glass toward you, and took a sip through the straw. Spencer watched you, waiting, eyes narrowed slightly. You thought you had won, but Spencer had been at this a long time–you were egging him on, trying to trap him, get him to slip up for some reason.

Thankfully, he had one more trick up his sleeve. “Yeah” he sighed, “that was pretty hard. But once I did, the rest came pretty easy.”

You nodded, taking in the information. He wondered if you cared or if this was just foreplay to you. What he didn’t know was that you were having fun. This wasn’t about testing out your skills or seeing if you could glean anything viable of Emily off of him anymore; now, you were slightly more curious about Spencer Reid as his person. He was the nerdy kind of cute and you couldn’t help but enjoy your minor quarrels, and be thankful he hadn’t taken any of your jabs seriously.

“Why did you really seek me out?” Spencer finally asked.

You raised a brow. “You honestly want to know?”

He shrugged, “I mean, wouldn’t you expect me to?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I don’t know you, Spencer, how could I assume anything?”

He liked you. It was everything. He didn’t just like your assertiveness. He liked your coyness, your confidence, your intelligence, your brain, the way you spoke, and the way you carried yourself–Spencer was sure he hadn’t felt this competitive since Gideon first challenged him to a game of chess. It was exhilarating, and as you stood to leave, your banter dying down, he found his arm shooting out to stop you. He wanted more.

It had grown later in the afternoon, though neither of you–it seemed– realized just how long you’d been talking. For a lack of better words, it was entertaining. To find someone that could keep up with you–not only on a pyshcological level, but a timed one–was the most brilliant feeling in the world. He didn’t care who you were anymore–in fact, he had forgotten for a time how you knew each other in the first place–he just knew he didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t want to lose whatever it was you had together.

“Yes?” You eyed the place where he grabbed your sleeve. He let go before stopping to think like a normal person–because a normal person never would have said what he had–he asked, “will I see you again?”

You bit your cheek and he noticed, taking pleasure in the fact that he made you smile, and embarrassed enough to want to hide that smile. “Yes, Spencer–but don’t hold your breath.”

“And why’s that?” He stood, thinking to follow you out.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, ignoring the other ignorants people around you. Then, you averted your eyes quickly back toward the floor, a frown falling overe your smile,  “it might not be under the circumstances you’d prefer.”

Spencer didn’t ask what you meant by that. He was too enthralled by your slightly solemn expression to register it at first, and by the time he had, you were long gone.

5 in the morning you woke up, dressed rather nicely, brewed a pot of coffee, drank said pot, and headed out around 7 to buy another cup of coffee.

Today was special, it was special because today you were going to see him again, but more than that, he had no idea you were coming. You didn’t know how attempting to figure out what Emily was like turned into obsessing over Spencer’s reactions. You were positive you weren’t insane, and yet, here you were, grinning like a madman as you stepped into the comforting confines of the BAU.

This is it? You thought as you approached the front desk. Many milled about, conversating, running documents back and forth, there was a line–you were sure–meant for the interviewees. You were one of them. The wait was terrible, but when you saw him, it became a bit more bearable.

You would need to overcome this, you would be working with him–you had no time to feel whatever you were starting to feel, you knew it would be much easier if you could put it out of you head and pretend he was no one in particular, but you found it hard. You didn’t find many things hard, but this–for whatever reason–had you struggling. 

He didn’t notice you at first, so you took to watching him. It was so tempting to analyze him in everyway you could. It’d pass the time, you tried reasoning, but you knew you it was an excuse. You huffed, folding your arms. You needed to leave him alone, you would force yourself if need be.

You stepped forward when the line moved, stating your name and sliding your ID across the desk. When you passed check in, you headed for the elevator, assuming he’d stay on the first floor talking to whomever he was talking to. A few others joined you in the cramped space.

The light was dim, flickering. You’d have to mention that when you got the position. There wasn’t any way you wouldn’t–you had two ins. Besides, that title had your name written all over it. You’d have to take some psychology classes? So what? You minored in psychology during university. It’d be a walk in the park–hell, you were probably even overqualified for this job–

Similar thoughts tainted your mind while the doors began to shut. A hand shot through the crack and the doors reopened. You felt your eyes roll before looking up to meet the gaze of the idiot who just couldn’t wait.

“Sorry,” Spencer winced, stepping through the doors. He observed you immediately. His shoulder straitened and his body tensed. He swallowed as he filled the space next to you.

“Bit close, don’t you think,” you leaned over and whispered.

His throat cleared and he took a step away, turning his head. He looked flustered. You forgot how easy it was push him back into his shell, but you wanted to do the complete opposite. You wanted that witty banter from before, you wanted to cocky and know-it-all genies you’d played with before.

“I was joking,” you shook your head, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer’s voice lowered as he closed the distance between you once more, looking down at you, though trying to be mindful of the people around you. You didn’t care about them, they were NPCs to you. They didn’t matter in the slightest–maybe that was a problem, but you shoved that thought away.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You shrugged. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. You stepped out, looking around the office; Spencer followed you. “So, this is where I’ll be working from now on,” you nodded, it’s… quaint.”

“What are you talking about?” You watched realization dawn on him. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes, “no–no. You’re not–you can’t–

“–and just what can’t I do?” You met him, your face coming inches below his chin. People milled back and forth once more, Spencer clicked his tongue and pulled you further into the office, toward a few desks separate from the others clustered together.

He bit back a retort, you could see the words swallow in his mouth. He turned away and headed toward–you assumed–his desk, muttering to himself something incoherent to you.

Working with him was going to be a pain–you could already feel it. You wanted him, and not in the way someone normally desires another person–you wanted his brain, wanted to know what ran through it all the times of the day, wanted to know what he dreamt about. You felt your heart squeeze together with the knowledge that you could never get that close to him. You would get what you came for and go back to your old job. She was the only reason, she was the end goal, and it was her you would leave with.

This mundane life of catching serial killers and hurting people who deserved it wasn’t for you. Your life revolved around murdering people you didn’t know, people whom you had no connection to; people who had never done anything to you–some who were even completely innocent or simply collateral damage–all because you were ordered to. You knew once he found out he wouldn’t be able to look at you the way he looked at you now: with curiosity and possibility–he’d see a cold-blooded killer and nothing more.

Even if the orders you received came from the same organization his orders did. Spencer would never be able to see past the blood on your hands–that was just the type of person he was.

“I can’t believe this,” Spencer shook his head.

“What’s wrong, Pretty Boy?” Gosh–not Morgan again–he’d just laugh at Spencer. And right now, Spencer didn’t need someone to laugh at him, he needed someone to agree with him–and that person was never Morgan–not even on a good day.

“Nothing–just–,” his breath caught as you existed Hotches office. You grinned at him and waved, no–no you were approaching him now. Spencer could feel the confusion course through his body with every second you got closer.

“Pretty sure I nailed that interview,” you winked.

“Great,” he said full of sarcasm., but it was fake. It felt like bile in his mouth. He hated the taste of bile, it made him want to vomit again, or go back to sleep so the thought of the taste, the remembrance would go away.

You gave a mocking frown and playfully punched him in the shoulder, “meanie.” He huffed, and glancing at you, felt heat warm his cheeks as he held your smiley gaze. He knew things about you he probably shouldn’t–things the rest of the team didn’t know–things you probably wanted to keep to yourself. He couldn't act normally around you because every time he saw your face–he was reminded of the fact that he knew these things and they swayed not a single thoguht about the way he felt toward you.

He liked you–that was his initial thought, anyway. You weren’t angry, like work reports had painted you out to be, thought maybe that’s because he met you first. Before he knew what you were–what you did. It was people like you he chased–people like you he locked up, tossing the key without hesitation.

He wasn’t fooled by your playful attitude, he knew you were a serial killer–though a legal one. You weren’t just a hitwoman like the rest of the team firs thought–you were a very real and a very dangerous assassin Just because your kills weren’t considered crimes, did that make them okay? Any type of person with your mindset would need a high level of trauma tolerance. Assassins had the ability Spencer would never be able to acquire in this life–the inability to form relationships. Spencer’s brain operated in complete contrast, he needed human connection and social relationships. He’d never survive without it.

But where dis this fall on his moral side? Where would you fall on that scale? Did this make you a bad person? Did this form the entirety of your person–you weren’t depressed, and you had emotions, even if you were good at hiding the stronger ones. You showing up at Emily’s funeral proved that more than any words could defend it.

“That was the woman,” Morgan turned to watch as you headed toward the elevator, “the one at Emily’s funeral.”

“Yeah,” Spencer affirmed.

“And she knew you–you knew her?” Spencer didn’t want to admit that he had met you before, he didn’t know how that would be interpreted, he just knew it wouldn’t be appropriate, at least considering the surrounding context.

He held his breath, he didn’t know what to say–did he know you? No? He knew about you, not you personally. “No,” he replied, shifting his focus on Hotch as his boss stepped out of his office, seemingly watching you as well.

“Well then what the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer ran a hand over his face and groaned, tomorrow would be complicated. The look in Hotch’s eye told him everything he needed to know, and he still wasn’t prepared to fac eyou again.

Would it be a one on one like last time? Gosh, there shouldn’t have even been a first time–he shook his head. He needed rest, but more than that, he needed to figure out what the hell to do with these thoughts. His fascination wasn’t going away anytime soon, and if he was being truly honest with himself, he did not care.

You weren’t as tech savy as you would have liked, so digging up anything that wasn’t relatively public–was nothing short of hard. Emily was lost on you. You couldn’t find anything before she joined the Beurau, Spencer was pretty much everywhere in the sense of his works and his studies. Aaron was somewhat similar, Jennifer was a snore, now, Penelope was intresting–and David–well, he was just sad. You ignored Dereck for a bit as most of his personel files were locked and as mentioned previously: you did not have the skill set to go around those firewalls–yet.

Perhaps the tech girl could help you–she seemed the most likely to befriend you, the least likely to be sucpicious, though in truth she and everyone else had nothing to be sucpicous of, the only reasoning you weren’t giving them much was because you didn’t want them knowing your connection to Emily. 

It was private, a family matter, if you will.

You caught Spencer from the corner of your eye, he was slowly approaching you, though you pretended to jump when you appeared right behind you and slid a hand to your back, murmuring, “follow me.”

He brought you to a secluded room where the other members of the team were waiting around a table, Penelope stood at the front, holding a remote in her hand. She smiled faintly as you entered, but turned back to her debrief as you took your seat next to Jennifer–Spencer shut the door as quietly as he could and slid into the seat to your left.

The case was pretty heartbreaking–a series of child kidnappings that always ended in murder. As of now, rape kits were being distributed between the bodies that had been found, but you wouldn’t know more until you got down there. Florida–of course it would be Florida, you thought. 

You wondered if this was normal for everyone–had it been normal for Emily? They all looked slightly shaken up–though you supposed any sane person would be at the thought of kids being harmed.

You were to leave in 15 minutes, so you had some time to snoop around. You thought of going to Spencer first, but you didn’t want to get attached to him, so you went to Penelope. 

“Oh, hey,” she jumped, and noting your presence, she wiped her face, you disregarded to mention it. It could be many things–but you knew the more likely was Emily or the case.

You decided to latch onto the ladder as a conversation starter, “do you always get many kids?”

“Oh–uh,” she shook her head, “it varies, but normally no. They’re not–uh–” she struggled to calm herself down, “not typically the center, though sometimes they do get caught in the middle of…things.”

You nodded, thinking to leave the subject where it was. You wanted to ask about Emily, you knew it’d probably spark the intrest of why you were at her funeral as they no doubt remembered you, but a few reasonable responses were already lined up in your arsenal.

“Do any of you have kids? Or any…former members?” Did Emily have kids? Basic reports over the years said no, but with how vague Emily’s personal file was–there was no description of her background, no spouses, no property–the only things it really had was her father, her mother, and her birthdate–a lot of good that was going to do you.

Penelope’s facial expression halted as her mind ran through your question. Gears were turning in her head: it was obvious by the dazed look on her face; questions of her own began to form as she eyed you. “Just Hotch and JJ,” you nodded, pressing your lips together.

You knew she was hiding something, but you didn’t think it concerned Emily having children–if that were the case you were sure they'd be in protective custody by now. You didn’t feel like asking more about the topic as these children didn’t particularly concern you.

Though that sounded harsh, it wasn’t–not to you at anyway. Emily didn’t have children–regular or secretiv–that didn’t mean she didn’t have a lover, maybe someone whom she was extra close with? Someone who could tell you what she liked to eat in the morning, if she woke up early or late, if she was a cat or dog person–Spencer was a cat persono, you could just tell. You didn’t really have to think long and hard about it.

“You’re smiling, why are we happy?” Penelope gushed…? 

You schooled your face and cleared your throat, “I’m not–I wasn’t smiling,” your words were so close to a shudder you thought Penelope might’ve caught it, but she didn’t, and not wanting to jinx it, your ran for the hills.

You weren’t smiling–if you were it was because of Emily, but why would you smile at that? You still knew next to nothing, why couldn’t you just ask? Because then they’d be curious, you’d tell them you were an ex associate, but they probably wouldn’t believe that and start digging.

Eventually they find out who you father was, your connection to Emily–which was largely no conncetion at all–would be out in the open, and you previous job–....Spencer would know–they all would. It wasn’t a secret, it was simply intimate. That was all, you assured yourself, you just wanted to keep it personal, it wasn’t like your previous occupation was criminal…but you didn’t know how he’d see it–and even still, you had nothing to be ashamed of…

You had nothing to be ashamed of.

“So–you stalked each other?”

“I didn’t–quit laughing!” Spencer looked around, “and keep your voice down.”

Morgan snorted again, then sighed and let his head fall back. Spencer had dragged him into the break room as soon as Hotch had released them, “I’m not–I’m just–” they made eye contact, Morgan laughed again, “okay yeah, I’m laughing.”

Spencer huffed and pulled his legs to his chest in the chair he was huddled up in, “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he groaned into his knees.

Morgan frowned, genuinely concerned for his friend, who had become more of a brother to him over the years. “Listen kid, if what you’re saying is true, and that woman really is who you say she is…then we need to figure out why’s she’s here and who she’s working for.”

“That’s the thing,” Spencer shook his head as Morgan stood, Spencer followed him, keeping his voice hushed as they made their way to the jet, “I don’t think she’s workikng for anyone right now.”

Morgan raised a brow, tossing an empty coffee cup, “no? Then why is she here? Could it be an under the table kind of job?”

“No,” Spencer bit his lip, “I don’t think she’s that kind of person…” he ignored Morgan’s raised brow, “I think Hotch knows something, I don’t think he would have let her on the team otherwise.”

Spencer stepped into the elvevaor and Morgan followed shortly behind. They waited for the doors the encapsulate them completely before continuing, “So… what? You think she’s here under her own agenda? Like a vendetta or something?”

Spencer huffed, stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, and leaned back against the wall, “I don’t know…” he pressed his lips together regretfully, “she has a goal, that I’m sure of, but I don’t think I’m apart of it, I don’t think any of us are.”

“I don’t know about that,” Morgan sighed, mimicking Spencer’s stance.

“What are you talking about?”

“I hate to say it Pretty Boy, but I think you incerted yourself,” he shrugged, “partially, at least.”

“Partially?” He enunciated, “what does that mean?”

Morgan saw his chance to be smart, but held his tongue in favor of helping his friend truly understand the mess he’d gotten himself into–Spencer better appreciate his generosity (Morgan snorted at his own thought). He patted Spencer once on the shoulder and kept his hand there, “look kid, it’s kind of like tango–she sought you out, and you let her. Or at least–you sat at that table longer than you should have.”

“But that was an accident, I just didn’t realize time was slipping by–”

“Yeah, but why? Or better yet, how? You better starte asking yourself these questions Pretty Boy, or she's gonna do a number on you.”

Spencer paused, watching Morgan push open the door to the roof and head toward the jet. He yelled, “that literally makes no sense!” He bit back an insult when he saw a smile alter the way Morgan walked. Spencer could admit his “buts” were weak, what he couldn’t admit was that he was falling for a killer he’d known for less than a month.

A month passed–a full month, Spencer tried relenting the first week–but he didn’t last. He wondered where you were right now, what you were doing. He wondered if you had decided to go back to your old job, and if that were the case why you even neglected to let the team know so they could begin looking for a new member.

He knew saying it out loud would make him more pathetic than he already seemed, but there was something about you that enraptured him–and now he spent almost every waking moment picturing you in the most mundane ways–but also the most provocative. He wondered–if you were, though of course you were, he’d found multiple sources to indicate your previous occupation–but he wondered if it had prevented you from certain pleasures.

No–he knew he should stray his mind from the topic–from you altogether. But as he left the office, his mind refused to let go of it. He was caught offguard when he noticed a silhouette outside his car. It was as if all his prayers had been answered because it was you. 

He wondered if you had been waiting for him, and if you had been, how long you had been waiting for. You’d taken a few days off–that had been the story Hotch relayed anyway–and his mind had been trying to replace the emptiness you’d left behind.

He hadn’t known it until just now, when he saw your stark white expression. He wonderd if you were alright, he hated the thing that had you looking so afraid. He nearly dropped his satchel as he quickened his steps toward you. 

“What’s wrong?” He huffed, trying to catch his breath, though Morgan kept telling him to do laps at least once a day, Spencer hated running–hated exercise in general.

“I don’t know,” that was a lie, you knew exactly what was going on, the warning arrived three days ago, the morning before you had asked to be put on a leave of absense. You liked it here, at the BAU, enjoyed it more than you would have cared to admit a month ago. You’d gotten close to people, something you hadn’t needed to do before, hadn’t wanted to.

“Here,” Spencer pulled your hand away from you mouth, you were nibbling on you fingers, it was unhealthy  and unsanitary. 

“I didn’t know what to do.” You said as a way of explantion when you were safely tucked into his car, but what you really meant was, “I didn’t know where else to go.” Spencer heard it, your silent plea, knowing it probably took a hit at your pride to say such a thing, and though any normal person wouldn’t have, Spencer caught himself smiling to himself. He was glad, glad you felt safe enough to come to him when you feared you were in–what were you in? 

His face tensed as he was brought back down from his ego-high. You reached out gripping the sleeve of his collard shirt, trying to imagine what was running through his mind. You’d been in hideout for the past three days, but they found you again, of course they’d found you.

You’d taken out someone incredibly important to them, as an order, but that didn’t matter–not the the cartel.

You were a one on one kind of person, you couldn’t take on an army. So, you resorted to the only thing you could think of, the only thing that had ever made you feel safe, you went back to your boss. But he wouldn’t be of much help to you in a grave, which is where you found him, just days after you’d resigned. You didn’t find your resignation, though, it was either stolen or burned.

You’d left the building a different way you had gone in, you had no way of knowing if they had lookouts watching the building, but chances were: they did. And like you–they had a specific hitlist, and an order. 

You drove around for a bit before ultimately deciding you only had one option left. You needed to ask the BAU for help, but like before, you went to Spencer first.

You kenw it was a longshot, that when he found out just what kind of trouble you were in, he’d probably turn the other way, but you were hoping the past month had done you some favor. At least with the team–even if Spencer hated you. 

“Who’s after you?”

You hesitated for a minute, your heartbeat almost puncturning the silence with each second you didn’t respond, “the cartel.”

Spencer released a beath and nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tightened and his face hardened. You were prepared for him to tell you to get out, to tell you that he couldn’t help you–he started the car instead, and said, “Call Penelope.”

“We can help you,” Hotch ground out, “but before we do, we need to know everything.”

You froze, feeling the gaze of every other person in the room on you. You felt yourself swallow back bile and take a step back, Spencer was right behind you though, and when you turned, afraid, he caught your arm, sent you wordless reassurance, and squeezed your arm.

You took a breath and turned back around, “6 months ago, I was granted a weekend off,” you neglected to bring up your job, you were sure everyone in this room already knew. You bit your lip to keep it from trembling, “he’s…forgetful.”

“He has alzheimers.” Spencer reworded.

You sighed, “yes, he does. And in one of his older delusions, he mistook me for someone else.” You turned away, trying to keep yourself calm as your readied the biggest blowup of your life, “My father thought I was my half-sister, I kept telling him I was —, but he was insistent, he kept saying, “I know my little girl, you’ve gotten older, Emily.”

Bated beath was released at your admission, “Emily didn’t have any siblings.”

“Neither did I,” you ran a hand through your hair, sweaty from the stress.”

“Right,” Penelope pressed her lips together in an apology.

“It’s,” you waved a hand, “that’s why I’m hear, I needed to do some research, all I had to go off was a name and my Father’s whereabouts. When I found he last known location, I resigned as soon as I could and I came here, imagine my surprise,” you said the last bit with dripping sarcasm.

“Oh,” Penelope held a hand to her face and to your confusion, Jennifer wiped a tear as well.

“And that’s all?”

You inhaled and swiped at your eyes, “that’s all.”

Aaron nodded, took a breath, then released it, “alright, let’s get to work.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmured as the team rubbed sleep from their eyes, they were all ready to get home, to their warm beds. They’d been working nonstop and finally–finally–found the group within the cartel that had killed your boss–the ones that were after you. It was raining outside, you could hear it, you didn’t rember Februaruy being so cold, but perhaps that was just because it hadn’t crossed your mind as much.

You were used to being secluded; complaining about the cold always seemed to come with the job, but now that you’ve experienced how warm life could be, how warm a semi-normal job was, you were able to miss it. 

No, it wasn’t part of your plan–but neither was having a sister, neither was having a branch of the cartel after you; nor was getting close to and even relying on your teammates–and definitely not falling in love with your late sister’s coworker–nothing, you realized, had stayed the course. Everything had gotten lost and just now, you understood you didn’t wanr to look for it.

“No, we didn’t,” Aaron was the first to answer.

“But you did…”

“Which must mean,” he sighed.

“That we love you,” Penelope cooed.

You winced when she hugged you, but smiled your way through it, “thank you.”

“Anhytime,” the team headed out, all but one.

You turned toward Spencer raising a brow. “What?”

He shrugged, and rounded your desk, picking up a few of your things and throwing them into his satchel, “nothing, just–I assume you need a place to stay for a little.”

You shook your head, “I should be safe now, I can go back home.”

“About that,” he paused, “...You got a call yesterday, you have three days to move all your things out.”

“What?” Your eyes widened and your eyebrows shot upward, “they’re evicting  me?” you snatched your phone from the table and called your landlord, though to be sure, she did not answer, “you’re not pulling my leg?”

“I’m not,” he held up his hands.

“Ohhhh,” you groaned and face palmed into the table, tired, and irritated, and angry, but having no energy to show any more emotion than the first.

“Come on,” Spencer’s hands ran along your back.

You lifted your head, “really?”

“Before I change my mind,” he grinned and began walking away. Your stomach flluttered as you watched him walk away, the ghost of his touch left behind on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes roll, but a grin spread across your face and a little laugh escaped you, “I love you.” you whispered.

But he wouldn’t know that, not for a little while anyway, because though he was being nice, it didn’t mean anything more than that. Spencer was a nice person, Spencer was kind and smart and funny and he was a lot of the things you were not–but you could try, couldn’t you?

Yes, you were slowly losing the part of you that hated the world. You thought it might have began thawing upond that first forced encounter witht he nerd in front of you. No–you were absolutely sure of it.

Spencer was in his own little world as he started his car. It had taken some time, but now he knew for sure exactly what he thought of you and the person you were. He’d known from the very beginning. He didn’t need some reports to tell him who you were or some teenage magazines to understand what he was feeling. 

Spencer might have had trouble discerning curiosity from intrigue, but desire was desire. And he desired you in every way he knew existred. He knew what you were, and he knew he didn’t care, and he didn’t think to question it because he knew he was crazy, all geniuses were or went someowhat insane, and Spencer’s crazy was normal compared to most of them if you really thought about it.

He loved a murderer, a serieal killer, but you weren’t like those that he chased, you didn’t kill for fun or because you had some personal end goal in mind, you only killed upond receiving an order, if anyting that was a plus, it meant you were trained, though you could probably kick his ass if you really wanted to, he had a feeling as long as he was careful, you wouldn’t hurt him….much.

a/n: honorable mentions edit 1 edit 2 edit 3 edit 4 edit 5 edit 6

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[rixsjwb]

boobs obsessed. gojo satoru x f!reader

warning: mentions of boobs, breast and cleavage tiny bit suggestive at the end

also not proof read, and I hope this satisfies the anonymous person who requested me to write this, first ever request I've gotten so who ever you are I'm honored🙏 thank you so much.

Gojo satoru is pretty much known for being extroverted and standing out. Not only that, but his full-time job is to harasse, annoy, and bother people, along with getting them flustered.

so there's no shock that you're a victim of satorus constant bothering.

so when he barges into your room unannounced, throwing himself on your bed that you layed on. obviously, instead of resting his head on a pillow, he rested his head on your breast. "y'r tits are soft and pillowy!" he said, snuggling deeper into your cleavage. it tickled a bit, which made some giggles slip from your lips, as you tried to get satorus weight off you.

"ur too heavy satoru, get up!" you say lightly, tugging on the white hair in hopes he'd get off you, but he only snuggled deeper in, eventually falling asleep with a light snore as he slept soundly thanks to your soft boobs.

this wasn't the first time he's done something remotely close to your boobs. Sometimes, he'd squeeze them like there a stress ball, and he seemed so interested in the 2 globes on your chest.

whenever you wear shirts that show cleavage, whether it's a low-cut shirt, tube top, tank top, whatever, you catch him glancing at your breast multiple times, there are times where he'd even hug you from behind with a tight grip around your waist which cause your breast to spill out of your shirt, and because gojos tall he has a great view to ogle at them.

and on lazy days he'd lay his head on your thighs, through his glasses trying to see your pretty face yet being blocked by your breast.

now, not too long ago, you decided to have a tattoo just below your boobs, and weeks passed, and now it's fully healed so what better way to show it off a little then go to the beach?

you sat in the passenger seat right beside the driver, aka gojo satoru, you watch as he parks the car, and with th3 click of the engine turning off, you knew he was done. opening the door, you step out in baggy sweats and a tube top with your bikini wear just under the clothing, adjust the sunglasses as the blaring hot sun shines brightly. you hear satoru's door close just beside you as he heads to the trunk to pick up the stuff you had packed "it's bright as hell here" you hear satoru say, sending him a glance you could see his eyes were squinting as he uses his hand to cover the light from reaching his eyes.

"where are your iconic glasses?" you take notice of his absent glasses his cerulean eyes bright then the sun,"fuck.. probably forgot'm" he says sluring his words "s'fuckin hot!" he whines throwing himself on you which worsens the heat. but what you don't know is he's ogling at your breast, he watches as your hand comes up to your tube top to pull at it to cover the cleavage.

you roll your eyes as you continue taking out the bags throwing one over your shoulder before closing the trunk with a loud click." pick up that bag satoru" you say pointing to the one still resting on the ground, satoru picks himself off of you picking up the bag, his tropical button up shirt wasn't button up at all letting the soft cool breeze brush against his washboard abs.

as you guys approach the scorching hot sand you notice a familiar black hair boy and burnet female "shoko and suguru!" you hear gojo say happily as he jogs closer to them, you walk a close distance behind him before landing on the pre layed out towel that suguru and shoko were resting on.

"satoru, y/n your finally here." suguru says with his soft baritone voice a soft smile grazing his face at the sight of his friends that he's come to know for a long time.

"guys let's his the beach, I feel like I'm melting! y/n hurry and get dressed!" satoru urges you, as you place the bags down laying on the towel under the parasol that aided to cool you down from the harsh UV rays of the sun.

"m'tired" you say resting your head on your arm your cheek squishing against your forearm, as you wipe away the sweat that already started to catch you.

but you quickly take off your top and sweats leaving you I'm your 2 piece hibiscus bikini, the bikini was a 2 sizes small and you just now realized how much your breast where spilling out from every side, "ill take over with the sunscreen shoko!" you hear satoru say as he grabs the bottle from shokos, who just rolls her eyes at satoru's behavior, as he continues lathering you up, caressing your waist to your breast, before he takes notice of the tattoo.

"wait?, you have a tattoo?" satoru says shocked, drawing sugurus attention to just under your chest noticing the subversive like design you hum a soft 'mhm' before lifting your bikini top alittle more higher for him too see the full deign but then noticing you might flash him a nipple or two you fix the bikini top to rest over your boobs.

not noticing how red satorus gotten until suguru and shoko ganged up to tease him, the one always teasing other getting teased was a change for sure. "getting a sunburn under the shade is crazy satoru"

both shoko and suguru cackle, "shut up!" satoru says handing you the sunscreen to lather himself up, as you do so you could hear satoru bickering with both shoko and suguru, but all the bickering came down once you were done aiding satoru with his back, that he switched the conversation, wanting to hop into the ocean to cool off.

it was a fun day, playing volleyball on the beach, satoru and suguru wrestling in the ocean, and satoru chasing you and shoko with some ugly slug that was on shore, as the day arrives to an end both you and satoru give hugs and wave your goodbyes to suguru and shoko as they drive away back to there homes, leaving you and satoru. "where's my hug at?" he said a pout on his face. You roll your eyes before pulling him into a hug, satoru squeezing you tight as your breast squish against his chest.

and satoru feels himself burning up again as he feels something in his pants harden, he just loves your boobs.

[laseracronym]

hi there this is my first ever request and i'm kinda nervous lol

but i was wondering if the nsfw alphabet could be requested? if so could i request it with iida/chubby fem reader? & if not that's totally okay!

or if not maybe a smutty lil drabble where he's completely feral for chubby reader (i know he's very prim & proper, but just something about him going crazy/being a whiny mess for reader's pussy does something for my little goblin brain)

thank you & i hope you have a good day! 🍄

(Laser: omg I'm so honored to be your first request! I decided to do the drabble for now, but I'll definitely do the NSFW alphabet as well one of these days. Though, it's no longer a drabble, I really got into it. Iida really needs more love!

I hope you enjoy!)

Iida/Chubby!Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Dating a high-profile hero like Tenya meant that at least once a month, you were dressing up in something fancy and spending the evening at his side as you attended some important dinner or event involving other important figures in the industry. You didn't mind it, not at all. You were a sociable type, and you also worked with heroes because of your career in the hero support field. Half of the time, these events felt less like business and more like catching up with friends and interesting acquaintances.

Besides, you really liked dressing up. It wasn't often you got to feel glamorous, holed up in your workshop sweating over prototypes and making repairs. Sometimes it was nice to set the work gloves aside, wash off the grease, and get all dolled up.

Tonight was a charity gala hosted by Commission President Takami, and you were at Tenya's side like always. You were particularly happy with tonight's outfit. You bought a new dress that was a deep dark blue, almost black, form fitting, and when you moved, the light would catch on some subtle gold detailing in the fabric. You matched it with some killer heels and jewelry Tenya had gifted you over the years. Your hair and makeup was perfect, and you'd even gotten your nails done (a rare treat because of your work) which you had to stop from admiring every time they caught your eye.

You felt so pretty, and Tenya thought so, too.

You had to arrive separately that evening, Tenya getting held up with an incident that needed his last-minute assistance. When he saw you waiting for him out in front of the venue, he nearly tripped over his own feet. He had that tell-tale blush up his neck and to his ears and you watched his Adam's apple bob as his eyes flitted up and down your figure in your tight dress.

He cleared his throat, tugging at the tie around his neck as he took a moment to compose himself. "(Name)! You look...splendid," he said as he approached you, his eyes full of admiration. It was obvious he was struggling to put all his thoughts into one simple word. You'd clearly wowed him tonight.

You smiled wide, pleased that you’d blown him away. "Thank you! You look good, too," as he came to a stop before you, you could appreciate just how amazing he looked in a suit. It was a sight you would never tire of, how his broad shouldered, muscular body seemed to be made for formal wear. He'd coordinated his suit to match your outfit, and it made you even more excited to be dressed up tonight.

"Thanks, honey," he pressed a kiss to your temple, the contact brief and chaste. He often kept PDA to a minimum, it was just the way he was. You didn't mind, you understood there was a time and place for everything, and he was plenty affectionate in private.

When he pulled back, he took another moment to look at you, and his glasses did little to hide the desire in his red eyes. It made your heart skip a beat. He gave a little sigh, lifting his hand to brush the back of his knuckles along your cheek, "honestly, I don't know how I'm going to be able to focus tonight with you next to me, looking like this," he said quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

You felt your face heat up, suddenly bashful at the admission. But before you could reply, Tenya had his hand placed lightly between your shoulder blades and he was guiding you inside.

The rest of the night went as expected. Lots of listening to speeches and mingling, some catching up with the people you knew. All the while, Tenya was his polite, proper self. He kept you close, but his hands never strayed anywhere inappropriate, he lavished you with compliments and fond smiles but nothing too heated.

To anyone else, Tenya might not have seemed very affected, but you knew him, and you knew he was enamored by your appearance tonight.

There was a tension to him in the set of his shoulders, and a restlessness belied by the tapping of his finger against his champagne glass. His eyes lingered on you just a tad too long before he seemed to catch himself and look away. By the end of the night, you could tell he was eager to leave.

You two said your goodbyes and exited the venue, entering an elevator to get back to the ground floor.

As the doors of the elevator closed, leaving the two of you alone for the first time that evening, you felt Tenya's strong arms wrap around you from behind, the hard line of his body pressing against your back. His hands pressed to your stomach, giving a light squeeze.

You blinked, feeling his face press into the top of your head, his shuddering breath soaking into your body, "...Tenya?"

"Sorry, (Name), I'm just..." he took in another deep breath, pulling you even closer to him, his hands kneading your stomach almost absently, "I've been thinking about you all evening. It feels rude, but I'm not sure if I heard a word anyone said. All I could think about was how you look in this dress, all I wanted was to take you back home and do things I shouldn't think about in public."

You could feel a light thrumming from his body, a result of his engine quirk, a sign of his excitement. He grew semi-hard as he spoke, his arousal pressing against your back. His voice had a growing neediness to it, and in response, heat pooled, slow and sweet, between your legs. You licked your lips, resting your hands atop his, your thumbs brushing along his knuckles.

"Let's go home, Tenya," you said, hot desire coating your voice. You tilted your head up, back against his chest, and smiled up at him, "and we'll take care of you."

Getting home was sweet agony. Despite the promise of what awaited him at home, Tenya would not drive above the speed limit, ever the rule-follower. He didn't seem particularly happy about it, either, which made it even funnier to you despite your own impatience.

Eventually, blessedly, you made it home. As soon as you stepped through the front door, Tenya was sweeping you off your feet.

You gasped, your arms going around his strong shoulders as he held you bridal style and all but marched towards the bedroom. It never failed to turn you on, just how easily he could pick you up and carry you around. You were by no means petite, but that didn't pose a problem to Tenya. In fact, he seemed to prefer it in a lot of ways.

He laid you down on your bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you immediately. Neither of you had even had the chance to remove your shoes, that was how impatient he was to taste you. He covered you with his body, slotting himself between your legs. One hand cradled your face, the other wandered your plush curves. As his hips pressed against yours, you could feel his hardening length nudge up against your core.

“I’m sorry, (Name),” he murmured between his insistent kisses. His face was flushed, his glasses askew, “I don’t know what’s come over me.” His hand slid under your dress, caressing and squeezing your soft skin.

You giggled softly, returning his kisses, “you have nothing to apologize for…” He made it seem as though this was unusual for him to get this worked up, but it wasn’t. When he got in a particular mood, Tenya could become quite needy, and you loved him for it. You carefully removed his glasses, twisting and trying to reach the nightstand so you could safely set them aside, but he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second, catching your wrist and drawing your attention back to him. You released his glasses, letting them get lost somewhere on the bed.

“I need you,” he said, such desperation in his voice, kissing from your lips down to your neck and cleavage, smudging your lipstick all the way. He pushed the hem of your dress, up, up, up, until it bunched beneath your breasts. His hands smoothed over your stomach, one of his favorite features of yours, and his hips rutted against you.

“Mmm…” you squirmed beneath him, your eyes fluttering as his hips pushed against your clit, stimulating you through all the layers of clothing. He was so perfect like this, so hot when he lost his composure. Such a sight was just for you, and you would hoard it greedily.

“Tenya, love, get those clothes off,” you ordered breathlessly, and he was eager to obey, hurriedly ridding himself of his clothing with your help. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, hard and weeping pre-cum for you, the way it begged for your attention just like the rest of him. You reached out, wrapping your hand around it, and Tenya whined so sweetly.

You smiled at him, stroking slowly, twisting your wrist just so, and he responded with a throaty groan. His engines revved, and he moved to hover over you, gently guiding you back.

“I need you,” he kept saying, your dress was bunched up even further, exposing your breasts, he palmed at one, “I need inside of you, need to feel you,” he reached down, giving the waist of your panties a questioning, pleading tug, “please, (Name)?”

You nodded, “yes, Tenya, of course, sweetheart,” you lifted your hips slightly and he removed your underwear while you removed your dress, peeling it up over your head without bothering to unzip it.

It felt so good to feel him without any barriers, and he pressed into you. A wet, delicious glide that had you both moaning.

“(Name), (Name)… you feel so good…” Tenya murmured, his face nuzzling into the side of your head. He had a firm grip on your outer thigh, keeping your leg secure over his hip. His other hand braced against the mattress as he began to thrust into you at a hurried pace, pushing sweet sounds out of you as your normally patient lover gave in to his pent up lust.

“Mm, Tenya,” you gasped out, holding onto him, panting into his ear, “yes, love, yes…!” Your body bounced with the rhythm of his thrusts, your head tossed back against the mattress, and you could do little more than let him do what he wanted.

His hands began wandering your body, worshiping your curves with his touch. He babbled nonsense into your skin as he pressed distracted kisses wherever he could reach. Sweat coated his body, and you marveled at each flex of gorgeous muscle beneath his skin.

His thrusts became more insistent, his hold on you tightening, it wasn’t a surprise to you when he came with one final thrust, filling you to the brim. Tenya held you in place, his own body still, as he panted against your sweat-slick shoulder. You panted beneath him, hands restlessly stroking his biceps, your pussy stuffed but still craving release.

With a long, slow breath, he relaxed, the frenetic energy from before finally soothed. He lifted his head, a painfully tender smile on his face as he kissed your cheek, “that was...perfect, honey,” his voice was warm, his hand drifting up and down your side.

“I’m glad, sweetheart,” you said fondly, letting out a soft noise of surprise as he lifted your lower body, arranging you effortlessly into an angle that you knew would have you seeing stars. You could already feel him growing hard again inside of you, his stamina like nothing else.

He looked down at you with a heated grin that made your heart flutter, “now allow me to return the favor.” He leaned down, folding himself over you, “let me take care of you, (Name).”

(Requests)

[eustasskidagenda]

can i request headcanons of what the monster trio+Usopp and Law think of Goth reader who wears all black, has tattoos and piercings, and loves horror ?? and who would like goths the most?? and idk how but could u mix a little nsfw with this if possible?? thank u!!

Yes, sure thing, here we go with some headcanons ! I didn't add nsfw for Luffy because I do not write smut for him. But for the others, there's a bit of nsfw at the end. Hope it meets your expectations, thank you for requesting :D

☆Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp & Law with a goth s/o

CW : g/n reader, MDNI, both sfw and nsfw, mention of alcohol for Zoro, mention of bullets for law, mention of blood and murder still for law (he’s talking about a horror movie)

WC : 2,4K

Luffy

Luffy's open-mindedness and curiosity would lead him to ask many questions about your style. He finds it cool.

"When did you discover this lifestyle?", "What's the meaning of your tattoo?", "What's your fav piercing?"

At random times, he would touch your tattoos and then, questions time again, "Is it really in your skin? Can you take showers with them, it doesn't fade? Oh wait, look, I can slide my finger into your earring gauge. All those piercings, woh, you must have a lot of holes."

He's so innocent, help.

Of course, he would love to try some goth clothes or to wear make-up just like you. Good luck, he's an incompetent model. Always fidgeting. He is unable to remain still. He would be quite annoying. You would clearly have a lot of struggles to draw a beautiful eyeliner on his over-smiling face. 

And you know, those scenes where he's imitating Sanji or Chopper? He would imitate you. Not to make fun of you, just because Luffy loves that kind of imitation.

He believes that his full black outfit and stunning eye-liner make him look really cool. He would be so proud to show the good job you made on him to everyone. 

Even while sleeping, he would keep his make-up on. He doesn't know that make-up needs to be removed. 

If you want to watch a horror movie, he may freak out because it was really scary or he may laugh heartily because it was quite funny. Especially in a slasher movie. He thinks that the characters' terrible decisions are amusing. "That was hilarious!"

He would love to trace your tattoos with his fingers. Luffy is fond of physical touch with his loved ones, so yes, his hands would be glued to your tattoos all the time. 

"Hey, Y/N, I have an idea for your next tattoo!" While showing you a really ugly drawing. This guy can't even draw a proper circle so a full tattoo… 

He wants to see it on your body now, so good luck.

Zoro 

CW : slight roux sex, oral sex (Zoro receiving), slight dacryphilia

Zoro is so oblivious and stoic that he doesn't care much about anything. He's not into fashion or trends; the only thing he's truly interested in is saké and training. He would not really care about what you're wearing, like he doesn't even know it's called gothic. For him, it's just black clothes, make up, tattoos and piercings. It's fine as long as you enjoy your outfit.

"Ugh, it's called goth… I thought it was just black clothes…" 

However, if someone dares to make a mean comment about your style, he would be pissed off. Zoro craves honor and respect, so he would get really angry. No one can make fun of his s/o. 

"Ain't no fucking way" if you want to put make-up on his face. Paint his nails black is the only thing you can do. 

I believe he would be fond of your piercings. He has some earrings himself, and he thinks they're cool. He would offer you some jewels sometime. "I thought it would look cool on you." Although his appearance is stoic, he has a genuine desire to please you.

And if you two are watching a horror movie together… honestly he would just fall asleep. Saw? Sleeping. Conjuring? Sleeping. Alien? Sleeping. The silence of the lambs? S.l.e.e.p.i.n.g. You just can't freak out Zoro. But he would enjoy having a peaceful moment with you. 

NSFW 

Zoro would be thrilled if you got a tattoo on your back. What a beautiful sight when he takes you roughly from behind: he can watch his cock sliding in and out of you, your ass, and your back tattoo. He would retrace your tattoo with his hands and bite or lick it. All. The. Time. 

Another thing he would enjoy? Your tongue piercing. "That's it, put this piercing into good use" while you're literally gagging on his cock slamming deep down your throat. The way you piercing rolls along his length or on his tip would elicit deep, low grunts from Zoro. Your watery eyes, faded eyeliner, and black drops running down your cheek would be a major turn-on for him.  "Fuck, you look so pretty with your make-up all messed up."

Sanji 

CW : oral sex (reader receiving), penetrative sex (no mention of genital for the reader), for the last paragraph, the reader is wearing a skirt + fishnet tights, but no pronoun used 

Sanji would love your style. He likes fashion and well-dressed people. He thinks that black outfits combined with beautiful smoky eyes and some piercings is an amazing style. 

But well, it's Sanji, so even if you were wearing a paper towel outfit, he would still think you're the most beautiful person in the whole universe. 

He would be a fantastic help with your makeup. Are you in need of flawless eyeliner? Just leave it to him. Same with the lipstick or even nail polish. He is a divine being with hands and he probably learned a few things during the time skip. 

He would have a great time watching scary movies with you. Because it means spending time with his s/o. He would prepare some healthy snacks for the both of you. But on the flip side, he's not a big fan of violence, so he would take this opportunity to get closer to you. "Oh, so scary!" Before holding you firmly. And no letting you go before the end of the movie.

Sanji would be more than happy to help you choose new clothes, make-up, or jewelry. He has really good taste. And he would try some outfits himself just to please you. 

"Y/N, try this one" while showing you a shirt with a big low-cut neckline. Just because he likes to watch your chest. 

If you have a tattoo on your chest, prepare yourself because Sanji's hands would be glued on it. It's too beautiful to resist, he can't help it.

Whenever you get a new tattoo, he will certainly aid you in applying the cream. He's more than happy to lend a hand if it involves touching you.

NSFW

When you're watching a movie, Sanji would enjoy the "chill" time more than the "movie" time. He would begin to retrace all of your tattoos while the movie is still running before going down on you. "Let's see if you can scream more than those guys on screen."

The way you look at him with those beautiful made-up eyes while he's thrusting into you? Intoxicating. The passion, the eyeliner, the make-up…. If you begin to kiss his neck, smearing your lipstick on his skin, his cock would be throbbing within you. It's too much for him to handle.

If you're into wearing skirts and fishnet tights, Sanji would definitely nosebleed. He would just pin you against the wall or sit you on the table, hike up your skirt, and slowly sink his length into you, moaning close to your ear.

Usopp

CW: slight fingering (reader receiving), slight cum play

At the start, he would be impressed by you. Once Usopp gets accustomed to your style, he would absolutely love it.

Your aesthetic, particularly your tattoos and jewels, would be a great source of inspiration for him. Since he is a god of his hands, he would create some outfits and jewels for you. 

To surprise you, he would work really hard on a beautiful tattoo. Unlike Luffy, he is skilled at drawing. He also knows your tastes, so honestly, the final piece would be mesmerizing. Usopp would be very proud if you tattooed his drawing on your skin. 

"R-really, you… you tattooed my drawing on your skin?" With a flustered expression and his heart pounding. 

Even though Usopp doesn't share the same musical/cinematographic tastes, he would try to learn more about your likes. Despite his dislike for scary movies. Our poor Usopp would be so freaked out, especially with the jump scares. At the conclusion of the movie, he would become clingy and even fearful of sleeping alone in the dark. 

He's a dreamer and a good storyteller, so seeing your outfits would help him with his inspiration. He loves to imagine stories and would end up daydreaming about you wearing specific outfits in specific situations. Occasionally, he would draw you. 

Perhaps he could make a weapon that is based on your favorite music or movie. He's so creative. 

He's a coward so piercings/tattoos are not for him, but he would help you take care of yours. And he's really conscientious about it. 

The same applies to your hairstyle or make-up, Usopp knows how to cut hair and he's good with make-up because he's an artist. Please let him do your make-up and hair. He's fond of those moments of intimacy. 

NSFW

"Hey y/n… so I have an idea… you know… your outfit is quite… pretty. I'd love to draw you… but you know, like… a spicy drawing… I mean, an artistic one… you see?" he would babble so much. Poor Usopp is so embarrassed. But he can't help it, you're really inspiring his creative soul. And as you accept being drawn in some suggestive positions, Usopp would try his best to keep both hands on his pencil and hide how turned on he is. But his hard cock pressing against his pants is unavoidable. Please, have mercy.

Another fantasy of his? Painting of your naked body. The sight of your bare body is breathtaking. Usopp would have a lovely and sweet time painting your curves. The softness of his touch and all his mesmerizing comments about how amazing you are, are quite adorable. His hands would be heavenly soft and he would have a glimmer of pride in his eyes because he's truly doing a great job. "Y/N… I need you so bad…" while watching at your exposed bare bottom. With your consent, sure, he would slide two fingers into you, moaning through gritted teeth. He would slide his hard cock between your ass cheeks until he cum. His seed would be on your back, thighs, almost everywhere. "Now, what a beautiful painting."

Law

CW : slight dirty talk, slight teasing, slight nipple play, slight choking 

Law being... Law, he would not be very vocal about his thoughts. Like, you want to wear black clothes? Okay. A lot of piercings? Okay. You like horror movies? Fine. He has too much on his plate to care about that type of thing.

But he would be really curious about your tattoos. At first, he would stay silent because he is aloof. After some time, he would be happy to learn more about the meanings of your tattoos, if they have one. And if not, just how did you get the idea. There's a chance he'll talk about his own tattoos. 

Law finds it difficult to communicate, so having something in common with him would make it easier. He is interested in discussing art with you, or even getting a tattoo with you. Law would love this date idea.

As a skilled doctor, he would be extremely attentive to the healing process. "Y/N-ya, don't forget your cream." all the day. He would leave a note if he's not around.

Putting make-up on his face is not an option. "I don't need make-up anyway, I already have dark circles under my eyes." He's not wrong in fact

Law would probably be uneasy with certain horror movies. Particularly if it can trigger his past trauma. If the plot is about sickness or people taking a bullet, he's not willing to watch it and even mad if you try to force him to. 

If it's a random slasher or something paranormal, it’s okay. And he knows a number of movies. However, he would be extremely irritating. Like, pointing out all the incoherences and the jump cuts. Again, he's a doctor, so whenever there's a gore scene, he can't help but comment on it. "Ugh, it's so ridiculous, it doesn't look like this. You know that Y/N-ya, right? In fact, when people are killed like this, the organs are damaged... first, the..." Prepare yourself for a complete explanation during the movie. "The blood is unrealistic and the costumes are cheap, it's awful."

He's such a nerd. 

Law probably shares your musical tastes, so perhaps he could create a playlist for you. Without any word, just like "Hey, listen to this Y/N-ya" before returning to his office. 

NSFW 

Piercings? Big yes. Nipple piercing? Total heaven. For hours, Law would suck and bite your nipples. Or pinch them. It's so intoxicating for him. "Your nipples are so damn hard, you like when I play with them?" 

Law would be delighted to use a mirror when he plows into you from behind, as he loves your tattoos. The nice jiggle on your ass, all your tattoos wet with sweat, how you squirm and the expression of pure bliss on your face… "You're so beautiful when I'm fucking you" If you're wearing that kind of tight chain necklace, he would brutally pull on, enjoying how you're gagging. And as he buries your head against the pillow, he would love to watch the faded makeup on your face and the marks on the pillow. "You look cute when you bite the pillow." He would say, slapping your ass before continue to fuck you senseless. 

And Law, as the teaser he is, would just love running his fingers along your tattooed skin for hours. Making you tremble with anticipation and desire. He would trace each line and curve from your neck to your ankles, avoiding all your sensitive areas. "You're already so turned on… for absolutely nothing. You need me so badly, y/n-ya? " 

He loves your tattoos and he knows you love his. So while he fucks you, his tattooed fingers would be wrapped around your neck. "My fingers are quite a beautiful collar for you, don't you think? " With his favorite teasing grin. It's written " death " on them for a good reason, because you're here to discover what "a little death" means.

[thefreakandthehair]

steddie | rating: m | wc: 955 | tags: established relationship, use of cake as a metaphor, they're so in love your honor | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie Munson celebrates two birthdays every year: the day he was actually born, December 19th, and the day he woke up in the hospital, April 8th. Funny enough, the latter is usually a bigger celebration. Family and friends that no longer exist in separate groups come together with all of Eddie’s foods and drinks, small gifts and sometimes, a bigger gift from the collective.

Try as they might, they’ve yet to top the Metallica tickets. 

But today is Eddie’s original birthday. December 19th— the one that’s usually swallowed up by the holidays, the one that really doesn’t mean all that much to him because, well, compared to waking up after saving the world, why would it? The last few celebrations have been tight-knit, mostly just himself, Wayne, and Steve either at Wayne’s trailer or the tiny little apartment Steve and Eddie managed to find for themselves. 

This year, it’s just the two of them with no one to blame but Mother Nature. A blizzard drops nearly three feet of snow over northeastern Indiana and no one is going anywhere, least of all Wayne whose getting up there in years. We'll make up for it later, Eddie assures him when he calls with a stream of apologies. 

How can he complain though? Wayne will make up for it, he’s snowed in with the love of his life, and the apartment smells like his favorite pasta sauce, the one he knows takes Steve hours to simmer. So no, he’s not disappointed. Not in the slightest. 

“Sorry your day got snowed out,” Steve sighs, plopping down onto the couch and draping an arm along the back of the couch, toying with the ends of Eddie’s hair. “I did get you a surprise though.” 

Eddie’s brow furrows, knitting tightly above his nose. There’s been no mail for two days, and their apartment doesn’t exactly lend itself to keeping secrets. “A surprise? What kinda surprise?”

“Well,” Steve smirks, confident in the way that always makes something stir in Eddie’s chest. “It’s not a birthday without a cake.” 

He’s so fucking lost. 

“A cake? We’ve been snowed in since Sunday and I would’ve smelled you baking in here. Also, I would’ve tasted it already, or at least demanded to lick the spoon so— wait, what are you doing?” 

Steve stands up and walks around the back of the couch, just behind Eddie. “Just close your eyes, okay? Or do I need to blindfold you?”

He can hear Steve’s smug grin without even seeing his face and now it’s not just his chest stirring. Eddie shifts I’m his seat. 

“No, no I can just close my eyes. Put a pin in the blindfold idea though.“ 

With his eyes closed, all he can do is imagine what the rustling is behind him, scenarios that will never compare to the sight he sees when Steve gives him the all clear. 

“Okay,” Steve says, his voice now coming from directly in front of Eddie. “Open.”

Very funny, brain, he thinks. My entire life since the demobats has to have been just one long, final burst of dopamine before kicking the bucket because there’s absolutely no way this is fucking real. 

Steve’s standing in front of him, shirtless, in nothing but some of the tightest shorts he’s seen Steve wear since the time he blindly walked into Scoops Ahoy asking for rum raisin and instead, got a fucking show. They’re dark maroon in hue with the word Cake printed in white script across the entirety of Steve’s ass. Moles litter his skin from the base of his neck down the flesh of his thighs, and the small indentation in his lower back is highlighted by the low waistband. Barely noticeable cuts in the sides expose what looks like black lace detailing. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie groans, unable to stop himself from reaching out and touching the soft, cotton material. 

“Yeah?” Steve looks over his shoulder with a knowing smile. “You like it?” 

Eddie fingers trace the font and he doesn’t even dare to blink. If it is a coma dream, he doesn’t want to risk waking up. “Do I like it? If I ever say no to that, Steve, take me into a field and off me because I’ve been replaced by the body snatchers.” 

Steve laughs and Eddie pulls him in closer, one hand on Steve’s hip and the other working its way up Steve’s thigh and beneath the fabric.

“Y’know,” Eddie starts, swallowing with a dry mouth around the lump in his throat. “There’s just one little problem with this birthday cake.”

“What?” Steve looks back over his shoulder again, this time confused. 

He gives his right cheek a light tap, just enough to relish in the way the plush flesh moves. “It’s not finished.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it need?” 

“You know I need my cakes frosted. And c’mon,” he leans forward and presses a kiss to Steve’s hairy thigh, just below the hem of the shorts. “Where’s the candle?”

Steve turns with a teasing grimace. “Did you just compare your dick to a candle?”

“Sure did. Is it working?” He smiles with his bottom lip between his teeth as he stands and places both hands in Steve’s hips. 

“I can’t believe it, but yeah, it kinda is.” Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips and back up. 

Eddie can barely get his thoughts in order, placing both hands on either side of Steve’s face and kissing him between words. 

“Best.” He kisses his forehead. “Birthday.” He kisses his nose. “Ever.” He kisses his lips. 

They make their way back to the bedroom and no one can blame him for leaving Steve’s ass littered in purpling hickies and love bites. 

It’s a cake, after all.

art by @firefly-party to celebrate @sidekick-hero's birthday today! here's a little collaboration to honor our favorite Cake Enthusiast! Sandy, we love you and hope you have the absolute best day. go give her some love, everyone!

[zepskies]

Outlander - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

AN: Ready for some more Cowboy Dean? Here we go with Outlander Part 1! This is a sequel story directly following The Honorable Choice, where Dean not only saves the member of a Native American tribe, but falls in love with her. (She saves him a lot in return.) Now, he’ll have to learn how to live in her world if he wants to stay with her.

This sequel series will be 4 parts! 💜

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Word Count: 5.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Suggestiveness/implied smut and spice, hunting (in the more traditional sense), angst, hurt/comfort, and romantic fluff. **Pronunciation guide at the end!

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: Two Worlds

Her people call this river Little Cheyenne. It’s because Big Cheyenne cuts through the land of the Sioux Indians by half, but Little Cheyenne almost meets it in the south, stretching all the way up to the Black Hills.

Mila’s tribe has always lived near this river. Its waters have bled red during battles with other tribes, and sometimes during battles with White Men.

The White Men’s fort, the one her husband came from, lies farther down in the south. The tribe had to move their village higher north along the river after Mila returned with Dean Winchester, just to be safe.

On a cloudy afternoon, Mila scrubs at a bundle of dirty clothes until they’re clean. She rinses them off in the river and is thorough about her work, but she knows she can’t be here much longer. She has a stew simmering on hot coals in her tipi…

Well, the one she now shares with her husband.

Unconsciously, she smiles. She remembers leading Dean through the tribe, to the place where she hoped he would find rest. They stopped at the foot of her tipi. 

“This one’s yours?” he asked.

She paused, giving him another small smile. 

“Ours.”

Mila continues scrubbing, though she frowns when her fingers slip through a tear in one of the new tunics she made for him (even though he keeps calling it a shirt). The tear was made by a blade, or maybe an arrowhead, she realizes. 

The crunch of feet on the riverbed’s gravel makes her raise her head and look over her shoulder. Unease prickles down her spine. She braces herself for a familiar shadow, come to disturb her peace.    

But then she relaxes. She’s being joined by two of the older women in her tribe. Mila has known them her whole life, and so she calls them tunwin. Aunt. They both greet her kindly and kneel beside her with their own bundles of clothes for washing, but Eyota, the older one, has a sharper eye. She is their tribe’s medicine woman. 

“Your husband wears out his clothes,” she remarks.

“He’s been working hard training with Šóta and the other men,” Mila explains.

“He seems to be learning quickly,” says Misae. She has a more playful glint in her eyes. “Who knew that you could catch and tame a White Man. Looks like they are no different from wild horses.”

Mila smiles slightly, but it’s not genuine. She nods in agreement. “He’s learning quickly.”

She holds her tongue from saying anything else, even though she wants to. Dean isn’t a man to be tamed, any more than she was, in his people’s eyes. She aims to change the subject. 

“Do you have any good herbs or spices for wahonpi? I’ve had the stew simmering all morning,” she asks Eyota. Not only is she a gifted healer, but Eyota is also one of the best cooks, and she knows it. She nods and straightens her shoulders the way she always does when someone asks her for advice—and even when they don’t ask for it.

“Of course, child. What you need is…”

“Goddamn it,” Dean huffs under his breath.

The jackrabbit flees from him again, or more accurately, from his terribly aimed arrow. He’s an excellent marksman…just not with a bow, it seems.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong here, and he’s not likely to figure it out. Not by the way Takoda, Šóta, and the other men are laughing at him.

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows when he’s being hazed.

These men are bare-chested warriors, each of them richly tanned under the sun. Most of them wear their hair long, half of it gathered high on their heads, or braided in some way. Šóta is his wife’s cousin, and as the Chief’s son, he wears a small adornment of eagle feathers threaded into his hair. His closest friends are Takoda and Otaktay. Both of them laugh at Dean the most, and in their language, using just enough gestures and body language that Dean knows he’s being talked about. They point at his boots and his brown Stetson hat—two of the only things he’s kept of his own that make him feel comfortable in his own skin.

Finally, Šóta goes over to him. “Good try,” he says, in his usual patronizing tone.

Dean knows he can’t punch out Mila’s cousin, no matter how bad he’s asking for it. Somehow, Dean manages to hold onto his temper.

“What’re they saying?” he asks lowly, gesturing at the two chuckle brothers.

Šóta’s lips twitch. He glances down at Dean’s feet. “They say your…shoes are loud on the earth. You give yourself away before the animal even catches your scent.”

Dean’s given up a lot of things, but his boots won’t be one of them. He wants to learn. He wants to belong here, in Mila’s world, but he also wants to stay himself.

So the men move on, mounting their horses. Dean rides with Baby at a plodding clip. Her black coat ripples with a healthy sheen. He thinks she’s come to enjoy the more natural surroundings and freer pasture of the grasslands, and he can’t deny, this part of it all feels right. The sun peeks through between the dappled leaves of oak trees, painting the ground in red, green, and gold. It’s quiet and beautiful here as Šóta leads the pack through the forest, just southwest of the village.

Eventually, he stops them between a denser thatch of trees and shrub. He raises a hand signal that Dean’s come to recognize. He raises his bow belatedly after the others though. He follows Šóta’s line of vision, and there is a deer grazing in a small clearing. A young buck.

Šóta signals at Dean. Try again, his eyes say.

Dean takes in a deep, quiet breath through his nose, and he takes aim.

He really misses his damn rifle.

Dean shoulders the sting of failure while he makes his way through the camp, leading Baby by the reigns. He drops her off at the large horse pen. There he feeds her and brushes her long coat, all while murmuring soft affectionate things. She’s still one of his only friends here.

But even she leaves him short to join her new friend, Mato. The two have become thick as thieves. Mato greets the black mare with a friendly whinny. Their noses touch in affection, and Mato playfully nips at her ear.

Dean raises his brows. “Well, that’s a little more friendly than usual. You guys start courting when I wasn’t looking?”

He walks over to Mato, who’s softened up to him in recent weeks.

“You sly dog,” Dean remarks, smirking. “Didn’t even ask me for her hand.”

Mato blows a hot breath through his nose at Dean, who has to blink, wiping his face.

“Now that’s just rude.” Still, he offers the mustang an apple from his pocket. Mato takes it from his palm, letting Dean rub his neck while he munches on his snack. “As fathers-in-law go, you lucked out, pal. See? I’m a delight.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Baby had her first foal by spring. Dean grins at the thought, but it soon falls. If only his father-in-law were so easy to please.

His mind dwells on it as he starts making his way back to the heart of the village. Chatan, Mila’s father, hasn’t warmed up to him any better than Šóta or the other men. Tahatan is the only one of them who treats Dean civilly, and overall, he seems to be a good leader.

Dean has that thought, just when he sees the older man himself walking with a woman Dean sort of recognizes. She wears a long necklace made of blue beads and seashells. Tahatan goes into her tipi, even though Dean knows…that woman isn’t the Chief’s wife.

Dean raises his brows, but he subtly pivots on his heel and takes a different route back to his own tipi. Whatever he just saw, it’s definitely not his business.

“Honey, I’m home,” he teases.

She welcomes him into her arms, her hands traveling warmly up his shoulders. He bends to kiss her, soft and slow at first. And then deeper, sucking on her lower lip and teasing her with a sensuous tongue. She hums in surprise into his mouth, making him smile.

He’s exhausted and feeling low, but he doesn’t want to let on to her. He just wants to forget about his day, and hopefully recharge with a better night.

“How did it go today?” she asks, after he allows her to breathe.

Dean nods (and lies). “Pretty good.”

She waits for him to continue. When he just continues to hold her, she raises her brows up at him.

“Dean?”

“What? I’m workin’ on archery. Lots of progress.”

She eyes him in suspicion, and he knows he doesn’t have her fooled. Actually, she looks like she’s going to press him about it, so he releases her from his hold and goes to change out of his dirty clothes to avoid her gaze.

“Hey, uh, maybe it’s none of my business, but I saw the Chief go into some other woman’s tent today. Holding hands, bedroom eyes, the whole deal,” he says while he changes. He glances back at her and waggles his brows. Mila smiles slightly.

“Did she wear her hair in a half-braid, or did she wear a necklace made of seashells?” she asks.

Dean’s surprised that she doesn’t seem surprised, but he thinks back to what he saw.

“Uh, seashells. Yeah, she wore seashells,” he says.

Mila nods. “Yes, that woman is also his…the chiefs of my people are known to take more than one wife.”

At that, Dean becomes even more surprised. He finishes dressing and leaves his boots by the tipi’s entrance. His raised brows even out into a smirk.

“Well, okay. Guess it’s good to be Chief,” he says.

Mila’s lips purse as she eyes him narrowly. She goes back to stirring the stew with a wide, wooden spoon. Dean doesn’t see her reaction, but he does notices that something’s missing from his side of the bedding. He frowns.

“Hey, where’s my gun?” He asks Mila, who shakes her head without looking at him.

“I moved it,” she curtly replies.

Dean’s frown deepens. He touches her arm to get her attention.

“I’d rather you didn’t do that, baby,” he says. He’s made sure that she knows the basics of a gun well enough, but he doesn’t want to take the chance of her hurting herself.

“Don’t leave it out, then,” she snips back. “It shouldn’t go where we sleep.”

Dean tilts his head at her. He’s a bit confused at her tone, especially because they’ve had this conversation before.

“I have it there just in case something happens at night,” he reminds her. His pistol is really just for emergencies though. There are only three bullets left in it, and he can’t exactly go shopping for more. 

Dean realizes then that Mila’s mood has shifted. He approaches her from behind.

“What’s wrong, huh?” His hands find familiar purchase along the curve of her waist. He swipes her braid away and presses a kiss where her neck meets her shoulder. More teasingly, he asks, “What’d I do now?”

Mila remains tight-lipped, until she glances at him over her shoulder.

“Do you want another woman?” she asks.

It’s a simple question, but it succeeds in completely tripping him up. He blinks at her, incredulous and bewildered.

“What?”

She continues shredding another herb to put into the stew. Somehow, it makes the broth smell a bit worse. 

“You seem to admire the Chief for having three wives, so you must want another one too,” she says.

Holy shit, three wives? Dean wonders. The man must be a saint. Look at the hell I’m catching with one.

He can’t help but laugh, a deep belly chuckle that does nothing to take away Mila’s ire. She glares at him now, genuinely upset, and Dean knows he’s starting to shit the bed on this one. He sobers up and raises his hands in surrender.

“Sweetheart,” he says, in a placating tone.

Despite her annoyance, she allows him to hold her again. He plies her with more tantalizing kisses along her neck. He breathes in the sweet-smelling oil she uses on her hair.

“You’re more than enough woman for me. You know that, right?” he whispers against her skin. It earns her slight shudder, and he smiles. He teases the spot just under her ear, grazing with his teeth, then soothing with his tongue. She can’t help but writhe against him a bit. It stirs a well of desire in his lower belly, especially when he squeezes her hips, pressing himself to her from behind.

She tries to remain strong as she clears her throat, no doubt feeling his growing hardness against her. She starts to blush hotly.

“It’s all I can do just to make sure you stay sweet for me,” Dean says, a hint of teasing returned to his voice.

Mila finally breaks into a laugh. She reaches back to swat him on the head, but his ministrations work. Once she manages to escape from his grasp with a teasing smile of her own, she more happily serves him a bowl of stew.

Dean smirks. Fine, he can be patient. He’ll just have to wait until dessert, then. After a moment to calm himself, he sits down on the ground beside her and brings a large spoonful of stew to his lips. There, he pauses. The strange taste that assaults his tongue nearly makes him choke, but he does his best to swallow it down. The meat’s tough as nails, for Christ’s sake…

Hearing a spoon clatter against the bowl, he chances glancing at Mila. She sits stock still, her brows furrowed as she frowns. Slowly, she sets the bowl down and says,

“Stop eating.”

She looks angry at herself. Dean feels bad for her, his sympathy striking at his chest.

“What do you mean? I’m hungry,” he says, and gamely takes another couple of bites.

She just watches him. Her upset worsens while he tries and fails to cover up a hacking cough.

Finally, Mila can stand no more. She takes the bowl from him, making some of the foul broth slosh over their hands and onto the ground. She tried to make wahonpi, one of the most basic soups in her people’s culture, made from bison, potatoes, corn, and carrots stewed in the broth.

Eyota told me it was simple! she thinks in dismay. How did it go so wrong?

“It’s no good,” she says, her voice hard. “I will go to my mother and see what she cooked. She may have extra for us.”

She rises to her feet, and Dean quickly follows her. He catches sight of her tears, even though she turns her face away from him to grab her shoes. He reaches out and stops her with a hand on her arm. He tugs her back to face him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Why’re you getting so upset?” he says. “I’m not picky. I’ll eat whatever you make.”

Or maybe next time, I’ll try doing the cooking, he thinks.

“Because!” she blurts. Tears well up in her eyes and begin to slip down her cheeks, no matter how much she tries to brush them away. “Because you shouldn’t have to eat it. Because it should be good. You deserve to eat something good!”

Mila finally realizes why her mother tried so hard to teach her these things. She’s embarrassed, feeling sorry for herself, but it’s also far worse than that. Her heart hurts knowing what Dean has gone through, and what he continues to go through for her sake. The least she could do is make sure he eats well, and it seems she can’t even do that.

“Mila,” he says with a sigh. He guides her into his embrace. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

She can’t allow herself to be comforted. She pushes at his chest to look up at him.

“You think I don’t know what happens outside?” she says. “It’s a small village, and people talk when they think I’m not listening. I know what the men are doing to you.”

Dean shakes his head stubbornly. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

“You should not have to,” she insists, resting a hand over his heart. “You have proven yourself to be a man of honor. Tahatan said it himself. They should not be this way.” 

Dean smiles ruefully. “I can handle it.” 

He bows his head and captures her lips, plying her with a deeper kiss. The heat of it grows and becomes more than a distraction, more than comfort. It strips everything else away, until it’s just the two of them again, like the night she found him at the riverbank and held him until he woke up in her arms.

What they eat doesn’t matter. Other people don’t matter. All that matters is this.

He squeezes her hips and presses her harder against him, so she can feel every part of his desire. She moans into his mouth, curling her fingers into his shirt. So he guides her down to the bedding, where he shows her what he’d rather get a taste of.

Later that evening, Mila and Dean have dinner with her parents. Her mother, Weaya, is a gracious host, treating Dean both like a guest and a proper son-in-law. She gives him a special cut of braised bison meat, not to mention extra corn and potato hash. Chatan says nothing to him and eats in gruff, stoic silence. 

Dean can tell it both hurts and annoys his wife, but he has to focus on answering Weaya’s many questions about his life—mainly about his family and the farm he grew up on. In some ways, raising crops and rearing up cows, chickens, and horses there isn’t so different from the Lakota village.  

“You must miss that place. Your home,” she says. Dean meets his mother-in-law’s eyes, pausing in polishing off the meat sauce on his plate with a piece of bread. Chatan looks up from his meal, and so does Mila, who hesitates too. He sees the thread of her concern there, behind her eyes, so Dean hides the stab of sadness that hits him every time he thinks of Lawrence. 

“Sometimes,” he admits. He looks over at Mila. “But I’m not alone. That’s what matters.”

She smiles at him softly. Dean has the urge to take her hand, maybe raise it up to his lips, but he’ll leave that for when they’re alone. He doesn’t want to upset her father any more than he has just by sitting in Chatan’s house. Tent…whatever.

He’s glad when, after almost another hour and a round of hot tea, Mila finishes chatting with her mother and stands. It means they can finally get the hell out of here. No disrespect to her parents, but with so much change happening so quickly, Dean had been able to put Lawrence out of his mind for a while. Tonight he thinks about his mom and his brother more than makes him comfortable on their way through the village. He follows Mila inside their tipi, then starts up a candle while she gets ready to rest for the evening. 

Living here is like going back in time—before the lantern, before indoor plumbing and the water heater. It’s not a huge hardship for Dean, who’s spent a lot of his life sleeping on hard, dusty ground, or military bases with less than most modern amenities, but it’s still another adjustment. 

He undresses down to his pants and settles down to the bedding and furs, waiting for his wife. She kneels beside him after undressing down to just her shift. He lays on his back with an arm tucked behind his head, and he watches her unbind her long, dark hair, undoing the braid from the bottom strands. She has this concentrated look on her face, like her mind is far away, even though she’s right here next to him. He threads his fingers through her loose hair while she works, giving her a smile.   

“You okay?” he asks. 

Mila pauses. She lets her tresses escape from her fingers and reaches for him, laying her hand on his chest. Dean holds it there and finally allows himself to press a kiss into her palm. 

I’m sorry, is what she wants to say, but she knows he’ll only reply, For what?

So she lowers down and slips into his warm embrace, as if this can make them both forget the day. She rests her cheek over his beating heart. 

“You will never be alone,” she promises. 

Dean quirks a smile. Instead of answering, he brushes her cheek tenderly with his hand, and he closes his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he finds sleep.

The candle slowly flickers out.   

On most nights, Mila falls asleep before Dean, and so his light snores don’t bother her. Tonight, even though she’s tried, she can’t tune out his rumbles. Or maybe it’s her own mind she can’t tune out.

She carefully maneuvers out of his hold and slips on her shoes. Maybe the moon will give her clarity tonight. 

She pushes open the front flap of the tent and steps out into the cooler air. She looks up at the moon’s white-blue glow, a wide crescent peeking out from between two large clouds. A strong breeze tugs at her hair and flutters her lashes when she closes her eyes. She crosses her arms when goosebumps spread across her tan skin.

“What troubles you, Kimmímila?”

The voice is steady and male, and all too familiar. Still, the intrusion startles her. Her eyes fly open wide and she jolts, inhaling sharply. She frowns when she realizes it’s him. 

“What are you doing? It’s late,” she says.

He steps out from the shadows with his pipe in hand. He smells strongly of tobacco. Her father and uncle smoke as well, but she doesn’t like it herself. She’s glad Dean doesn’t either.  

“Easing my mind,” he says, raising his pipe. “I see you’re up to the same thing.”

Mila shakes her head. She returns her attention to the moon. “Go. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Are we not friends, Mila?” he says. “Can’t we talk and share like we used to?”

His voice is disheartened enough that it earns her gaze. She sighs at him. 

“I am sorry, but I can’t give you what you want,” she says. “Don’t test me anymore.”

He pauses with his pipe in hand. It drops to his side, and he takes measured steps closer, until he’s looking down at her. Even with the litheness of his form, he’s still taller and broader than her. His long, dark hair is half pulled onto the top of his head, threaded together with a beaded leather string she made for him when they were children. He has used it ever since. The rest of his hair lays loose down his back, brushing his arms. 

“If you actually loved him, it wouldn’t be a test,” he teases.  

He tries to touch her cheek, but she guides his hand down. She shakes her head and steps away from him. 

“This isn’t a game,” she says. “You know I mean what I say.”

His anger and frustration surfaces, with a sharp exhale of breath and the crunch of his dark brows.

“You would choose the Outlander over your own people,” he accuses.

Mila’s gaze is firm as she heads back to her tipi. If he will not be reasonable, then she will make it clear enough to hurt. 

“I choose him over you,” she says. 

Then, she slips back inside.     

The shadow outside remains, just long enough for the moon to become clear past the moving clouds. 

In the morning, Mila goes to her uncle, Chief Tahatan. She finds her parents there in his tipi as well, all of them sharing breakfast. Her aunt passes around more bread and wojapi, a sweet mixed berry sauce, while her father is resting a broken ankle. He’s complaining again, even though it happened over a week ago now. 

“If you hadn’t let the horse buck you off, you wouldn’t be hurting,” she says sharply now. She’s become annoyed with his griping. “Or better yet, you can finally admit that you’re beyond the years of breaking young stallions.” 

Chatan is the Horsemaster of their tribe, and has been since Mila was a little girl, inheriting the position from her great uncle, the former chief’s younger brother. Mila knows, however, that Chatan is getting too old to do the harder work. Many years have meant many battles too, and they’ve taken their toll on his bones. 

An idea grows in her mind, and she goes to sit beside her father. She applies the poultice Eyota gives Weaya for him, before rewrapping his ankle.

“Father,” she begins, imploring him gently, “perhaps Dean could help you care for the horses.”

Chatan eyes her with a frown. “Your husband already has his hands filled with training.” 

“Šóta and Takoda can’t do it all themselves, and Dean has experience with breaking young horses,” she reasons.  

Chatan ignores her and hefts himself to his feet without her or his wife’s help. He leaves with her mother on his heels, even though she looks back at her daughter apologetically. You know your father, her eyes say. 

Mila frowns at his back, both frustrated and upset. When they’re gone, she heaves a sigh. She remains determined though. 

She goes to Chief Tahatan next. He sits in his chair of whicker and wood while he smokes his pipe. Her aunt has gone to help the other women harvesting chokeberries and wild onions. Mila will go there soon, but first, she has business here.

“Uncle,” she says. 

He makes a sound of acknowledgement, crossed between a grunt and a groan. He knows what's coming. She kneels at his feet and touches his hand in a sign of humbleness, reverence, and familial love all at once. 

“Uncle,” she repeats. “Dean has done nothing but try to please Father, but still, he’s being stubborn…will you talk to him? Please?”

Tahatan sighs deeply. “You must understand your father, child. The decision you’ve made affects us all.”

“I do understand, Uncle. But the truth of it is, none of you have given Dean a chance to prove himself.”

“His chance is right now,” Tahatan says, his tone more stern. “Have I not been gracious? Did I not allow him to stay and live among us?”

“Yes, but you continue to judge him in your mind, like everyone else,” she says. The Chief remains quiet. She moves to stand before him, holding his gaze directly. “Let us perform the Huŋkápi.”

Huŋkápi. The Making of Relatives. Her people first created the tradition to make peace between Lakota and rival tribes, like the Ree. It can even be used to unite extended families within the tribe, especially in times of marriage. There is no better time for it, she thinks. 

The Chief shakes his head. “Kimmímila.”

“Is he not my husband?” she says. “In the eyes of our people, this is the joining of two families, and accepting an outsider into our tribe. That is exactly what the ceremony is for.”

“He has no family,” Tahatan snaps. “It is not exactly the tradition.”

“Then let us make it new,” she argues.

Tahatan hesitates. He shakes his head and rubs at his chin in a gesture of long-suffering. He thanks the spirits that he never had daughters. While he loves his niece, he has never envied his brother. 

“I will think on it,” he says. 

Mila frowns, but she tries her best to accept this, for now. She thanks him respectfully and leans in to kiss his cheek. Tahatan grunts an acknowledgement and watches her go with another shake of his head, despite a small smile. Between her and his sons, they will keep adding years to his life. 

On her way out of the Chief’s tipi, she runs into her cousin, Šóta. He walks with all the comfortable cockiness of a rooster among his harem.

“Good morning, sister,” he greets, even as he playfully pulls at her braid and tosses it into her face.

She flicks it away and meets him with an irritated frown. She’s in no mood to be teased, especially by him. “You’re still a child.”

“Ho-ho, hey now,” he chuckles, and he cuts off her path by standing in her way, crossing his arms. “Watch it. When I become Chief, don’t think I’ll let you talk to me so disrespectfully, my sister.”

“Just because you will be Chief one day does not make you wise,” she says. Her voice is as sharp as the snap of a blackberry vine. “And don’t call me sister. You have lost that right.”

Šóta finally becomes serious; he realizes that she means what she says.

“What are you talking about? What have I done?” he asks, more earnestly.

“It’s what you haven’t done,” Mila snaps. “If you were a good leader, you would take your father’s words to heart when he accepted my husband into our tribe. If you were my brother, you wouldn’t let the men mock him. If you were a man at all, you would do what is right. You would be guiding him right now, instead of letting the others ‘train’ him.”

She storms away from him, leaving Šóta feeling irritated, but also with an uncomfortable feeling beginning to churn in his gut. 

Mila moves brusquely through the camp until she reaches the clearing edged by the forest. There the horses are fenced in. They’ve been given their food and water for the morning, so they’re rather frisky as they clop around and graze.

She looks for Mato. Baby is no doubt with Dean today, so the Kiger mustang keeps to himself underneath a large sycamore tree. His tail flicks when she approaches, and he turns to her with a sound of greeting. She allows her hand to run along his dun-colored coat as she draws closer.

“I need you, my friend,” she whispers. 

She holds his snout, pressing her forehead against his as she squeezes her eyes shut against the burn of frustrated tears. Mato bumps her shoulder with his nose, softly whinnying. She smiles, sniffling, and rubs his cheek. 

“Let’s go for a ride.”

AN: Well, here we go! Sorry for ending on some angst, but here we've got the pieces in motion for a fun-filled, four-part sequel. 😂💜 Dean and Mila are both struggling in their own ways while he tries to navigate this new world he's trying to live in.

And how do you think he's gonna react to the "mystery man" trying to win her back? 😬

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

Next Time:

But she feels a shadow at her feet as she ventures through the village. They are getting bigger as a tribe, harder to move when they need to, and it’s more mouths to feed, but it’s also a good thing. Despite all the challenges the past few decades have brought, their people are enduring. 

However, she pushes these thoughts to the back of her mind when she feels a prickling down the back of her neck. It’s followed shortly by the strong hand that closes on her wrist, and the man that calls her name. 

She gasps and whips around. He is there, gently shushing her. She glares at him and tries to pull her hand out of his grip. 

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[holylulusworld]

New year, new life

Summary: On New Year’s Eve your life changes forever.

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Alpine x fem!Reader 😉

Warnings: general cuteness, fluff, I got this idea from a post on social media (the chat)

A/N: Let’s start the new year with Bucky…shall we?

Divider by @firefly-graphics

“Bucky,” you giggle as another message pops up on your phone. He left your home to get something important for your little party. “Look what your Daddy sent to me.”

You show the phone to Alpine, who resides next to you on the couch at the moment. The cat ignores the heart emoticon Bucky sent to you. He moves closer to you to curl in your side.

“Don’t be jealous, Alpine. Your Daddy just saw me first, is all.”

You reply, telling him you love him, along with a heart emotion. You smirk as he immediately replies, telling you he loves you more.

“Alpine, let me try something,” you snicker and take a picture of Alpine sleeping soundly on the couch. You sent the picture to Bucky, asking him if he loves you as much or more than his cat.

Bucky takes his time replying. When he finally does, you laugh at his response. 'Know your limit. 

“Aw, Daddy loves you more than me. What shall we do about it, Alpine?”

“Doll, I’m home!” Bucky chuckles as you walk toward him, a grim expression on your face and your arms crossed over your chest. “I give up!” He raises his hands in surrender, still, that stupid smirk on his face that he wore this morning.

“I don’t know if I want to spend New Year’s Eve with you,” you sniff. “A man who loves his cat more than me.”

“Baby, we both know if the building was on fire, you’d save Alpine before me,” your boyfriend points out.

“Yeah, because the poor sweet cat cannot save himself,” you coo as Alpine walks toward you to rub his head against your left calf. “Aw, just look at him. He’s so pretty, and soft.”

“Sometimes I believe you agreed to go out with me because of my cat.” Bucky searches your face, waiting for you to disagree. “Baby doll?”

You giggle.

“Aw, poor Bucky believed for a second that I only love you Alpine,” you say while glancing at the cat rubbing his head against your leg. 

“That’s not funny, Y/N,” Bucky grunts. “I hope you know; you won’t get your surprise if you keep on being a bad girl.”

You peck his scruffy cheek, smirking as you nuzzle his cheek. “You love that I’m a bad girl, Sergeant. Now, let me check if we got everything for our party.”

“Five, four, three, two, one,” you and Bucky count the last seconds of the year. You smile at each other and when the last second ticks by, you share a passionate kiss to welcome the new year.

“Happy New Year baby,” Bucky whispers against your lips. “I love you.”

“Happy New Year, Bucky,” you kiss him again. “I love you.”

“Wait here, I got something for you.” He steps away and calls for Alpine. “Come here, punk. It’s your time to shine.”

You laugh as Alpine trots inside the living room. He meows loudly and sits next to Bucky. 

“Punk, do your job,” Bucky points at you. “Go and get our girl.”

“What?” You crouch down to watch Alpine. He’s wearing a black neckerchief. ‘Will you marry my dad? Stands on the neckerchief. You reread the words, gasping loudly.

You look at Alpine, his neckerchief, and then at Bucky who crouches down next to Alpine to offer you a beautiful diamond ring. “Doll, as Alpine already asked, would you give me the honor to become Alpine’s mommy and my wife?”

“What? I…I,” you are speechless and a little shell-shocked. “Of course, I want to be Alpine’s mommy,” you grab Alpine to pepper kisses on his head.

“Doll…Y/N!” Bucky grunts as you cuddle his cat.

“Oh,” you smile softly and place Alpine on the ground. You scoot closer to Bucky to cup his face and kiss his nose, “and I’d be honored to become your wife.”

“Punk,” Bucky dips his head to glance at his cat, “you’re lucky she said yes. You almost screwed things up for us.”

“Aw, he could never screw things up,” you fist Bucky’s shirt to bring him closer. “But if you put that ring on my finger you can screw my brains out later…”

Tags in reblog.

[moonsgemini]

dress - rafe cameron

summary: she’ll always wish she could enjoy the midsummer’s celebrations instead of working at it, but her secret moments with the kook prince make the bad tips worth it

warnings: rafe x pogue!reader, typical classist stuff but not from rafe, fluff, angst, mutual pining, alcohol, kissing

wc: 3.5k

an: this is based off of dress by taylor swift but my own interpretation of it I guess. If you guys want a pt. 2 with smut let me knoooow, I’m such a s!ut for rafe cameron pleaaaase

our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you

Midsummer was probably her least favorite day of summer. You’d think that being a bartender on the day that the whole figure eight came to the country club would bring in lots of tips right? Well wrong. During midsummer’s the drinks were complimentary and there was just a tip jar for cash tips. Kooks don’t usually carry around cash, or really tip for that matter. Also seeing all the kooks dressed in their pretty dresses and cute flower crowns made y/n go green with jealousy. She desperately wished she could attend as a guest and get to dress up and enjoy the food. Y/n would be dreading this shift if she didn’t have something to look forward to.

She had looked over herself in the mirror a million times, making sure her dress still looked as good on her as it did in the dressing room mirror yesterday. The tag was securely tucked into her side because she may have run up her credit card to be able to afford it so she had to return it after. Bartenders didn’t have as strict as a uniform as the waiters did. Her manager allowing them to wear black dresses for the night, and of course she was going to jump at the opportunity to wear something nicer than her boxy polo uniform and tennis skirt.

Her makeup and hair had been done to the best of her ability, without it seeming like she was trying too hard. Y/n would never admit to any of her friends or family that she was dressed up in order to impress a certain kook prince. The same kook prince she had spent months crushing on, and he never helped make the crush go away because he would shamelessly flirt with her every time he was at the country club. It was more like banter, she had a feeling he never really meant anything he said. But it felt so good to feel wanted.

When Rafe would see her around the outer banks he would smirk at her or give her a nod as to say hi. At parties sometimes he’d go up to her and make some small conversation. Teasing her about what drink she had or making sure that she didn’t give her number to that guy that was flirting with her. They’d be making conversation and she would take a step towards him wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms and his scent. But then her friends would come and think they were saving her from the kook prince and pull her away, sending a glare Rafe’s way. She’s look back at him apologetically and he’d just give her a tight lipped smile and walk to the other side of the party.

Rafe really liked her, he liked making her laugh and smile. He wished he could make her quit her job and just come live with him, he’d take care of her. She’d never have to worry about bills or rent ever again. His friends always made fun of him for flirting with a pogue but he didn’t care. They’d say he was scraping the bottom of the barrel, that he had already gone through all the girls from figure eight so now he was entertaining a pogue. Rafe never let them get away with their jokes. He’d glare at them and punch them in the arm or kick them in the shin. He’d defend her honor saying she’s different and she’s a better friend than they’ll ever be.

All Rafe could do was think about her while he was getting ready. He knew she’d be there and he wanted to look extra nice. Tonight felt like the night he would actually ask her out. Y/n was a good listener, she was always there for him. At first he thought it was just because she was stuck behind the bar so she had to listen to him, but then he’d see her at parties and she still had that look in her eyes. That look that she was listening to him, actually listening to him. He felt like he was on a cloud with the way she looked at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

When she arrived to the country club she started getting all her things ready, the guests would start arriving in a few minutes. Stocking up on scotch and the best wines, she knew those would be the popular drinks tonight. As she worked diligently her mind wandered to Rafe, like it always did.

She wondered if he’d be the same as always despite his family being here. She wanted nothing more than to spend the night with him, but not while she served him drinks. She wanted to dance with him and drink with him, and then go home together at the end of the night.

Guests had started arriving, her eyes looking out for the dirty blonde. She was so excited and a bit anxious to see him all dressed up, knowing he’d look extra handsome. An hour had passed and she still hadn’t seen him. The country club was now filled with kooks and her tip jar only filled with about $20 when she’s certain she’s made twenty martinis and poured just as many scotch’s.

As she was handing Mrs.Weatherby her glass of merlot smiling at the older woman her eyes caught her favorite blue ones. Rafe stood across the room with Kelce and Topper. He wasn’t paying any attention to what Topper was saying as he watching y/n from across the room. When their eyes met a lopsided smile formed on his lips. Her cheeks felt hot as he looked her up and down, as much as he could despite the bar being in the way.

Y/n begged with her eyes for him to come over, to save her from the boring night. He knew her better than she thought as he started walking over, saying something to the guys that he’d be back. But as he was crossing the room his dad stepped in front of him.

Ward put a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Rafe please, don’t start drinking yet. This is supposed to be a nice night okay? Lets take it slow.” He turned him around to walk out toward the patio.

“Yeah sure dad.” He muttered not wanting to make a scene. He followed him out but looked behind him to catch the eyes of the girl he was infatuated with.

His heart sank a little as he saw her bright eyes dull a little with sadness. She tried her best to put on a smile and not show her disappointment but he knew her better than she thought. Ward had no idea of Rafe’s crush and even if he did he probably wouldn’t care. He’d probably be disappointed in his son for liking someone like her, then he’d tell him that she probably only wants him for his trust.

all of this silence & patience, pining & anticipating, my hands are shaking from holding back from you

The first few hours of the night their eyes just met, hers pleading him to come over and talk to her. Give her something to think about tonight before she went to bed. His eyes begged her to forgive him for not giving her the attention she deserved, especially in that dress. He hoped that she wore it just for him, it made her look ethereal. Rafe’s legs ached from trying to stop himself from walking over and kissing her with everything he had.

As the night went on she was always on his mind. He hated this stupid midsummer’s stuff, mostly because he couldn’t share it with the one person he wanted. It was filled with snobby people and teenager’s getting drunk on booze they had snuck in.

Rafe kept getting stuck in conversations with his dad’s colleagues, Ward wanting him to be more involved in the business. Or he’d be with Topper, Kelce, and some other guys having a meaningless conversation about lacrosse or surfing. Whenever he got the chance he’d look over at her and she’d have a smile on her face handing some old dude a drink. He knew it wasn’t her real smile, then her eyes would look over at him and that’s when her real smile would come out.

“Uh I’m gonna get a drink,” Rafe said trying to excuse himself from his friends. His dad would be fine with him having a drink now, it’s been three hours since the night started. Three hours of his fingers tingling with the want of tucking that hair that kept falling in her face behind her ear.

“I’ll go with you dude. I need a refill,” Topper said holding up his empty glass. Rafe held in the urge to roll his eyes, he wanted to go alone.

y/n was wiping down the bar when they approached. She looked up meeting eyes with her favorite boy, but then she looked over to his left and their Topper was

“What can I get you guys?” She asked looking between them, smiling at Rafe.

“Long island,” Topper said placing his empty glass down.

“Can I get a rum and coke please?” Rafe asked, resting his hands on the bar.

“Of course,” she nodded with a grin.

Rafe watched her as she prepared the drinks. Topper was trying to talk to him about who knows what, he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t pay attention even if he wanted to with that dress she had on. It fit her so perfectly, he wondered what it’d feel like under his hands. What it’d feel like to push it up as he touched the expanse of her thighs. Wondered what it’d feel like to hold her waist as he kissed her. If her skin was as soft as it looked.

“Bro you’re not even listening,” Topped said as he hit Rafe’s shoulder.

“Long island,” Y/n places the drink in front of him.

“You’re right I’m not.” Rafe rolled his eyes.

Topper took his drink without even thanking her, “Whatever dude I’m gonna find Sarah.” Finally Rafe was alone with his girl.

She placed his glass in front of him, “So where have you been all night?”

“Uh my dad didn’t want me to drink earlier,” He shrugged. He knew it was a half assed excuse.

“You don’t need to order a drink to come see me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “I-I know but my dad thought that I was just coming over for a drink.”

She laughed bitterly not at Rafe but at the whole situation, “When I’m with you I forget I’m a uh pogue.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” He reached out to touch her lightly. She leaned into his touch slightly, yearning to feel anything from him.

Her manager walked in, “Y/n, take your fifteen.” Taking over he place behind the bar, Rafe pulled his hand away from her.

“Uh yeah,” She gave him a tight lipped smile before walking to the back room. Rafe sighed and walked back out to where his friends were.

if I get burned at least we were electrified, I’m spilling wine in the bath tub you kiss my face & we’re both drunk

Y/n stood in the back leaning against the wall. She hated this town. She hated the labels everyone put on each other, it made her life so much harder. It was so easy when she was around Rafe even if it was a few minutes at a time. But then there was always something that reminded her of who she was and where she came from. It was either Ward, her friends, Rafe’s friends, her bosses. Someone always had to remind her where she was and who she was.

She rolled her eyes at herself. She walked into the back, in search of a bottle of wine. She found one she thought she’d like, popping it open and pouring herself a glass. Y/n felt like she deserved it, especially after tonight. The night wasn’t going exactly as planned, so she might as well drink.

After three full glasses of red wine her break was over. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to drink while on the clock because now everything looked a little fuzzy.

“I’m back,” She slurred to her manager.

Lisa eyed her suspiciously, “Are you drunk?”

“No never,” She gave her a toothy grin trying to hide her tipsiness. The alcohol affecting her more and more as the seconds passed.

Lisa sighed, “Y/n you can’t be like this here right now. You know how bad this would look. If you get one of these jerk offs orders wrong and they smell that merlot on your breath they’ll have you banned.” Lisa tried her best to look out for the girl because she knew she didn’t have anyone that was looking out for her.

Her eyes watered at the thought of losing the only job she had been able to get on this whole island, “I-I can’t lose this job. I need this.”

Lisa sighed, “Go home. I’ll cover for you, and you can still keep the tips okay? Only because I care about you.”

Y/n sniffled bringing the older woman into a hug, “Thank you Lisa, I owe you.”

“Get home safe okay, call someone.” Lisa said rubbing her back. She walked (stumbled a bit) to the back to grab her bag.

even in my worst times you could see the best of me

Y/n didn’t know who to call, her friends were all at parties probably drinking as well. Her parents weren’t in her life. The one person who could help her had been watching her from across the room. Concern written all over his face. She looked at him with teary eyes and he was already taking long strides towards her. She met him halfway, the tag from her dress itching her side.

“Rafe,” Her voice was shaky as she hugged herself looking for some comfort. She knew this was all her fault, she shouldn’t have had that wine. She felt like she was always making mistakes like this.

Rafe’s hands held her face, “What happened? Did someone do something?” He asked with worry and a bit of anger. If one of these kooks made his girl cry they’d have him to deal with.

“No no I did something. I-I drank some wine on my break. I’m drunk Rafe and Lisa told me to go home. She um she said she’ll let me keep the tips today but uh can you take me h-home?” She asked barely taking a breath.

He brushed her hair back, “Hey breathe, I’ll take you home okay baby.”

“I’m sorry Rafe, I-I shouldn’t take you away. I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. I’m glad I get to get away from this shit, especially if it’s with you.”

Ward had been watching the interaction from outside. He eyed as his son held the bar tender who he felt was trying to hard to look like she fit in with them, her dirty sneakers gave her away. In her defense you can’t really bartend in heels.

He walked over to them before they could leave, “Uh Rafe, what are you doing?” He didn’t spare a glance at the disheveled girl.

Rafe stood up straight, “I’m taking her home dad.”

“Who is this? The bartender? You can’t leave now. There’s still some guys I need to introduce you to.” He treated her like she was nothing.

“No dad I’m taking her home, this is more important.” Rafe wrapped his arm around her shoulders to lead her towards the exit.

Ward grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him, “Don’t disappoint me son.”

He shrugged his shoulder to get him off, “You’ve made it clear plenty of times that it’s too late for that.”

They didn’t make a big scene but some people had been watching. They watched as the oldest Cameron led the girl outside, a pogue. Tomorrow word would spread all across the island just how cozy they were. Ward would berate Rafe about it but right now he didn’t care, he just wanted to get his girl away from everyone.

Y/n couldn’t believe Rafe had done that for her. He dropped everything for her, she really did feel like he was a prince.

only bought this dress so you could take it off

Rafe kept glancing over at her as he drove to her house. He was worried about her, she looked so sad and he hated seeing her sad. Her head was leaning agains the passenger window just looking out into the darkness.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong?” He finally asked breaking the silence.

She sighed looking over at him, “I feel like an idiot.”

“Why?”

“I put on this stupid dress that I can’t even afford and I got too drunk while I was working. I took you away from the party.” She shook her head at herself.

Rafe pulled into the driveway of her small house, her grandma had left it for her after she passed a few years ago. It was the perfect house for her but now she had to work overtime to keep up with bills.

“Lets talk once we get inside,” Rafe turned the car off and ran over to open her door.

They walked into her house, Rafe had never been there. This is the most time they’ve ever been able to spend alone, without anyone being able to interrupt them or pull them away from each other. He liked her house, it was very her. Warm lighting and pictures everywhere. She sat on the couch setting her bag onto the ground.

“You look amazing, this dress looks amazing on you.” He said as he sat next to her. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I wore this for you. I wanted to impress you, instead I embarrassed myself.” She closed her eyes thinking about the events of the night.

Rafe turned to her, “I would drop everything for you. I have been dying inside to spend this night with you.”

“Really?” She asked looking at him with stars in her eyes.

“Yes, baby. And this dress does look amazing on you. You look perfect. I’ve wanted you since the first day we met at the club.” He tucked her hair behind her ear.

Her face flushed at the compliments, “But why? I’m just me. I don’t have anything, I can’t even afford this dress. I’m just a bartender.”

He shook his head, “None of that shit matters to me. You actually listen to me and you care about me more than my shithead friends ever have. I only go to those stupid parties to see you.”

“Rafe, I care about you so much.”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. They were slightly swollen from the few tears she had shed earlier in the night. Her lips tasted like merlot she had downed. They moved in sync as if they had been doing this forever. He smelt like expensive cologne and she wanted to drown in it, she wanted to drown in him. His lips felt so good against hers, she had been dreaming about this moment for ages.

Her hands slid up his chest and into his hair. Pulling at the dirty blonde locks to encourage him. Rafe’s hands slid up and down her waist. Finally feeling the dress he had thought about all night. As the kiss grew more passionate he grabbed her hips and tugged her towards him. He pulled her to sit on his lap, her legs on either side of him. His fingers slowly slid up her thighs pushing her dress farther up, almost fully around her hips. Y/n’s thighs were just as soft as he imagined. His mind was racing with thoughts of everything he wanted to do to her.

The small whines that left her lips encouraged him to keep going. One hand moving behind her to give her ass a squeeze. He pulled away to press kisses against her neck making goosebumps rise on her skin. Her hands moving back and forth from tugging his hair to pulling at his blazer to get him impossibly closer.

“Baby,” He mumbled against her neck. She just hummed in return, too lost in the feeling of his lips on her. Tasting her like she’s always wanted him to.

“I want to keep going, but I know you’ve drank tonight. I want you to be be a hundred percent sober when I do everything I’ve always dreamed about doing to you,” He said looking up at her. He almost regretted his words and took her right then and there when he saw her swollen lips and hazy lust filled eyes.

She took a deep breath to get herself to focus. Her senses were overloaded on Rafe, “Okay, can you stay? Please?”

He leaned forward giving her another kiss, “Of course, I’ll always stay.”

[harrywavycurly]

I know Lonely reader goes on Twitter and answers random questions! Could we maybe see some? Do you think sometimes she even asks Harry for his answer if a fan is wanting his opinion on something?🩷

Hiii lovey!!! Oh 100000% she does because I mean until recently she was just Harry’s bestie so I imagine she’s always been pretty decently active social media just making sure to respect Harry and Niall’s privacy of course! But she wouldn’t have any issue going on there and answering random questions, I’ll happily give you some examples!! 💖

-find all things for the Lonely series here✨

A/N: You’re doing an evening scroll on Twitter/X and decide to answer some questions and even get your fiancé to help on a few of them✨

Fan: is Niall REALLY the man of honor? What color is he wearing for the ceremony?- Niall really is the man of honor and sorry can’t tell you what color he’s wearing but I can say it’s not black or white✨

Fan: Fave era of Harry? Be honest👀- I met him in arguably one of his best eras his frat era but my fave was the long hair. He was absurdly good looking with it.

Fan: Did you steal his clothes when you were just friends? I’d have his whole t shirt collection- I did! I used to take t shirts but then I also used to “borrow” his fancy bomber jackets and even now they’re in my closet and not his😂

Fan: Would Harry ever write a song about you?- He said yes and then asked how do we know he hasn’t already? He’s always trying to be so mysterious🙄

Fan: Are you excited for the wedding? Is it in Italy???- I am very excited and also super fucking nervous? I think that’s normal though? But no it’s not in Italy, Harry lost that battle.

Fan: Have you and Harry kissed before?- I honestly love how nosey this is, but yes we have kissed a few times.

Fan: One thing of Harry’s that you love?- His hands. I know you all know why.

Fan: What made Harry want to be bffs with you after meeting?- He says my sense of humor and we just clicked oh and our banter was top tier. So basically I’m funny and he likes to try to argue with me😂

Fan: Do you really even love Harry??- Honestly? He’s whatever.

Fan: How did you meet Niall? Your friendship with him is goals- I met him after a show a few weeks after meeting Harry when he invited me to see One Direction perform and we just instantly go along so well! I love that dude so damn much. I’ll tell him you said that!!✨

Fan: How did he propose?- Very dramatically.

Fan: Oh god does Harry read these too now that you’re engaged? I’m scared he’s gonna see my embarrassing tweets 😅- Don’t be scared babes he’s a narcissist so even though you may find them embarrassing he loves them, especially your tweets about his rings👀

Fan: I can’t believe you’re going to marry Harry Styles😭- He can’t believe it either. Keeps checking to see if I’ve changed my mind every few days.

Fan: Tell me please does Harry do his own laundry?- He does when he has the time. He’s a big boy and even knows how to sort his colors from his darks and all that kinda stuff.

Fan: What side of the bed does Harry sleep on?- The one closest to the bedroom door and he says that’s a safety thing kinda like why he walks on the side closest to the street when we walk on the sidewalk. I don’t argue I just go with it.

Fan: How many people are invited to your wedding?- Not a lot😬

Fan: Are you gonna stop working now that you’re gonna be married to Harry?- Niall is that you?👀😂

Fan: Who has more clothes?- Harry. But I do beat him when it comes to books so there’s that.

Fan: HS4 coming at midnight??- Seeing as this was asked several days ago I think it’s safe to say no, sorry babes🥺

Fan: Fave Harry song?- Golden has always been one of my faves but lately I’ve been listening to Cinema a lot I think it’s the background vocals 🫠

Fan: Did you see Niall on tour this year?- I did, I was at both MSG shows and cried and then went with Harry to the show in Manchester.

Fan: When is the wedding?- Not soon enough according to my fiancé.

Fan: Memory with Harry that makes you smile?- Oh god there’s so many to pick from but probably the first time he FaceTimed me while on the road just because he missed me.

Fan: Are you writing your own vows?- Not sure yet, Harry wants to but then you know how he gets and I’ll be standing there for half an hour crying and I just think I’d like to keep it short and sweet but who knows.

Fan: Who’s the clingy one? You or Harry??- We both already know the answer to this question babes. It’s Harry.

Fan: I just wanted to say I love you and Harry💕- Awe and I just want you to know Harry and I love you too!!!

Fan: You two should have a show- I told Harry he should be on the Real Housewives but he told me no.