#table of contents ( inspo & extras )

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (12/15) - Part II

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew @tremendousstarlighttragedy @henneseyhoe @serpenttines-library @f1-football-fiend

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

The warehouse stood inconspicuous amidst the arid Palm Springs landscape, its weathered exterior masking the creative pulse within. Inside, the vast space was a stark contrast - state-of-the-art sound equipment lined the walls, and a professional-grade stage dominated one end of the room. Soft, ambient lighting created an atmosphere conducive to artistic expression, while the air conditioning fought a constant battle against the desert heat.

Rorie stood center stage, her voice resonating through the cavernous space as she ran through the chorus of "The Zone."

"I never meant to make you feel alone, a non-chivalrous tone you've used since I got home..."

Ms. Tee, her vocal coach, nodded approvingly from the side, occasionally calling out suggestions. "Remember to support from your diaphragm on that high note, honey!"

Van, the choreographer, moved in sync with Rorie, demonstrating the fluid movements that would accompany the lyrics.

Rorie nodded, sweat beading on her forehead as she repeated the sequence. The knowledge that Beyoncé had once rehearsed in this very space for her legendary Beychella performance added an extra layer of pressure.

From his seat not far from the stage, Lyric's voice piped up. "Go, Mama!" he cheered, his little hands clapping enthusiastically.

Ms. Tee chuckled, shaking her head. "That baby is too cute!"

"And he knows it," Rorie quipped, shooting a wink at her son.

As they moved into the next song, Rorie's mind briefly wandered to the mysterious text she'd received weeks ago. The sender hadn't responded when she'd asked who it was, leaving her with an unsettling sense of curiosity.

After running through the set twice more, Yael called for a lunch break. The team dispersed, grateful for the respite from the intense rehearsal.

Rorie scooped up Lyric, making her way to a table laden with an array of healthy options. As she settled in next to Yael, balancing Lyric on her lap, she couldn't help but marvel at how surreal this all felt.

"So," Yael began, taking a bite of her salad, "have you given any thought to the Mercedes event? They're really pushing for you to be there for the G Wagon unveiling."

Rorie nodded, helping Lyric with his lunch. "Yeah, I think we can make it work. It's after Coachella, right?"

"Car!" Lyric exclaimed, pointing at Yael's phone which displayed an image of the new G Wagon.

Rorie laughed, ruffling his hair. "That's right, baby. It's a big car."

"He's growing up so fast," Yael remarked, smiling at Lyric. "Seems like just yesterday he was saying his first words."

Rorie nodded, a mix of pride and nostalgia washing over her. "I know. It's crazy how quickly they develop. He's stringing two or three words together now. The other day he said 'Mama sing pretty.' Nearly made me cry right there in the kitchen."

Yael chuckled. "Well, he's not wrong. Speaking of which, how are you feeling about the performance? Three songs is a lot, especially with the choreography."

Rorie took a sip of water, considering. "Honestly? I'm nervous as hell. But also excited. I've never been on a stage that big."

"You've got this," Yael assured her. "The rehearsals are going great, and the crowd is going to love you."

As they continued to discuss the logistics of the upcoming events, Rorie felt a familiar mix of excitement and nervousness. Coachella was a big stage, one that could make or break careers. She absentmindedly stroked Lyric's hair as she listened to Yael outline the schedule for the next few days.

"We've got two more full rehearsals here, then we move to the actual festival grounds for a tech run," Yael explained, scrolling through her tablet. "Lil Yachty's team will join us for the final run-through."

Rorie nodded, her mind already racing with all the details she needed to perfect. "What about wardrobe? Have we finalized the looks?"

"Almost," Yael replied. "The stylist wants to do one more fitting tomorrow. She's got some ideas for a quick change between songs."

As they delved into the intricacies of the performance, Lyric began to fidget in Rorie's lap. "Mama, play," he said, pointing towards the small play area they'd set up in the corner of the warehouse.

"Okay, baby. Just for a little bit," Rorie smiled, setting him down. She watched as he toddled off, his little legs carrying him with determined enthusiasm.

"He's handling all this travel and chaos like a champ," Yael observed, following Rorie's gaze.

Rorie sighed, a mix of pride and guilt washing over her. "Yeah, he is. Sometimes I worry it's too much, you know? But he seems to thrive on it."

"He's resilient, just like his parents," Yael reassured her. "Speaking of which, have you heard from Lewis? How's he feeling about the DNF in Australia?"

Rorie's expression softened at the mention of her husband. "He's frustrated, of course. But he's channeling it into preparation for the next race. You know Lewis, always looking forward."

Yael nodded, then added with a hint of sympathy, "It's a shame he'll miss your performance at Coachella though. The scheduling conflict is unfortunate."

"Yeah, it is," Rorie agreed, a touch of disappointment in her voice. "But he's got the GQ Global Creative Awards in New York that weekend. It's a big honor, and I wouldn't want him to miss that." She brightened a bit as she continued, "Besides, the Biebers will be there, and my sister's coming too. They'll make sure Lyric has plenty of support in the crowd."

"That's great," Yael smiled. "It's good to have your people there. And I'm sure Lewis will be watching the livestream, cheering you on from New York."

Rorie nodded, grateful for the support system she had. "Absolutely. We've always made it work, no matter the distance. This is just another one of those times."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Lyric's delighted laughter. He had discovered a small ball and was attempting to bounce it, his coordination not quite matching his enthusiasm.

"Should we get back to it?" Rorie asked, her eyes still on Lyric.

Yael nodded, standing up. "Absolutely. Let's run through the transitions one more time before we call it a day."

As they made their way back to the stage, Rorie felt a renewed sense of purpose. The nerves were still there, but they were overshadowed by excitement and determination. This performance wasn't just about her; it was about showing Lyric that dreams were worth pursuing, no matter the challenges.

With one last glance at her son, happily playing in his own world, Rorie stepped onto the stage. The music began to play, and she lost herself in the rhythm, ready to give it her all. Coachella was waiting, and she was going to make every moment count.

_____________________________________________

Rorie cruised down the Palm Springs street, the desert sun casting long shadows as evening approached. From the backseat, Lyric's voice joined hers in a sweet, if slightly off-key, rendition of Daniel Caesar's "Get You."

As the song faded out, Lyric piped up, "Bwent!"

Rorie chuckled, shaking her head. "Being toxic isn't cute, sonshine." She skipped to Brent Faiyaz's "Clouded," the smooth R&B filling the car as they pulled up to their rental.

Waving to the security guard at the front gate, Rorie parked and unstrapped Lyric from his car seat. She held his hand as they made their way inside, Lyric gleefully jumping up each step to the front door.

Roscoe greeted them enthusiastically, and Rorie let Lyric play with the dog while she headed to the kitchen. After washing her hands, she pulled out pre-made cookie dough from the fridge.

"You want cookies, baby?" she called out.

"Yes, Mama!" came the eager reply.

Rorie scoffed, muttering, "Of course you do," as she arranged the dough on a cookie sheet.

Struck by a sudden craving, she grabbed a popsicle from the freezer. Then, following an odd impulse, she dug into the cabinet for chunky peanut butter. Scooping some onto the popsicle, she savored the unexpected combination of salty and sweet on her tongue as she slid the cookies into the oven, setting it to 380 degrees.

Just then, her phone rang. Seeing Martin's name on the screen, she hesitated before answering.

"Hello?" she said, her voice cautious.

"Rorie, hi," Martin's voice came through, a mix of nervousness and hope. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her tone neutral. "What's this about, Martin?"

"I... I wanted to talk to you. About Athena, about everything. How's Lyric doing?"

Rorie paused, conflicted. "He's good," she finally said. "Growing fast."

"That's great," Martin said, his voice softening. "Listen, Rorie, I was hoping we could meet. I know things are complicated, but-"

"I don't know, Martin," Rorie cut in, glancing at the oven timer. "Things are pretty busy right now."

"Please," he pressed. "I want to make things right. I want to be part of your life, of Lyric's life."

Rorie sighed, the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders. "I need time, Martin. This isn't something I can decide on a whim."

"I understand," he said, a note of disappointment in his voice. "But will you at least think about it? For real this time?"

"I'll think about it," Rorie conceded. "But I can't promise anything."

As she hung up, Rorie leaned against the counter, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. The timer dinged, jolting her back to the present. She pulled out the cookies, the sweet aroma filling the kitchen.

"Cookie, Mama?" Lyric's voice called from the living room.

"Almost, baby," Rorie replied, forcing a smile into her voice. "They need to cool first."

As she set the tray on the counter, Rorie took a deep breath. Coachella, Martin, the constant juggle of family and career - it was a lot to handle. But as Lyric's excited chatter drifted in from the other room, she knew she'd find a way to navigate it all. She always did.

The desert night hummed with anticipation as Rorie stood in the wings of the Coachella stage, her heart hammering against her ribs. The bass from the previous set reverberated through her body, but the nausea rolling through her stomach had nothing to do with the vibrations.

"Five minutes, Mrs. Hamilton," a stage manager called out, then paused, studying her face. "Hey, you're looking a bit pale. You okay?"

Rorie nodded, though her complexion said otherwise. "I'm good," she managed, willing her stomach to settle. Somewhere in the VIP section, she knew Lyric was watching with Aaliyah, the Biebers keeping them company.

"You sure?" The stage manager pressed. "You look like you might puke...."

"I said I'm good," Rorie cut in, more sharply than intended. She softened her tone. "Just pre-show jitters."

The opening notes of "The Zone" filled the air, and Lil Yachty's voice boomed across the festival grounds: "Y'all make some noise for my girl, Rorie!"

Taking one final deep breath, Rorie stepped into the lights. The crowd's roar washed over her as she emerged, and suddenly, the nausea didn't matter anymore. This was what she was born to do.

Her voice, clear and strong, cut through the night air. The choreography she'd practiced countless times flowed naturally, her body moving in perfect sync with the music. Each transition, each note, each movement came together in a performance that felt both carefully rehearsed and effortlessly spontaneous.

But as the adrenaline of the first song began to fade, that unsettling queasiness returned, stronger than before. Rorie pushed through, determined not to let it show. She had two more songs to go, and she was going to give this crowd everything she had.

The crowd surged with energy as Rorie finished her planned set, their cheers echoing across the festival grounds. Sweat glistened on her skin under the stage lights.

"One more! One more!" The chant built like a wave.

Rorie exchanged a glance with her band, a slight nod passing between them. As the opening notes of another song filled the air, the crowd's roar grew even louder.

But it was the second encore that would become the night's most talked-about moment. Rorie stepped to the microphone, her breath slightly catching as she spoke.

"Y'all have been amazing tonight," she said, her voice carrying across the field. "I want to share something special with you. A few years ago, my husband and I wrote this song together. Some of you might know him as XNDA…"

The crowd erupted at the mention of Lewis's musical alter ego. A smile played on Rorie's lips as she remembered the late nights in their home studio, the two of them writing and rewriting lyrics, finding the perfect melody to express their love story.

The stage darkened, and then a recorded voicemail played through the speakers: "Hey baby, just wanted to hear your voice…" Lewis's distinctive accent filled the space, intimate and warm.

The soft melody began to build, and Rorie's voice floated over the instrumental, telling their story of love found in the fast lane of life. When Lewis's pre-recorded vocals joined in for the chorus, their voices intertwined in perfect harmony, the chemistry evident even through the playback.

"When the world's moving too fast You're the one thing that lasts Through the curves and the breaks You're the risk I'll always take…"

The crowd swayed, phone lights dotting the darkness like stars. Somewhere in the VIP section, Rorie caught sight of Lyric on Aaliyah's shoulders, his little hands waving in the air.

As their voices rose together for the final chorus, Rorie felt tears prick at her eyes. This song, this moment, was everything - their love, their family, their journey, all wrapped up in melody and rhythm.

The final note hung in the air, and for a moment, there was complete silence. Then the crowd exploded, the cheers almost deafening. Rorie took a final bow, her heart full to bursting.

Walking off stage, she quickly checked her phone. A text from Lewis was waiting:

Killed it, baby. Wish I could've been there. So proud of you.

Rorie smiled, the nausea from earlier completely forgotten in the glow of the night's success. This performance would definitely be one for the books.

Following her triumphant performance, Rorie took a long drink of water before her bodyguards escorted her to the VIP section. Aaliyah immediately engulfed her in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face.

"You were incredible!" Aaliyah sobbed, overcome with pride for her sister.

Rorie's own eyes welled up as Lyric toddled over, clutching a piece of paper in his tiny hands. "Mama!" he exclaimed, holding up his drawing of her on stage. "I love you, Mama," he said, his toddler pronunciation making the words even more precious.

Rorie dropped to her knees, gathering him close as tears spilled down her cheeks. The Biebers joined the group hug, everyone congratulating her on the spectacular show.

After a while, Justin excused himself to prepare for his set with Tems and WizKid. Rorie and Hailey settled into comfortable chairs, falling into easy conversation and shared laughter.

When a waiter approached, Rorie ordered vodka, water, and lime. "What about you, Hails?"

"Just water is fine," Hailey replied.

Rorie shot her friend a questioning look. "When do you ever say no to a drink?" she teased.

Hailey grew bashful, shrugging. "I'm fine with water."

"What's going on, Hails?" Rorie pressed.

Hailey opened her mouth to respond but closed it as the waiter returned with their drinks. Once he left, she gave Rorie a sympathetic look.

"I don't want to talk about it, Ror, especially with what's going on with you and Lew," Hailey explained.

"What do you mean?" Rorie asked, setting down her drink.

Hailey shrugged again. "With you guys going through IVF again… I don't think..."

"It's fine, Hailey. We're fine," Rorie assured her, taking her friend's hands. "It's okay."

"Honestly?" Hailey questioned.

"Yes, Hailey. It's fine."

They stared at each other in silence before Hailey opened her oversized leather jacket slightly, revealing a small rounded belly. "Justin and I are pregnant," she confessed, tears running down her face.

Rorie felt a complex mix of emotions - genuine joy for her friend tinged with a hint of sadness for her own situation. But happiness won out as she pulled Hailey into a tight hug.

"It's still early, though," Hailey said after they separated. "I'm barely ten weeks, but I'm showing really soon for some reason."

"It's a boy," Rorie said instinctively.

"How can you tell?"

"I was showing early with Lyric. It's definitely a boy and he probably has a big head," Rorie joked.

Hailey laughed. "Just like his father."

As their laughter subsided, Hailey grew serious. "I want you to be a godmother. You're an amazing friend and Justin and I love you so much."

"I would love to be the godmother, Hailey. Thank you," Rorie replied, wiping away fresh tears. "Damn, tonight is making me such a sap!" Hailey's smile widened. "But thank you. Seriously. Not only for asking me to be a godmother but sharing this and taking note of everything. I love you so much."

The two friends embraced again, the desert night wrapping around them like a warm blanket, full of joy, hope, and the promise of new beginnings.

The week after Coachella felt like a whirlwind. Rorie scrolled through her phone, taking in the flood of coverage about her performance.

@/MusicInsider: "Rorie's surprise performance of XNDA collab brought Coachella to its knees. The chemistry is undeniable, even through a recording. #PowerCouple"

@/ChartData: "Rorie's Coachella performance garnered over 2M livestream views, highest for a guest appearance this year."

Of course, there were also the less favorable takes:

@/PopCultureTakes: "Sure, she can sing. But is anyone else tired of the Hamilton PR machine? #Coachella"

Rorie rolled her eyes at the last one. Her nausea had finally subsided, and she was grateful to chalk it up to pre-Coachella nerves. With Lewis in Shanghai for his race, she missed him, but they had a packed schedule ahead - the WhatsApp collaboration in New York, Miami Grand Prix, and then the Met Gala. The thought of reuniting made her smile.

Stepping out of her G Wagon onto the black carpet at the Mercedes-Benz G-Class premiere, Rorie was immediately engulfed in camera flashes.

"Mrs. Mercedes! Over here!" "To your left, Rorie!" "Give us that smile, Mrs. Mercedes!"

She couldn't help but laugh at the nickname - an extension of what they called Lewis. As she posed for photos, a familiar figure caught her eye. Miles was making his way down the carpet, pointing at her with an exaggerated gesture. She returned the gesture, and he came bounding over. They posed for several shots together before heading inside, arm in arm.

"I didn't know you were going to be here!" she said as they stopped at the bar.

"Sort of last minute, honestly," Miles revealed. "But look at you, Miss Superstar - that Coachella performance though…"

"How was it?" Rorie asked, genuinely curious.

"Off the fuckin' chain, lil' sis. You did that."

"Thank you," she smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

As Miles and Rorie made their way through the event, they were stopped every few feet by familiar faces. Kendall Jenner pulled Rorie into a warm embrace, gushing about the Coachella performance.

"You absolutely killed it," Kendall beamed. "And that song with Lewis? Everyone's still talking about it."

Before Rorie could respond, Ciara joined them, her megawatt smile lighting up the space. "Girl, when were you going to tell me you were performing again? That was incredible!"

The conversations flowed easily, punctuated by genuine laughter and warm exchanges. Tracee Ellis Ross swept by, wrapping an arm around Rorie's waist as they posed for photos, while Snoh Aalegra complimented her vocal arrangements.

The evening progressed with typical Hollywood glamour - Travis Scott's performance had the crowd energized, the bass reverberating through the space as he commanded the stage. During dinner, Rorie found herself engaged in easy conversation with those around her, the kind of mindless chatter that filled these events.

As the night wound down, Rorie decided to head home early, missing Lyric and feeling the weight of the day settling in her bones. The drive started peacefully enough, the lights of LA streaming past her window as she thought about the upcoming reunion with Lewis.

Then her phone lit up with an unknown number.

Rorie hesitated before answering, but something compelled her to pick up. The moment she heard the voice on the other end, her blood ran cold.

"Rorie—"

"You must have a fucking death wish," Rorie cut in, her voice sharp with anger.

"Please, just hear me out—"

"I'm calling my lawyer," Rorie snapped.

"Wait!" Deja's voice was urgent. "I want to meet in Miami. We need to talk face to face."

"You've lost your rabbit ass mind!" Rorie couldn't believe her ears. After everything - the lawsuit, the leaked information, the media circus - Deja really thought they could just meet? The audacity was mind-blowing. Rorie clenched her jaw, her hand gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles went white. She could almost picture Deja on the other end, probably desperate, maybe even smug, as if she’d thought Rorie would just give in to this little stunt.

Deja doubled down. "I'm not settling until we talk. Face to face."

"I don't give a fuck what you want. We're going to win anyway - you violated my privacy, remember?"

They went back and forth, Deja pleading her case while Rorie's anger mounted. Finally, Deja suggested Rorie bring her lawyer if it made her feel better, but insisted they needed to meet.

"I'll think about it, bitch," Rorie spat before hanging up.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her hard. "Pull over," she managed to tell her driver, who immediately complied.

Rorie barely made it out of the car before emptying the contents of her stomach, her hands braced on her knees.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Hamilton?" the driver asked, concern evident in his voice.

Another wave hit her, and she groaned as a headache began to pulse behind her eyes. "Call my husband, please."

The driver quickly dialed Lewis, putting the phone on speaker just as Rorie retched again.

"Baby, are you okay? You're scaring me!" Lewis's voice rang out.

"It's Deja…" Rorie managed after a moment.

"What about her?"

"I'm going to kill that bitch, Lewis."

Lewis let out an exhausted "Fuck," followed by, "Let me call Julian."

Rorie stayed bent over, the cool night air doing little to settle her churning stomach. This night had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and somehow she knew it was just the beginning of whatever Deja had planned.

The Miami Grand Prix was a spectacle of color, sound, and energy—a vibrant mix of fans, press, and celebrities, all eager to catch a glimpse of the action on the track. Rorie moved through the paddock with an effortless confidence, dressed in a chic Tommy Hilfiger ensemble—a red mini dress paired with a tailored jacket that bore the iconic brand’s colors. As a Tommy Hilfiger ambassador, she was there to represent, but her mind was constantly pulled to her family, to Lyric, who was wide-eyed and curious, soaking in everything around him.

Julian, their lawyer, had been adamant about his involvement from the start. He wasn’t thrilled about the meeting, and honestly, neither was she—but at least they’d agreed that Julian would be there too, ensuring Deja wouldn’t pull any more stunts. When Julian had looked her in the eye and said, "We’re not letting her turn this into another circus," Rorie had felt an odd sense of relief. Knowing he’d be present gave her the peace of mind to enjoy the weekend with Lewis and Lyric.

Rorie’s attention snapped back to the present as she felt a tiny hand tug at her fingers. Lyric was pointing excitedly to the rows of cars lined up, his face lit with pure awe. She bent down to his level, taking in his excitement with a soft smile.

"Vroom! Vroom!"

"Yeah, baby," she murmured, brushing a soft kiss over his braids. "Those are Daddy’s friends’ cars."

"Where Dada?"

Rorie grinned. "He’s around here somewhere."

Just then, as if on cue, she spotted Lewis, looking impossibly focused and handsome in his race suit, his head bent as he spoke with one of his team members. When he looked up and saw them, his face transformed, a wide grin spreading across his features. He lifted a hand in greeting, then broke into an easy jog to close the distance between them.

"There’s Daddy," Rorie murmured to Lyric, moving aside so he could see his father approaching. "Look, sweetheart."

Lewis bent down, scooping Lyric up and spinning him around, making their son laugh with pure joy. Then, Lewis turned to her, his eyes softening as they met hers. "You’re a vision today," he murmured, his voice low and warm.

Rorie smiled, feeling her cheeks flush a little. "All part of the ambassador duty," she teased, tugging lightly on the lapel of her jacket.

The three of them shared a quiet moment, standing close amid the bustling paddock. For a while, it was easy to forget about Deja, about the upcoming meeting, about everything that threatened to intrude on this moment. But she could still feel the tension, a low hum of anxiety that sat just below the surface.

Julian’s text from earlier that morning flashed in her mind: Remember, we’re handling this our way. She doesn’t get to make the rules.

It was a reminder she clung to, something that kept her grounded even as she stole another glance at Lewis and Lyric. This weekend, she’d focus on them, on supporting Lewis and creating memories with Lyric. Whatever Deja had to say could wait—she wasn’t about to let that woman spoil the joy of watching her husband race, of seeing her son’s eyes light up in wonder.

But just as she settled into the moment, she heard a familiar voice calling her name. Turning around, she was greeted by the sight of KiKi, striding over with her typical swagger, dressed in a sharp, stylish outfit that turned heads as she passed.

Rorie raised her brows, genuinely surprised. "KiKi? What are you doing here?"

KiKi grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Lewis called me in for backup," she said with a shrug, flashing Lewis a knowing smile.

Lewis, still holding Lyric, gave a small, guilty grin. "Figured it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra support this weekend," he said, adjusting Lyric on his hip. "Especially with everything going on."

Rorie couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief. Having KiKi around meant an added layer of support, someone who understood the intricacies of their situation with Deja and who would have her back if things got tense. But she was also wary; KiKi wasn’t exactly known for her subtlety, and Rorie wanted this meeting to be as low-key as possible.

"I don’t know if having you there is the best idea, though," Rorie said, keeping her tone light but firm. "You know how things can get."

KiKi put a hand on her hip, feigning offense. "Girl, please. I can be chill when I need to be," she replied, but the glint in her eyes suggested otherwise.

Rorie sighed, giving her friend a look. "I mean it, Ki. The last thing I want is for this to turn into a showdown."

KiKi held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Promise, I'll keep it cool. I’m just here to have your back. Besides, I’m curious to see what Deja’s got to say for herself."

Rorie gave a reluctant nod, knowing KiKi meant well. She’d always been fiercely protective, and Rorie knew that no matter what, KiKi wouldn’t let anyone disrespect her or her family. Still, she wasn’t entirely sure how Deja would react to seeing KiKi there.

"So, what’s the plan with her anyway?" KiKi asked, lowering her voice slightly. "You really think she’s trying to play nice?"

Rorie bit her lip, glancing over at Lewis, who was now trying to entertain Lyric with exaggerated car sounds. "I don’t know. She claims she wants to talk about boundaries, but I’m not sure I buy it. It feels like another setup."

KiKi snorted. "Wouldn’t put it past her. But hey, at least you’ve got Julian there to keep things on track. And me, if she tries any funny business."

Rorie managed a small smile, grateful for KiKi’s support even if she was apprehensive about the meeting. "Yeah. Julian’s already set some strict ground rules. We’re meeting in a neutral space, and he’s keeping it professional. He won’t let her turn this into another circus."

"Good," KiKi replied, crossing her arms as her gaze turned serious. "Just remember, she doesn’t get to call the shots here. You’re in control."

Rorie took a deep breath, nodding. "Right. I just don’t want her stirring up drama when all I want is to focus on this weekend with my family."

KiKi gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "You’ve got this, Ro. And if she steps out of line? Well, I’ll be there, chillin'... but keeping an eye out."

Rorie laughed, the tension easing slightly as she glanced back at Lewis, who had Lyric balanced on his shoulders now, the little boy giggling as he held onto his father’s head.

"Thanks, Ki. I appreciate you being here," Rorie said softly.

KiKi smirked. "Girl, you know I’d be here even if you didn’t want me to. Now, let’s enjoy the day and not let her mess with our vibe. Besides, your little one looks like he’s having the time of his life."

After watching Lewis' Free Practice, Rorie found herself alongside Mick Schumacher at the Tommy Hilfiger pop-up store in the paddock. Their easy rapport made the ambassador duties feel less like work and more like hanging out with a friend.

"The new collection's fire," Mick said, adjusting the collar of his Tommy polo. "But I think Lyric's stealing the show."

He wasn't wrong. Lyric, now dressed in a miniature version of the collection, was charming everyone who passed by.

After wrapping up the promotional duties, Rorie made her way to watch the F1 Academy practice sessions with Susie Wolff. The sight of female drivers commanding their machines around the track filled her with pride.

"It's amazing to see how far we've come," Susie remarked, her Scottish accent warm with emotion. "These girls are the future."

Lyric, perched on Rorie's hip, pointed excitedly at the cars. "Fast! Mama, fast!"

"That's right, baby. They're very fast," Rorie agreed, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Later, they ran into Kevin Magnussen near the garages. Lyric immediately perked up, looking around expectantly.

"L'waura?" he asked, his little face scrunching up in confusion when he didn't spot his friend.

Kevin laughed warmly. "She's with Mommy today, but we can FaceTime her later. Would you like that?"

"Yes!" Lyric clapped his hands excitedly.

The lightness of the afternoon stood in stark contrast to what awaited Rorie that evening with Deja. She wanted nothing more than to end whatever bullshit Deja was on, but she knew that not everything will be easy coming from her.

____________________________________________________

Later that evening, away from the excitement of the track, Rorie arrived at the offices of Ocasio & Associates, one of Julian's trusted colleagues in Miami. The sleek high-rise office space felt appropriately neutral and formal for what was about to unfold.

Julian was already there, reviewing documents when Rorie walked in with KiKi. They settled into the conference room, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the Miami skyline at dusk.

When Deja walked in with her lawyer, her face immediately darkened at the sight of KiKi. "What is she doing here?"

"I'm here for moral support, honey," KiKi drawled, her tone deceptively sweet.

Julian cleared his throat. "Let's focus on why we're here."

What followed was an hour of increasingly tense discussion. Deja insisted on rehashing her version of events from All-Star Weekend 2017, her voice growing more animated as she described what she claimed was a meaningful connection with Lewis.

"We had something real," Deja insisted, leaning forward in her chair. "Before she came along—"

"You're delusional," Rorie cut in, her patience finally snapping. "You had a drunken hookup - if that even happened - and now you're trying to rewrite history."

"You don't know what—"

"No, you don't know what you're talking about," Rorie stood up, her voice firm and final. "Julian, we're done here. No more settlement talks. Take her ass to court and drag her to fucking filth."

As they left the office building, KiKi fell into step beside her. "You good?"

Rorie nodded, her jaw set with determination. "I'm done playing nice. She wants to live in her fantasy world? Fine. But she's about to learn what reality feels like."

As they walked down the quiet Miami street, the humid evening air thick around them, Rorie suddenly felt her stomach lurch. Without warning, she lurched toward a nearby trash can, barely making it before emptying the contents of her stomach.

"Rorie!" Julian rushed out after them, producing a clean handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to her as she straightened up, her hand trembling slightly as she wiped her mouth.

KiKi was at her side instantly, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Girl, are you okay? What's going on?"

Rorie took a deep breath, trying to settle her churning stomach. "I'm fine," she managed. "Just stress, I think. This whole situation with Deja…"

"Nah, you need to calm down," KiKi said firmly, keeping her hand on Rorie's back. "This isn't worth getting sick over. Remember that wine bar we used to hit up when I lived down here? The one with the amazing cheese plates?"

Despite her queasy stomach, Rorie felt a small smile tugging at her lips. "God, that sounds perfect right now."

"Then let's go," KiKi decided, already steering Rorie toward the street to hail a car. "Julian, you good?"

Julian nodded, still looking concerned. "Call me if you need anything. And Rorie? Try not to worry about Deja. We've got this handled."

As they climbed into the car, Rorie leaned back against the cool leather seats, grateful for KiKi's steady presence beside her. Maybe what she needed right now wasn't more strategy sessions or legal talks. Maybe what she needed was just this - a night with her best friend, some good wine, and a chance to remember who she was beyond all the drama.

"Thanks, Ki," she said softly as the car pulled away from the curb.

KiKi squeezed her hand. "Always got your back, girl. Always."

TO BE CONTINUED....

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 1)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Disclaimer ─ In Part 1 of the series, the main characters are introduced, setting the stage for the encounter of Evan and Y/N to unfold and the sexual energy between them to build up. Things get super steamy and smutty in Part 2.

Warnings (for Part 2) ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, handjob, nudes, handjob, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill :)

Word count ─ 3.8K

18+ > If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You step out of the shower, steam stirring around you as you wrap your hair turban-style in a towel. The anticipation of a proper night-out since you made the bold move to quit your job in Europe and pursue another life in the US tingles in your veins. It feels like forever since you’ve let loose, and tonight promises to be nothing short of epic.

Plopping down onto your bed, you grab your go-to jar of coconut body butter from the dresser. You squeeze a generous dollop onto your palm and rub your hands together. The creamy texture blends in as you work it onto your skin, leaving it smooth and oh-so-soft.

As you immerse yourself in your ritual, you hear the familiar buzz of a FaceTime call. Glancing over at your bedside table, you see “Ad💗,” your friend’s name (Adria for full) glowing on the screen. You pick up your phone, still coated in moisturiser, and her face pops up. A look of desperation is written all over her features.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” you chirp, propping the phone on your desk to finish off your pampering session.

She lets out a dramatic groan. “Send help,” she whines, her voice tinged with panic. “I’m having a meltdown over here. I swear, I got nothing to wear.”

You can’t help but giggle at her faux-crisis. “First-world problems, brain rot,” you tease, sneaking a peek at the heap of clothes behind her. “I see you’ve got quite a selection to pick from.”

Adria pouts, swatting playfully at the camera. “Nah, these don’t count. I need everyone to be ‘she ate and left no crumbs.’ What’re going for tonight? I need some inspo!”

You chuckle sympathetically, holding the phone aloft as you pivot to show her your fit for tonight laid out on your bed. “I’m going for less is more—my thrifted mini satin dress and racing black leather jacket with my military boots and white tube socks for a touch of sass.”

She gives you a strained smile as she takes in your outfit. “Ahh, you pull off that casual vibe effortlessly, babe.”

You flip the camera back to you, shrugging nonchalantly, “I’m casual and proud!”

Adria rolls her eyes with a teasing glint. “Okay, but what about makeup? You gotta glam it up… you know the LA sparkle! That’s how we do it in East Hollywood, at least!”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Nah, I’m feeling the au naturel look. You know I suck with makeup big time—I’d probably end up looking like Pennywise.”

Rather than rehashing your “Why makeup should be banned” manifesto, you choose to dig further into the evening’s plans. “So, who else’s joining us tonight, Ad?”

She rattles off a list of names, both female and male—some known, others unknown—and you nod along. “Gotcha. I’ll be ready by 10.”

“Perf. I’ll swing by to pick you up then. Buckle up for a wild night, biyyyatch!” she exclaims, wiggling her brows at you.

You let out a choked laugh as you observe her grimacing. “Alrighty, catch you soon!”

Once you hang up, you slip into your outfit and let your hair fall loose, fluffing it up for a bit of volume. No need for fancy blowouts tonight—you’re all about that breezy, air-dried look.

With a spritz of perfume and a final check in the mirror, you grab your essentials and head out into the dazzling city lights.

As you strut into the club with your gang, the uplifting beats hit you like a wave of energy. The nostalgic tunes of early 2000’s R&B thump in your chest, urging you to groove with every step. You all weave through the sea of nightclubbers, the party mode building up inside you like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

“Let’s hit the bar!” Tommy, one of the guys and Adria’s boyfriend, shouts over Missy Elliot. You all nod in agreement, eager to keep the high spirits flowing with some booze.

You slither through more partygoers who dance erratically, all while juggling their drinks. Some move smoothly to the rhythm, while others simply jiggle around out of tune.

Neon lights flash and strobe, casting an electric glow over the bartender as he polishes a row of whiskey glasses with cool confidence. A cheeky smile plays on his lips as you hop onto an empty stool before him.

“What can I get you started?” he roars over the music, his voice cutting through the din.

“Coronas all around,” you holler, matching his tone with equal fervour. You hand him a wad of cash chipped in by everyone.

“Coming right up.” With a flick of his wrist, he expertly pops the cap off the bottle, sliding them your way with a wink.

“Thanks,” you mouth, shooting him a grin before heading back to your friends with a tray.

You take a long, satisfying gulp, the crisp taste of beer quenching your thirst. With your beverage in hand, you pace to the dance floor, your friends in tow only metres away.

Your hips swing in harmony with the melody, and your feet glide effortlessly across the ground. Heads turn and whispers follow your path. Some even reach out, uttering unintelligible words, or brush against your shoulder as you pass by.

Ignoring the distractions, you grab Adria and Jasmine, dragging them into the heart of the dance floor while the rest of the group forms a circle around you. The music engulfs you, momentarily sweeping away the grim memories of your pre-relocation life.

With each song that blares through the speakers, your body twists and twirls with fluid grace, each move perfectly timed to the tempo of the music. In that moment, you feel more alive, more liberated than ever before.

As time trickles by, the music continues to pump and the lights swirl around you. You notice Joseph, the lone blond dude in the squad, inching closer and closer to you as the night stretches on. 

“Heyo, Y/N! How’s it going?” he greets you with a tap on the shoulder, his voice rumbling near your ear.

“Hey! All good now. How’s you?” you retort with a tight-lipped smile, bringing your Corona to your lips for another sip.

“Now that I’m chatting with you, much better!” he quips back, a hint of mischief in his tone. “How are you liking the States?”

Just as you’re about to respond, joyous screams erupt from Adria and a couple of other girls from your group, catching your attention. Before you can fully process what’s happening, Adria dashes toward you and jumps into your arms, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Girl! Are you on Molly or something? What’s going on?” you mock, smoothing out your dress on the cleavage before you start flashing whoever’s at close vicinity.

“Omg, you won’t believe it!” Adria squeaks, frantically clapping her hands.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Try me.”

“Ahh, my fangirling is through the roof right now! Evan Peters is here,” she cries out, bouncing up and down, squeezing your hand tightly.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Who?” 

“Evan Peters, Y/N! The hottie from American Horror Story… Kai Anderson, Cult? Kit Walker, Asylum? Seriously, don’t these ring any bells? Umm… Dahmer? Come on—you’ve watched that series!” she insists, her voice pitch rising as she tries to jog your memory.

A flicker of recognition crosses your face as your friend’s description sinks in. “Oh, right, Evan Peters,” you concede with a faint smile. “I remember now…And?”

Adria’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “And?? He’s in the same space as us, breathing the same oxygen, Y/N!”

You shake your head, trying to inject a dose of reality into her Hollywood-induced haze. “Okay, but let’s be real here. He’s a mega star, so totally out of league. I mean, we’ve got about as much chance with him as a blue whale does with climbing Mount Everest,” you quip and fold your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “And you’ve got a boyfriend, in case you forgot.”

Adria’s enthusiasm deflates slightly as she’s reminded of Tommy. “It’s not the same,” she protests sheepishly, fiddling with her bracelet. “You know how celebrity crushes work. How can I not crave Evan when he’s graced the world with his Tate Langdon role?” 

You can’t help but laugh at her delirium. “Ugh, Adria, it’s giving obsession and borderline restraining order from Peters if you keep this up. Let’s just focus on having a blast tonight and drop the celebrity fantasies, okay?”

A couple of hours melt away, and the energy of the dance floor begins to wane. Most of your friends retreat to a nearby table to freshen up. But not you. With two others by your side, you’re on a mission to keep the party alive, letting the music guide your body with a fierce determination.

Mid-twirl, though, your eyes snag on something unexpected—a figure lingering at the fringes of the dance floor, his attractive gaze burning into you like a laser beam, sending a bolt of lightning down your back. It takes a moment for you to register who it is, but when you do, your heart kicks into overdrive.

Evan Peters.

You try to play it cool, biting down on the inside of your cheek to stifle the grin that’s itching to break free. You try to pass it off as just a coincidence, a trick of the light or a delulu figment of your imagination, but when you steal another glance in his direction, you find his eyes still trained on you. This time around, he offers a timid smile.

Your throat feels like it’s swallowed a golf ball as you sense his eyes fixed on you. Desperate to shake off the sudden self-consciousness, you rummage through your tiny shoulder bag for your phone. Your fingers jitter as you feign interest in your screen, scrolling aimlessly through your main menu or typing out gibberish in your notes app.

But even as you try to stay composed, his stare weighs on you like a ton of bricks. Are you tripping? Feeling more awkward and exposed than ever (you don’t have Evan Peters laying eyes on you every day), you motion to your friends that you’re heading to the restroom. Anything to escape the spotlight, even if it’s only for a sec.

This time, you bulldoze through the crowd, head low, with the toilets being your last glimmer of hope for salvation. Or so you think. Just as you’re about to slip away, a warm, soft hand gently closes around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you slowly turn to confront the person obstructing your way. And there he is, Evan Peters in the flesh, standing before you with an enigmatic grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Your heart leaps into your throat when you face him, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. Your mind races a mile a minute—Is this real life? Did you manifest this? Is Evan Peters actually in front of you?

Fuck, Adria’s right. He’s hot as hell, you ruminate, feeling your breath clutching in your throat.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, he greets you with a seductive rasp. “Hey.” His eyes seal with yours in a way that makes your knees turn into jelly.

I just saw you and heard you in person, Evan! Scrap everything I said to Adria. Forget the restraining order. Just slap the handcuffs on me, and do whatever you want... Erhm, I mean, take me into custody cause staring at you should definitely be illegal.

You freeze, unable to tear your eyes away from his handsome dark brown (almost black) eyes and silky tousled curls. A feeble “Hi” is all you manage, your voice barely above a whisper as a nervous flutter stomps onto your stomach.

“Having a good time?” he checks in, his smile widening by the second.

“The asphyxiation I feel right now must be a sure sign that I’m enjoying myself, right?” you reply, fanning your hand in front of your face for dramatic effect.

His throaty laughter bubbles up from deep within him, the sound instantly cranking up your heartbeat. It’s genuine and infectious, like he’s letting down his guard and inviting you into his world, flashing those perfect teeth like they’re on a billboard.

“If you’re suffocating from excitement, then you must be doing something right. But don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out on you. If you turn purple, I’ll dial 911,” he teases, gently lifting your chin with his index finger and giving you a full inspection with feigned seriousness. “Nope, we’re good. So far, all I see is beauty, no signs of death.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, so you instinctively lower your head, hoping to hide your rose-tinted face. 

You battle to keep it together, but the fact that his hand hasn’t budged from your wrist since your eyes met screams, ‘fainting spell incoming.’ As if that’s enough, his thumb traces soft circles on your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm. “You make me cringe, do it again,” you joke, and you both share a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see what card I should pull next. Here it comes, drumroll—on behalf of everyone in here, I testify to your: ‘I got some serious moves and conquered the dance floor, but I need a breather now.’” he rambles and raises his free hand in mock ovation, his grin laced with mischief.

You chuckle, a surge of confidence brewing within you. “Well, it takes the greatest of them all to verify this. A lifetime of dancing lessons didn’t go down the drain, I guess. I appreciate your testament, sir, and the panel’s verdict,” you coo, bowing theatrically.

Once again, his laughter fills the space between you, warm and hearty.

After a few minutes of silence and a staring contest that makes it agonising for you to breathe, you finally utter, “I said this would be my night, and, apparently, I meant that,” discreetly eyeing him from head to toe, semi-drooling.

“Yeah? Any highlights of the night?” he inquires, his tone dripping with curiosity, and you can’t resist playing along after letting your thoughts slip out loud.

“Nothing yet. But I’m counting on your highlighter to illuminate my way,” you spill out, playfully tilting your head to the side. A sly grin spreads across your lips as you throw the bait, hoping he’ll keep up with your pun game.

His “strike” is immediate as he edges closer to you. “Believe it or not, I’ve got one on me that can change your night from the inside out,” he shoots back, his smile growing, clearly on the same innuendo-laden wavelength as you. You’re a match made in flirtatious banter heaven, true that.

“I need some inside work, that’s for sure. Glad you’re volunteering,” you reply, feeling a rush of heat flood through you at his words. Then, you quickly transition, turning his wrist stroking into a handshake as you introduce yourself.

He hums, gently taking your hand in his, his smile stretching wide enough to reveal his adorable dimples that only add to his charm. “Evan.”

“I know,” you admit, unable to contain your broad smile. “But just an FYI, I haven’t binged-read your fanfics or analysed our astrology charts to see if we’re soulmates. I’ve gone as far as watching Dahmer. Stellar performance, by the way,” you blurt out, still shaking his hand.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to suppress another giggle. “Okay, chill. No need to prove you’re not a psycho. Wanna grab a drink to cool off?”

“No need to ask,” you fire back with equal enthusiasm, both of you grinning like kids in a candy store. Without hesitation, you just follow his lead, diving headfirst into the moment with a reckless abandon, thinking, ‘I’m all in, no matter what crazy idea you’ve got up your sleeve, baby boy.’

He cups your hand in his, his palm firm and reassuring, as he guides you through the throngs of people toward a quieter bar setup located upstairs in the club. The touch makes your head spin, feeling the familiar sensation of heat pooling between your thighs, leaving your undies all moist. You’ve felt sparks like this before, but never quite so intensely, and certainly not so quickly with anyone else.

As you trail behind him, you can’t help but lightly graze the back of his hand, mapping the pathways of his veins with your fingertips. You love a baby face paired with strong arms—he’s exactly your kind of man.

“Maybe it’s better…” he begins once you reach the bar, but the music swells out of the blue, drowning out the remainder of his sentence.

You involuntarily scrunch up your nose and squint, struggling to concentrate and hear him over the blasting tunes. “Come again, sorry?”

Before you can react, he draws closer to you. His breath is warm and tickly against your ear, causing a tremor through your entire body. Not to mention his voice: husky and velvety, making your cunt pulsate for him already.

Damn, things are moving at lightning speed, and you’re struggling to keep pace.

As Evan gets nearer, you catch a subtle yet alluring whiff of cinnamon and cologne. But, actually, it’s the natural scent exuding from his body that has a chokehold over you. Those pheromones he unleashes are like full-blown intoxication, making you lightheaded, your pulse thudding.

You lean in to mimic his gesture and whisper to his ear, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he gently clasps your hand, signalling for you to hold on. As he removes his earplugs, he explains, “Sorry I’ve got very sensitive ears.”

You chuckle, a wicked spark in your eye as you lift a tuft of hair to reveal your own ear protectors. “Great minds think alike,” you cheer.

“No, you didn’t,” he exclaims, eyes widened as you burst out laughing in sync.

As your laughter subsides, Evan’s expression shifts. His eyes bore into yours with a smouldering intensity as if he’s on the verge of revealing a long-held secret or daring to make a move.

But before you can form coherent thoughts or pluck up the courage to speak, Evan blinks fast, breaking the spell. “Shall we get those drinks at last? What’d you like?”

You clear your throat, trying to snap out of your nasty thoughts with Evan being the main character. “I’m down for another Corona, thanks.”

He flashes a quick two-finger salute to the bartender before turning back to you, his lips curving up in a cute, crooked smile. “So, who are you here with tonight?”

“Just some friends,” you confess, your voice trailing off as he raises his bottle to clink it against yours in a toast. His eyes remain glued on yours as he takes a sip, his defined jawline and slender neck at full display begging for your kisses. The intensity of his gaze makes your legs all wobbly. “A-and yourself?” you stammer, breaking eye contact to nervously trace a circular pattern on the rim of the bottle glass with your fingers.

“Same, I came to visit friends during my break. I’m flying back to Vancouver in ten days to carry on filming Tron.”

Your grip tightens around the cool glass of your drink as Evan drops the bombshell. You feel the liquid catch in your throat as you choke, a sudden surge of panic hitting your chest. You cough, the sound harsh and uncontrolled, your body reacting instinctively to the news.

“Canada?” you manage to croak out between coughs, your voice hoarse. You struggle to swallow past the lump, your throat raw and constricted. Your chest heaves as you fight to regain control.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks with a sense of urgency, his forehead creased with deep lines of worry. Leaning in, his eyes search yours for any sign of distress. His hand reaches out to steady you, giving you comforting back rubs.

You nod weakly, your eyes watering from the effort of suppressing another coughing fit.

“Let me fetch some water for you,” he offers, his voice soft and soothing. He sprints to the bar, returning seconds later with a glass of water and a concerned frown etched on his forehead.

“Thanks,” you mumble, accepting the glass with a trembling hand, keeping the bottle of beer in your other hand. The cool water soothes your parched throat, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you as Evan tenderly ruffles your hair and massages your scalp to calm you down. Hint: his hands on you work wonders.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, looking up to meet his gaze again, your heart hammering. Everything else fades away, leaving only the reassuring presence of Evan before you.

You can practically sense the sexual tension between you. His stare flickers between your lips and eyes, his own mouth slightly parted. It’s like a silent invitation that hangs between you like a charged wire ready to ignite, daring you to take a plunge and smother his face with kisses. And then suck his dick so hard that his stomach caves in like a Caprisun.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve just met; he has you at hello and you’d spread your legs for this man without a second thought…

You gulp as you realise he’s almost inches away from you. You shudder when his fresh breath—an irresistible blend of mint and alcohol—wafts into my mouth, blowing stray strands of hair off your face. “You’re leaving in ten days?” you sigh, puckering your lips and giving him a puppy-eyed look.

“Yes, but I’m still here,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on your lips as he leans into your stool. With a single knee, he slowly splits your legs and slides in between them.

“You’re here now. Wanna be at my place next?” you suggest, and he stares back at your eyes with a crooked smirk, his lips curled mischievously.

Without warning, his lips brushed against yours, throwing your arousal off the chart. The torturously slow pace that his lips slide along yours makes your sex leap, pop, and drip. Soft moans escape your bodies as he grabs your ass to pull you in, squeezing it along the way as his chest cushions firmly against your breasts.

He smiles against your lips as you tangle your fingers in his hair and part your mouth, giving him the green light to roughen the kiss. His hard rock boner already presses against your wet centre when his tongue invades your mouth with primitive force, swirling and twirling with yours in a passionate dance.

“How long to get to yours?” he grunts out of breath, wincing from the uncomfortable angle his stiff cock has now taken in his trousers.

“It’s roughly a ten-minute ride, give or take,” you pant, adjusting the hem of your dress.

“Off we go.”

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

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[sailxrmxrs]

took a little break from writing to recharge the brain but expect some fun christmas content now that december is upon us. before the fesitivities begin, however, let's give alexei a little moment to shine bc i haven't actually written a solo fic for him yet. today we change that. now everyone's beloved science boy is for SURE the type to overwork himself and not realise until he gets sick so who else should take care of him other than mc <3 also bc a sleepy alexei is adorable. enjoy the alexei softness gamers! also maybe opening requests again for some inspo hehe. fantasy rory coming to a tumblr near u too soon <3

Being roommates with Alexei meant a lot of late nights after work, sharing food you'd ordered in because neither of you had the energy to cook. A pleasant routine had settled and you couldn't really fathom a time before this close friendship with Alexei. However, something that set you both apart was the ability to relax. Where you valued your time at home away from work, letting your brain rest and indulge in comforts and hobbies, Alexei did not. Even when the two of you would watch a new show together, or go out for food, Alexei was always thinking about work. If he could, he'd stay in the lab working long into the night, only stopping when you physically dragged him away from his current projects. His late nights combined with his early morning starts meant it was inevitable he'd get sick. Despite his determination to prove otherwise, Alexei was only human. And that meant his repeated late nights would soon catch up on him and render him useless to his own immune system.

It only took a few more days for Alexei's inevitable fate to strike. You were cleaning up the kitchen from your breakfast, the tv providing background noise, when you heard Alexei's door open. Dark circles ringed his eyes as he slowly trudged out of his room, a blanket wrapped around him and his cheeks flushed feverishly.

"Uh oh. Someone's sick," you observed, taking a bite of toast as you watched him collapse on the sofa. "Told you to rest more."

Alexei answered with a groan, his energy levels too low to offer any sort of intelligent response. He burrowed deeper into the cushions, tugging the blanket around his shoulders for extra warmth. Despite it being a result of his own blindsided eagerness to work, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Alexei was usually a bright little ray of sunshine in the mornings so to see him look so defeated made your heart sink. Luckily for Alexei, today was a day off for you. Initially, you'd planned to spend it running a couple necessary errands before hibernating away in cosy clothes in your room but some adjustments could be made for Alexei.

"Instead of moping over there, you should get yourself back into bed. Can you manage any food right now or do you just want to sleep it off?"

Alexei contemplated his options for a moment before he begrudgingly pulled himself up off the sofa. "Sleep. Food later."

"Got it. Still, you should drink some fluids first. I'll grab you some water and a spare blanket from my room." By the time you'd gotten Alexei a glass of water and retrieved the blanket in question, he was already fast asleep. His body was so exhausted that he'd collapsed before even getting himself fully into bed. You left the glass on his bedside table, pulling the covers and blankets over him so that he would stay nice and warm as his body caught up on all the sleep it had missed. You pulled the curtains taut and quietly closed the door as you left. Judging from the gentle snores coming from Alexei, he wouldn't be waking up anytime before noon which meant you had a couple hours to run out for some ingredients to make him the perfect comfort meal. It wasn't often that you got to cook for Alexei so you weren't intending on letting this opportunity slip you by. Especially because you knew that in a few hours once Alexei was fully rested, he'd be aching to get up and go about his day like normal despite the strain on his body. Getting him to relax might just be the hardest task you've ever set to accomplish.

Once you'd returned home and got to work on Alexei's food, the real work begun. As you'd suspected, the moment Alexei woke up he made the executive decision to get out of bed again and join you in the kitchen, claiming to be all better now. Of course, this wasn't true in the slighest but there was little you could do for the moment so you let him sit and watch you finish preparing the ingredients.

"As soon as this is all in the pot simmering away I'm putting you back into bed, you know that, right?"

"I already slept I'm fine. Besides I have a report to finish for Monday," Alexei complained as he reluctantly drank sips of water while you glared directly at him.

"Were my ears deceiving me or are you seriously talking about work when you are sick. From overworking and not sleeping. Alexei Demidov I swear you are going to be the death of me." You halted your actions, a half-chopped carrot under your hands momentarily abandoned while you scolded Alexei.

"I'm not sick or overworked. I was just a little tired. Which I'm not anymore."

"Sure. Is that why when I checked your temperature earlier you had a fever? Because you are in perfect health? And don't even get me started on the overworking. I've never met someone more willing to work overtime."

Alexei puffed his cheeks in defeat, knowing that as a scientist himself he couldn't refute the evidence of his high temperature. "Enjoying your job is hardly a crime."

"True, but you can always have too much of a good thing. Perhaps this is the ideal experiment into why rest and relaxation is vital to one's physical wellbeing."

"Perhaps." Alexei sipped at his water, watching as you went about the kitchen clearing up the utensils you no longer needed now that everything was cooking. He quietly observed, only responding with little nods and short answers to your questions about the food. Having food prepared specially for him was a new feeling for Alexei, and it was one he rather enjoyed. He liked the closeness of seeing the process but found the gesture of you going to such lengths to look after him even more comforting. Even if he didn't believe he needed such treatment, he would have been lying if he said he hated it. To be doted on like this was incredibly rare so maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let you continue treating him like this? After all, he did have a slight fever—even if he didn't feel ill himself.

By the time his food had finished cooking, you were already ushering Alexei to either get back into his bed with the pillows propped up or onto the sofa where you'd drag his duvet and blankets. He opted for the sofa as he clutched the warm bowl in his hands and took a first bite. His eyes closed in satisfaction, the heat spreading through every inch of his body.

"You better not get any ideas of working even more because you won't be getting this sort of treatment next time," you commented, tossing the bundle of blankets beside Alexei so as not to spill any of his food. "Special treatment only for people who deserve it."

Alexei took another bite before answering. "You really think I'd do that?"

"Hm, maybe not on purpose, but yes. Anything for some more of my cooking," you teased, falling back onto the other end of the sofa, tucking your feet under one of the blankets.

"Never knew you could cook this good. I might need a lesson or two from you."

You'd gotten yourself a bowl of food to enjoy with Alexei, knowing the comfort meal was exactly what you needed after a long week of work. "Don't get excited, this is one of very few recipes I've mastered. Mostly because I made it all the time as a student when it got cold."

"Still, I appreciate it. Thank you." Alexei smiled, his cheeks still flushed with fever, but looking a lot more rejuvenated than they had been earlier in the morning. After he finished eating, Alexei got himself comfortable under the covers again, swearing he wasn't about to fall asleep. He was just getting cosy. Until you looked over ten minutes later and saw that same sleep-induced calmness cover his features. His lips were curled in the slightest of smiles and his hair tumbled over his eyes. A bemused grin covered your features as you rose from your seat to check up on him. His temperature had almost returned to normal but there was no need to disturb him now. So instead, you brushed the hair from his forehead, leaving a soft kiss in your wake before leaving him to sleep the rest of his fever away. But before you could go, a hand reached for your arm and weakly tugged. Alexei was still mostly asleep, the last remnants of his consciousness encouraging you to join him. What kind of person would you be to refuse such a sweet request? So you managed to balance yourself beside him, the blankets sufficently covering you both before sleep called out and lulled you into its grasp.

[dinah-stmaur]

FROM DINAH’S LIBRARY: GEORGE ST. FORE

@leahoftheforests​

“I have read many books,” this a simple fact, “and I often found them to speak to me in ways I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain. Yet, when I first read his works…” [Dinah] paused, indeed, she was no writer. How could she explain it, then? Clumsily, maybe. Clumsily because she must at least try. “..I.. well.. It’s the first time I felt I was being seen.” Seen and made real. Seen while knowing that it was safe to be gazed upon. Seen to the very core of who she was, even those parts even she had yet to know. “There is such magic in his books even about the most mundane of things. It makes life look less dull and less scary at the same time.” It had been the reason why Dinah had decided to step out of libraries, of quiet corners, of the wallpaper she so liked to hide against.

[babyjakes]

steve & bucky's girl | 2. all filled up.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

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summary | steve and bucky have been wanting to fill you up in new ways for the longest time. when they day arrives that they finally feel you’re ready, they’re sure to make it an experience you’ll always remember.

characters | dark!daddies!stucky, innocent!little!reader

warnings | t-h-e most depraved thing i’ve ever written. filfthy^100. NON-con/restraints, crying, medfet, ddlg/abdl, steve & bucky being cruel but soft as hell which only makes it that much worse,,, forced orgasms, forced anal, eventual double pen :^) (unprotected sweet jesus), heavy on the clit stim (per usual), anal toys, vibrator, rougher towards the end,, like, degrading idek, suuuuper loong lol (i like detail writing for stuff like this!!)

requested by @donttouchmybum | MORE DDLG MEDFET!! I’m so glad that I found one with Bucky and Steve, it was amazing! Are you able to do one with their little’s first time anal and they have to do the prep and stuff?

an | hi oh my godddddd i feel SO MUCH FEAR posting this but :’-) the last one was more well-received than i expected so,, i hope you enjoy! thanks so much for the request, i’ve been wanting to write more of this stuff but needed inspo &lt;;3

A loud whimper erupts from the back of your throat, muffled by your pacifier as you struggle helplessly against the strong restraints holding you securely to the changing table. Today, Bucky and Steve have something new planned for you. That’s why you’re so heavily restrained, with straps across your lower belly and below your shoulders, securing as well to your arms and wrists, along with straps securing your upper and lower legs to the strong pair of stirrups positioned at the foot of the table, spread wide open to allow easy access. The thick, firm bonds give you not even a millimeter of wiggle room, exactly how your daddies want it.

“I know, sweetheart; I know,” Steve fusses comfortingly from his position behind your right leg. Reaching a gentle hand over, he rubs at your inner thigh, causing you to sniffle at his touch. Today, a second rolling chair has been brought in so that both of the men can sit comfortably through your session. Steve’s settled where one of them would usually stand to hold your legs open, but because of the restraints, he has two free hands to assist in the procedure. A metal instrument tray is rolled over by his side, holding the various tools he’ll need to perform his part. Bucky’s on the other stool set directly between your legs, his own set of equipment resting on the extra space of the table. “I know it’s scary, but we’re gonna make you feel so good, babydoll. Just gonna show you new ways to feel good,” Steve promises.

“That’s right, princess. Gonna make you feel all warm and tingly in places you never knew could feel so good,” Bucky agrees as he reaches up to adjust the surgical light hanging over you to better illuminate the area he’s focusing on. Rolling up the sleeves of his crisp-white button down shirt, he reaches out a bare hand, placing it on the base of your tummy over your diaper. You flinch, though your body has nowhere to go as it strains against the thick straps holding you in place. “Okay, pumpkin. Let’s get you out of your nappy,” he sings as he begins to undo the tabs, creating a faint crinkling sound as he opens it up.

You let out a whine in protest as tears build in your eyes, but Steve just shushes you, reaching a hand over and rubbing his pointer finger gently over one of your nipples through the thin fabric of your baby-pink shirt. At the light, tickling stimulation, the small bead hardens, causing the blonde man to smile sympathetically. “Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he murmurs, always the one to be more affected by your tears.

“Won’t be needing this,” Bucky says as he pulls the unused nappy out from under your bottom, leaving your soft bare cheeks to rest against the cool, crinkly exam paper. “But we should probably have something under you, given the mess you’re about to make.” You whimper in fear at his words as he takes a large surgical napkin lined with gauze, sliding it under you to provide a clean space for him to work on. “There we go,” the man croons, turning his attention now to your exposed sex.

Adjusting his stool slightly higher to get a better view over your leg, Steve suggests with a frown, “Hmm, I think she might need to be spread a little wider.” You shake your head as tears stream down your face, a pleading look in your eyes, but Bucky just nods in agreement with him, unscrewing the stirrups slightly to allow him to push your legs further apart. You can feel the lips of your pussy parting, the cool air from the room causing your flesh to suiver.

“There, much better,” Bucky muses as he re-tightens the screws, his eyes landing again on your innocent cunt. “Alright, baby. First we’re gonna have Stevie get you warmed up, okay?” he coos. Taking that as his cue, Steve nods, picking up a pair of blue exam gloves off his tray and snapping them onto his hands, one by one, rolling back the sleeves of his own white shirt. “We’re gonna be introducing your body to a lot of new things today, little one, a lot of new sensations, so Steve’s just gonna make sure to keep you feeling good through all of it,” Bucky explains as Steve picks up a noisy plastic package, breaking the seal and pulling out a long cotton swab.

Your eyes widen at the object, but Steve’s quick to try to ease your fears, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just gonna give you some warming cream; that’s all.” At the sight of the man breaking open the small tab of paste, a whimper catches in your throat. More tears build in your eyes as he collects a decent amount of the white, minty substance on the tip of the swab, placing the used tab back on his tray. “Okay, peanut. Now, let’s have a look at that little clit of yours, hmm?” he hums as he leans over your leg slightly to gain better acces.

Steve’s always loved playing with your clit more than anything in the world. While both men enjoy and savor every inch of your body, there’s just something particularly satisfying to the blonde about your adorable little nub. He loves the way it peaks out from under its hood, how it quivers and pulses when exposed and stimulated. He knows, too, that you hate it when anyone comes near it, and that just swiping it with the pad of his thumb can bring you right to tears, which only makes it more enjoyable for him to humilate you by giving it extra attention and care.

“There it is,” Steve smiles as he takes his left arm and rests it across your belly, his hand pulling back slightly on the top of your mound to more easily reach the hooded nub. You whine and fuss into your pacifier, and Bucky just shushes you quietly while stroking your inner thigh soothingly. “Okay, sweetie. Gonna be a little cold at first, but don’t worry; we’ll get you in nice and warmed up in no time,” Steve promises as he takes the swab in his right hand, carefully bringing the rounded paste-covered tip and beginning to rub it gently across your clit.

The initial contact sends a whimper up through your nose, but Steve just continues to spread the paste, cooing, “That’s it, gotta get it alll over. Just making sure we get you nice and tingly, doll.” Once he’s satisfied with the application, he sets the used swab back down on its empty wrapper, the dreaded effects of the cream already taking hold as your most sensitive spot begins to throb.

“Oh, look at that,” Bucky marvels as the two men eye your reddening clit. “Swelling up already.” Steve nods with a smile as he keeps his hand pulling back on your mound, using the other that’s now free to gently begin rubbing across the top of the hooded bead with just the pad of his gloved finger.

You whimper through tears as warmth spreads out from your core, Steve’s skilled finger knowing just how to rub to make the sensation as intense as possible. “There, that feel good?” he hums, frowning in fake sympathy as you shake your head pleadingly.

“Poor baby,” Bucky shakes his head as he begins sorting through his own supplies. “Well, soon you’ll be glad to have the distraction, so don’t take it for granted,” he warns with a slightly darker tone as he pulls on his own set of gloves, tightening them up as the unpleasant sounds of the rubber against his skin fill the air. “Now sweetie,” he continues, his dangerously serious eyes meeting your blurry gaze. “Do you remember what it is we’re going to be doing today?” Defeatedly, all you can do is nod. “Good, you remember that today we’re gonna be stretching out your hiney-hole?” he asks, one of his thumbs brushing up against your puckered opening suddenly, making you jump in surprise at the unanticipated contact.

“Been wantin’ to fill up that little hole for quite some time,” Steve reminds you as he continues his gentle assault on your clit. The men’s words bring a new round of tears to your eyes, and they for once seem to have somewhat of an effect on Bucky.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, little one,” he croons, rubbing a bit more firmly at your virgin ass. “We’re gonna take things nice and slow and make sure you’re completely ready before we fill you up. Nothing’s gonna hurt,” he tells you, “just gonna feel good, doll.”

“We’d never hurt our baby,” Steve sings lovingly, the balloon of pressure from his finger on your clit slowly expanding in your lower belly as the men continue to talk over you. “You’re our precious little girl, sweetheart. We only wanna make you feel good, wanna make you feel so, so good.”

“So, we’re gonna start small,” Bucky says, picking up a syringe filled with a clear substance from his tray with his spare hand while continuing to prod gently at your tight opening with the other. “This is just some lubricant, sweetie. Gonna fill your little hiney-hole up with this so things can go in and out easier.” At the suggestion of your ass being filled with anything coming from a syringe, you let out a humiliated cry, causing Bucky to shake his head with a sad smile. “I know, I know. It doesn’t sound fun, but we gotta do it so nothing hurts.”

“Be a good girl and hold still for Bucky,” Steve instructs as the brown-haired man positions the tip of the syringe at the opening of your puckered hole. Not having the option of doing anything other than what Steve’s demanded, you simply squeeze more tears out of your eyes, holding your breath. The pressure and speed of the stimulation on your clit increases slightly, meant to ease some of the tension the next step is about to bring.

“Okay. Here we go, princess,” Bucky warns as he eases the long tip up your ass, the insertion making you cry out in discomfort and protest. “That’s it, theere you go,” he hums as he presses down on the plunger, the cool liquid filling you up inside as you whimper through your pacifier. “Good girl,” he praises, carefully removing the emptied syringe, a bit of the clear gel leaking out of your reddened hole.

Using his pointer finger to clean it up, Bucky begins rubbing at the opening of your bum again, this time the sensation much more warm and tingly thanks to the slippery wetness that’s been applied. “Okay, little one. We’re just gonna start with one finger, okay? We’ll go nice and slow, I promise,” he tells you, causing you to whine helplessly in fear.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Steve shushes, once again bumping up the speed of his finger as it rubs in tight circles across your now engorged clit. “Daddy’s gonna keep rubbing your nub, okay? Gonna make sure it feels good, sweetheart.”

“That’s right; should feel nice and good,” Bucky seconds. Then, without any further warning, he begins to press the tip of his gloved finger up into your bum, struggling to fit it in despite all the lube leaking out of you. You cry out against your pacifier as he continues the insertion, your virgin ass squeezing his finger almost painfully as a foreign sense of warmth swells in your tummy from the stimulation of your sensitive anal walls. “Good, that’s good,” Bucky strains as he pushes his large finger deeper, “fuck. So fuckin’ tight.” Steve rubs quicker at your clit, the little nub now practically on fire as Bucky finally fits the remainder of his finger in, letting out a breath and pausing to let you adjust.

“Look at that, all filled up with Bucky’s finger,” Steve coos, loving the sight of your ass looking so stuffed by just a single digit. Slowly, Bucky moves his finger around, the action causing even more unwanted feelings of fullness and warmth to build up in your belly.

“That feel good, princess?” Bucky asks with a sly smile, humiliating you with his knowledge of how the unwanted penetration is somehow bringing you closer to an orgasm. “Daddy’s just gonna feel around a little bit,” he tells you, gradually beginning to pump his finger in and out of you. As terrible as the movements feel, you can’t help the all-too familiar feeling building up inside of you as your ass is filled with the single gloved finger, accomponied by Steve’s maticulous stimulation of your clit.

“Aww, look at this, Buck. I think she’s already on the verge of cumming,” Steve chuckles as he dips down into the wetness leaking from your cunt, dragging it back up and pinching your nub between his thumb and finger as he begins rolling it like a bead of clay. You sob in defeat and arousal as Bucky smiles in agreement, comfortable enough now to begin thrusting faster and more forcefully into your slippery hole.

“Yeah? You gonna cum, dollface? You gonna cum from just one finger up your little hiney-hole?” he degrades as you sputter and heave on your pacifier, simply unable to hold back the feelings any longer as your orgasm pierces through you, causing you to cry out in pain and pleasure. “Yeah, that’s it,” Bucky almost grunts, the feeling of you clamping down on his finger with your tight little asshole sending blood straight to his bulging cock.

“Goood girl,” Steve sings in praise as you come down from your high, choking on your tears and spit, his own hard-on swelling between his legs as he slows his fingering down to a gentler pace. “Came so hard from Bucky’s finger, such a good girl.”

“I think she’s ready for another,” Bucky huffs excitedly, pulling out his drenched pointer and adding his middle to it to swirl around the lube oozing from your bum before beginning to shove them both back into your throbbing opening. You sob at the new feeling of fullness, the addition of the second finger only increasing the disgustingly delicious sensation deep within your gut.

Once both digits are full pressed into your swollen hole, Bucky repeats the same process from last time, starting out slow as he pumps in and out of you just as he would with your pussy. Steve takes to rolling your clit again between his fingers, the overstimulated nub throbbing at the unbearably hot touch. “If we keep at it, shouldn’t be too long before-”

“Oh, there it is,” Bucky cuts Steve off as your second orgasm rips through you out of nowhere, causing tears to spring into the air out of your eyes as your back tries to arch up against the restraints, your toes curling from the powerful wave. “Good, very good,” he hums as you float back down, your breaths staggering as you just cry to yourself in defeat.

“Shhhh,” Steve coos, bringing his clean hand up from your mound and stroking your tears away. “You’re doing so good, sweet girl. Doing so, so good for your daddies.”

“I think we should try the pump-up, and if all goes well, she’ll probably be ready after that,” Bucky talks to Steve softly as if you’re not even there in the room with the two of them.

“Okay. That sounds good to me,” Steve agrees as he removes his fingers from around your clit, retrieving something from his tray. The minute you hear a button being pressed and a familiar whirring sound coming from his hands, you let out a whole new round of sobs, fighting pathetically against your restrains as he brings the vibrator over and holds it above your aching sex. “Hey sweetie, what’re all the tears for, huh? It’s your very favorite one. See?” he asks, waving the light pink bullet in front of you mockingly. Steve is well aware that it’s actually your least favorite toy, the powerful vibrations it emits stronger than any other device in their collection. “Now, let me make sure I put it in your very favorite spot, too,” he continues to play along, returning his left hand to pull back on the skin surrounding the nub and bringing the pulsating head of the toy right up against the udner side of your clit, causing you to howl against your pacifier. “There. Is it okay like that, sweetheart?” he degrades as he pushes down onto your clit with his gloved fingers, increasing the vibrations begins sent through the nub. “I know you like it best right up on the head, riiight there, where it’s the most sensitive.”

As Steve distracts you with the new torture of your aching clit, Bucky prepares the inflatable dildo by squeezing the pump a few times, starting it out at a modest size. With no warning, he begins rubbing the blunt black tip of it on your hiney-hole, chuckling when you’re almost in too much distress from Steve’s work to even notice. As soon as he begins forcing it in, though, you cry out in shock, the smooth feeling of the object against your anal walls bringing you to a whole new level of arousal.

Sobbing and choking through your pacifier, your eyes widen as they meet Steve’s baby blues, and he can immediately tell what’s about to happen. “Oh, here she goes again,” he says with a grin. “That’s it, baby. Cum, cum for your daddies. Goood,” he coos as another orgasm is forced out of your trembling body. Bucky takes the opportunity to shove the rest of the length inside of you while you’re riding out your high, only adding to the unbelievable waves of pleasure rushing through you.

“Such a good girl,” Bucky praises lovingly as you fall limp against their ministrations, twitches of overstimulation spurting through your tummy and legs as Steve keeps the vibrator pressed on your painful bundle of nerves. “Now, Daddy’s just gonna pump it up, okay? Gonna fill you up as tight as you can take it, princess,” he grins eagerly, beginning to squeeze the pump of the dildo as it inflates inside of you. You wail inconsolably as the rubber objects stretches you out to the max, your gut burning in sinful arousal and humiliation.

Once the toy appears to be a similar size to one of their cocks, Bucky drops the pump, beginning to pound the length of it into you without care. As the panting man fucks the life out of you with the rubber blow-up, Steve presses the bullet up as far as he can against the most sensitive spot of your clit, and you can’t help it; you absolutely scream as your fourth and most powerful orgasm yet tears through you mercilessly, causing you to squirt forcefully onto Bucky’s hands. “Yeah, just like that,” he growls harshly.

“Fuck, cumming so hard,” Steve groans at the sight of you coming completely undone due to their efforts. And you just scream and scream some more, tears flooding your face as you begin to cough and choke on your spit, your whole abdomen cramping as you finally come down from your animalistic high.

The vibrator is removed from your clit, and the dildo is pulled from your ass, but you’re too out of it to notice, unable to do anything other than lie in a mess of your own tears and cum, whimpering and blubbering pitifully through a haze. Everything is sore; everthing hurts, and you fear that if either of them were to even lay a finger on you at this point, you’d simply completely shatter at their touch.

Blinking feverishly to clear your vision, you’re startled to see that both of the men are up off of their stools, ripping their clothing off of their bodies as fast as they can possibly manage. Steve finishes first, coming back to the changing table and all but tearing the restraints off of you, picking you up firmly by your little waist and sliding underneath you, lying back against the cushioned surface as the napkin drops to the floor. He lays your back against his chest, holding you still as you fight weakly, almost too tired to even move a muscle. Bucky comes up between the empty stirrups and faces you, pumping his hard cock in his hands.

“Now it’s time for you to take Daddy’s cock up your sweet little hiney-hole. You think you can do that, sweetheart?” Steve whispers in your ear, his own erection bulging under you as he pushes you up to a sitting position, your back still to him as he lifts you effortlessly by your waist, startling you by easing you back down and sliding his cock up your ass. Gasping at the full feeling, Bucky steps forward and slams his member up into your pussy, and you cry out in shock, completely winded by the double penetration.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ tight,” Steve grunts as he holds you by your waist, ramming you up and down on their massive lengths. Completely exhausted, all you can do is lie there and take it, letting the two men fuck you limply like a ragdoll. “Takin’ us so fuckin’ well, sweetheart. Fuck.”

“Look at ‘er,” Bucky chuckles as you blubber wordlessly against your pacifier, so deep in littlespace and overstimulated that not much of anything is processing in your brain anymore. “Just sittin’ there and takin’ it, lettin’ her daddies fuck her like a little fuckin’ toy. Such a stupid little baby,” he grins sickly, loving the way degrading you feels. “Dumb little baby, filled up with cock.” Bucky’s hands find their way over Steves and he takes over, pumping you across their members with reckless abandon. One hand rests on your lower belly, feeling himself inside you as he tears your guts apart.

Steve reaches a hand around between you and Bucky and finds your swollen bundle of nerves, and that’s all it takes; heaving, you come completely undone on top of their rock-hard cocks, squeezing them both as they rub up against each other with only a thin lining of your flesh keeping them apart. “Fuck, just like that,” Steve groans, your abused little asshole the most heavenly thing he’s ever had the privilege of fucking. Every muscle in your body seems to snap as your orgasm soars, pathetic cries coming out from behind your pacifier as you do all you can to keep from passing out.

“Dumb- baby-, cumming- all- over- our- cocks,” Bucky grunts, the two men’s erections swelling as they both let out deep moans, shooting abundant cum straight up into your belly. The world swirls as the three of you linger, the harsh sounds of their breathing and pathetic whimpers coming from your lips filling the heated air.

After several more moments of complete stillness, Bucky lifts you up as gently as he can from his and Steve’s spasming cocks. Letting out a heartbreaking cry, Steve shifts up slightly onto an elbow, both of the men seeming to sober up as they take in the complete mess they’ve made you into.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs as he collects you from Bucky. You wither in his arms, curling up defensively in fear of anything more they could be planning. “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay. It’s done, baby. We’re done; you did such a good job. Shh-shh shhh,” he soothes, rising to his feet and cradling you like a baby, rocking you back and forth as his partner begins to clean up.

“I think someone needs a nice, gentle bath,” Bucky says softly, causing Steve to chuckle lightly and nod.

“Okay, baby. Let’s go find the tub and get you aaall cleaned up,” he sings, doting over you lovingly as you babble softly, completely lost in your littlespace and not really hearing anything that’s being said. “Silly baby,” Steve coos, planting a kiss on your head. “Such a precious little girl.”

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[mooncademia]

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚝

pairing ~ kaminari denki x reader

genre ~ fluff, comfort, oc being a tease muahahah

wc ~ 1.0k-ish

extra notes:  inspo by a film called about time (such a lovely film!), my best boy, i love him sm and feel like he’s suchh an underrated character, yellow looks so good on him, i will be working on a tbb drabble after this; enjoy :)

       “Today went really well,” Kaminari said, wrapping you in his arms on his bed. It was past midnight and the two of you were already all washed up, snuggling in bed right now to prepare to sleep for the night. You could smell the fresh scent of soap coming from his hair and the warm tingle of roses from the newly washed white shirt that he was wearing. You smirked to yourself knowing all too well that your boyfriend purposely used your laundry detergent even though he’s been insisting he didn’t. You comfortably cuddled up against him, close to the nook of his neck. You then placed a hand on his chest, no later gliding it across to hold him tighter. You knew today was his big interview day with one of the most famous heroes in Tokyo prefecture, and you couldn’t even count the many days your boyfriend has been rehearsing his lines, adorning his manners, and even perfecting his handshake (which made you snort out milk one morning when you caught him being snazzy with himself in the bathroom mirror ;) ). Although you weren’t a U.A student before, nor were you one who followed the hero pathway, it didn’t make you any less proud of your boyfriend. You hummed appreciatively with a smile as you drew small circles on his chest.

Kaminari looked down at you and grinned widely. “In fact,” he continued. “It was a really great day. I think I will pass, Y/N.” The words left him in slight disbelief with the contentment he had, and it made you peer up at him with a beam.

“And you will.” You replied, hugging him a bit tighter for good measure.

You shifted your position as you pulled away from your boyfriend’s arm. You settled the book that was in your hands earlier on your beside table and adjusted your pillows before turning around to look back at Kaminari. His back was still propped up against the bed frame and you leaned in closer to press your lips against his. A soft delicate kiss was planted as your free hand rose to lock behind his neck and then caress his cheek. When you pulled away with soft eyes to admire your boyfriend’s features, you laughed aloud seeing Kaminari’s eyes glazed with heavy lust from your kiss.

Then a thought crossed your mind.

“Well,” you began, gliding your thumb across his cheek innocently. “I’m glad you did not have a terrible day, because if you did…” you flashed him a false sympathetic look by biting both of your lips together. Your gaze landed from his eyes to his lips and paused for a quick second before continuing.

“I thought I had to give you something more than a kiss to make up for it.” You purred as you drew circles on his chest seductively.

Kaminari’s mouth hanged opened, knowing all too well what you you meant. “Something more..” He mumbled as he stared back at you with puppy eyes and a crave that he couldn’t quite let go now. But you leaned in once again only to plant a quick peck of a kiss—an oh, such terrible tease for him.

Your half-lidded beautiful eyes then shined right back up as you patted on his chest twice pleasantly. “Well then, goodnight!” you smiled brightly before motioning away from him. The sudden tension that Kaminari felt was sliced in half as you finally turned off the lamp besides you, the last light of the room before it all went dark.

Then suddenly,

“Actually…I’ve had a terrible terrible day.”

You snorted out a giggle.

“It was absolutely terrible,” Kaminari continued, stuttering humorously a bit to make out excuses. “I-I missed my interview, and then accidentally set the whole city in a blackout, and then you know what happened next? I shocked an elderly, dropped my credit card in the metro, and-”

*click*

You positioned back up and looked at him with an eyebrow raised. You saw your boyfriend shake his head with a shrug which made you burst out another giggle.

You hummed as you placed a hand on his face and gave him a cheeky smile.

“That sounds like a terrible terrible day,” you said sympathetically, caressing his cheek with your hand. Kaminari swore he couldn’t even count the times a voice that gentle and beautiful swept him off his feet. It made him breathless and lustful just for you.

“It really was~” Kaminari replied with a fake pout, but you caught a twinkle in his eye which made you grin.

“Well,” You continued, closing the distance between the two of you. You were only inches away from his lips now and you have fully made Kaminari all the more smitten for you again. “I ought to make it up for it, don’t I?”

And with that, you planted a warm kiss on his lips, deeper and more passionate than the kiss before. A laugh left your lips no later once you felt a warm grasp on your legs, pulling you up until you were cradling his lap with his hands gripped firmly on your waist. A small sound akin to a groan filled the air as Kaminari lavished kisses on your lips, neck, and collarbone. His hands gliding everywhere from your legs to your chest.

“You’re such a tease,” He grunted as he planted kisses on your neck. You tilted your head up so he his lips could brush over the sensitive skin. You shrugged as you winked at him playfully, ever the more pleased with the lust he has for you, and only you.

“You know you love me.” You whispered, smiling widely as you directed your gaze back to him and kissed him on the lips once more.

Kaminari chuckled, a laugh so beautiful it was like honey dripping from his lips. He carefully glided his thumb from your cheek to your chin, tilting it lower so you were exactly face-to-face with him.

“Now that my love, I do.” His voice dropped an octave lower, sending a warm chill down your spine that spurred that heat in your stomach.

His eyes were staring into yours so ferociously that you knew that whatever comes next....

...well, he was definitely taking the lead ;)

---

-> ahhhh!! & here we are. tysm for reading this, let me know what you think! i love hearing feedback from u!! <3 (+ reblogs are also so appreciated!!) i hope you all have a lovely day~ :)

[pascalpanic]

Benny’s Girl (Prequel to Before The Next Teardrop Falls)

Inspo: Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield

Pairings: Benny Miller x f!Reader, later Frankie Morales x f!Reader (in Before The Next Teardrop Falls)

Summary: Benny’s new girlfriend is everything Catfish wants and more. Too bad it’s his best friend’s girl.

W/C: <4k

Warnings: language, sexual content, pining ohhh my word pining. 

A/N: HI FRIENDS <3 I absolutely loved Before The Next Teardrop Falls and I LOVE writing pining, especially with my Frankie baby, so I decided to make a prequel to it! This fic is based on Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield, which I absolutely ADORE. you can read this as a stand alone or you can read it as a prequel, I think either one works well!!

Sometimes, a spark seems to appear where one never existed. It’s common enough; it’s the reason most relationships fizzle out before they can become something explosive and fiery. One thinks that the dynamite is going to explode and take off in a bright shower of colors, when in reality the lighter never truly lit the wick.

That’s what happened between you and Benny Miller. You’d loved the guy, really, but not in the way you thought. You still do. It’s just that the both of you were lonely people seeking something more than your past had given you. The two of you were hopeless romantics. Maybe that’s what started the relationship.

You’d met in a way typical for the younger Miller brother. You’d been at a bar with some friends who were desperate to get you laid. The same could be said for Benny, who was there not with his brothers-in-arms but the man he’d defeated in the ring that night. Nick and Benny were good enough friends, close enough that losing to the other was rarely a sore spot. 

He’d spotted you across the bar, thought your laughing face was beautiful and your smile as you locked him was magnetic, drawing him to you before he could stop himself. Natural attraction. You introduced yourself. He told you his name was Benny. You asked why his hands were taped, he explained that he was a professional fighter, you’d made some snarky joke and you ended up talking for the rest of the night. One of your friends left with Nick. You and Benny stayed until the bartender shouted that it was the last call. You wrote your number on his taped palm and he saved it. 

You went on two bar dates before he decided he needed to introduce you to his best friends. They were like brothers to him, they knew everything about him and he knew them inside and out. You went to the same bar as you’d met at, and you met the men he’d served with in his Special Ops days.

Santiago, known as Pope for some godforsaken reason, was a charmer. He’d kissed your hand after shaking it, complimenting you and making small talk, finding connections and building on them. You’d laughed at the man’s joking advances, and flirted right back. Benny squirmed lightly, but you kissed his cheek and assured him you were just playing along.

William, Will, Ironhead, was Benny’s older brother. He’d given you a warm clap on the back and shook your hand, telling you that you were brave for putting up with the rascally guy. You had to admit, it was fitting. It was clear that they’re brothers: they had the same furrow to their brow, their blue eyes widened in reaction to anything, they had a similar habit of tipping their head back to laugh when something was especially funny. 

Frankie Morales, Catfish, was the last one you met and most definitely your favorite. He was quieter than the other guys, sat back while the other men made the noise. He was the punching bag, taking the brunt of the hyperbolized jokes- how Catfish hadn’t slept with a woman in 10 years, how he was the loud one of the group, how he was the one you had to look out for when he was drunk. You knew none of them could be true. He had a sweet smile and gave you a nod when you introduced yourself. He and Pope had some kind of banter between the two of them, albeit a banter you couldn’t understand as someone who didn’t speak Spanish. 

Throughout the night, you found yourself more drawn to Frankie. He had a beautiful laugh, would pull his ball cap down a little lower when someone made a joke about him. He was the one who’d expose a lie Benny or Santiago took. He nursed one beer while the other men got rowdy, and you’d done the same. It seemed that the two of you found kindred spirits in each other over the course of the night, while Benny and Will and Santi smacked each other around and took an obnoxious amount of trips to the bathroom.

When it was time to head out, you’d hugged each of the men goodbye. It was already clear that you fit in just like one of them, even if you didn’t have the past experience that bonded the men. You hugged Frankie last. He was the best hugger; he wasn’t ridiculously ripped like Benny, firm and awkward like Will, or flirtatious like Santiago. He was strong but soft. The man was definitely a hugger, you could tell, and it was comforting for the brief moment or two you were in his arms. 

Frankie put his cap on your head teasingly, covering your eyes, then stole it back and gave you a pat on the back. “Ben’s a wild one. Good luck with him,” he teased and walked off. You had to admit, his ass had a nice curve to it as he walked off to his beat-up truck. “Call me if he does anything stupid and I’ll beat his ass for you,” he called over his shoulder, prompting Benny to flip him off and put an arm around you. He simply laughed and got in his car.

-

Frankie became your favorite of the group. The two of you are the ones teasing each other exclusively and sitting quietly while the other men get crazy. Frankie tries sips of the cocktails you order, excitedly making grabby hands when the bartender sets it down. He always lets you steal some of the food he orders when you’re at the bar longer than normal. He shares your affinity for classic rock and when the bar blasts AC/DC, it’s Frankie who screams the lyrics to Thunderstruck with you while the others cover their ears. Santiago joins in sometimes too, but the country-loving Miller brothers never quite know all of the words like Catfish does. 

At some point in the few month relationship, you earn your nickname of Queenie. It’s from teasing Santiago, and the one who bestows the title upon you is Will, the most stoic of the group. It’s an honor, you tell them all, laughing. You call the shots, and everyone follows. Even though Benny is your lover, Frankie is your second-in-command.

When Frankie does allow himself to get drunk, he’s the most fun of the group. He’s extra lovey, telling the men how much he appreciates them. He tells stories the other men won’t about their Special Ops days, about the stupid things Will did when they were abroad. He’s shamelessly goofy and funny and falls all over the men. You even convince him to do karaoke with you once.

Benny is an overgrown class clown, but he won’t do karaoke, no matter how hard you begged him, called him baby and pressed soft kisses to his face. He wouldn’t budge. Tonight was a rare night that Frankie drank more than one round. “I’ll do it!” He shouts excitedly, eyes lighting up. “Ooh, c’mon, it’ll be fun. We’ll be so good at it.”

You, unfortunately, were not good at it, but you had the time of your life with Frankie. On that barely-raised platform, the two of you sang Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart, completely out of tune and out of sync. You were giggling the whole time, especially at Frankie’s falsetto on the little “woo-hoo”s. 

The two of you tumbled back to the table after, you giggling and falling into Benny’s arms. “Did you like it?” You cooed, sitting on his lap.

Benny laughed genuinely, pressing a kiss to your face. “Sure did. That was fantastic. Maybe you’ll have to sing just for me sometime, huh?” He teases.

Frankie sits alone on his barstool at the end and downs the rest of his beer. He flashes you a quick smile when your eyes meet his and he retires early for the night.

-

You and Benny had sex a couple of times. He was good at it, good enough. You enjoyed the way his lips moulded to yours, the way his thrusts were quick and fast and properly angled. From a technical standpoint, he should’ve been perfect. It was all you wanted, but there was no real connection behind it. The moans that trailed from your lips were small and soft, and the louder ones were never genuine. He always made you orgasm, at least, but it was slow and dull, the kind you’d wring from yourself with just two fingers.

The two of you had fun together. You went to the county fair, you got boisterous and drunk at bars, you did everything two twentysomethings are expected to do in a relationship. After every date, you had a small sad smile on your face as you got in your bed and distracted yourself with something on your phone. Something about it wasn’t right: you didn’t connect soulfully, in some mystical and spiritual way where one can read the other’s mind, in the way that movies and books and legendary romances felt some kind of supernatural force that pulled the strings and led them closer. It wasn’t what you needed, but it was what you wanted, and so you hung on a little longer.

Benny felt the same, but he was too afraid to disrupt the balance. He’d rather be mediocrely happy than alone again. He liked having a girl to squeeze water into his mouth and wipe his sweat after a fight, someone to slide his dick into while her lips met his skin. He didn’t want to lose that, even if he was slowly realizing that he just wanted a friendship with you.

You hung out with him and the other men more. You realized that he wasn’t your boyfriend around them, more of a sibling, teasing and nudging. There was no affection, no romance, just the playful aspect of him. That was fine, you told yourself, until you realized that it wasn’t, it couldn’t be.

-

By principle, Frankie is not and refuses to be a jealous man. That changed when you came into the picture. 

Something about you is absolutely magnetic to him, more than the way Benny was drawn to you across the bar. Sure, he’s been attracted to many girls, but he wants you. He yearns for you. He makes a joke at the table and it doesn’t make anyone but you laugh, but he doesn’t give a shit that Benny and Will and Santiago don’t find it funny, because he gets to watch the way your eyes glimmer and your mouth falls open and your chest heaves with the beautiful ring of your laughter.  

He loves that you hug goodbye, because he gets to pretend for a moment that you’re his and he is yours, that he can press his lips to your soft skin and call you his girl. But you’re Benny’s girl, and he’s okay to live like that. He’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. Even if he dreams about you at night, even if you live in his head on repeat, saying his name. Frankie, baby, I want you, I want you…

One night, in his sleep, the sound of those words echoed through his head. He’s never heard you say them, but his unconscious brain assembled them like a beautifully haunting jigsaw puzzle that made all of his blood run south. 

Dream-you is standing in the doorway to his bedroom, wearing just his t-shirt. Dream-you smirks, walks closer, climbs over Frankie and presses her lips to his and her tongue delves into his mouth. She lies down onto him and grinds her hips to his and laughs and laughs and he presses his face into the curve of her- your- neck, smelling your perfume and grinding his hips back against dream-you’s. “All I want is you, Frankie,” dream-you mumbles and bites his lower lip. He shivers and dream-you coos his name, lines herself over his aching member and just before she slides down, he wakes up to a dark and lonely bedroom with a half-hard dick. 

You and Benny joined the gang the next night out. He couldn’t meet your eyes. He listened as you fussed over Benny, heard you call him baby and steal his beer with a giggle. 

“What the fuck has gotten into you, Fish?” Santiago asked when you’re in the bathroom. 

Frankie shook his head. He pulled his cap lower and finished his beer, then poured another from the pitcher on the bar. “Slept like shit last night.”

-

You’ve decided that it needs to end, so you asked Benny to meet him at your favorite bar. He agreed, and wanted to invite the boys, until you asked that it be just the two of you. It hurts that he has a glimmer of hope that you’re about to end things. If you don’t, he will.

You walk in with an apologetic smile, sitting across from him. “Hey, how was your day?” You ask in a soft voice. You’re unconsciously trying to prepare yourself to let him down gently.

He shrugs a little. “Uneventful. Yours?”

“The same. Listen, Benny…” you start and trail off, looking away.

He takes one of your hands and looks at you, his eyes understanding. “Hey. I think I know what this is about.” He reads the sadness in your eyes like a book. “We need to be done. I get that. I agree.”

Your face finds a soft smile as you look back at him. “Really?” You ask.

“Yeah. I have something to ask.”

“Shoot.”

He takes your hand and presses it to his lips softly. “Will you no longer be my girlfriend and just go back to being my friend?” He asks. 

You nod excitedly, laughing. “Oh my god, yes, Benny. I’d love to no longer be your girlfriend.”

The both of you laugh at the irony in your words, and he sets your hand down. “Thank God.”

Later that night, Will, Frankie, and Santiago find their way to the bar. Of course they do. They come over to your booth, sliding in and pretending to love up on Benny. “Oh, are we interrupting a date?” Santiago asks with a fake pout.

You chuckle and look at Benny. He gives you a small smile and a nod. “Actually, no. No more dates between Benny and I. We’re over,” you say and breathe a sigh of relief.

Frankie’s blood runs cold. He must be dreaming for him to hear this. It’s only ever in those dreams that he hears the words he wants the most fall from your lips, words like these. Words that indicate you’re no longer Benny’s girl. “You two seemed so happy,” he murmurs in confusion.

Benny senses it all clicking. Frankie has liked you all along. He’s smarter than the gang gives him credit for. He can read his friends easily, and Frankie is the easiest of all of them to understand, with those big brown eyes that give everything away. It’s gotta be, he thinks. You probably don’t like him back, as anything more than a friend, but Frankie is in deep shit now for you. He nods, looking at Fish and shrugging. “We just didn’t work. We’re still gonna be friends though. She’s one of us, isn’t she?”

The men all cheer in agreement and it calms your frantically beating heart. The worst is over now. And goddamn, does Frankie look cuddly tonight in that flannel, you think to yourself. You slouch down against him two beers later and discover that yes, he’s as comfortable as he looks.

-

You’ve been single for a year now. Benny still texts with you daily, as do the other men. He sends you shitty Facebook memes that seem more like a dad would post. You realize that it’s for the best that you and Benny are over, with a chuckle. You can be much more honest.

It pains you to realize it, but you’re crushing hard on your ex’s best friend. Frankie Morales is everything you need and want and desire. His big arms wrap you in a hug every time the two of you say goodbye, and every time it feels like it lasts a millisecond longer. That neither of you want to let go.

Frankie feels the same, even though you don’t know it. He has that haunting dream once a week, the one where you kiss his neck and call him baby and it makes him yearn every night at 2:00 in the morning, staring at your Instagram page and thinking he should text you and see if you’re up. Not as a hookup, not anything like that. He just wants to talk to you.

You tease Frankie about his chronic insomnia. How he sends you random texts late at night. “Have you considered melatonin?” You ask.

“I have weird dreams. It’s not the falling asleep, it’s the waking up,” he admits, looking in the opposite direction of your face. 

Some days, Frankie thinks you feel the same. He notices the way your eyes linger on his face, the way you always sit next to him in a booth. The way your phone’s lockscreen is a photo of the two of you being stupid at some function. You’ve become best friends, Frankie has to admit, but sometimes he thinks there could be more. But then you say something offhanded and he has to throw the notion away. 

One night at the bar, when it’s just the men and you’re nowhere to be seen, Frankie takes Benny and guides him into the bathroom. His blonde brow furrows in confusion as he looks at Frankie. “Yeah, Fish?”

His hands rub together nervously and he looks down, before fidgeting with his cap and looking Benny in the eye. “You and Queenie… that’s all in the past, right? There’s nothing between the two of you?”

A smirk finds his face. “I knew it, Frank! I knew it from the night her and I broke up.”

He frowns. “Is that why?” He asks hurriedly. “Oh shit, I didn’t break the two of you up, did I? Jesus, Ben, I’m-”

“No, you dumb fuck,” he laughs and shakes his head. “I just saw the way you looked at her after it happened. Crazy in love. You totally are.

Frankie’s face turns red and he takes off his hat to adjust his hair. “Do you think she might like me too?” he asks, quietly. As if you could hear him somehow.

Benny nods, excitement in those bright blue eyes. “Hell yeah she does, Fish! You’re her fucking phone lockscreen. Girls don’t just do that.”

“I don’t know, man, we’re best friends. That might not mean shit.”

The blonde puts his hands on the brunette’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Frankie. I’ve known you’re into her for like a year now. I know she likes you too. It’s time, you gotta ask her out.”

“Really?” He asks, brown eyes widening. “I don’t think so. That could fuck everything up,” he says, the anxiety in his voice.

“Trust me,” Benny nods. “It won’t.” 

Frankie’s grinning ear to ear. “Alright. Tomorrow night, I’ll ask her to meet us here, but it’ll be just me. I’ll ask her out, how does that sound?”

“That sounds fuckin’ amazing, man!” Benny exclaims. “I’m happy for you. She’s a great girl and you’re a great guy.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” he asks, wringing his cap in his hands. 

He nods. “Go for it, Fish.”

- Frankie never gets the chance.

The next night you float into the bar, absolutely on cloud nine. You’re grinning ear to ear and it only widens when you see Frankie, rushing over and hopping on the stool. “Hey Fish,” you coo and kiss his cheek.

Frankie’s stunned. “Hey. How was your day?” He asks hesitantly, looking at how flustered and happy you look.

“So good,” you laugh. “I actually got asked out. Like, on a date. This really sweet guy, friend of a coworker. His name is Sam.”

Frankie’s sure you can hear the crack that echoes inside his ribcage. His heart splits in two and to hide a quivering lip, he raises his glass to his lips and takes a swig of his beer.

You continue to talk about him, noticing his silence. “How was yours?” You ask, frowning a little at how tense he is. You rest a hand on his upper arm.

Frankie does his best not to flinch from your touch. “Not great,” he chuckles and clears his throat. “I kinda fucked something up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you pout and stroke his arm softly. “Can I help you with it? Do you need to talk about it?”

He shakes his head quickly, standing from his stool. “No, just a personal thing. Hey, I’m gonna run and piss, the other guys will be here soon. Order something, it’s on me.”

Frankie’s gone into the bathroom before you can even process it. You frown a little but the smile returns as you order the drink and think about Sam.

Frankie locks himself in a stall and texts the other men.

D-SQUAD 🚁

Frankie: mission aborted. You guys need to come to the bar now so I don’t look like a chump.

Benny: what happened?

Frankie: a guy asked her out today. she’s taken now I guess

He stares at his phone and sends one last text.

Frankie: and don’t you dare mention it to her. make her tell you first.

He slides his phone in his pocket and leans against the wall of the bathroom stall, letting out a deep sigh. This is all shit. He’s a coward, and he should’ve done something sooner. 

He finally returns and sits next to you on a barstool. There’s a smile on his face that you’d notice was plastered if your mind wasn’t so wrapped up in your day. “So. Tell me about him. I’m happy for you, you know that?”

-

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel​ @sanchosammy​

[manonamora-if]

Projects Updates Post

MEETING THE PARENTS

First Release: 10 Jun, 2021.

Completed Release: 4 Dec, 2022.

Play it on Itch.io.

Review on IFDB.

Like/Reblog Game Post.

Submitted in: Twine Survival Guide Itch.Io Jam, ranked 4th.

EXQUISITE CADAVER (Jam Version)

First Release: 29 Jul, 2021

Last Release: 7 Aug, 2022 (partial update)

Play it on Itch.io.

Review on IFDB

Like/Reblog Game Post: HERE.

Submitted in: Fortnightly Fiction Jam 14 (unranked)

Note: This project is currently in re-write/design, with the 2022 update bringing a better UI and story to the final game. The story is however only partially out (3rd complete). Expected future release periodically.

SPS IRON HAMMER (Jam Version)

First Release: 31 Jan, 2022

Play it on Itch.io.

Review on IFDB.

Like Game Post: HERE

Separate Tumblr: @sps-iron-hammer

Submitted in: interact-if text-based story jam 2022 (ranked), ranked 6th; and Finally Finish Something 2022, ranked 51st.

Note: Though the Jam Version is complete, I want to expand it and give the mystery a proper end. Since I have much on my plate, the Complete Version is on hiatus until the end of 2022 most likely. You can follow its progress on its tumblr (the major updates will still be rebloged here).

THE THICK TABLE TAVERN

First Release: 1 Oct, 2022 (IF Comp Website).

Last Release: 16 Nov, 2022

Play it on Itch.io

Review it on IFDB

Like the Game Post: Here

Read Post Mortem

Submitted in: 2022 IFComp, ranked 37th.

Note: The version submitted to the IFComp is in my eyes incomplete (especially considering what I had planned). Extra content and balancing of the mechanics is on the horizon.

CRIMSON ROSE & WHITE LILY

First Release: 16 Jul, 2021

Last Release: 29 Jun, 2022

Current Version: v2-2 (Up to Act 1 Scene 4)

Play it on Itch.io

Review on IFDB.

Like/Reblog Game Post: HERE.

Separate Tumblr: @crimsonroseandwhitelily

Being my main project and the biggest in scope, this game will most likely stay in the Ongoing tab for a long time (potentially years). I have 5 Acts planned (with maybe intermissions in between) of varying size. Each update will include a new Scene in the current Act.

Due to the size of the project, I have created a separate Tumblr especially for it. Dev logs, updates, polls, inspo and questions are posted there. Major updates will still be rebloged here. Expect hiatus in between updates.

THE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF EDWARD HARCOURT

Demo Release: 25 Oct 2022.

Play it on Itch.io

Review it on IFDB

Like/Reblog the Game Post: Here

This is a joint project with MelS (writer) and me (everything else) that started during summer 2021. MelS dabbled with the idea of creating a story based on Lovecraftian lore/vibe. Since he is much busy than I am, the project took quite some time to get off the ground. Since Lovecraftian lore gives me the creep and MelS can't code, it was obvious who would do what.

The Demo was released with the Prologue and the 2 first Chapters (out of planned 10-ish chapters)!

The progress on this project depends mainly on how much/when MelS can work on it. Updates will probably be scarce because of this.

Submitted to: Ectocomp 2022, The Grand Guignol category, ranked 3rd.

QUEST TOWN (working title)

Idea: You are a beginner adventurer on the road to greatness and treasure. Along the way, you encounter people needing your help, promising you worthwhile rewards for your help.

I would want to have some sort of RPG game as an interactive story, with stats, level up, going back and forth between places. I already know that it will involve a lot of difficult coding, that I am not yet ready for. I think I will first create the quests/NPC and where they are placed in the setting before worrying about that.

Demo Release: Unknown.

OTHER IDEAS

I have a bunch more ideas from very different genres (incl. a multi-MC based on a Mozart opera and a horror one in a fake Ikea). There are also multiple Comps and Jams I am interested in participating. But I am trying to pace myself considering how many projects I have ongoing. I have learned that I can't over abuse my hands or I won't be able to do anything for a while (yay carpal tunnel).

Stay tuned ;)

Blog Tree Nav Post

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

U N P L A N N E D

You’ve always done things the way you were supposed to. On time, in order, and with a fair amount of preparation. But nothing could have prepared you for something as unplanned as this. Especially when Harry Styles is involved.

join the tag list | faceclaims | story tag | talk to me | FAQ

read on wattpad

TABLE OF CONTENTS

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

part eight

part nine

part ten

part eleven

part twelve

part thirteen

part fourteen

part fifteen

part sixteen

part seventeen

part eighteen 

jane on tour!

rudolph the red-nosed reindeer

Jeff + Glenne’s wedding

Fine Line blurb

HARRY’S POV 

The Voicemail 

The Bombshell 

The Confession 

The Decision 

The Meeting 

The Sonogram

The Results

The First Kiss

The Meeting vol. 2 

*UPCOMING PARTS TBA*

EXTRAS

unplanned inspo

the playlist

floor plan for MC and Lexi’s apartment

floor plan for Harry’s house

MC’S character profile

how does MC dress?

[tabbycasto]

Nail Tech Talk : Top Tips For Setting Up In An Unconventional Space

Setting up can be a little daunting when you first start out, but it doesn’t take long to start building your collection & creating a space that you're happy with. When I started to set up my treatment room, I began by creating a mood board to figure out the aesthetics & practicality of the room. I love to use Pinterest to get my visual ideas out and have mood boards for things like Storage Ideas, Pedicure Set Up and design inspo.

Once you’ve figured out the style you're after you can start to figure out how to make it come to life. Everything takes time and you’ll find sometimes it’s not until you’ve actively worked in a space that you can truly see what you need to change & adjust to make the space really work best for you. It's a work in progress that grows with you as you develop new skills. Don't feel that everything has to be done at once.

My Treatment Room aesthetic is kitsch, plant adorned & bright. I try to keep things fun, but tidy and cozy for clients. I’m not a "normal salon space", but that’s one of the reasons my clients like to come to me. I don’t try to make the room do something it can’t do, I just work with what I can.

Storage

Storage is really important, especially as it can actually save you time if you keep yourself well organized. I really love easy access storage so that I can grab things quickly and not waste time looking around for products.

Nail Polish/ Gel Polish Storage 

I originally started out with both the long and short Ikea Alex drawers. These are great if you are just starting out and don't have too much product as they provide a lot of storage space, but if you are like me and tend to have a lot of product (I do makeup as well as nails), I’d recommend going for better quality drawers with more side supports than Ikea. My Alex drawers lasted about 3 years before I had to replace them with a similar Tallboy Style Drawer which I found on sale at La Redoute. My advice would be to spend a little extra on furniture if you can so that you don't have to replace it in future.

Ikea Picture Shelves are also a great way to display polish/gel colours on your walls, but they will need dusting regularly which is why I prefer to use the tallboy style drawers. I tend to use the Picture Shelves to create a "gallery wall" where I display framed art and photos, but these would be great for displaying certifications and awards as well.

Glitter/Diamonte/Dried Flower Storage

I invested some time decanting all my glitters, diamantés and dried nail art flowers into clear acrylic lidded jars which sit in clear boxes (labelled on the bottom) so I can showcase colours more easily to clients rather than rummaging through boxes. Clear Acrylic storage is great as you can see when things are running low and need topping up. I tend to separate these into colour sections keeping like colours together. Ebay, Amazon, Hobby Craft & Muji are great for finding these kind of clear acrylic storage solutions.

Wire Storage

I keep wires under control with a wire tidy box also from Ikea to reduce tripping hazards and keep the room looking tidy. As I do a lot of filming in the room, I do have quite a few different wires for various things, anything that doesn't fit into the Ikea Wire Tidy, when not in use, gets stored in Ikea Rattan/Wicker Storage Boxes and slotted away in my Ikea Kallax. I label the different plugs with a Dymo Label Machine so I don't get things confused. 

How To Display Your Nail Art Professionally

I love nail art and have a lot of nail tips left over from content creating and old Pop Up Nail Bar menus. I was looking for a way to showcase these to clients and discovered a really cool Nail Art Display Box on Ebay which looks very professional. You can change the display every season or theme each clear pull out frame to your liking. With so many ideas and options available this is a great way to break it down visually for customers. Here is a break down on how to start yours (links to where to find it are in the description box) :

https://youtu.be/F5Yzousncqg

Pedicure Set Up

I recently started offering pedicures again and needed to create a cozy pedicure space that could easily be put away when not in use.  As I don’t have laminate flooring, I had a custom size floor matte made to protect my rug and carpet area from splashes and mess  by https://www.floormats.co.uk . When not in use, this slots away under a sofa and easily pulls out when I need it again. It's also easy to wipe down and keep disinfected.

Instead of using a storage trolly to display Pedicure Products (as my room is carpeted which wouldn’t be practical), I keep my bottles and sprays on trays on top of a wooden stool. I have 2 different trays which I alternate with the two systems I use, Footlogix & Famous Names Releaf. * Nail techs use my discount code TABBY10 for 10% off these brands and more on the Louella Belle site.

I purchased  my concrete pink/white tray to display my Footlogix products from Etsy Seller JustSoDesignbyRachel (https://etsy.me/37c1csl ) who had to adapt when first lockdown hit & set up a shop selling hand made beautiful concrete items. Where I can, I love to shop with and support smaller businesses & fellow nail artists.

To display my Famous Names Releaf I went for a more rustic looking tray from Dunelm which suits the natural ethos of the system : https://www.dunelm.com/product/wooden-tray-craftland-1000167605?defaultSkuId=30696657

For a leg rest/foot rest, I use a foldable stool from Amazon with customised vinyl material that can be disinfected. I found out about the stool from a fellow nail tech on the Footlogix Facebook Group ! The vinyl I reupholstered the stool with came from Etsy Shop HomeTexStudio (https://etsy.me/2JJlRsb). The height is just right for my set up, not for everyone I’m sure , but for the space I work with it’s perfect. Here’s a video of the DIY stool transformation :

https://www.instagram.com/tv/CHGFgx6D6EY/?utm_medium=copy_link

I use Belava Pedi Bowls with recyclable disposable liners for my pedicures as I love glitter & they really go with my room's aesthetic! I think customers also feel much better knowing each time they visit they get a fresh pedi liner. The Belava Glitter bowls do come with a disinfectable insert, but I prefer to use the disposables as I feel it reassures customers that my hygiene standards go above and beyond, especially in these times.

I use an IKEA rattan stool to sit on when doing pedicures and my clients sit on a large sofa chair which allows them to really relax and decompress. After each client, I disinfected the soft furnishing with Sursol Fabric Disinfecting Spray as removing all soft furnishings was not an option for me.

Retail Items

As my set up has less surface space than a traditional salon space, I show off the products I retail on my shorter Ikea Alex Drawers & Ikea Kallax shelves. I try to keep displays and clutter to a minimum as every surface gets wiped down and disinfected before/after each client. In keeping with the aesthetics of my room, I display my products in small wooden boxes and clear acrylic shelves.

The Work Table

My work table is the area of my room that gets the most use. I use it as a work space for not just my nail clients, but also to film and create nail tutorials and content. Unlike many techs, my work table is a little wider than usual which is not for everyone, but works well for me. I have the Ikea Nordan Gateleg Table which has 6 storage drawers down the middle and two sides which can fold down. I use the Clear Ikea Skvallra Desk Protector to keep it free of any accidents and spills. To add a little personality to the space I alternate Paperchase Wrapping Paper which I find very fun and colourful under the Desk Protector, these make great backdrops for nail art photos as well. To get the best out of my nail art photos I use the Ikea Tertial Lamp with a Day Light bulb which I find works well as a work lamp and for photography purposes.

I keep my tools tidy with a custom made Jesmonite tray which I had commissioned by a fellow nail tech ( @bylaurajayne_jesmonitedesigns). It matches my room aesthetic and keeps things nice and tidy when I'm working. I tend to sterilize my tools in my Enbio Auto Clave and then place them on my tray ready for use! If you haven't seen her trays do check them out ! They are the perfect size for nail techs as she makes both rectangle long trays and smaller square trays so there is plenty of room for everything. I think displaying nail tools on the work table like this also gives the tools a bit of respect and helps you to look after them, after all they are probably your most used items and I think it's nice to look after them well so it's just fitting to display them proudly and with a bit of care and thought!

I recently purchased a new hand rest from @gb.wrist.rests. This has been a real game changer as it definitely improves the posture for both myself and my clients when working. Previous to this I had been using an Ikea Wooden laptop holder, which worked well for a couple of years, but over time the disinfectant began to wear down the varnish and I felt it was time to invest in something better. It was also great to support another fellow nail tech who started the GB Wrist Rests business up with her partner during lockdown.

Dust Control

To control dust, I have the Zephyros Dust Collection from Tafs. I find this works really well for keeping the space tidy and protecting mine and my clients lungs. I tend to work more with soak off systems and don't currently e-file so this works well for me. I would recommend getting a more powerful Air Purifier for busier salons working more regularly with enhancements.

Sterilisation

In the corner of my room I store my Enbio S Auto Clave which is used to sterilize tools after they have been washed, then disinfected. I store this on an Ikea Alex Cupboard which doubles up as a storage space for all my cleaning products and spare nail files etc. The Auto Claves are not cheap, but one of the best investments in my Treatment Room. I think customers feel more reassured and I certainly feel better using one. Nail techs can use my code TABBY to get money off their purchases at https://www.enbio.com/uk/

My greatest advice for anyone new to the industry or just starting to set up would be take it a bit at a time. We all have to work within budgets and as you gain clients and get busier you will be able to afford to work your way up towards a space that suits you. I spent many years working as a mobile freelancer before building up a client base that comes to me. It's also worth noting that your own health and client health is so important. Consider the comfort of both of you when creating your space - make sure you are looking after skin and lungs. Protect your hands with gloves when you work to avoid over exposure and make sure you  protecting your lungs from dust particles, but most of all have fun creating a space that suits you!

[arieswonjin]

my go-to (barista/cafe au)

pairings: goo jungmo x reader

genre: fluff, enemies(?) to lovers if you squint

summary: dealing with customers has never been your favorite part of being a barista. especially customers like goo jungmo. and now you have to train him to become one? that’s just great. 

word count: 3.2k

warnings: none

song inspo: 커피를 마시고 coffee - reprise

masterlist | request here! | how to request |

"sir, may i ask if you’re going to order or not? you can step aside first if-"

"wait, wait. how different is the iced latte from the iced caramel latte?" says the man while still looking up at the menu overhead, lips parted, eyes squinted, and hands on the side of his neck, mid-scratch. you tapped the cash register impatiently and took note of how his sharp jaw moved as he scrutinized the menu. was it possible to hate someone at first sight? he was only your first customer of the day yet your blood was already boiling. either finals season was getting to you or this guy had a knack for testing your patience.

you walked to your part-time job every day at the break of dawn just in time for you to see most of the commercial establishments opening. people were going about their own mornings preferring to be undisturbed, you included. earphones in, you savored the few peaceful moments you had to yourself before the chaos of a morning shift.

more often than not, your shifts were totally and utterly uninteresting: you would be prepping ingredients to be used for the rest of the day and office employees or the occasional student running late for a 7 am class would be walking in and out to get their morning fix. there was also a bunch of cleaning left for you. the night-shift employee was simply not thorough enough to distinguish which mop to use for the spills. to this, you did your first of many eye-rolls for the day.

that being said, you weren’t exactly the most patient among your colleagues; however, the laid-back atmosphere this friendly neighborhood cafe had when it was not teeming with customers around the early afternoon almost made you forget about your subtle hatred for human interaction.

but today, as you started your shift at 6 am in the morning with your eyes barely open and a man who has been standing in front of you for more than three minutes, you remembered just why.

"well, sir, obviously, the caramel latte...has caramel." you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the stupid question, whispering the better part of your sentence to mask your tone. but as they all say, the customer is always right. what a nonsensical saying.

"give me a second. i’ll just call a friend to ask what to order here.”

to your distaste, the older male leisurely took his phone out from his brown coat and scrolled through his contacts like he had all the time in the world. oh, if he could only hear your inner thoughts.

“wait-” he flashed you a friendly smile while fumbling with the gadget. “hey, serim-hyung-"

the man flinched, almost too dramatically, when you placed both your palms on the counter with just the right amount of force to shake its contents. he expected to see you fuming but instead saw the softest expression on your face which, frankly, was scarier.

"one caramel latte, hot, with an extra shot of espresso and a pump of dark chocolate for?"

"goo jungmo." he replied, suddenly alert, phone still pressed to his ear. the dull sounds of a confused friend on the other line now went unnoticed.

"...goo jeonmo. coming right up," you punched in the order while holding a fake smile that started to hurt your cheeks and exhaled a breath you didn't know you’ve been holding. breathe, y/n, this will be a fine morning. he’ll be out of here in just a few minutes.

“it's actually goo jung-"

"5,000 won, please." you extended your palm to him without making eye-contact.

jungmo just stared at your hand for a few seconds, still dazed with your outburst. could that even be considered an outburst? how strange. "oh. here." and it just started to sink in that you practically made his order for him.

"hey, i didn't ask for a-" he leaned in to take a peek at the monitor, ready to protest against the sudden turn of events. all he wanted was to get a new kind of morning coffee at this new place before walking to the university, yet it seemed like the way you two met was enough to shake the morning drowsiness out of the both of you.

"it's good. it’s my go-to. consider it a secret special," you said nonchalantly and turned the monitor away from him. you handed him the receipt and gestured him towards the claiming counter. "next customer, please."

jungmo slowly slid to the side as he placed his hands inside his pockets. he just shook his head, trying to wipe away the amused smile he now unconsciously had on his face while thinking about the humor in this encounter.

“oh shoot. sorry, hyung. did i wake you? my bad... but i guess you have to get up now, huh?” he laughed mischievously, getting back to the phone call left unattended a few moments ago. “oh, it was nothing! i’ll tell you about it later. it’s funny, really.”  

with a quick glance at your nameplate, he started to think about what other interesting encounters would take place in this cafe in the following mornings. maybe he just found his new pre-class route.

the rest of the week was uneventful to say the least. your encounter with the unrealistically good-looking yet annoyingly slow customer was now far forgotten. as per usual, university kept you busy outside of work.

you’ve always thought your part-time job jived well with your college degree. after all, there’s nothing like the scent and taste of coffee to keep a pre-med student awake in front of their brick-like pathophysiology books. all those extra shots of espresso and doses of dark chocolate are enough to keep your eyes open and your mind running for countless all-nighters.

and that was exactly what you were planning to do tonight. clad in your most comfortable sweater which replaced your coffee-stained apron, a cold drink in hand, you made your way to the haneul university library.

seoul started and ended its day just like any other famous metropolis. jungmo observed this everyday as his feet took him to where he needed to be like it's second nature. but that one wednesday when he broke his routine and entered a new side-street cafe, his morning became unlike any other stroll to the university and he was sure to go back.

for two very unexpected reasons.

first, because he was surprisingly offered a part-time job (a funny coincidence. who would’ve thought the cafe owner was his father’s high school bandmate?) and second, well, because he found himself craving your go-to drink. that genius mix really got to him. and to think that he didn’t even order it himself.

he pondered dropping by the cafe before his first day of barista training tomorrow as he stood up to exit the university library. jungmo just spent most of the evening finishing a 10-page world history paper, his last agenda for the day.

“agh… my back hurts.” he stretched before grabbing his jacket and the last of his things from the study table.

“y/n? the book you were looking for was just returned here,”

jungmo involuntarily snapped his head towards the front desk, reacting to the name called out by the resident librarian. he scratched his neck in confusion as he looked for the source of the voice.

“ah, thank you. i’ll take this,”

so it’s really that y/n from the cafe? he followed you with his eyes as you walked back to the library table that you were occupying alone. jungmo, his mouth frozen in a small ‘o’ at yet another coincidence, might just have a change of evening plans. haneul university was truly full of surprises. and good ones.

“long night?”

you abruptly looked up from the stack of notes you were studying intently, unable to properly respond to jungmo’s small talk. nonetheless, the look of recognition on your face was enough to urge him to continue.

“one caramel latte, with an extra shot of espresso and a pump dark chocolate for y/n. but you seem to be having it iced now?” he looked over at the drink on top of your desk, trying to use his wide smile to start a conversation. it’s how people almost always immediately warmed up to the charming and childlike goo jungmo. he silently hoped you were not an exception, even if he straight up just mocked your lines.

“you study here?” you asked when you recovered from the sudden greeting, if you could even call it that.

“well, obviously, i do.” jungmo mocked you again, all in good fun. he successfully replicated the tone you used with him during your not-so-pleasant cafe encounter.

you sighed in defeat. you really did feel sorry for the way you acted. it was a good thing you still even had your job. “i’m sorry for how i acted that morning. i guess it was the stress getting to me. jeonmo, right?”

“goo jungmo, actually.” he laughed, finally succeeding in correcting the mistaken name at which you just facepalmed in embarrassment. “no worries. i was really slow, wasn’t i?” he scratched the back of his head, a tinge of realization crossing his facial expression. you nodded with pursed lips.

“but hey, at least i got three good things out of that morning in bt cafe.” he casually sat on the chair next to you and pulled up three fingers, counting down while he spoke. “the drink was good, and i got a new job there, and...”

“wait, you’re the new recruit i have to teach?! you know i have to work nights now, right?”

maybe it was the way he sat down beside you so comfortably or how adorably foolish he looked with that habitual scratch to the neck, but holding a casual conversation with this jungmo wasn’t hard at all. the first impressions my 6 am-self created are really unreliable.

“you make it sound so sketchy. it’s a cafe job, not some underground cult.”

you rolled your eyes at his joke and scoffed, internally thanking the heavens for his humor that’s making this sudden interaction so light-hearted. he waved the previous statement off and continued. “turns out bt cafe stands for boys in trouble, my father’s band back in high school.”

“your father is mr. kim’s bandmate?! he talks endlessly about his band phase!”

“shhh!” both of you bowed to the librarian who was peering at you through the shelves on your far-left.

“best bandmate, mind you. it’s the reason why i picked up some guitar skills growing up.” jungmo gets immersed in your now-hushed conversation, making himself lean back on the library chair despite not having any work to do. you did the same, unconsciously leaning in to hear more about your boss.

your pending tasks were left undone for the meantime and you and jungmo were subjected to about three more glares from the librarian that night.

night 1: bt cafe

the training starts.

“coffee beans. they all look the same.” now wearing an apron identical to the one you had, jungmo stood in front of the cafe pantry trying to decipher the coffee beans you’ve been introducing to him without their respective labels.  

“that’s what amateurs always say,” you teased. from the previous night, you already established how fun it was to see his reactions to even the smallest attempts to irritate him. it was a good thing trainings took place in the early evenings when you actually had the energy for a bit of fun.

“well, i am an amateur. that’s why you’re teaching me, sunbae.” jungmo jabbed back and followed you around the main counter, hands clasped together as he tried to act like a cute and enthusiastic junior.

you pretended to cringe and broke in laughter when he whined. “back to the coffee beans…”

night 7: bt cafe

within a week, jungmo got the hang of working the bulky and stubborn espresso machine. he has yet to produce a perfectly good batch without burning himself, though.

“i’m surprised you even have the time for a part-time job, pre-med.”

“i could say the same to you, mr. pilot. don’t you have plane diagrams to memorize--ow! that’s hot!” you retreated from the hot cup he was handing to you.

“shit, did I burn you?” jungmo instinctively took your hand and started to look for any redness and swelling, turning your hand over in his. “where does it hurt?”

“.....i’m okay.” you looked up at the much taller male and slowly slid away, finding the sudden proximity quite foreign.

“a baristas hands are precious. let me get a cold towel,”

you followed his retreating figure with your eyes, noting how easily he blended in with the rest of the cafe, apron and all. with a shake of your head and a repressed smile, you might have just thought about calling him cute.

night 10: bt cafe

“....then, after that you just let the coffee drip by itself for about 15-20 minutes- yah.”

“hmm?” jungmo straightened up from having his head on his palm, elbows against the counter. “sorry. you kinda looked...cute...when you were focused.” he said softly without making eye-contact as he mimicked the coffee drip set-up you just made. he realized that it was a weird feeling, suddenly being timid like this.

“tch. focus.” you turned your back to place some ingredients back on their shelves, taking this opportunity to smile and recollect yourself before going back to watching jungmo’s progress.

night 14: university grounds

"you really don't have to bring me these to track your progress..." you saw jungmo waiting outside the biology laboratory for the third time this week, thermos clutched in hand. a few days ago, he insisted on buying his own coffee drip set to get some practice at home. talk about being thoughtfully extra.

"i mean, yeah, we're together every night but you have to see how i do it on my own!"

"shh! people will take that out of context, idiot!" you looked around at the waves of people piling out of the laboratory, worried someone might overhear. jungmo just teased you by wiggling his eyebrows, earning him a smack to the shoulder.

night 20: bt cafe

“yes, y/n, to what do i owe this pleasure of a phone call from you?” jungmo answered his phone after several rings. you were beginning to worry that he got into an accident. why was he so late to his training tonight?

“where are you?”

“i might not come tonight. important presentation tomorrow and we might have to pull an all-nighter. don’t worry! i already told our boss. wait, you’re actually looking for me.”

“i mean, you’ve been coming every night so…”

“y/n misses me.” you almost hear his teasing face through the phone lines. jungmo heard your eyes roll in turn.

“uhm, no, thank you. i’m hanging up.” you put your phone back inside your pocket only to retrieve it after a few seconds when you received a message notification.

don’t worry! i miss you too!

night 30: haneul university library

“agh. how am i ever going to save lives like this?” the sound of resignation in your voice made jungmo look up from his laptop. aside from the regular trainings, you and jungmo have arranged regular study sessions. it’s safe to say that you’ve been spending a good fraction of your week with your fellow haneul student, workmate, and, as it now seems, a special friend.

“you’re keeping me alive just fine, though, doc.” jungmo walked over to your side of the library table and ruffled your hair while your face was still buried in your textbooks. his previous statement went unnoticed. “you should go home early tonight. i’ll take you.” he pulled you up by the arm, shaking you to encourage you to stand up as you grunted.

“thanks, mogu.” 

he just nodded at you with a smile and held out his arm to drape around you while you walked. “let’s go.”

night 40: university garden

“hey, you never told me about the third thing.” you sat on the garden bench, stopping jungmo’s strides and pulling him to sit too.

"hmm?"

“the third good thing you got from that day at the cafe. you got a good drink, got a job and….?” you urged him to continue, expecting the answer to be something trivial. after all, it was something he told you on the first day you properly met. would he even remember what the third thing was?

“that? the third thing is that..." jungmo took his time and pretended to fix his jacket, intentionally stalling until you glared at him.

"....i met you.” the casual tone in his voice and the giggle that accompanied it made it seem like it was something he said everyday.

"liars go to hell. and you're full of cheese."

"but you love cheese." he shrugged. knowing you couldn’t deny this, jungmo stood up and pulled you by the hand, ready to walk you home like what the both of you have gotten used to.

night 50: bt cafe

“so you sold your coffee drip set to wonjin because…?” you were fixing up the last of today’s orders with jungmo waiting beside you to place them on their cup holders.

“i don’t need to make coffee for myself anymore. you speed up my heart just fine throughout the day now.” he secured the cups and held them out to the waiting customer. “come again!”

“goo jungmo.” you turned bright red and hid your embarrassment by slapping jungmo’s arm. “don’t fool around like that.”

“ey. i just confessed, can’t you be a little more accommodating?” jungmo ran to the door and flipped the cafe sign from open to closed. “should i have written it in latte art or something? i like you. would 8 letters fit in that tiny cup?”

“you call that a confession?” this earned the iconic whine from goo jungmo. "hey, idiot!" you called to him from across the empty cafe and scratched your neck like he always did, for effect. "i like you, too."

night 77: bt cafe

“shift’s over. what are you doing?” you leaned on the counter to take a peek at what jungmo was doing. there were no customers anymore so you were wondering what was keeping him so busy.

“one caramel latte, iced, with-“

“—an extra shot of espresso and a pump of dark chocolate...” you continued his sentence, nodding your head in time with the words.

“...for my y/n,” jungmo finished and handed you a cup with both hands. you took it with a playful squint of your eyes. 

you took a sip, keeping your eyes on the expectant jungmo. a moment of silence ensued.

“jungmo. i love you….but-”

“i love you too.” he hurriedly replied without hesitation.

“…but i still make the best version of this.” you smiled victoriously, sticking your tongue out at him before drinking the rest of the latte which you admitted tasted pretty close to your specialty. jungmo just raised his hands up in defeat and proceeded to watch you drink his version of the go-to drink that brought you two together in the first place.

“if i get to see you smile like that, do i really want to get it right?”

[dinah-stmaur]

failed attempts

attempt #1

The storm rages over us, on and on it goes Ravaging here and there, all land and sea Yet no matter the destruction there are no greater foes Than having that mustached man for tea

attempt #2

I wait for you on a rare sunny day of Winter. & I wait for you on a cold day of Spring. I wait for you as the storm approaches. I wait as it rages on the sea, I wait as it ravages the land. I wait for you in the crowd of the bazaar. I wait for you in the solitude of a quiet corner. I wait for you as I gaze upon the torn houses, the shredded crops, and the broken ships. & I wait for you just as they do, waiting for relief that never comes.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 21

First time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Wanda fluff, Loki fluff, we're getting a whole ass friendship! Dad sucks. The outfits are neat tho! Check the end for a mood board 😍

a/n: dress inspo and aesthetic visuals can be found here, here and here. (Paolo Sebastian, Firefly Path gowns and Viona Ielegems photography).

"Gi-i-irl..." Wanda drawled, seeing me arrive with Tony, both of us freshly showered and still hazy from the amazing orgasms. God only knew what she'd seen in both of our heads - if judging only by the vivid, crimson blush she spouted, it was definitely something very NSFW. Bruce already sat at the dinner table, quietly slurping his soup, his back and shoulders the most relaxed I'd ever seen. He gave me a knowing smile once he noticed my presence in my usual spot by his side.

The rest of the team appeared completely oblivious, preoccupied by their food.

"So, about the party. Got any costume ideas?" I cut straight to the chase, unwilling to wait for Wanda to start asking for details right in front of everyone.

Steve, Bucky, Pietro, Thor and Natasha all answered affirmative, the latter whacking Clint upside the head and firmly stating "no funny business". I couldn't help but wonder what kind of crazy shit the Bird had in mind and was kind of disappointed at Nat's intervention. A good chaotic moment was always worthwhile in my opinion!

The other bird, Sam, approached Bruce with caution as he wondered if the scientist was interested in doing a paired costume with him, only to be interrupted by Tony declaring, with childish glee, he had a "wicked project" that he and Bruce would be doing together. The scientist gave a resigned sigh and apologized.

Sam wasn't deterred by the slight setback; he approached Clint instead and after being given an okay from Natasha, the Birds decided to pair up. As they should, if you'd ask me.

"I have a costume but I need some accessories. Wanda, Lokes, join me on my lil' shopping trip?" I prompted, wanting everybody to be included. I was fully prepared for Loki to scoff and dismiss my invitation but the Asgardian nodded after a second of brief speechlessness. Didn't anyone invite him to birthday parties as a kid? Either way, Thor gave me a grateful smile, like a proper big brother. Both Asgardians had grown visibly closer during the past couple of months which made me hide a secretive smile behind a spoonful of soup.

It turned out, Loki hadn't exactly been introduced to the buzzing beehive that is NYC. He didn't get out much and when he needed to be somewhere, the man simply teleported to the desired destination. As convenient as it must've been, I still expressed my outrage at his lack of experience doing the usual "touristy" things that, in my opinion, every non-newyorker was obligated to do when visiting. Yes, even if said visitor had literally traveled across different galaxies.

Wanda wasn't much better in terms of city knowledge. According to her, she'd lived here for several years already but never bothered to go beyond the borders of the block surrounding the Avengers tower. The witch didn't have friends outside of her teammates (therapy. they all needed so much therapy. y'all...) so she simply saw no point in going anywhere beyond the local mall.

Which was trash. I mean, I loved Hot Topic and Forever 21 as much as any other young adult with depression and anxiety but it was literally impossible to wear clothes made out of cheap cotton and polyester all the time. I'm pretty sure I would have hives and ulcers if I attempted that.

"We're going on Sixth Avenue and that's final. No friend of mine will be wearing shit from Wal-Mart at a Stark party," I interrupted Wanda's defensive stuttering, using my other hand to summon an Uber.

"That is good advice," Loki, previously silent, added in a sweet tone. I counted on the fashionable Asgardian to be on my side and with his schmoozing skills, I didn't even have to drag Wanda inside the car by, like, her hair or whatever. The three of us barely fit into the small Toyota anyway.

A thought struck me when I had to consciously avoid stepping on Loki's leather shoes and keep away my elbow from Wanda's stomach. "Mister? I'll give you a hundred bucks cash if you turn around and drive to this address," I hurriedly rattled off my home address, delighting in the way the driver nearly did a U-turn at the mention of crispy dollar bills.

We arrived home quickly. Wanda gaped in mild disbelief at the size of my house while Loki looked about as interested as he'd ever be. His face was akin to an expression one made while smelling fresh manure. Opening the garage, I was greeted with an unpleasant surprise of my dad's outrageously painted Corvette standing neatly by my white Range Rover.

Loki looked and felt considerably less tense in the back of my car. The subtle signs of discomfort all but left his face replaced by slight wonder as I explained how to adjust the temperature and turn on the heated seats.

Dad met us at the gates. "You didn't come in to say hello," He pouted. His breath reeked like a five-day drinking binge hangover and he looked a dead man.

"We're in a hurry, dad. There's a lot to be done," I replied curtly, hoping to get rid of him fast. I hated being sober around my drunk father. My fingers twitched on the steering wheel.

"You're like your mother, always busy," Dad's laugh was coarse and bitter. "But at least you find time for Stark and his friends. That'll do your future real good," He clapped once on the hood of my car, heading back to the house with a wave of his hand, just in time to miss the disgusted shudder that ran through me.

I knew my dad well enough to understand the implications of what he meant by his words. In his world, fucking way up to the top was considered the norm. I'd rather cut off my own foot than use Tony that way.

"Sorry you had to see that. I thought he was still in Cali," I gritted my teeth, pulling out of the driveway.

"I'm sorry you had to experience that. I have no kind words regarding your father," Loki's look was sympathetic in the rearview mirror.

"Or your mother," Wanda added, messing with her seatbelt. Loki nodded tersely.

"Aight, aight," I sighed, set on improving the mood. "Let's not poop this party. We're getting some absolutely delicious beverages and wasting my money on outrageous pretty things. My treat."

Wanda's protests were drowned out by Motorhead and Loki's grumbling was overshadowed by Guns'n'Roses. Their resistance didn't stand a chance. Few blocks out, the witch was singing along to November Rain, heavily accented and terribly off-key, and the Asgardian watched New York city intently behind the protection of the tinted rear windows of my ride. He seemed mesmerized by the crowds and the variety of colorful shop fronts. This was the the one and only reason I eased off the gas pedal and drove the speed limit for once.

The atmosphere was, well, magical. Looking at my two companions, I discovered the familiar city anew with every question they asked, every remark they made. The desire to ask in turn about their homelands melted like the tension I was harbouring after the run-in with my father. Content and warm, I had my attention divided between Loki and Wanda juggling their wonder back-and-forth between themselves and the absolutely crazy NYC traffic.

So what if I parked in a no-parking zone just to get us the most delicious coffee in the city? Loki, the resident tea person, ordered himself something unpronounceable, something that made the barista twitch. Wanda got a sugary-sounding vanilla-white chocolate perversion. I just got a mocha, having had outgrown my adolescent desires to experiment with "how sweet can I make this coffee before I literally puke?" beverages.

With a laugh, I instructed them to pose in front of the nearest reflective surface to brag about our coffees on Instagram - this café deserved more recognition. My companions reluctantly obliged.

I wonder if the barista realized just who had bought the coffee - Loki was quite a media darling when it came to fangirls. Tony's PR team did a wonderful job on the Asgardian's redemption arc. The trickster only fueled the utter devotion his fangirls had for him by being extra nice and charming in every video I've seen. I guess you can't out-mindcontrol manners outta somebody, he was raised a prince after all.

It wasn't raining but the autumn chill seeped into the tiny spaces between my layers of clothing. I already managed to regret my fashionable dark academia inspired outfit at least twice, however the matching vibe all three of us had was positively dashing. Loki, wearing his usual onyx black and dark green. Wanda with a burgundy sweater dress and thigh high platformed boots - sweater dresses, out of all things, had no business looking this good on anybody. But she pulled it off.

"You said you've got a costume. Mind sharing what it is?" The witch said, curiously peeking into the windows of a nearby vintage boutique as we took our leisurely stroll with steaming paper cups keeping our fingers warm.

"A fairy dress. It was custom made for me last year and I actually didn't get to wear it. I need some jewelry to go with it," I explained, stopping to show a photo of the dress on my smartphone. "And some shoes, too. Let's hope the party will be held completely indoors, otherwise I'll freeze my ass off."

"Custom made?" Wanda squeaked, looking at the garment in wonder. Loki gave a vaguely approving nod.

"Yeah, there's a company that makes these fantasy dresses. You want one? What did you have in mind for your costume anyway?" I switched the topic quickly, seeing how Wanda withdrew into herself slightly. I heard from Peter she grew up poor, in the middle of a war and I didn't want to make her feel bad or anything. I wasn't good at these things...

"I thought maybe I could match with you," She replied, slowly taking a sip of her coffee.

"Sure. There are a couple of shops with really cute dresses that fit the aesthetic." Marchesa. We need a Marchesa store. And a Zuhair Murad - if there was one on this stretch of road. "What about you, Lokes? Anything in particular strike your fancy?" I asked our silent companion, frantically googling the information I needed.

"Black," He answered moodily.

"Boo, you whore," I rolled my eyes at his scoff. We had watched the Mean Girls recently and he got the reference, immediately raising a sarcastic eyebrow. "You know, you could do so much with this pale aristocratic look you've got going on. How about a medieval vampire?"

"Like Lestat? He's fucking hot," Wanda and I understood each other promptly. She jumped on the bandwagon immediately.

Combining my blunt honesty and her adorable fawning over a fictional bloodsucker, we managed to convince Loki into going on a hunt for brocaded, velvet suits and blouses with ruffles for his look. The trickster revolted at the mere suggestion of procuring some fake fangs, instead magically making them appear and showing them off in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, much to my and Wanda's delighted shrieking. He looked, I daresay, very attractive, like a porcelain figurine. Delicate but dangerous.

We arrived at the store that showcased beautiful, airy dresses of silk, chiffon and tulle. The lace was delicate and the seams invisible. I ushered Wanda into a dressing room with a shop attendant that was quietly but strictly instructed to not discuss the cost of the dresses and hide the price tags.

"I want it to be a gift. My friend here deserves no less than a magical experience," I explained quietly, winking at a bewildered Loki.

"Why did you do that?" He asked once Wanda was given a selection of several dresses in flattering colours and led into a separate dressing room.

"These dresses, they're special so they're a bit pricey. And knowing Wanda, she'll make a scene and refuse to let me buy them for her," I idly twirled my phone in my hands. "But every girl wants to be a princess and it's kinda sad she never got to be one. It's more than just a dress, it's more than feeling pretty, although it's a big part of it. She'll feel on top of the world."

Loki nodded. I'm certain he didn't understand it - being a man and all - and I wasn't sure I understood it completely, too. I never lacked pretty or expensive things, always got whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. But for a moment, I thought how it must've been for Wanda - seeing all these girls on TV, looking like pictures - and never having the chance to experience that. A concept that made me so sad, I was tempted to ask the customer service person for a glass of scotch. Being poor sounded depressing as hell.

Suddenly, Loki's cool, large hand landed on mine. "Thank you. I am certain Wanda will be the most beautiful lady at the ball."

I stared at him. Loki understood.

"Well, I... I don't know how finicky you are on gender labels for clothes, but there were a couple of blouses you might want to check out. They've got the neck ruffles and shit." My throat suddenly seized up and I had to clear it before speaking, steering away from the uncomfortably emotional moment. Thankfully, Loki wandered off without as much as a word.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

& the promised aesthetic

[echoalyssa]

Imagine Brett Needing Liam To Help Him With Your Anniversary Surprise

Synopsis: Brett is planning a surprise for you but he needs Liam’s help. Brett is turning the balcony into a date spot by putting a mattress out there with drapes, roses, rose petals and Christmas lights. He plans to roast marshmallows and watch Netflix with you but he doesn’t quite know how to make it perfect.

Inspo: Mark Dohner and Kylie Rae Valentine’s Day surprise

Also! I don’t write for Brett that often anymore and this was just sitting in my drafts. Sooo it sucks but I figured I’d just publish it so y’all have some content during this boring quarantine! **This is from so long ago that I don’t know who created the gifs, if you do could you please let me know so I can tag them!**

Brett is strolling though the aisles of target, pushing the bright red cart and looking genuinely silly because of his massive stature. He had never understood your love for Target until you had dragged him into the store, spending hours looking at things that you either ended up putting in the cart, or leaving behind.

The cart holds a package of sheets, a white duvet, fairy lights, a bunch of your favorite snacks, and your favorite drinks.

He was planning to surprise you for your one year anniversary, you had made him the happiest werewolf in Beacon Hills and he wanted to show his appreciation. Sure this surprise would cost him more than he would have liked to spend but it would all be worth it when he could see the smile on your face. One that he had put there.

Brett is slightly confused, not sure what else he needs but feeling as if he is forgetting something. Brett shakes the feeling off and pushes the cart towards the checkout.

~~~

He had texted you a few hours before, checking that you wouldn’t be home from your practice SAT for a couple hours more.

He’s cleared out the clutter from the floor of the closet, shoving it under his bed and into his bathroom. The closet is a walk in, though Brett really didn’t have that many clothes.

Brett’s pushed his extra mattress into the space, covered it with the sheets, and spread out the comforter. The snacks are sitting in the corner on a small table. He’s strung up the lights and it looks like a picture from Pinterest. Though he still feels as if he’s missing something, he’s so nervous though that he ignores the feeling again.

His phone buzzes and he sees that you’re coming over so he rushes into the bathroom, kicking the clutter out of the way and hurrying to reapply deodorant, do his hair, and freshen up.

The doorbell rings and he jumps and rushes to the door. There you are, in black leggings and one of his shirts that hit your knees. Your hair was twirled up into a messy bun.

You throw your arms around him and press your face into his neck, inhaling his scent. “Happy one year babe!”

He smiles and holds you close, his lips grazing the top of your head. “I have a surprise for you,” he sounds so nervous and you give him a look but follow him down the hallway of his apartment.

He slides a hand over your eyes and leads you into his bedroom, “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, bouncing up and down on your toes.

When he uncovers your eyes and you see the beautiful scene infront of you you feel your eyes start to water. It’s right then and there that Brett remembers what he’s missing, your ring. He had planned to give you your promise ring tonight but because of his nerves he had forgotten to pick it up from the jeweler.

You rush forward to examine his work and Brett continues his panic. Scott was doing werewolf stuff with Stiles. Lydia was off getting her nails done and Allison was probably off shooting targets with her bow. Which left... Liam.

The two weren’t particularly close but Liam loved you which meant that he would help Brett get the ring. While you’re digging into the Swedish fish Brett whips out his phone and shoots Liam a text with the location of the jeweler and how to get his attention once he had gotten it.

After all, Y/N was a werewolf.

~~~

You curl up against Brett on the mattress, his laptop playing the first episode of Chicago Fire. You pop another handful of popcorn into your mouth.

Brett hears his phone buzz and he tries his best to discreetly check it. Sure enough it was Liam, texting to say that he was outside.

“I have to grab some more soda, okay babe?”

He kisses you softly and then sprints down the stairs.

Liam is waiting at the door, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Hey.” He says awkwardly when Brett opens the door.

Brett snatches the box from him as soon as Liam’s hand leaves his pocket. Nestled in the box is the beautiful silver ring with a diamond and your anniversary engraved into the inside of the band.

The two both stand there, as awkward as can be. They look everywhere but at each other and then finally after a much too long silence Brett speaks.

“Thank you,” he breathe out and Liam awkwardly nods.

There’s another awkward pause and then Liam retreats back down the front steps, mumbling his good luck.

Brett closes the door, pressing his back to it and taking a deep breath with his eyes closed. Now was the time. Now to ‘propose’ with the promise ring that was burning a hole in his pocket.

[ironmandeficiency]

cody, where’s my lightsaber?

pairing: obi-wan kenobi / reader

word count: 6575

summary: you decide to introduce your dear friend to the wonders of the cannabis plant while planetside. the outcome is peak humor for your troops.

warnings: you’re smoking weed with obi-wan in this, so obviously there’s drug use.

a/n: i got high af (for the first time in a while) and decided to write something of it. i wrote like 90% of this while high and was beginning to sober up at the end. i got the title inspo from the stoner movie “dude, where’s my car?” and it made me laugh way more than it would have if i were 100% sober

disclaimer!! if you know firsthand what cannabis does from your own use of it, this isn’t anything new. if cannabis is a new concept to you, don’t take this fic’s descriptions as gospel. this was how i was taught & experienced it, but there’s a chance something may be “wrong” according to some ppl. this is NOT telling you to smoke weed if it’s illegal where you are/if you’re not of age to do so!! i’m not condoning it!! this was just something i decided to write after getting/while high.

“where exactly are we going, y/n?” obi-wan was sounding a bit impatient. you’ve been guiding him through the busy streets of coruscant for nearly twenty minutes without so much as an explanation.

“we’re almost there, obi. just have a little patience.”

“you must be mistaking me for my former padawan, i have plenty of patience.”

“could’ve fooled me, anakin- ow! don’t push me, obi!”

“that’s better.”

“you’re a heathen, you know that?”

“you’re as much of one as i, darling.”

obi-wan smirked indignantly at you as he kept walking, a hand resting on your waist protectively. he didn’t trust these streets at all, no matter how calm you were about just traipsing through them like a daisy patch. he’s seen and felt many shady and downright malicious people here and wonders what business you would have in such a place.

he was jostled slightly when you pulled him out of his thoughts and into the doors of… a caf house? was this all you wanted, to go get coffee with him? kriff, he could’ve taken you to dex’s and saved you both so much trouble (except for the suggestive looks he’d receive from dex concerning you, but he got those from a lot of people these days).

“what are we-“

“stay here until i get back. don’t let anyone else see your face or we’re both screwed. your face is too widely known to not cause trouble for us both, and my reputation here can’t save us. understand?”

obi-wan nodded his agreement but was quite perplexed. why did this place matter so much to you? he couldn’t ask you at the moment because you had disappeared with a flourish of your cloak into a back room, followed by a rodian woman who seemed to be expecting you. he didn’t want to pry and use the force to investigate because he knew you would tell him in due time. he trusted you with his life, and that trust extended to when you were at a seedy caf shop in the middle of the coruscanti slums.

you untied the small pouch of credits from your belt, being cautious to hide your lightsaber from whoever could be watching the transaction. your friend did the same with the item you were looking for, emptying a pouch from a larger pouch.

you slowly rest the credits into her palm as she hands you the smaller pouch. you opened it and brought it to your nose, inhaling the scent to ensure it was what you were expecting from her. this batch was going to be the best you’ve had in a while, you could tell just by the scent of it.

“i hope this pleases you, my friend.”

“indeed it will, torin. pleasure doing business again. may the force be with you.” with that, you returned to where obi-wan was trying his best to be inconspicuous. he was doing quite well, considering his unfamiliarity with his surroundings.

you nudge obi-wan through the force, gesturing towards the exit. he got your hint and once at your side, his hand immediately gravitated to the small of your back. it was adorable that he was so protective of you, but you’ve been coming here since you were a padawan, sneaking out of the temple and making deals in the slums for one of the greatest plants in the galaxy. there wasn’t anything you needed to be protected from here.

cannabis is highly regulated throughout the core systems to the point where what little of it was legally sold was extremely weak, thus resulting in a high demand for stronger concentrations in the black market. it’d cost most beings an arm and a leg for the quality product you buy (flesh or mechanical, no one was picky these days), but you’ve had connections to some of the best sellers for over fifteen years, and your loyalty paid off. they’d save you the best of the best because they knew you could be trusted, and that you weren’t the kind to sell them out.

you could tell that obi was a bit anxious. he didn’t know what you did when you disappeared with your rodian friend, but he had a strong suspicion that it wasn’t completely legal. “i can feel your anxiety in the force, my dear. i will explain everything once we’re back on base. in the meantime, relax. we are okay.” you sent him more reassurance through your bond and didn’t stop until you could feel his tension begin to evaporate.

he pulled you closer still, using your body as an anchor in a situation he wasn’t completely at ease in. you let him because it reminded you of your first visit to the slums you were taken on with the older padawans. you were anxious back then and still had a strong fear of the council, but with time your fellow padawans helped ease that fear into respect with the help of a routine trip to a near-hidden caf shop.

your return to base was a tad eventful. your commander biggs, marked by the violet paint of the 89th battalion, had several holopads in hand, each of them open to documents your signature was direly needed on. you sighed, bidding obi-wan farewell and returning to the duties the title of general brought you.

it was far too long until you were able to rest. after getting dinner in the mess with your men, you sent thrash off to deliver a message to commander cody, and then him to obi-wan. you avoided using your comms as much as possible during leave, they felt too professional during times where you were free to relax. there was a high chance that you didn’t even need to use your friend’s commander as a middle man because wherever cody was, there was a large chance that you’d find the general there alongside him.

that seemed to be the case when you were in your quarters, mere minutes after sending the message with your trooper. “i’m glad to see you got my message. now come in, take a seat wherever.”

“is this about our little trip today? i’ve been quite curious as to what you brought back.” you grinned at his words, excited to show him your loot.

“well then, let me show you.” you grabbed the small pouch from where it rested on your bedside table and poured some of its contents into your cupped palm, holding it towards him.

his eyes widened considerably when he processed what you were holding. “y/n, is that-“

“cannabis, my friend. yes it is. some of the best in the galaxy, as a matter of fact. came from the outer rim where there’s no limit on the strength.” this seemed to shock him and you were quick to assure him that you didn’t get the hardcore stuff. “don’t worry, it’s not mixed with anything else. i only use it to relax sometimes, and this batch is somewhat mild for my taste. i have no desire for much else.”

obi-wan wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t this. he had many questions brewing in his mind and wasted no time asking them. “why did you have me accompany you?”

“to show them you were trustworthy, in case you ever wanted to get some on your own. now you know where to find it.”

“why is your trust so valuable to them?”

“i’ve been a customer of theirs for a long time. in the beginning, i was the extra face that accompanied the older kids until they stopped going or started buying from someone else. eventually i became a solo customer and stayed loyal to them. they value and reward loyalty in their business, which is why i always get a good price.”

he took a moment to contemplate this. he was flattered to have been chosen to accompany you. one more question sprang into his head despite being unsure as to where it came from, and he spoke it with no qualms. “are you going to share?”

--------

when you had asked him whether he preferred a joint, blunt, pipe, or edible, he had a dazed look in his eye similar to when shinies see a jedi fight for the first time. you didn’t want him to feel awkward about not knowing what to do, so you decided to teach him what each method did, how long it took to take hold, etc.

as it turns out, obi-wan has never smoked cannabis in his life. 

he asked what the best thing was for a beginner, and you immediately began to roll a joint for the two of you to share. you chatted as you worked, your fingers going through the familiar motions with little thought.

your pipes had screens in them, but you didn’t want to risk obi-wan exhaling into the pipe and blowing charred chunks everywhere. edibles were a peculiar beast, since it takes longer for their effects to set in and can sometimes hit harder than a joint of the same concentration. the first time you had an edible several years ago you ate the whole thing, not knowing that the effects would be delayed compared to smoking. needless to say, you kept away from edibles for a long time after that and became finicky about them.

once the joint was made, you examined your handiwork with a smile. “this is a joint. you take the cannabis and wrap it in a special kind of paper, making sure to seal it shut so nothing falls out. then,” you searched a drawer and found your lucky lighter, flicking it on and bringing the flame to the joint resting lazily between your lips.

“you light it like so.” obi-wan watched you attentively, admiring the expert with which you took a hit off the joint, inhaling the smoke for a moment before blowing it away from you both.

“you slowly inhale from here,” you pointed to the end you didn’t light, “let the smoke stay in your lungs for a few seconds, the smoke is what gives you the feeling we’re looking for. and for future reference,” you took another hit before continuing, mildly enjoying the way obi-wan was watching your lips wrap around the joint. “never blow your smoke towards someone unless they explicitly ask you to. it’s a somewhat common practice, but i don’t enjoy it and i don’t think you would either.”

you held the joint outward to him, silently asking if he’d be comfortable with trying it right then before remembering something else he needed to know. “there’s a high chance that you’re going to cough a bit after your first couple hits. your body’s going to be unused to this, so be gentle with it. don’t expect to handle your first joint like a longtime smoker would.” you retrieved a water bottle from your small refrigerator in the kitchenette, setting it down beside him.

he took the joint from your hands, mimicking the way you held it to not look like a fool and slowly brought it to his lips. “remember, don’t let the smoke out too early or it’ll be like wasting the joint itself. since you’re new to this, try inhaling for three seconds, holding it in and counting to four before exhaling. does that make sense?”

obi-wan nodded slowly, his eyes studying the joint resting between his fingers. “if you don’t want to do this right now obi-wan, please don’t think you have to. i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“i know you wouldn’t pressure me into doing anything, y/n. i just never thought i’d be doing this, it’s a bit of a shock to me.”

you nodded, relieved to hear that you weren’t making him uncomfortable. “that’s completely understandable. but before you do this, i want you to know that cannabis can have a subtle effect on your control of the force.” this was where your concern held the most weight. it was stressed to you a lot when you were first experimenting with cannabis as a padawan, that you wouldn’t have as firm of a grip on the force as you did when sober. you had no idea how this would make obi-wan feel or what would happen when he relaxed his grip on the force.

“there have been times where i don’t realize i’m using the force on something until it’s pointed out to me that something’s floating that normally doesn’t. don’t be alarmed, it’s okay. i’ll be here the entire time to help you.”

obi-wan took a deep breath, letting this information sink in. he seemed to be having a debate with himself last-minute, trying to choose whether this was worth temporarily losing some of his grip on the force. he came to his decision after a moment, the determination set in his jaw almost adorable because it was about cannabis of all things. his eyes flitted to yours as he brought the joint to his lips, following your directions exactly. he inhaled to the count of three and held the smoke in for a precise four seconds before blowing it out.

“you did that perfectly, my friend. now here’s the last rule of smoking cannabis with someone: it’s puff, puff, and pass. you take two hits and give it away, then it’s the other person’s turn to do the same.” his reply came through another hit that he once again held for four seconds, blowing it out with a smile.

he passed it back to you with a light cough that eventually grew a bit too much for his liking. he looked a bit frazzled as he coughed, unsure whether this was normal. you sent him waves of calm through the force as you snatched the water bottle from where it lay, opening it for him in a hurry before extending it toward him. he accepted it gratefully and was barely pacing himself while drinking it, only doing so at your request.

“this is okay, don’t worry. you’re okay, obi. everything is okay.” you placed a hand on his back to remind him of your presence, that you weren’t going to leave his side. he leaned into your touch, letting himself relax in your now outstretched arms.

you took two more hits before letting it rest in the ashtray you kept on your bedside table. obi-wan’s eyes were on the joint you let rest after putting out, wondering why you didn’t pass it back to him. “since this is your first time and we have no idea what’s going to happen, we should take it slow. this concentration is stronger than what i had started on, and the effects it had on me were intense then. i can only imagine how the next several hours for you are going to go before they actually happen, and i don’t want you to do more than you can handle.”

“oh, that makes sense. thank you for looking out for me.”

“of course, obi. now do you want to grab some snacks from the mess and come back in here for a while before it hits you completely?”

“yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

biggs was minding his own business in the mess when it happened. he was eating his dinner, talking to his vod’e, just taking advantage of being on leave like everyone else does. everything was ordinary & nothing was out of place, and he relished in that. the 212th and 89th battalions mingled among each other pleasantly like always. nothing could go wrong here.

“did you see that holo of kix tackling fives after he- hey, uh, biggs?” waxer’s voice cut off abruptly mid-sentence, eyes too busy staring at the roll levitating off his vod’s tray. “what’s wrong with your roll?”

when more brothers spotted the roll, the ones that were eating theirs quickly set them down. exclamations of shock and a large variety of curses were spun by nearly every man there, none of them having any idea what was going on or why their food suddenly started to float. soon enough, there were all different pieces of their dinner floating around the mess, some snatching their food back after watching the spectacle for a moment.

biggs knew what this meant. he knew exactly what was going on. “oh, no.”

“biggs, do you know what’s going on?”

“is biggs home in there? hello?” boil lightly knocked on his ori’vod’s temple until the hand was swatted away.

“tell us, biggs!”

“yeah, don’t leave us out of the loop!”

before biggs could answer the questions his brothers were throwing at him, his eyes found you hand-in-hand with general kenobi. he could see the grins plastered on your faces from halfway across the mess and he froze. was general kenobi high right along with you?

no, he couldn’t be… could he?

his question was answered by the food floating even higher when the two of you passed tables. he knew that when you were high, you had built up your ability to somewhat control the force through your haze. but with general kenobi (he still couldn’t believe general kenobi was high), it was quite obviously his first time under the influence. he ignored the questions as he watched the jetti like a hawk, your movements much less calculated and a lot more fluid and loose.

you were the one that noticed the state of the food first, stopping and nudging general kenobi and gesturing at the mess. you were giggling about it, and it was all you could do to keep the general standing as he began to laugh hysterically, finger pointing at a stray bantha steak a member of the 212th was chasing haphazardly.

“obi! obi, sshh! our men are watching, you gotta- pfft!” it was hard to keep your calm at one of the most composed men in the galaxy happily losing his shit. “obi-wan, stay calm! we gotta get our food without drawing too much attention!”

“but look at the food! it’s floating! they have no idea what to do about it!”

obi-wan started giggling like a child instead of full-on cackling, only doing a mildly better job at keeping the attention away from you both. this was completely his doing, no doubt. you turned on your holo and began to record the chaos erupting in the mess with the giggling jedi master leaning on you for support.

somehow you were able to get some food and leave the mess before it hit obi-wan too hard, you using the force to carry the trays in front of you both. when you left the mess, you heard a cacophony of thuds and splat’s echo into the hall. hey, at least the food wasn’t floating anymore.

you were helping obi-wan pace himself with his food because you knew that he’d throw it all back up if he ate too fast. he didn’t seem to understand why you were doing this, pouting when you would block his plate from him. it took a lot of strength to keep from laughing in his face but you held through with a face-numbing smile.

your comm beeped loudly, taking your attention briefly away from obi-wan.

“general-”

“biggs, we’re on leave. don’t use titles here.”

“sorry si- y/n. i’m also not going to ask for permission to speak freely because we’re on leave?” biggs ended this with a question, still unused to being so informal with those in authority.

“exactly! you’re learning quick, my friend. what can i do for ya?”

biggs sighed much like an exasperated parent before speaking. “did you get general kenobi high?”

you knew this was coming after the scene in the mess, there was no way to avoid it. but the way he said it, the incredulous tone your commander spoke with, it sent you into another fit of laughter. you nodded and laughed, not really processing the fact that biggs couldn’t see you nod because this wasn’t a holocall. he took your laughing as a confirmation of his suspicions and so did the brothers sitting beside him.

“hey y/n, do you think i could cut my bantha steak with my lightsaber?” obi-wan’s voice crackled through the commlink and nothing could have explained the unfamiliar looseness of his cadence to the men better than him being higher than the negotiator, which was exactly the case. “wait, could i cook a bantha steak with my lightsaber?”

you ignored the comm for a moment to answer obi-wan with a grin. “if you were patient enough when holding your ‘saber over the raw steak, maybe so. but if you cut your cooked steak with it, it’ll just char it beyond edibility and ruin a perfectly good steak.”

obi-wan paused to contemplate your answer, running through the scenarios in his head before being okay with your response.

“pardon?”

“sorry about that. obi-wan was just curious about the culinary abilities of his lightsaber, no worries.”

you could hear the laughter from the other side of the link and you were mildly curious about who was listening to your conversation. “who’s there with you, biggs?”

“waxer, boil, venom, cody, and myself. no one else.”

“y/n, am i swaying? i feel like i am but i’m not sure if it’s me or you.”

“okay, that’s good. just keep this between you guys and it’ll be fine. and no one is swaying, i promise.” you knew obi-wan would be mortified if the entirety of your battalions heard of this, but these five were loyal and wouldn’t speak of this outside of themselves.

“how’s the general taking it?” you picked cody’s voice out and you smiled at the concern he had for obi-wan. it was laced with humorous curiosity but you could tell he was a tad quite protective.

before you could answer, obi-wan chose to answer in a voice a smidge too loud. “hello, cody! i’m doing very well, but thank you for your concern!”

more snickering came from the comms, the five men enthralled with this new side of obi-wan. you had no clue why you didn’t invite the man to smoke with you earlier because high obi-wan was honestly the best source of entertainment you’ve had in a long time.

“biggs said that you two were the reason the food went awol in the mess earlier but didn’t explain why.” boil’s curious voice came through and you smiled at the reminder of what the men now dubbed the Floating Food Fiasco.

“cannabis has a tendency to weaken our control over the force. it’s normal for things to randomly float when a jedi’s under the influence because of that. like with the food, that was all obi-wan’s doing.”

“wait, i was the one moving the food?”

“yes dear, it was all you. now stop eating so fast. your stomach won’t be happy with you later if you keep on like that.”

obi-wan nodded as if he understood but didn’t slow down, prompting you to move his plate out of his reach. he humphed and leaned back, almost slumping in the chair. you did not want him throwing up on your watch. “y/n, is it normal to feel as though my bones are vibrating?”

this was the time to cut the conversation short. “well boys, it was good to talk to you but i’ve got to look after our dear general. contact me directly if either of us are needed, obi-wan’s clearly in no state to answer his comms.”

“will do, general.”

biggs ended the call, freeing your attention that was almost instantly caught by obi-wan reaching for his lightsaber. that wouldn’t turn out well at all. you quickly used the force to bring his lightsaber to your open hand, quickly connecting it to the extra loop on your belt. “return my lightsaber, y/n! i need to test your hypothesis about the steak!”

you sighed as you could feel him trying to get it back with the force but failing at his attempt, his lightsaber gently tapping against your thigh as it moved. “obi, you’re about to get hit really hard. it’s my responsibility to keep you from doing stupid things while high, and this is one of those things.”

obi-wan stood from his seat and was clearly having trouble standing on his own, if his leaning against the back of the chair was any indication. you got up and slowly guided him to your bed, laying him down gently. he seemed perturbed that he had to be guided there, mere feet from his former spot. it was hard for him to hide the slight panic upon realizing that he, in fact, could not stand on his own and you picked up on it.

“obi, i know you’re a little scared right now. this is something you’ve never felt and your body is telling you to lash out. but listen to me, everything is okay. i’m right here, obi, and i’m not leaving you. not now, not ever.”

he seemed to be soothed by your voice, so you kept talking as you helped him get a bit more comfortable. his boots were the first thing to come off, followed by his socks and the top layer of robes. you left his pants be but removed his shirt, softly telling him when to lift his arms and torso.

as you talked, you pressed a code into your comms to tell biggs to come to your quarters. since you didn’t know how long obi-wan was going to be in this panicked state or what he could do, you thought it best to have your commanders hold on to your lightsabers for now. biggs already had a loop for yours, and you knew for a fact that obi-wan dropped his ‘saber so many times that cody, the one who seems to always find it laying about, had been given one a long time ago.

it didn’t take long for biggs to arrive and take his leave, lightsabers in hand and holster as he left. you could feel his worry radiating off his force signature and you quickly chased it away, telling him that obi-wan was just crashing and that you weren’t going to leave his side. he seemed okay with this, leaving the room without another word.

obi hadn’t noticed the handoff through his resurfacing panic and you quickly got to work on reinforcing his mental shields, the only gap being where you sent him calm and peace. “why can’t i control my body? is this normal?” his voice was even quivering, a slight stutter beginning to form.

“this is normal for your first time, you’re okay. i’m right here with you, i’ll keep us safe. just take some deep breaths and focus on my voice, okay? you’re good, i’m not going anywhere.”

you were perched on the edge of the bed close to his head, your fingers carding through his peachy copper hair. whatever hair product he used was working wonders on his hair, it’s softness was unrivaled by anyone you knew. the ministrations seemed to calm him so that’s what you did, not letting yourself change the pattern as he occasionally pushed against your hand like a tooka. it was precious.

it took a little while, but obi-wan was on the edge of sleep and far more relaxed than he had been earlier. you were getting up when his hand grabbed for yours, tugging with what little energy he had. “i’ve just got to use the fresher, i'll only be a few feet away.” he huffed but let your hand go, clearly counting the seconds for you to get back.

you hurried as fast as you were capable of, finishing in record time because you knew obi-wan was still frazzled by this experience. “see? almost no time at all.” you returned to your spot and he grumbled something you didn’t completely understand. you looked at him in confusion until he spoke a little clearer. ah, he was asking you to hold him. yep, he’s a tooka in disguise.

you had no issue with this, knowing that some wanted physical affection/reassurance when their high hits them hard. you were among this group but it wasn’t a necessity for you like it was for other people. biggs had done this for you a few times, his presence so stable and comforting that it never took long for you to be asleep after an especially strong high.

parting the covers slightly, you got under them and pulled them over the jedi beside you. “see, obi? i’m not going anywhere. just relax, let yourself ride the high. i’ll be here the entire time. don’t worry, i’m here.” obi-wan wriggled himself into your arms and you wrapped them around him protectively, telling him through the force and with your words that you would keep him safe.

he seemed comforted by this thought and the feeling was increased tenfold by being so close to you, him glad to have someone to hold on to when he didn’t have complete control over his body. there were very few people he’d trust to protect him when he couldn’t do it himself, and he could fit the list on one hand; you, anakin, cody (and the entire 212th by proxy but that didn’t count right now), and more recently, ahsoka.

with thoughts of his loved ones in his head, he let himself relax in the haze and fall into a deep sleep unlike anything he’s had.

obi-wan came to and nearly panicked when he didn’t recognize his surroundings as his own quarters. not only did that shock him, but his body was… spasming? or were those just his bones vibrating? wait… bones weren’t supposed to do that.

he thrashed in the bed until his eyes barely caught the ashtray on the bedside table, and the events of the previous day nearly punched him in the face. he smoked cannabis! scratch that, he smoked cannabis with you! that somewhat explained the vibrating bones sensation and the way his consciousness felt like it was swimming through his head. these were your quarters, and he was sleeping in your bed.

the golden question was where you were.

his anxiety about being alone in your room spiked when he couldn’t reach out through the force to find you, his grip still too lax. obi-wan knew he had to leave at some point. if someone found him in your bed -and apparently shirtless- there would be many conclusions drawn, and there were some that could get you both in serious trouble with the council/senate (the line between the two was quite blurred these days).

he snapped himself out of his thoughts, resolving to get dressed and leave before anything bad could happen. sitting up was relatively easy if he did it slow enough, but standing? whole other game in itself. more than once he was leaning on various pieces of furniture while trying to dress himself. he was clearly still high, but it was nowhere near as strong as it was hours earlier. he continued to struggle (and trip over his feet more than once) with his robes and was relieved when given an excuse to sit down, his boots being the only thing reasonable to sit down and put on.

he gave the room a simple once-over and decided that it was fine how it was. your dinner trays from yesterday were gone and his lightsaber was-

oh, no.

“haar'chak!” obi-wan exclaimed. his lightsaber was lost in your room and he was barely able to support his own body weight, let alone do a frenzied deep search for his weapon! he realized that he had to find you before anyone else found him. you were the only one with him last night, and he guessed that you were also the only one that knew of his current state. and since he couldn’t find you with the force, he had to search for you the old-fashioned way: recon.

this wasn’t going to end well.

your comm beeped hours after getting obi-wan to sleep and you panicked for a moment, hoping to the force that he didn’t wake up. you tapped a code that told the other line to hold on a moment, and you slowly untangled yourself from obi-wan. stepping into the hallway, you quietly asked what the purpose of the comm was.

“general skywalker and commander tano have returned with the 501st, and the 104th have left. skywalker is asking for general kenobi and seems intent on finding him immediately. we’re in the hangar at the moment, but possibly not for long.”

you sighed because you knew something was going to go wrong. obi-wan can’t be sent to the field in the state he’s in, and he very well can’t tell the council the reason he can’t fight at the moment. before you could reply, anakin’s voice cracked through the link.

“y/n, your commander is clearly withholding information-”

“under my orders. thank you biggs, i will be there directly. in the meantime, please stay where you are.”

“yes, general.”

the link died and you rushed to the hangar, hoping that anakin wasn’t causing too much of a ruckus among your men.

he found you before you found him, the knight charging toward you with such speed that his robes were catching wind. he was extremely worried, his face taut with thinly-concealed distress.

“anakin, listen to me. you must take a moment to-”

“do not tell me what i must do! i haven’t been able to reach obi-wan through the force for hours! and then when i arrived to check on him at the last place he was known to be, your men blatantly lie to me! give me one reason why i shouldn’t worry!”

ahsoka’s distress paired with anakin’s fear/anger was nearly choking you through the force and you hoped that obi-wan was still asleep so he didn’t have to feel it. after sending safety to obi-wan and comfort to the padawan in front of you, you told them the truth.

“obi-wan smoked cannabis with me last night. that’s why his connection to the force was a bit off.”

“wait, he what?!”

“what’s cannabis?”

you and anakin both gave ahsoka an incredulous look, not believing that she didn't even know what cannabis was. then again, she hasn’t had the chance to spend much time in the temple and has spent even less time with fellow padawans that knew about the slums’ caf shop. you could let it slide. “it’s a popular recreational drug that i like to use occasionally. it doesn’t do anything bad, just relaxes you a bit. but for jedi, it can also weaken your control over the force which explains why obi-wan couldn’t contact you or receive your messages.”

“but obi-wan smoking cannabis? i don’t believe it for a second.” anakin’s tone was still bristly, which was to be expected. he was fiercely protective over his loved ones, and you didn’t need the force to tell you the intensity his emotions burned with.

your commander, unfortunately, took his words as a challenge. why he did, you had no idea. “with all due respect, general skywalker, are you calling her a liar?”

“biggs, stand down.” your commander stepped backward in shock at the harshness of your tone, his head downcast after the berating. you never used that tone with any of the men under your command and you regretted it almost immediately. you sent him an apology and he seemed to lighten up for a moment, so your attention turned to anakin.

“what would i gain from lying to you? if something bad actually happened to him, do you think that any member of the 212th would let me walk around here a free woman?”

“she has a point, master.”

“i also have footage from last night,” you raised your eyebrows toward ahsoka with a grin, thankful that her anxiety has died down. “wanna watch?”

obi-wan was sneaking around the base as well as expected. there were several close calls, and he knew that whoever was watching the security cameras would be plenty entertained. he paused for a moment, using the wall as a support before trying to use the force again, and this time it slightly worked. he was able to discern that he was going the completely wrong way if he wanted to find you. he didn’t have an exact location, but was able to get the general direction.

he was in the midst of pushing himself off the wall when he felt two more familiar signatures: anakin and ahsoka were nearby and anakin felt pissed. almost as quickly as he sensed his former padawan’s anger it dissipated into confusion, soon followed by humorous. okay, anakin was fine. it was time to get off this wall… or not.

he had pushed himself too hard through the force and collapsed onto the floor in exhaustion. obi-wan was conflicted: he could hope for no one to find him and wait until he was able to stand on his own before continuing his search; or he could hope for someone, anyone to find him, and live with the embarrassment of being so dependent and hope they didn’t take him to the medbay.

groaning when his head hits the wall, he tries one more time to get up (spoiler, he fails). he’s now regretting leaving your quarters because at least there, he had privacy when he was weak. he closed his eyes, resigned to nap where he sat but of course, footsteps pounding on the durasteel floors kept him from being able to do that. then the cannabis decided to show back up (in the good way), and the steady thrum of his bones vibrating brought a strange sense of calm back. he’d be fine if he just stayed here.

after showing anakin that yes, obi-wan was okay, you commed cody and told him to retrieve the general himself from your quarters and to bring him to the mess. when he got there and saw that obi-wan was gone, he immediately contacted glitch and scanner in the security department. they told him the direction the general went in, and he was off.

it felt like a lifetime before cody found his general slumped against the wall, a small smile on his face. cody could tell the general was breathing and all, but it just felt weird seeing him in this state.

“general! are you okay?”

“i’m, ah, quite well, thank you cody.”

“can you stand?”

“last i checked, no. and since then, my bones have decided to try and escape my body without consent, so i’m going to safely assume that i can’t.”

cody schooled his features because he was dangerously close to laughing in the general’s face at the way he stuttered through his words that still seemed to be semi-formal. “alright, i’m gonna take you to the mess. general y/l/n is looking for you.” the commander bent down and gingerly began to lift obi-wan, letting the jedi rest all of his weight on him.

“wait,” obi-wan instructed, cody going rigid on command. “what if i make the food float again?”

“we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, general. but for now, just focus on me. if you do the food thing again, i’ll be sure to record it for you.”

obi-wan seemed satisfied with this answer, then remembered the reason he left in the first place. “cody,” he mumbled, “where’s my lightsaber?”

[shirorinyuaaru]

A Soldier’s Countenance

Chapter 4 - Of Synchronicity and Desire

You should have known laying your feelings on the table would lead to something deeper. A relationship hidden in the shadows, desire thinly cloaked behind pretense, Levi has to make a decision.

Maintain control or throw caution to the wind.

This chapter is 18+ for graphic content

If you want to know my inspo for this chapter, listen to Bang by Armchair Cynics.

Training Grounds 0630 Hours

Levi’s Squad was becoming suspicious of the dynamic change between you and the Captain. Since returning from your week of helping Hange with her strange experiments, it was almost as if you and Levi danced around each other. Regardless of the increased space between the two of you, Mikasa was especially aware of the gentle gazes you awarded each other when no one was watching. Furthermore, when you sparred with Captain Levi there was a level of synchronicity not previously present. Instead of the tense atmosphere they had witnessed the last time you made the - stupid - decision to challenge your raven-haired superior, there was an air of mutual respect and intense focus.

It was obvious you still had an edge when it came to hand-to-hand combat, but what could the others expect when you spent almost your every waking moment at Levi’s side? From training in the morning, attending to your duties as his assistant, and extra practice at night alongside Mikasa and Eren, you had excelled.

Today was no different than any other; it started with twenty laps around the green, 50 push-ups, 50 sit-ups, an ungodly number of squats, and ODM gear practice. Once again you were ending with sparring. Krista had finally recovered from the injury you had unintentionally given her and had switched partners to Sasha to avoid another incident. That left you to either take on Mikasa, Eren, or Captain Levi if you were feeling especially daring.

For now, Levi had paired you with Mikasa. He looked to you both as excellent examples of proper technique, sometimes stopping the others to have them observe a specific set of moves that you had both previously executed. He could scarcely hide the pride that shone in his stormy eyes when he watched you hold your own regardless of who you were pitted against; it was difficult to keep the stony expression he wore on a day-to-day basis.

Mine. That’s mine, he would appreciate silently. Never once did he have to doubt your strength or worry of possible injuries on your behalf.

That didn’t mean you came out of sparring practice unscathed, however. It was common for you to show up to Levi’s office with his morning cup of tea, new bruises lining your arms and, once in a while, your cheek or jaw. This was especially true when you faced off against Mikasa, who never held back. You were rather gleeful whenever you got to face her, regardless of the injuries you were sure to receive - it just meant you were both pushing yourselves to the brink.

In your usual fashion, you utilized your legs more than your arms when taking on your onyx-haired colleague. You found it easier to land a blow if you kept a reasonable distance from her. Whenever you got close, she would manage to land a solid punch or worse - throw you over her shoulder and onto the ground. It was more difficult for her to grapple you if you went in for a well-placed kick due to the speed you moved at.

“I think you’re going easy on me, Mikasa.” You teased, eyeing her movements carefully.

Mikasa’s lip quirked up ever-so-slightly, mirth filling her expression. “When have I ever gone easy on you, Y/N?”

“I don’t know - the last time we sparred I distinctly remember winning.”

“So you admit that the only way you can win is if I go easy on you.”

“No, but it definitely wasn’t a very satisfying win. Too focused on Eren?” You teased.

She blushed slightly, her small smile turning into a frown. “What about you? Seems like you’re pretty keen on observing the Captain lately.”

You moved towards her with caution, considering your chances of landing a kick to her knees to knock her off balance, not responding.

“Oi Brats, less chatting more ass-kicking.” Levi barked at you, crossing his arms impatiently.

He received no response from you either. Nor did he hear one from your agile partner.

It seemed your good-natured teasing only stoked the fire building in Mikasa. Your sparring session ended with you on your ass, arm painfully twisted behind you. “Jesus, Mikasa, I yield,” you hissed, hyper-aware of the throbbing in your shoulder.

She released you with a satisfied smirk, stepping away. “Just so you know, I plan to win tomorrow too.”

“I expect nothing less,” you grumbled, rubbing your arm and soothing your damaged ego.

“Hit the showers, Brats. You look disgusting.” Levi remarked, dismissing you all with a wave. However, before you could join the others you felt a gentle tug on your wrist. “Wait.”

You quirked an eyebrow, turning to gaze into the slate-gray eyes you came to adore. “What is it, Captain?”

“Come with me. I need you to take some documents over to Erwin.”

You were distinctly aware of the observant eyes glancing at you as they made their way back to the barracks. “Right now? I’m pretty sure you don’t want me stepping into your office smelling like shit, Captain Levi. What if I dirty your floors again?”

“Oi, Cadets keep walking! Eyes forward!” Levi boomed, watching the other members of his squad scurry away at his demand. He made sure they were out of earshot before continuing.

“You can shower in my room.”

You practically choked on your own breath. “I’m sorry?”

“Dammit Y/N, you aren’t deaf. You can shower in my room.”

“What about a change of clothes?”

“We’re the same size. Wear something of mine.”

Needless to say, you weren’t used to the forward nature Levi was presenting to you. You almost wondered if he had an ulterior motive, but shook the thought aside. “Alright, I’ll go with you.”

—

Levi’s Office 0800 Hours

You were both uncharacteristically quiet as he led you through the door separating his office from his private quarters. While you weren’t unfamiliar with being there, the last time you had set foot in his bathroom was when you injured your hands scrubbing his floor.

“Go ahead and start the shower, Y/N. I’ll bring you a towel and something to wear.”

You felt your face flush and cleared your throat, “I’d be naked.”

“And?”

“And your shower door is glass, Levi.” You hissed, pressing your cool hands to your cheeks in a desperate attempt to soothe the burning of your skin.

Levi smirked, slowly backing you into the door to the bathroom. “Is that a problem? Are you telling me after the daring lecture you gave me the other day you’ve suddenly decided to go shy on me?”

The burning sensation afflicting you only worsened as he placed his arms on either side of you, pinning you in place. “That’s - I - I don’t even know what we are . How am I supposed to calmly let you into the room when I’m fully exposed to you?” You muttered, trying to avoid his intense gaze by turning your head away.

“What do you want to be?” He murmured, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

“I’m more interested in your answer, Brat.”

“I -” you huffed in irritation, frustrated that your body was betraying you in more ways than one when you desperately wanted a clear mind. “I want to be - I want to be the person you turn to at night when you need a break. I want to be the person providing you comfort after a particularly rough expedition. I want to be the reason you come home,” you whispered.

“What I’m trying to say, Levi, is I want to be yours.”

Levi sucked in a breath, pink dusting his cheeks. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected you to be forward with your answer - he just was unprepared for the intimate sincerity he detected in your voice. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke.

“We’d have to keep it secret, at least for a while.”

“I know.”

“Not everyone is going to take kindly to a relationship between you and me.”

“I’m aware.”

“And when all is said and done, are you prepared for the possible fallout that comes with - eventually - going public?”

“Are you?”

Amusement shown in Levi’s piercing eyes. “I don’t think I’ll know until it happens.”

“That’s how I feel.” You paused, glancing at your captain carefully. “Is this what you want? I don’t want a decision being made one-sidedly, Levi.”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating his answer. When push came to shove, he never was very good at expressing his feelings with the candor you were capable of.

For you, that moment felt like an eternity.

“Levi?”

He gently rested his head on your shoulder, steadying his breathing. “You know I’m fucking terrible at this.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I need an answer.”

“Right.”

More silence.

“I want to try it,” he said after a while, “I’d probably never stop beating myself up if I didn’t at least see where this went, especially after I drank a fucking glass of whiskey just to be able to be honest with you.”

You carefully lifted your hand to caress his cheek, keenly aware of the way he tensed under your touch. “If that’s the case, I’d like - um - I’d like for you to join me.” You cursed yourself for the wavering in your voice, wanting to seem confident for the both of you.

Levi’s head shot up so fast you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had given himself whiplash. His eyes were wide and he gaped at you openly. “I’m sorry, did I hear you right? You want me to fucking join you? In the shower?”

“I mean - you normally take a shower after training anyway and I figure this would be faster…” you trailed off, running a hand through your h/l h/c hair. “You don’t have to, but if you’re going to see me naked anyway I don’t exactly see a problem with us both being in the shower.”

“The difference is that you’d see me naked too, Y/N.”

“And?”

“And,” he huffed, standing up straight. “I don’t know if I can control myself being that close to you in that situation, regardless of if you smell like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You said it first, not me.”

“Are you going to join me or not?”

“I - fuck - are you even listening? What if I jump you in the goddamn shower?” Levi hissed, glaring at you.

You quirked your brow at him, crossing your arms. “I’m not exactly a blushing bride, Levi. I’ve done…things.”

“You haven’t done things with me.”

“Not yet.”

“Not y- Jesus Christ.”

“If you don’t want to then just say so. I’m not about to take offense to it.” You replied evenly, trying desperately to calm your rapid heartbeat. “We can take it slow.”

“I…wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“So?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“You’re lucky I’m not making you beg,” came your sly remark.

How the fuck does she go from shy and quiet as a mouse to a bold, teasing brat with the snap of her fingers?

Regardless of his surprise at your confident change of tone, he couldn’t let your challenge go unanswered. After all, he was a sore loser. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should make you beg, Y/N. After all, I fully intended to bend you over my desk the other day.”

“I’ll ask you one more time. Are you joining me?”

“I can’t exactly say no when you act like such a confident Brat now, can I?”

—

Levi realized rather quickly that Y/N liked her showers hot - if the steam billowing from the bathroom indicated anything - as he gathered towels and clothes for the both of them.

“Oi, you better not be wasting all of the hot water in your masochistic attempt to burn yourself alive.” He called, only half-kidding.

“Maybe if you hurried up that wouldn’t be a problem.” You responded cheekily, folding your dirty clothes and setting them to the side. Though it was you who made the bold declaration that you should shower together, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You didn’t hate your body per-se, but the scars that riddled your skin like rough strokes of paint on a canvas gave you pause. It meant you had survived countless encounters with death, that you were a soldier with experience, but you couldn’t ignore the wistful desire for clear, unmauled skin.

“I’m coming,” Levi grumbled, “don’t get your shorts in a bunch, Cadet.”

“I can’t - I’m not wearing any.”

Levi could hear the shit-eating grin in your voice and snorted, pushing aside the nervousness knotting his stomach. “Last chance to back out. I’m outside the door.”

The silent question did not go unheard by you. Is this okay? The gentle concern he showed you in private made your heart swell.

You took a final, resolute breath. “You can come in.”

The moment he crossed the threshold and first laid eyes on you, he was sure his heart stopped beating. Levi swallowed thickly, his eyes growing cloudy as he took in the sight before him. Your skin glowed gently in the light of the room, your scars shining proudly as if like lightning in the middle of a storm. A delicate dusting of pink was present on your cheeks, which you tried to hide with your confident stance, head held high.

“Will you be joining me, or do you just plan to stand there while the water goes cold?”

“Can’t I admire what’s in front of me for a second without your nagging?” He deadpanned, sarcasm evident in the dry tone of his voice.

“Not if I can’t admire you mutually.”

Levi wasn’t completely unfamiliar with intimacy when it came to the bedroom, but his knowledge was limited to one-night stands to scratch an itch. Letting down his walls and laying himself bare was foreign territory and led to pause. After a moment of hesitancy, overridden by the image of embracing you under the unremitting pressure of the water, he stripped.

You eyed him hungrily, unable to control your wandering gaze as Levi undressed. The first to go was his shirt, unbuttoned with the utmost care. With every flick of his wrist, a new expanse of skin was revealed to you. The scars that lined his porcelain skin only served to make him more alluring. Levi turned from you for a moment, wordlessly folding his shirt and placing it atop yours, before returning to his original position and unbuttoning the white pants of his uniform.

You wondered if his slow, purposeful movements were meant to tease you, your breath becoming more ragged with each one.

His eyes met yours, that vulnerable gaze returning. In one swift motion, he lay bare before you, stepping out of his pants soundlessly. Before you could speak, he moved towards you with the utmost care, ignoring the disorganized mess he left in his wake.

“You’re beautiful.” He breathed, cupping your cheek.

Your e/c eyes fluttered shut at his feather-light touch. “Not as beautiful as you,” came your stertorous response.

Levi swallowed thickly, motioning to the shower. “We should probably get in.”

“Right.”

After an instant of awkward shuffling, you both let out a groan of relief at the sensation of warm water pelting you both, as if washing away the nerves that threatened to burst forth from your hearts.

“Feels good,” you murmured, allowing the water to soothe your aching muscles as you set to removing the sweat and grime from your skin.

Levi only grunted in response, unable to tear his eyes from you. His hair clung to his face, obscuring his perfect view of the awe-inspiring sight in front of him. He knew he should start washing as well, but found it impossible to focus on the task.

Control yourself, his brain hissed.

“Levi?”

“What?” came his slightly surprised response as you jarred him from his trance.

“I asked if you’d like me to wash your hair.” The innocence in your voice only spurred him on more, so instead of a response, you got a strangled noise and a nod.

With a tender caress of your hand, you turned him away from you and lathered the shampoo in your hands. He reveled in the feeling of your fingers gently scratching his scalp as you worked the soap into his hair, letting out a relieved sigh.

The feeling of his body under your ministrations caused your heart to constrict painfully in your chest. Wondering how much you could get away with, you pressed yourself against his back, gently pushing his head towards the water.

“You can rinse it out,” you said breathlessly, beginning to feel a familiar warmth building in your core.

“Y/N what are you doing?”

“Helping you get clean.”

“No,” he continued, trying desperately to focus on the task of washing out the shampoo, “what are you doing pressed up against me like that?”

Don’t lose control.

“Is it too much?” You breathed, wrapping your arms around him to feel his chest daringly.

“It is if you expect me to keep myself in check.” He asserted, grabbing one of your hands in a vice grip.

Don’t. Lose. Control.

“What if I don’t want you to?”

That was all it took to snap the thin threads keeping Levi from his desire to absolutely wreck you . He whipped around and pinned your hands to the wall before you could react, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. It was a fierce battle of teeth and tongues; you fought against his hold as best as you could, the desire to tangle your hands in his hair impossible to ignore.

His grip on your wrists only tightened as he ground his hips against yours. Levi was in charge of the pace, and he’d be damned if he let you take it from him.

“I’m going to leave you a writhing mess, Y/N.” He growled, his voice hoarse.

You could only let out a moan in response, grinding against his hardening cock. You wanted to feel him - all of him. You wanted to know what his tongue felt like on your pussy, how his fingers felt as they teased your clit, and how full you would be with him bottomed-out inside of you.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Levi, fuck, I-” you keened, biting your lip.

“I can’t hear you, Cadet.” was his demanding reply.

“Please, Captain, let me touch you - let me taste you.”

He released the bruising grip on you immediately, his normally gray eyes black and clouded with lust. You pushed him back by his hips, giving yourself room to get on your knees in front of him. Eye-level with his twitching length, you licked your lips greedily. With a fleeting glance at Levi, you wrapped your hand around him and pumped in a teasingly slow rhythm.

Levi sucked in a breath, his hands tangling in your h/l locks. It was taking all of his self-restraint not to shove your pretty little mouth onto his throbbing member. Luckily he didn’t have to wait for the blessed feeling of your tongue long.

“Levi, you’re so perfect.” you hummed, licking him from base to tip, swirling your tongue around his head before swallowing him down. You could taste the salty, heady flavor of his precum as you took him as deeply as you could. It only served to spur you on more; your mind was clouded with lust and a desire to please.

He hissed, his head slamming into the shower wall behind him.

“Fuck, Y/N… How are you so good with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

His praise was music to your ears, and your only response was to bob your head rhythmically, forcing yourself to take more of his cock with each forward motion. Before long he was an absolute mess, panting and writhing under your touch.

“Stop - Stop.” He breathed, pulling you off of him. “I won’t be able to keep my promise to ruin you if you keep going.”

“I think I ruined you instead.” You challenged, licking your lips seductively.

“Oh, Love,” he purred, the pet name making you squirm, “you have no idea what I plan to do to you.”

Grabbing the soap next to him, he motioned for you to stand, lathering his hands.

“First, I’m going to clean that filthy body of yours from head to toe. Then I’m going to taste that delectable pussy of yours and fuck you with my mouth till you’re begging for release.” His hands moved purposefully against your skin as he washed off the remnants of the day. You were painfully aware of his desire to tease you as he massaged your torso, avoiding your breasts entirely.

“Levi, please…”

“Please what, Y/N?”

“Please touch me.” You begged, reaching for his hand.

He pulled away from you immediately, leaving you cold and wanting. “I thought I taught you patience during our training - I’ll touch you where I want when I want. You’ll just have to be good for me and wait.”

You whined, fisting your hands at your sides and shutting your eyes, willing yourself to stay still for him.

“Good girl - You’re so good for me.” He purred, resuming his ministrations.

Levi washed you at a painfully slow pace, making good on his promise to clean every single part of you. With each motion of his hands, you could feel yourself getting wetter. Frankly, you were so wet you weren’t sure if you were dripping or if it was just the water cascading over your skin. Regardless, he still hadn’t touched you where you desperately wanted to, obviously leaving your breasts and core for last.

“Are you ready, Love?” He murmured in your ear, the desire in his voice evident. “You’ve been so patient - so good. I’m going to reward you for your efforts.”

Before you could respond he began massaging your breasts, pinching at your nipples and tugging them gently. The stimulation made your knees week and you struggled to keep yourself upright, settling for leaning back against Levi’s chest for support.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?”

“Yes, Levi - fuck - it feels so fucking good.”

“You can barely stand; I wonder what’ll happen when I finally taste you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the sultry tone of his voice driving you insane. “Please. Please, Levi - Babe I’ve been so patient. I need you.”

Levi chuckled and pressed a kiss to your neck. “Do you want me to give you what you want?”

“Yes.”

He turned you to face him, kissing you again - his love for you evident in every movement. As quickly as it began, it was over. Levi knelt between your legs, quirking an eyebrow at you as if asking for permission once more.

You nodded enthusiastically, gently threading your fingers in his raven-colored hair.

Satisfied with your consent, he leaned in, licking your slit experimentally. The loud moan you released echoed against the walls, spurring him on. He took your hips in a bruising grip, burying himself in your folds and relishing in the sweet taste of your slick. He lapped at your folds enthusiastically, reveling in every sound you made.

You sounded more divine than all of the music in the world.

It took all of your willpower to stay standing when he sucked on your clit with fervor, his index and middle fingers finding your opening and sliding in with ease. He pumped them in a slow, purposeful rhythm, taking his time to stretch you. Levi was well-aware that you could probably take him right then with how aroused you were, but he desperately wanted to draw this out.

I want to burn this into my memory - How she feels. How she makes me feel. How I can ruin her so easily.

“Jesus, please Levi, I need to feel you. I want to feel you.”

How could he deny you when you asked so sweetly?

He removed himself from between your legs after a final kiss to your labia, his longing gaze finding yours. Levi stood, backing you against the wall of the shower and lifting your right leg to rest on his hip. He lined himself up with your opening and let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Is this okay, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you breathed, looking at Levi lovingly.

“There isn’t any going back from this.”

“I know.”

“You’re really sure?”

“It sounds like you’re trying to talk yourself out of it more than me, Levi.” You chucked, cupping his cheek with your hand. “Do you want to stop? We can stop.”

“No.” He assured, biting his lip, “I just want to make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m more than ready.”

That was all the reassurance he needed. He slid into you with one fluid motion, taking a minute to savor the feeling of your tight walls against his cock.

You both let out a quiet moan, Levi’s grip on you tightening as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The feeling of him deep inside of your pussy was absolutely divine . You were so full, so satisfied just reveling in the sensation of you both being one. He felt amazing.

It felt as though you were perfectly made for each other.

After a moment to collect himself, Levi willed himself to move. He tried desperately to maintain a cadence with his thrusts, but it was becoming more difficult with each gasp and moan you released. He was well aware of the sharp sting of your nails clawing at his shoulders - it only served to make it more difficult to keep in control.

It was as if you could read his mind when you responded, “Let go, Levi. Just let go.”

He didn’t need any further encouragement.

His hips snapped forward with reckless abandon. Levi thrust into you roughly, his nails digging into your leg that he held against himself.

Mine. Mine. All fucking mine .

With each powerful thrust he gave, you began losing yourself in the splendor. The familiar tightness of an impending orgasm made itself known and you tried to tell him between frenzied breaths.

“Levi - I - Fuck - I’m gonna - Please I want to cum .”

“God - Yes - Fuck Y/N cum for me. Cum for me, Love. I want to see you unravel.” Levi growled, feeling his own impending release surface as you clenched around him.

By now his thrusts were absolutely brutal - no measured tempo to be found. It was frantic, carnal, desperate desire to finish that guided his motions. He wanted you to scream for him. He wanted you to come undone in his arms - all for him.

He never said he wasn’t selfish.

It wasn’t long before you saw stars.

“Levi!” You yelled, digging your nails into his back and drawing blood as you came. Your body shook with the power of your orgasm, only being held up by the firm, steadying grip Levi had on you. He didn’t stop his ministrations, leaving you overstimulated and begging for him.

He had succeeded in ruining you.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m going to cum” Levi hissed, his head falling into the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Cum on me, Levi. Cum for me.” You said breathlessly, wanting him to feel just as good as you did when he orgasmed.

With a final stroke, Levi pulled out of you and jerked himself to completion, cumming all over your stomach and hips. Spurred on by the intense sensation of his orgasm, he bit into your neck, hoping to leave his mark on you.

You both slumped onto the floor of the shower, holding each other and trying to collect yourselves.

“I love you, Levi.” You murmured, pressing your head to his chest.

Levi wrapped his arms around you gently, hoping to prolong this moment with you as long as possible.

“I love you too.”

The water in the shower had long grown cold.

Neither of you seemed to notice.