#the caps were so much more satisfying to open with the glass ones! and they held much more juice inside

[koifsssh]

Has Rainy ever tried…coffee?

hahaha! what a funny thought!

as someone who is usually half-minded and sleepy, i imagine being so awake is sort of disorienting for him. A clear head is something he's not used to! I don't think they'd know what to do with themself to be honest!

Perhaps they would engage more in Sally's play's or Julie's games, whatever their neighbors fancy!

I think the taste they would like, but i'm not sure if they would like how it makes them feel...

[lewismcqueen]

come press the line.

lh44 x black!reader

summary: everyone could use a good coach. you use your skills to teach Lewis something new. wc: 3k-ish cw: explicit content, bdsm (shibari) and discussion of bdsm dynamics, probably-inaccurate portrayal of fitness exercises a/n: 3k word smut is CRAZY but here we are lol. I am once again asking y'all to go easy on me bc I am not at all used to writing nsfw content yet. do NOT fuck your personal trainer

You stood at the weight machine, watching Lewis’ muscles tense as he exhaled with great effort through another rep. It had been an hour, but he was only now beginning to look as if he wanted to stop. To give up.

Truth be told? You felt a little bad about it. But Lewis had explicitly instructed you not to let up. 

You recall his cheeky grin when he said, “You can be a little mean to me, I can take it.”

Now, he looked about ready to eat his words. 

“One more set.”

“Come on,” Lewis tried to appeal to your better sensibilities with a placating smile. “I'm dying over here, mate. Can I have a minute?”

Standing your ground, you crossed your arms and peered over his figure, glistening with sweat with his arms still resting in the contraption. Lewis was trying to appeal to the close friend in you, but when you were in full-on trainer mode, no amount of begging could snap you out of it. There was a silent agreement that he would not move without your permission. 

“Sorry, buddy. No breaks, just like you asked for,” you lifted an arched eyebrow. “Unless it's for water.”

“I don't need a water break—”

“You do. You're sweating bullets,” 

Uncrossing your arms, you bent down to pick up his tumbler off the hardwood floor next to the machine. With your thumb, you flipped open the cap, holding it to his mouth.

You fixed Lewis with a hard gaze. “Here, hydrate. Or else I'm adding two more sets. In a row.”

His mouth fell open without protest to sip from the straw. Something satisfied you deeply about the way his round, dark eyes remained fixed on you as he drank. Searching. Waiting for the next instruction. You almost praised him for being so obedient before remembering where you were. 

This was not that kind of relationship. 

Lewis came over to your apartment to try out your new blender after the session. You had promised him free smoothies after it got delivered, and you were a woman of your word. He sipped his mango and banana smoothie as he watched you struggle to keep the blender pressed down in a consistent rhythm. The erratic rumbling of the machine must be hell for your neighbors to hear right now.

“Here, let me.”

With an exasperated sigh, you moved to the side to let Lewis take over. You couldn't complain about the sight of his tattoos tensing with his arm muscles as he held the blender down, colorful ingredients sloshing around and combining into a more uniform orange shade.

You offered him your empty glass, and he wordlessly poured the blended mixture once it was finished.

“Stop me,” he joked with a grin.

You snorted, remembering that disastrous trip to Olive Garden where you let the server shred way too much cheese over your salad. 

The glass was more than halfway full now. “Alright, that's it. I know you're about to spill that all over my nice counter if I don't say anything.”

Lewis stopped pouring and set the container aside. “I wasn't, but I definitely thought about it for a second.”

You playfully shoved his arm, which he grabbed dramatically as if you'd stabbed him. Grinning, you shook your head.

“You're so irritating.”

“Oh good heavens, my arm! You've injured it by making me do a million reps!” 

“And you'd do a million more if I asked you to,” you said, smirking over your glass before taking a long swig of your drink.

Lewis leaned on the counter and looked at you fondly. “I'd probably take a nosedive off a bridge if you asked me to.”

Something in your gaze intensified as you slowly wiped your upper lip with the back of your palm. Probably not a good idea to stain your new dusty pink jacket, but that wasn't on your mind. You were too focused on the openness with which Lewis looked at you, steady with trust. It warmed your heart, but it also admittedly made you warm elsewhere. 

“You really mean that?”

His smile deepened, causing the dimple on the right side of his face to make an appearance. “I don't say things I don't mean.”

It would be deeply unprofessional to kiss him right now.

Unfortunately, your better judgement took a backseat when you decided to set your drink down on the counter and close the already-small distance between the two of you. Pulling away, you cupped his face between your palms. Your noses nearly brushed as you searched his face, gauging his response. 

Lewis didn't back away. He looked surprised, but you felt his fingers tentatively inch their way up and around your waist. His gaze fell to your lips before flickering back up to meet your eyes.

“Are you sure about this?”

You answered with a deeper, hungrier kiss. And he kissed you back.

It all happened so fast - your bare thighs pressing against the cold kitchen counter as he lost himself inside you, his incoherent babbling and cursing once you got on top, fingers resting at the base of his throat. Not quite choking, but there to remind of the possibility. 

Lewis was very clearly not present enough for you to ask. Even you were caught off guard by the way his eyes fluttered and rolled back as you rolled your hips in just the right way. His nails were digging into the flesh of your back, the pain blending into the heat of the pleasure coursing through your body.

The sun was setting when you said goodbye to each other. You had agreed to let this remain a one-off thing that would stay buried in the past, and despite all of the lingering stares and brushes of skin that followed, you kept to the agreement. Mostly.

One night ended with Lewis breaking routine to visit yours. Still riding the high of a recent Grand Prix win, he had gotten a bit…passionate. No one had taken their clothes off, but with your hands roaming over his form as you made out in your bedroom, you were dangerously close.

Suddenly, you pulled away. Lewis tilted his face forward momentarily to follow you before a hand on his chest stopped him.

“We shouldn't.”

He could only sigh, nodding in resignation as he scooted away from you on the mattress. The movement was more symbolic than anything—the distance between you was but the length of his hand.

“You're the one who started this, you know.”

A lopsided grin crept onto your face. “And you kept it going.”

Lewis lay on his back with his hands resting behind his head, elbows sticking out. He smiled as if recalling a fond memory.

“True.”

The AC in your room suddenly turned on, reminding you of the sweat sticking to your black tank top that was now evaporating. You got up and moved to get a change of shirt out of your closet.

As soon as you opened it, two cords of soft rope fell off of a high shelf, making you yelp in surprise. You rushed to snatch them up from the ground and return them to their rightful spot before grabbing a white t-shirt. Tentatively, you turned around to check if Lewis was watching. He was sitting up on his elbows, brow raised in an amused look.

The ropes were bright red. There was no way he didn't see.

“Never seen you use those before,” he remarked with great emphasis. “Are those jump ropes?”

You rolled your eyes. Lewis looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Very funny. Look, I—”

“It's fine, I don't judge,” he waved a hand dismissively. “I just didn't peg you as a ‘tie me up’ sort of person.” 

A smirk spread across your lips. “Who said I was being tied up?”

Lewis tilted his head, intrigued. 

“I see. You must be good at tying knots, then.”

“Damn right I am. You sound curious.”

You turned around to lift your top over your head, revealing a same-colored sports bra. With swift movements, you replaced it with the clean t-shirt. 

“I am. Indulge me, won't you?”

The mattress sunk beneath your weight as you sat back down.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Do you do the fancy patterns, and stuff?”

“M-hm.”

“How long does it take to get good at it?”

“A long ass time.”

There was a brief pause, as if Lewis was thinking.

“What do you get out of it? If you feel like saying.”

You hummed in consideration for a bit, leaning back on your arms.

“Well, there's obviously the control part. But it's also like, ‘You trust me to put you in this position’, you know? It's really easy for things to go wrong. Someone's willing to put their safety in my hands, and that can be…special.”

You were quiet for a bit, oddly feeling a bit raw from the explanation. Lewis broke the silence.

“Like how I trust you not to kill me on the stairmaster.”

“First of all, that was two weeks ago, stop being dramatic,” you reached over and smacked his leg. “Second of all…yeah. It's kinda like that.”

Mischief played on Lewis’ features. “One last question. Do you make people call you ‘ma'am’?”

You shrugged. “Nah, I prefer ‘coach’.”

He shamelessly looked you up and down. “Hard to imagine you in latex.”

“I don't really do the latex. My subs like the normal gym clothes,” you winked, “Maybe even a referee whistle around my neck if they're feeling really into it.”

“Subs?”

“My submissives.”

You swear you caught a glimpse of Lewis’ teeth catching on his bottom lip. His eyes were fixed on you, as if imagining it. Then he looked like he had another question on his tongue, but didn't ask it. Instead, he said:

“Hm. Cool.”

There were many more lapses in judgement across the next few weeks. Quickies in the bathroom, against the wall of Lewis’ at-home gym—something had loosened between you, and now you had formed an unshakeable habit. 

Usually it took until well into the afternoon for the tension to boil over, but this morning already saw you straddling him on your living room couch. You grabbed his chin, rough with a newly-scruffy beard, and gently swiped your thumb over his lips. The action made his breath quicken.

“Look at me, not the wall. Look me in my eyes.”

Lewis obeyed, but there was a glint in his stare. He tilted his head with a faint smile on his lips.

“You got it…Coach.”

He looked pleased with himself when your eyes darkened at the title. 

An amused grin tugged at the corners of your lips. Cute. But Lewis had no idea what he was trying to get into.

You warned him in a low voice as smooth as velvet ropes. “Careful, now. I hope you know what you want if you're gonna get bold with me.” 

The warning seemed to only excite him further, if the growing tent in his gym shorts was any indicator. He shrugged. 

“You explained it to me, didn't you?”

“It's not as simple as what I said. Gimme specifics, or it's not happening. How do you want this to go?”

With proper coaxing and guidance from you, he eventually explained that he wanted a ‘training session’. Just one without as much exercise, so to speak. That wouldn't be an issue. But you raised an eyebrow when Lewis mentioned the ropes. He sensed your apprehension when you moved to the private gym.

“Hey, look, I'm not asking you to put me in a spider web. I know it's a safety thing.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, considering. 

“Alright. And what do you say if you want it to stop?”

“Um…’red flag’?”

Lewis looked at you like he had just told the world's greatest dad joke. You shook your head.

“Corny, but okay.”

The fun began on the treadmill. You had your finger on the button labeled with an ‘up’ arrow, making direct eye contact with him as you slowly but surely increased the speed. You watched his chest rise and fall beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, not stopping until it was drenched with sweat and sticking to every contour of his chest and back.

The sight of Lewis squatting on his haunches to catch his breath after stepping off made you wonder what he could possibly be getting out of tiring himself out this way instead of your usual rendezvous. You'd have to ask him later. For now, though…

“Hey,” you admonished sternly. “Did I say you could take a break?”

The way Lewis straightened up immediately at the sound of your voice satisfied you deeply. 

“Uh, no,” he said between exhausted breaths, “Sorry.”

You placed a disapproving hand on your hip, and he almost looked scared. Almost.

“Thank you for apologizing, but I think you're missing something.”

Amusement tugged at his lips. “Sorry coach.”

You took a slow but intentional step forward, a small smile softening your features. “You know what happens now, right? Drop and gimme thirty.”

For a moment, you almost felt a bit worried that you were pushing Lewis too hard. But you had reminded him of the safeword he’d chosen earlier, and if it was truly too much, he would've used it by now. He was a grown man that could handle himself. So about halfway through the push-ups, you sat primly on top of his back, even crossing your legs. 

It slowed him down significantly, but he seemed to enjoy the challenge nonetheless. You even felt his back muscles shake with what sounded like quiet laughter at the predicament he'd gotten himself into. You rubbed his shoulder blade appraisingly at the end of the last one before standing up.

“Don't get up yet,” you instructed. “Stay in plank position. You can cross your knees if you need to.”

Wordlessly, Lewis did as he was told. You stepped in front of him and knelt down slowly, reaching forward to caress his cheek. Just slightly, he leaned into your touch.

“You did such a good job, baby. Now head upstairs, I'll come up after you. Be ready for me, hm?”

His eyes flickered with anticipation as he stood to leave the gym, knowing exactly what came next.

“Is this too tight?”

You tugged on the beautiful red knot you had tied around Lewis’ wrists, creating the perfect cuff. You had him sitting at the edge of your bed, naked save for his briefs. 

He held his wrists up to his face to examine the tie, flexing them to make sure his blood flow wasn't going to be cut off by the end of this. Wrist damage for a driver would not be…ideal.

Lewis nodded. “All good.”

“Alright,” you announced, undoing the test knot. There were three more ropes behind you of varying lengths. “I'm gonna try something a little more complicated now, understand? Strip.”

Soon, you had him lying on his back, both arms tied in front of him with the ropes extending downward to wrap around his navel in a masterful fisherman's harness. You sat back for a minute, admiring your work. The bright red rope stood out over the dark ink of his tattoos where they were visible. You had also added a hip harness that wrapped around his thighs just tightly enough to emphasize the swell of flesh there without making him uncomfortable. A larger knot rested just over his crotch, creating tension right above where his length began and making him look a bit like a Christmas present. You could tell it was the right amount of pressure by the way he'd squirmed beneath your touch while you tied it. 

His thighs were parted slightly, and you ran your hands over them, moving up until you reached the tight expanse of his stomach. You bent down to press slow, tiny kisses to where the skin of his navel was exposed. Lewis was silent the entire time, but shivered beneath your lips. You made contact everywhere but where he truly wanted it.

Finally, you moved back down, positioning yourself so that it looked as if you would take him into your mouth. You looked up from your vantage point to meet pleading eyes. He looked gorgeous like this—helpless, full lips slightly parted to let out labored breaths. Very slowly, you licked him from the base all the way up, ‘kissing’ the tip. A stifled sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan left him. His knee jerked upwards a little, making you laugh.

“Is that what you need? Hm?”

“Please.”

Kissing his inner thigh, you got up from the mattress and began removing your shirt. Excruciatingly slowly. You watched Lewis’ eyes lazily roam over your figure as you slid your leggings, then your underwear down past your knees before finally kicking them off and rejoining him.

You teased him a bit once you were hovering over him, letting the tip press against your entrance and slip inside a little before allowing it to slide back out. 

With no hands at his disposal, there was nothing Lewis could do about it. 

Finally you fit the rest of it in, sheathing him up to the hilt while his hips jerked upwards involuntarily. Warmth soaked you when you heard a breathy ‘ah’ fall from his lips in response. 

You leaned forward to plant a kiss on his forehead before stroking him at a controlled speed. It was fascinating to you to observe which muscles twitched and which limbs strained against the harness. 

The veins running up Lewis forearm, for example, became more pronounced as you came down harder on him with each stroke. His pectorals and abs contracted at the same time as you felt him throbbing inside you. You wouldn't let him have it so easily, though. You found your G-spot and rubbed him against it. The friction made you tremble with waves of pleasure, but it made him hiss. Again—not much he could do about it.

You felt your orgasm building, like a knot that increased in size in one spot, growing tighter every second. A low moan from beneath you brought your attention back to Lewis, whose bottom lip was now pink and flushed with the force of him biting down on it, eyes glassy and distant. You made a mental note to keep him from doing that next time. He had always been too quiet for your liking.

Allowing yourself to get lost in his vacant stare, you shuddered and the knot in your core unraveled itself, making your world go white for just a moment as fluids spilled out of you, making a mess. You rocked your hips into his on the way back down to Earth to bring your partner over the edge with you to completion. The sound of ragged breaths and the quiet roar of the fan in the background were the only sounds filling the room.

You brought a hand up to Lewis’ face, and patted his cheek to bring him back to you. A crease formed between his brows as he blinked several times before his breathing began to steady again.

“How was that?” You asked after catching your own breath, climbing off him and rolling over to his right to begin unraveling some of the knots. 

As the rope came undone, you examined the indent marks it left behind on his skin. Nothing thankfully seemed inflamed or irritated. Lewis stretched out his arms once they were freed, wiggling and stretching his fingers to loosen them up after being held in tight fists. He brought them down to rest over his stomach as you moved on to his thighs.

In a thin voice weighed down by fatigue, he replied, “It was…I dunno, really.”

You paused to meet his eyes with a concerned expression. 

“Were you uncomfortable?”

He shook his head, “Nah, I was doing fine. Just took a lot out of me. More than I expected.”

The ropes fell away from his thighs and navel. “Anything else?”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “What, you want a post-race interview?”

“Well, what was it about the whole exercise thing?” You laughed. “Other than me telling you what to do.”

Lewis opened his mouth to speak, but ended up letting out a yawn instead before answering.

“I didn't have to think about anything. Hand me those?” He pointed to his briefs where they lay on the floor by the foot of the bed. You picked them up and gave them to him, watching him swing his legs over the side of the mattress to pull them on.

“You have to think about your speed and form, though.”

“That's instinct at this point,” he turned to you. “When I'm working out solo, all I'm thinking about is racing stuff. But when I'm here, I'm just focused on following the sound of your voice.”

You tugged on your leggings before lying next to him on your back. “Makes more sense when you put it that way.”

Lewis pulled his knees up to his chin. The action made you smile warmly while he wasn't looking. He had moments where he looked particularly wide-eyed and excited at something, or laughed without abandon that reminded you of the kid he used to be. Giving into your instincts, you reached over and pushed one of his braids away from his face and behind his ear. He gave you a curious sidelong glance.

“What?”

“Nothing. You're cute.”

“I'm forty.”

“And?”

You pinched his cheek, which seemed to be the final straw. Lewis shook his head with a tiny grin and got up to leave the room. 

“Where are you going?”

“To use your blender.”

“Don't go using up the last of my mangoes!”

“I'll try!” He said as you watched his figure retreat further down the hallway. 

[veephoenix]

debts to pay - n.f. one shot

nick folio x fem. reader one shot ✨ words: 1.5k summary: reader goes to a motorcycle garage (the same one where Nick works) to settle her brother’s debt, only to find herself short on cash. trigger warnings: swearing, threats, open ending

DEBTS TO PAY 💵

The garage reeked of oil and rubber, and there was rock music blaring from a speaker wedged in some corner. Rows of motorcycles lined the space, and two cars were parked in the driveway, waiting for service. 

She felt out of place the moment she stepped inside. She was dressed in tight black jeans and heeled boots, a white tank top hugging her upper curves. The sun kissed her bare shoulders and arms. 

She headed straight for the office at the back of the garage. Through the glass windows separating the workshop from the administrative space, she spotted Russell hunched over a cluttered desk, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The owner of the place didn’t seem to mind the thick fumes mixing with the smoke he exhaled as his eyes dragged over papers, his usual scowl deepening. She dreaded talking to him, so much that she completely missed the young man on the other side of the garage, seated on a low stool, working on a Harley-Davidson. 

Nick noticed her the moment she appeared down the block, with her hair down and that golden skin that reminded him—who was covered in greasy—of how different they both were. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she made her way in, noticing how she put on a confident armor even though she was shaking nervous inside. 

She knocked twice before stepping into the office.

“Russell,” she greeted.

He looked up. “Oh, finally,” he said without amusement. “You got the money?”

“Yeah,” she replied. She didn’t hesitate when she pulled a folded envelope from her crisscrossed purse and laid it on the desk. Russell took it, peeled it open, counted the money, and his expression darkened. 

“This ain’t it.” 

“What do you mean? My brother said the money was all there. He told me it would cover the debt,” she explained, gesturing toward the cash still in his hands. 

“Your brother is a liar, sugar,” he scoffed. “And I don’t do charity. He owes me, and instead of facing me himself, he sends you to deal with his bullshit? Good. That means now you owe me.”

“What?”

“A quarter of the money is missing,” Russell clarified. 

Her pulse spiked. Her brother had assured her the full amount was there. She had insisted—she didn’t want to get caught up in his mess—and yet, here she was. Again. She was going to smack his face when she saw him again. 

“So? How are you planning on making up for it, sugar?”

She stiffened. She didn’t like the way he called her ‘sugar’. There was a condescension laced in his tone, implications she didn’t want to think of. She had a feeling he wasn’t going to let her leave the place without an answer—a satisfying one. 

“I—…” What? What could she offer this man? She could barely keep herself afloat, and now she was indebted to a man like Russell because of her brother’s reckless decisions? 

Russell leaned back on his chair, taking another drag of his cigarette as his eyes roamed over her, assessing in a way that made her feel terribly uncomfortable. 

She was about to tell him to fuck off and run out of there, consequences be damned, when a voice cut in from her back. 

“I’ll take care of it.”

She turned around to see Nick standing by the door. He was wearing a faded band t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. His usual cap was pulled low over his dark hair, though a few strands had escaped at the back. He had grease stains all over his arms, on his neck and on his face. 

He looked… ridiculously hot. 

Russell turned his eyes to Folio, irritation flaring. “And why the hell would you do that?”

Nick shrugged, his brown eyes flicking toward her but without letting her see more than a casual look. “Because I want to.”

She blinked, stunned.

She’d talked to Nick before. He was her brother’s friend. They’d met each other at parties and exchanged a few words and flirtations and what not. She felt attracted to him, and she had an inkling that he might feel the same… However, neither of them had ever crossed the line because they knew they couldn’t. You don’t get involved with your older brother’s friends. Everybody knows that. 

For that same reason, she hadn’t expected Nick to step in for her—well, for her brother, after all. Maybe that’s what it was? Maybe Nick was doing it for her brother and not for her.

Russell studied Nick the same way she did, processing his answer. Then he exhaled through his nose. Without giving her a chance to have a say, he waved a dismissive hand and said, “Fine. I want the money on this table before 9pm. Now get back to work, Folio. I don’t have all day.” 

“Yep.”

Without sparing him—or her—another glance, Nick turned and walked back to his spot in the garage, returning to his unfinished work on the Harley.  

She stood there, eyes following him. 

“You considering another form of payment?” 

She startled at Russell’s voice. Immediately she snapped her gaze back to him. “No.”

“Then get out. I don’t need you or your brother giving me any more trouble.” He pointed a thick finger at her. “But if Nick doesn’t pay up tonight, I’ll be coming after you. You can thank your brother for that.”

“Sure,” she replied, trying hard to keep her sarcastic tone from spilling.  

She left the office, stealing one more glance at Russell’s desk, where the envelope her brother had given here still lay, bills scattered on top. When Russell caught her eyes, he gathered the money in his big, old hands and put it away. 

She crossed the garage with a heavy sigh, pushing some hair away from her face. She was about to leave when her eyes seemed to gravitate toward Nick. He was crouched low behind a motorbike, tightening something on the bike’s engine.  

She ruminated whether approach him or leave, get this over with. However, her voice was faster than her mind. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Nick’s hand stilled. She couldn’t see his face until he tilted his head back and stretched his neck to look at her. “What?”

He shouldn’t look that good, covered in grease and sweat, in old clothes and with his hair pushed back by a worn cap. 

But he did, and she was staring regardless of her intentions. 

“I said you didn’t have to do that.”

After a two-second beat, he smirked. “Yeah, I did. Your brother can be an asshole,” he stated, turning back to his work. “You shouldn’t have to clean up his messes.”

“Well,” she was taken aback by the unexpected empathy. “Thank you, I guess.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

She frowned, a hand going to the strap of her bag. 

“I owe Russell now,” Nick clarified. Then stretched his neck to lay his intent eyes on her again. “And you owe me.”

Shit. Her stomach tightened. She should’ve seen this coming.

She folded her arms. “How much?”

Nick let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head and standing up. “Not money.”

Her pulse skipped. “Then what?”

Nick tilted his head, eyes dragging over her face like he was considering his options.

“Relax, doll” he said, his voice lower now. “I’m not gonna ask for anything crazy. You’ve got enough with your brother’s shit. But since I’m saving your ass, we need to figure out a way for you to pay me back.”

“You’re just like him, aren’t you?” she retorted, narrowing her eyes and pointing with her head toward Russell’s office.

“No, I’m not. Trust me.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Not sure. But I like the idea of you owing me.” His voice was lazy, teasing. 

She huffed a quiet laugh. “You really think I’m just going to let you toy with me?”

“I think you like the idea more than you’re willing to admit.”

Damn him. He was too good at this—at reading her, at knowing exactly how to push just enough without making her run. They’d played this game before, but never to this extent.

Fine. If he wanted to play, she could play too.

Huffing and smirking, she took deliberate steps toward him. She was done letting men rule her life.

She moved close enough that their bodies nearly touched. She really didn’t want to get any grease on her clean, nice clothes, but… She reached up until her fingers touched the collar of his shirt. Nick’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second.

“What if you end up owing me by the time we’re done, Folio? What would my brother say then, huh?”

His amusement suddenly changed into something else. Yeah, her brother was a problem, but at this point, he owed both of them. So maybe it was time to cross that line they’d always stayed behind. 

“Well, that sounded like a challenge,” Nick mused, rising his eyebrows. “And I love a good challenge,” he continued, glancing at the bikes waiting for him. 

“Maybe it was.”

Nick whistled, shaking his head. “I knew you weren’t as innocent as you looked.”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” She dropped her hand and took a step back. 

For a moment, they just stood there, the tension building. 

“Alright,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. “Let’s start settling your debt with a date. Tomorrow evening. 8pm. I’ll pick you up on my bike.”

[bcyhoods]

can I request steve taking care of a sick shy!reader?

the universe knew i needed inspiration and they said BAM, now ur sick :P so essentially……..this is self-indulgent, i apologize in advance | 1k fluff, fem!reader

You’d first assumed that the itch in the back of your throat was trivial. The cold morning air had irritated your lungs before and it would usually go away within the first hour of being awake. But something about this particular itch could not be satisfied, no matter how many times you’d cleared your throat or how much water you drank. Then your nose started running.

A few harsh, involuntary coughs and an empty tissue box later, you’d reluctantly accepted your fate. You were sick.

When you called to tell Steve, you didn’t expect him to make a big deal about it. You severely underestimated just how tight you had him wrapped around your finger. Not even half an hour later, he was at your doorstep with a giant paper bag full of cough syrups and other remedies. He sported a cute frown upon seeing you answer the door with a chapped nose and a blanket draped over your shoulders.

He was here to bear witness to your sickness in all its raw glory. You’d feel more embarrassed if it wasn’t Steve. Nonetheless, you shrink into your pillows as he dotes on you.

“Hmm.” He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. He’s sitting on the edge of your bed, right beside your legs as you sit up against the headboard. His nose scrunches and makes his wire frames slip slightly down his nose.

“You feel a little warm, but I don’t think you have a fever,” he deduces. He hauls the paper bag off the floor to sit in his lap while he digs through to find the proper medicine bottle.

You see, Steve had no idea how sick you felt when he was speeding over to the general store. He didn’t want to get you something that’d be completely useless. So with the help of Joyce Byers, he practically raided the aisles and purchased as many daily capsules and herbal teas that he could get his hands on. Your medicine cabinet will be stocked for at least the next couple years.

A sound of satisfaction pulls your attention to the bottle of cough syrup in his hand. The bright orange liquid taunts you as it sloshes against the plastic when he pushes it your way.

“Do I have to?” You whine, lips beginning to curl at the mere memory of its offensive taste, “It’s gross, Steve.”

“I know, honey, but it’s just one spoonful. You can do a spoonful,” he tells you so confidently that it makes you hiccup.

Upon seeing the twist in your expression, he sweetens the deal with the promise of homemade chicken noodle soup and a few kisses — the latter you begrudgingly refuse so as to not pass the cold.

He pours the syrup into the shallow bowl of a spoon, chuckling at the grimace that’s still present on your face. You push yourself to sit up straighter and sniffle as he moves the spoon closer to you. Your stomach dips when you see him smile and nod in simple assurance before you’re opening your mouth.

Your lips wrap around the metal and you’re immediately recoiling at the foul flavour.

“See? I told you, you could do it. Look how easy that was.”

It makes your chest flutter. He’s reaching down into the bag again to grab a water bottle and your arms spring for it. Steve chuckles at your eagerness as he watches you quickly unscrew the cap and chug. The remnants of the medicine burn the back of your throat and your eyes briefly water at the sting.

“You okay?” He caresses your calf over the thick comforter when he asks. It makes your shoulders droop — you ache to feel his cold hands in your warm skin. You nod sheepishly and avert your eyes from his stare.

“Thank you, doctor,” you say without much thought.

Steve perks up. There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he hums and takes the bottle from your hands.

“Doctor, huh? Are you into that? Doctor Harrington?” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

A cough of surprise pushes out past your lips and you can feel your heart beating wildly against your rib cage. Your leg burns where his hand rests and the sensation rushes right to the top of your head. His taunting gaze makes your hands fly to your cheeks and a shy grin fights its way onto your face.

“What? No, I…” Steve’s brow jumps up to challenge you. You attempt to steel yourself, but eyes dart everywhere but his face. “I’m into being healthy,” you reply, voice shaky.

“Right, yeah. Totally. But you’re also into me, right?” He scoots closer to you as his hand slowly inches up toward your thigh.

“Steve,” you scold him and shut your eyes.

“Oh. You’re so into me, it’s making you sick, my poor girl,” he teases before leaning over to kiss your jaw down to your throat. You giggle as tufts of his hair tickle your cheeks and then you’re pulling him back. His lips drag up the column of your neck until he’s reaching your lips. It’s feather-light before you’re pulling back.

“I’m gross right now,” you mutter with a frown, referring to your cold. But Steve takes great offense. He pouts.

“This bug got you good. Making you delirious.” He dives back in for your lips. It’s firm this time, like he’s proving a point. It makes you sigh and grab at his biceps as he’s pushing you up against your headboard. When his hand moves to cup your cheek and pull you closer, you start pushing at his shoulders.

“Steve,” you whine into his mouth, “I’m gonna get you sick.”

“Come on, I have a solid immune system,” he insists, “I’m basically superhuman. I think I can handle a few kisses.”

Steve thinks he’s just about the luckiest person in the world when you smile and laugh. And also because he’s got you to take care of him when he inevitably gets sick the following week.

[galaxyedging]

Marcus Moreno x f!reader

Warnings: protected P in V sex. Talk of sex work.

Summary: A new client finds her perfect match at one of the motel's Fantasy Weekends.

And It Just Keeps Getting Better

Part 2: It's Always the Quiet Ones.

The bass practically shook the walls of the reception hall.

"Someone go tell Omar to turn it down!" Pike calls as he joins the group outside.

"Tell him my hangover would thank him for it." Dieter adds, wincing as he rubs his temples.

"I have some oils that could soothe that, Princesa." Oberyn offers, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he looks at the permanently dishevelled man that he has taken quite a shine to.

"I'm good. Thanks." Dieter offers him a lop-sided smile of his own.

"Remember we need to circulate and talk to the guests. Not each other." Pike glanced at Oberyn's hand resting on Dieter's shoulder. "I'll have Omar turn the music down so we can actually hear them. Santos is serving food in an hour. That will give the guests time to choose from the other menu."

The Fantasy Weekend was always popular. It cost extra but guests were able to get to know the boys before they chose how they wanted to spend their weekend. Usually bookings were just made through Ezra. He would draw out every detail he needed to pair the person up with the perfect partner. Some were simple. A woman calls up looking for a cowboy, he books her in with Jack. A guy calls looking for the same thing, he gets Silva. Ezra enjoys the more complex ones. The one where he has to listen to what's being said between the words. The woman who insists she is not interested in romance and adamant that she just wants a rough, thrilling fuck. Ezra thinks the lady doth protest too much and sends her to Javier. They definitely gets her hard, satisfying fucking, there's no doubt about that. But a look from Javier's dark eyes that seem to magnify every emotion, shining with concern as he hands her a glass of water reminds her what she is missing out on. It's a cathartic realisation. It's okay to want something outside of the career she's worked so hard for.

Occasionally people ask what happens if they don't find their matches attractive. Ezra reassures them with a chuckle that they will. He's never had a customer who didn't fall for the charm of the boys.

"We have a couple of guests in the side room. Pike and I will tend to them." Moreno steps through the gathering of bodies. "You all know the drill. When Max has finished his introductions, go mingle. Javier and Din will keep an eye on everyone."

"Yes, boss." Jack tips his hat as Joel hides a smirk. Neither of them mind the Marcuses taking control of things, they just find their pathological need for organisation amusing.

Pike mutters a head count under his breath. "Wait, where's Dave?"

Frankie adjusts his cap and clears his throat. "He got a head start on things."

As if on cue Omar finally turned the music down. The sounds of ecstatic screaming came from above.

Dave York was like a predator, when the guests were herded in he would eye them up, looking for any weak ones to pick off. The timid little things were even more impressed by his prowess. That earned him a bigger tip, excellent word of mouth and repeat business. Plus it meant everything was on his terms, Dave hated to be dictated to. That was another reason he gave gatherings a miss. Once he lays his current client out for the night he might swing by to pick up someone who got off on the danger of him having someone else waiting for him. The wedding ring he wore fuelled the fantasy as he slipped his fingers into their panties to tease them before rapidly fucking them in a dark corner. Sending them on their way on shaking legs.

"Of course." Pike sighed.

"Here, at the Hotel de Deseo. We leave no wish unfulfilled!" Max finishes his intro with a flourish.

"Here we go." Joel yanks the doors open leaving those more comfortable with the attention to go in first. Of course, Oberyn and Dieter are first through. The crowd's gaze is mixed. Lust, approval and admiration cross their faces. Each of them give the men appraising glaces, up and down, before settling on the flower each man had pinned to their lapel, or sweater in Dieter's case. To aid the guests in their search for their perfect fantasy partner, each man wore a flower denoting their sexuality. Simple white blooms from the men that only slept with women. Green carnations for the men that only slept with men. Rainbow roses for everyone in between.

Silva and Gregor always elicited a few disappointed sighs from the women. The same goes for Joel, Pike and Moreno with the men.

Finally the pounding base was turned off. Every muscle in your body relaxed slightly, only for a moment. The nice woman, Mrs Lord, that showed you had given you a brief rundown of what to expect. After the dancing and mingling to loosen up. The men would enter and circulate, giving everyone time to work out who they'd like to spend the night with. From the cheering, you guessed that the men had entered. Suddenly you couldn't remember the courage that had brought you here. It was as if someone else called the number and made all the arrangements. Someone else picked a beautiful floral underwear set. Someone else delicately sprayed perfume over your decolletage, hoping that someone would get close enough to enjoy it. It wasn't an all together strange feeling to feel like someone else was controlling your body. Some days you felt like an imposter in it, just going through the motions of acting like a human being.

The door to the simply furnished side room you were sitting in opened. Kind brown eyes framed by thick black glasses meet yours as a smartly dressed man enters the room. He gives you a friendly smile as he edges closer giving you time to adjust to his presence.

"Hi, I thought there were two of you?" He glances around the small room as if he expects the other woman that was here to break out of the camouflage she's using to hide in the tiny room.

The owl-like motion makes you smile. "She got up the courage to go out there."

"But you're happy here…?" His question seems loaded as your fingers dig in the sofa cushions on either side of your thighs.

"Yeah, yes." A bubble of emotion bursts in your throat. "No. To be honest, I thought I could do this…I can't." Shaking your head, you hang it low.

"Can't do what? Sit on a sofa? That's all we're doing right now." The sofa dips on the other side under his weight. "There is absolutely no pressure to go any further with this. You can leave. We'll give you a refund of what you've paid so far. Since you have come all the way out here, maybe you could at least tell me what you're looking for."

"Sex." The word shoots out before you can stop it. You had an appreciation for honesty but that was blunt even for you. "I mean…"

Tiny laughter lines bloom on the man's face. He somehow manages to be even more attractive as he laughs at your candour. "It's okay. I appreciate your honesty. Sorry, forgive my bad manners. I'm Marcus. I'm here to help you find your perfect partner for the night, and the weekend if you'd like. I'm just going to ask you a few questions if that's okay?"

He flips over the clipboard on his lap.

"Yeah. Sure. Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask away. I'm here if you need anything at all."

"Are you one of the partners I could pick?"

When he nervously removes his glasses to clean them and you see his warm eyes properly, you're sure that he is the one. A relieved sigh leaves you when he answers. "Yes, I am."

Marcus diligently takes notes of everything you tell him. After Covid your company decided to have you work from home full time. In some ways it was a blessing. You didn't have to adjust to the world again. You could stay safe in your little bubble. Catering to your needs in a way the work environment just couldn't. The downside was that you met less people. There were less opportunities to find a partner organically. Dating apps and singles nights sounded like a nightmare. Plus you weren't sure if you wanted a relationship. A little human contact of the adult variety could probably keep you feeling fine for a while. That's when you'd heard about the motel. It sounded perfect. No messy social interaction. No second guessing people's intentions. Just a straightforward transactional exchange.

"It really is beautiful out here." Taking a lung full of fresh forest air, you relax as you look out across the lake.

"I thought you might like it. It's peaceful. I come out here to think."

"What do you think about? Sorry, is that too personal?"

"No. Just life I guess. I used to be in law enforcement. I retired for my daughter."

"You have a daughter?"

"Yeah, she lives with her mom. We divorced a couple of years back. I have her every other weekend. Sorry, maybe that was too personal." Marcus was always an open book with his clients when he felt that they needed to connect.

"No. I'm interested in what kind of man chooses to spend his weekends like this."

"A broke one if I'm honest. Some of the guys do it for fun. I got into it for the money but it does have its perks."

"Oh yeah?"

"I'm walking on the beach with a beautiful woman on a gorgeous night. What could be better?" The air between you became awkward. "Sorry. That sounded cheesy even to me. Oh, look we're here."

At the perfect moment you arrive at the beach cabin. It looks like a small one bedroomed log cabin. Recently made by your guess.

"This is Joel's handiwork. Working with wood is his passion." Marcus steps aside to allow you to enter the cabin.

The 'one bedroom' description was very accurate. It was literally a bedroom. A large high bed sat in the middle. A door to the left of it and a nightstand stocked with condoms and lube to the right of it.

"So what do we do now? Do we just have sex?"

Marcus gave you an adorable shy smile. "If that's what you want. How would you like to…"

"I don't know. It's been a while. I'm assuming the part still fit in the same way but I'm nervous about feeling comfortable in my body and want to do..to you."

"You don't have to do anything to me. I'll take care of everything."

The bed was soft but not as soft as Marcus's hands on your hips. His thumbs stroked circles on your bare flesh. His head was currently under your skirt. With your concerns about being naked in front of him he'd simply worked about your dress. Slipping your panties off to give him access before licking you intimately. It was better than you remembered and far better than any toy you had bought to satisfy your urges. His tongue had dipped inside you a couple of times before teasing your clit with kitten licks. A soft whine emanates from you when he brings you to a subdued orgasm.

Embarrassment wells inside you as he emerges with your slick covering his face. He made you feel so good yet you barely made a sound. He must be used to woman who scream his name not repressed woman who are terrified to utter a moan in case their neighbours hear.

"Was that good? You seem a little tense."

Marcus observes.

"It was. Very good. I just…I'm a little uptight naturally I guess."

"I can understand that. A few of the guys here tease me for that. Is there anything I can do to help you with that? How can I put you at ease?"

"No one will come out here, will they?"

"No, the party is still going on. I've booked the room so there's no need for them to."

"Could we put that radio on?"

"Sure, anything in particular you want?"

"No, something soft and can you turn it up?"

Marcus picked a soft Spanish station. The light guitar melody filled the air as he returned to you.

"Do you want me to make love to you now?"

"Yes. Marcus? Where would you like me to touch you?"

"I'll let you know."

Marcus eaes his pants down just far enough to free his sizable erection. Seeing you flinch he makes sure to add a generous amount of lube over the condom.

"Here we go." He pushes inside you like you're made of tissue paper. A slow gentle slide like he's afraid to rip you in two until he's fully inside you.

A strangled gasp cuts from you.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. I just forgot how good that was."

"Hopefully, it will just get better."

When he sees you forget how to breathe with his first thrust. He takes your hands in his holding them on the bed. "Just breathe."

The warmth of him filling you up is incredible. None of your toys can replicate this either. Or his kisses on your shoulder. A moan drifts out of you as you give yourself over to him. Willing yourself to untense and let him give you the satisfaction you came for.

As your body welcomes him, he speeds up. "Oh, that's it. You're taking me so well."

As Marcus lifts off of you slightly he strikes a new angle inside you. "Oh! Marcus."

"My name sounds so beautiful from your lips. Say it again for me, please?" He pumps his hips at the same angle.

"Oh, Marcus! Marcus!" The volume of your voice startles you but he is making you want to scream his name. Anyone in ear shot be damned. Your legs come up around his waist. Shifting you slightly he sinks deeper.

"Oh, yes! God!" Your head is thrown back into the pillows. You're sure that you look possessed. Wild and feral but you can't seem to care as he pounds into you. "Marcus. Marcus. Marcus." All shame leaves you as he builds another orgasm deep inside you. This one almost takes your breath with its intensity and it hasn't even crested yet.

Suddenly it does. "Marcus. Oh, yes. Marcus. Yes!"

"Oh, oh. I'm gonna…ooooh." Marcus adds a few moans of his own as he fills the condom.

Deciding to end the night on a high, that is where your time at the motel ends. Marcus sees you out. A cab picks you up from the front desk.

As Marcus waves you off Dave appears from his room. "Drove one away already Pike? That's a new record." He calls as he descends the stairs.

Marcus usually tries to rise above the barbs but seeing you bloom for him has his pride high. "Was the last record held by you and your stunning people skills?" He snipes at Dave.

"If I send them away it's for medical attention. I just had another one pass out on me." Dave calmly lights a cigarette as Marcus's head whips up his room. "Relax, Boy Scout. She's fine. Kyle's given her the once over. She apparently hadn't squirted before."

Dave finished half his cigarette before stubbing it out against the and throwing it in the trash. "Anyway it means I get to pull a double shift. You coming?"

Max and his wife watch from the office as the two of them walk away.

Marcus takes a last longing look after your cab before heading back to the party.

"I'm surprised we've made it this long with all the testosterone in this place." She teased him.

"Mi Amor, with you handpicking these men, how could we go wrong?"

[pure-garbage]

One Calm Moment... Lana's Carefully Planned Revenge

Zoro didn't see Lana again until the crew was reassembled on the Thousand Sunny. She didn't approach him until they were already under the water, but Zoro didn't feel like she was shunning him. Rather, he just assumed she was taking her time reuniting with the rest of the friends she hadn't seen in such a long time.

It had been a few days since he'd thought about the way she'd stormed away from him, but as she settled behind him, the incident came back to mind.

"What a great view," she sighed at his ear.

"Lots of fish," he said cautiously. 'Is she still angry? I'm not interested in walking on eggshells. Why does she have to be so high maintenance?'

"Hm. No surprise there," Lana said idly. "Think we'll see any shipwrecks?"

Her hands crept up to his shoulders while she spoke. He tensed at her touch at first, but his unease melted away as she began to massage him from behind. Lana could be petty and vengeful, but he sensed no trace of ill-will in her intentions. If anything, her mood seemed to border on playfulness. It also didn't hurt that her firm fingers felt absolutely heavenly as they dug skillfully into taut muscle and sinew.

He breathed a sigh that was equal parts relief and pleasure.

"Shipwrecks aren't that exciting," he yawned, concerns all but forgotten. 'So much for her 'giving me hell' for that little training exercise. She's all talk as usual.'

"Rotting wood, maybe a few old bones," Lana agreed. Brook wandered past, cracking jokes in passing.

"Yes, we can see enough bones aboard this vessel without any need for sinking. Yo-ho-ho-ho!" he chuckled, almost more to himself than the others. "Because... I'm nothing but bones, get it? D'you get it?"

"I get it!" Nami snapped at him.

Lana laughed a little, but didn't let her attention wander far from Zoro.

"How about sea monsters?" she proposed.

"We'll definitely see some monsters," he supposed aloud.

"Think Luffy'll try to eat them?" Lana went on.

"Either that or invite them to join the crew," Zoro grumbled. Their next thought was voiced in unison.

"Or both."

"Or both."

Lana's fingers brushed the back of Zoro's neck, resting on his skin.

'Now... calm-calm time out!'

He slumped bonelessly against her. She caught his limp form, a wicked smirk spreading across her features.

"Now, for my revenge!" she cackled deviously. "My hand still hurts, you big oaf! Did you think I would forget to give you hell for that little game of yours?"

He couldn't hear her, let alone respond, so she was effectively talking to herself. She reached into her pocket and whipped out a black marker. She flipped it skillfully between her fingers, tearing the cap off with her teeth while her left hand remained glued to the back of Zoro's neck.

She went to work drawing spiky horns on his forehead, then blocking over his eyebrows dramatically. She slapped a shakily traced pair of glasses around his eyes, then drew open triangles under them for good measure. She gave him kitty whiskers, a thick handlebar mustache and a sharply pointed goatee.

Nearly out of space, she took a moment to admire her handiwork. As an afterthought, she added a heart to the center of his forehead and jotted her initials inside.

Satisfied, Lana put the marker away and released Zoro from the hold of her devil fruit power. He picked up right where he'd left off, unaware that he'd missed so much as a beat of their conversation.

"I wouldn't mind some roasted sea king myself," he mused.

"Depends on the variety," Lana giggled, continuing to rub his shoulders as if nothing had happened. "Some taste better than others."

"You're not wrong."

Lana had gained an audience while she was doodling on Zoro. Brook, Franky and Chopper gaped at the pair, while Nami covered a giggle with her hand. The gawking wasn't lost on Zoro.

"You guys need something?" he prompted, baffled.

Behind him, Lana put a finger to her lips with a silent wink.

"Well?" Zoro demanded of their friends.

Their crewmates all burst out laughing, further puzzling Zoro.

"Maybe the atmospheric pressure down here is getting to them," Lana suggested slyly.

"Maybe," Zoro shrugged. "Ohh, Lana?"

"Mm?"

"Little harder, right there. Yeah... damn, I missed your back rubs."

____________________________________

"YOU IDIOTS!"

When Zoro, Luff and Sanji finally made it back aboard after fighting the kraken and being separated from the ship, no one was surprised that Nami had words for them. What was surprising, however, was the fact that Lana joined her in the lecture this time.

"Yeah, why couldn't you just take the damned rope?!" she berated the boys, brow twitching from stress that caught Zoro off guard.

"Come on, Lana, not you too!" he scoffed. "Don't tell me you didn't think we could take care of ourselves out there! We're back now and we're fine, so what's the problem?"

"I know you can take care of yourselves, moron!" Lana seethed. Nami focused her wrath on Sanji, apologizing with starry eyes, and Luffy, picking his nose and gazing idly into the far distance. "But this whole environment is out to kill us! It's not natural of us to be down here! Don't you get it?! What if your bubble popped, what then?! Or were you planning to slice the depths until you convinced them not to crush you to death or drown you?!"

Zoro grumbled, but couldn't deny she had a decent point.

"Fine, I'll take the rope next time, geez. Don't act so serious, you're turning into Nami. One worrywart aboard this ship is already more than enough," he acquiesced with a roll of his eyes. He still looked ridiculous, face covered in markings that made it hard for Lana to take the situation seriously, even though she was incredibly, unbelievably upset with the idiotic lapse of judgement. His next words were so hilariously oblivious that her anger couldn't hold up against the humor of the scene.

"Fix your face, why don't you," he went on. "Why does it always look like that?"

"Like what?" Lana asked, unable to stop herself from cracking a smile as he pinched her cheek hard.

"So damn stupid," he griped.

"You're one to talk," she giggled.

Even if his face wasn't still covered in the doodles that represented her vengeance, she knew she wouldn't have been able to stay mad at him.

_____________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[thehungrykat1]

A Flavorful Journey Awaits at Public Eatery in Robinsons Magnolia

After the success of the well-loved The Grid Food Market at the Powerplant Mall in Rockwell, the Tasteless Food Group has embarked on another flavorful adventure, this time at the bustling Robinsons Magnolia mall in New Manila. Public Eatery brings together a wide variety of creative dishes and flavors from some of the country’s top chefs and restaurateurs to let its diners embark on this wonderful culinary ride.

You can find Public Eatery at the fourth floor of Robinsons Magnolia’s new wing. The Hungry Kat was invited to go aboard this gastronomic excursion to sample the amazing dishes being offered by these stalls and restaurants. The food hall itself is quite large, but you can take a look at the map near the entrance to get acquainted with all the lovely foodie choices you have to satisfy your cravings.

Public Eatery is where the neighborhood meets to gather over good food. Robinsons Magnolia's resident food hall is ready to take guests on various culinary adventures. It had been a while since I last visited this mall, so I had to find my way around the new wing to get to the fourth floor which is almost fully occupied by Public Eatery. The place is designed like a modern train station, with food stalls scattered along the hallways and dining areas.

You can choose to sit near the restaurants or by the huge glass windows overlooking the gardens below. The food hall is really spacious and can probably accommodate more than 200 diners at a time. There are currently over 16 food stalls and counting, with notable names such as Scout’s Honor and Bored & Hungry opening soon. This is not just your typical food hall because Public Eatery offers a much more elevated dining experience.

We were privileged to be one of the media partners to be given a special “train ticket” that lets us hop on and explore all of the restaurants inside Public Eatery. With all these options on our table, it took us several yummy visits to complete our flavorful journey and I’m here to let you in on the ride.

Let’s start with some of the featured beverages at the Public Eatery. FRNK is a Japanese Milk Bar that offers a variety of healthy artisanal milk drinks and plant-based options to choose from.

We got the Grape Sea Salt Milk (P165) which comes with a combination of fresh grapes, homemade sea salt milk caps, and basil drops. We paired this with their plant-based Nut Butter Brownies (P140) with dark chocolate and peanut butter for a tasty snack.

If you like coconuts, then you should go for the fresh, healthy and sustainable coconut drinks from Boo Koh. Our local coconut is the star in all their refreshing drinks that combine different flavors and sinkers that you can mix and match. We tried the Ube Coconut Milk (P205) with boba tapioca pearls and nata de coco. Other unique bookoh variants include the Coconut Pandan Gula Melaka Juice, Iced Coconut Vietnamese Coffee, Coconut Aloe Tea, and Coconut Lychee Passionfruit Juice.

Coffee lovers will definitely enjoy the offerings at Morse Coffee which is by the Making it Happen travel vlogger Mike Holaschke. The Flat White Tiramisu (P230) comes with a pair of lady fingers which is a great option any time of the day.

The Bev Bar offers a wide selection of refreshments including coffee, shakes, coolers, juices, yohgurt and even cocktails. Chef Patrick Go is an expert is creating drinks that go perfectly with different kinds of dishes so you will surely find one that suits your tastes. Some of the drinks we tried include The Bev Bar Scramble (P160), their take on the classic childhood beverage we loved to drink, while the Milo Crunch Dinosaur (P120) combines chocolate cereals with the Milo dinosaur drink. They also have healthy fruit teas like the Summer Peach (P115).

Now let’s try some of their appetizers! There’s so much space to explore at the Public Eatery so you will really get thirsty and hungry after walking around the food hall.

You can get freshly shucked Aklan oysters that can be cooked in a variety of ways at the Seafood Oyster Bar. We had the oysters baked in Miso Custard (P360 per 6 pcs.) and it was really fresh and delicious.

Dive into the healthy and vibrant flavors of Hawaii with these poke bowls from Ono Poke. Every bowl is an exploration of coasts and culture with the freshest ingredients and authentic sauces. I ordered the Spicy Tuna Crunch Bowl (P420) which comes with a colorful combination of aburi tuna, tempura flakes, nori, cabbage, green onion, cucumber, furikake, and spicy mayo.

Konbini Karaage is a Japanese-inspired snack bar offering juicy and mouthwatering chicken karaage for those on the go. Each order of Karaage (P189) comes with your choice of powder and sauces which include curry dip, hickory bbq dip. cheese dip. yuzu salt, cheese powder, shichimi togarashi, and others.

Samyan is where you can get your favorite Thai dishes and flavors. Their Crab Pad Thai (P720) is one of the best pad thai versions you can find in the city. This typical Thai street food comes with generous servings of crab meat on top of stir-fried rice noodles mixed with peanuts, scrambled egg, and bean sprouts.

The popular Bad Bird and its umami fried chicken also makes an appearance with its own version of the Fish & Chips (P450). This comes with a huge piece of deep-fried battered fish with fries and tartar sauce on the side.

Don’t forget to visit the stalls on this side which offers main courses that can satisfy even the hungriest of diners.

10 by Tsuke-Men has the Tonkotsu Premium Ramen (P440) which is a rich and hearty bowl of ramen. This has a savory pork chashu and tamago on top of its rich and flavorful pork bone broth.

On the other hand, Anyhow offers its international line-up of ihaw-ihaw where guests can make their own grilled sets. The first step is to choose your meat from pork belly, chicken, bangus, or salmon. Of course, I chose the US Beef Belly (P490) for my meat. I then had it grilled using American Hickory BBQ and served with Garlic Adobo Rice and Mushroom Sisig.

New York Cubao offers an interesting array of Filipino fusion dishes from celebrity chef Myke Sarthou. Chef Tatung, as he is fondly called, upgrades the typical Pinoy breakfast and lunch specialties into its Americanized versions. The Ribs Don’t Lie (P595) are tocino-style pork ribs served with garlic rice, two sunny-side up eggs, and atsara. It’s a peculiar mix of flavors and this is probably the first time we had encountered ribs cooked this way. You have to try it to really experience it.

More of our favorites are just around the corner. Thomson Road is a Singaporean-inspired restaurant from Alabang that offers claypot rice, jumbo shrimp siomai, hearty baos, and laksa.

My husband loves to eat claypot rice so he ordered the Butcher’s Claypot Rice (P380). This one has a sizzling combination of pork belly, chicken, and Chinese chorizo cooked in a rice casserole in seasoned claypot with signature rice crust.

My mother-in-law also joined us on the ride at Public Eatery one day. She wanted to try some of the featured Middle Eastern dishes at OK, Bob where you can enjoy your meals in a different way, especially with their hanging kebab dishes.

The Hanging Truffled Chicken Shish (P550) has tender chicken breast marinated in curry spiced yoghurt and served with Sumac salad, grilled tomato, green chili, and truffle sauce. It’s definitely a unique way of presenting this dish and this is always a popular choice among diners.

As for me, my favorite stall at The Grid Food Market and now here at Public Eatery is still LèChon by Chef Happy Ongpauco-Tiu. I really love their lechon specialties including porchetta, beef, chicken, tuna belly and even sisig so this is the first stall I visited when I arrived.

Chef Happy was present during the media launch of Public Eatery and everyone was excited to try their lechon dishes. The first step is to choose your lechon so I got the Lechon Angus Beef Belly (P525). I had it prepared with Tanglad Butter and served with Grilled Talong and baba ganoush plus Lèchon’s original butter rice. Lastly, I added adobo white sauce as my dip.

We then ended our journey with some artisanal ice cream from Merry Moo. We chose the Salted Caramel ice cream but they have other interesting flavors such as cheesy mamon, auro dark chocolate, Hizon’s mocha cake, and more. Public Eatery is an exciting new food concept that will really elevate the Quezon City and New Manila dining experience. You will never run out of excellent choices whenever you come here. See you again soon at Public Eatery in Robinsons Magnolia!

Public Eatery

4/F Robinsons Magnolia New Wing, Aurora Boulevard, New Manila, Quezon City

(0976) 281-0277

thepubliceatery.com

www.facebook.com/publiceateryph

Instagram: @publiceatery

[sometimesanalice]

Give Me Your Hand {Here Is My Heart}

Summary: You and Bradley have been dating for a couple months now. You want him and he wants you. And it’s getting harder and harder to keep your hands off of him. So what is holding you back?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 9K

Warnings: Fluff, Pining, and Smuttt

(This will be a 2-Part series for characters in the “Like I Can” Universe. It can be read without reading the original series first.)  PART 2

You’ve seen Bradley’s thick, wavy hair in various stages throughout your life. He has a little cowlick tuft in the back that would always pop up if it was cut too short. You’d seen it in high school when he used a little too much product like most boys did at that age. You’d seen it smashed and sweaty from being trapped under a baseball cap for too long.

However, for all the ways you’ve seen it over the years, his hair mussed by your own hands is easily one of your very favorite looks on him.

There is an open bottle of some random red blend you had picked up from the grocery store on the table, you had been more drawn to the label than what was inside of it. Your glasses were mostly untouched, the only clue about whose belonged to who was the imprint of your lower lip left behind on the rim from your lipstick that’s long worn off from your mouth.

And you are straddling Bradley’s denim clad lap enthusiastically making out on his probably-from-Ikea-but-still-very comfortable dark gray couch. The short skirt of your flirty little ruffled red dress sliding higher and higher up your thighs with every movement.

Your hands are undoing what minimal styling he had done to it before you had gotten to his place that evening, while his large ones are everywhere. Traveling the length of your back, squeezing your hips, running over the outsides of your calves. 

It has been almost a couple of months since you had been set up by the Daggers on those truly terrible dates. At the time it seemed like a fun idea to go on all those blind dates, until it wasn’t. 

That is, until Bradley. Being with him had made it all worthwhile. 

There have been plenty of dates since then. Nights out. Nights in. Nights spent laughing at the Hard Deck with his friends. But they all end the same. With Bradley kissing you goodnight. 

In the Bronco.

At your door. 

At his. 

You haven’t stayed the night, not once. Not even after the time where you both fell asleep tangled on his couch. You had woken up it find it was nearly 3 A.M, and even then you still made it a point not to cross the threshold into his bedroom. Even though you wanted to.

The way his mouth is moving against yours is nothing short of sinful. He is so good at making you breathless. So good at making you blush. Having him like this is more than you ever thought you’d get, its deliciously thrilling being the one to pull the low moans and satisfied sighs from him. 

It is almost too easy with Bradley. You’d never let yourself think about forever at this point in a relationship with anyone else. He made it so difficult for you to keep your head on straight when he looked at you with such dizzying adoration. 

It was getting harder and harder not let yourself think about Bradley being the one for all of your last-firsts. Even as you tried to take things with him day by day, moment by moment.

How that evening out on the outdoor terrace could have been your last-first date. That pretty green dress you’d worn, now tucked away in your closet protected in its garment bag, felt special in a way you weren’t sure you were ready to look at too closely.

How that kiss against his Bronco in the parking lot near the beach afterwards could have been your last-first kiss.

How whenever you mustered up the courage to finally give yourself to him entirely that it could be your last-first time.

But one of you had to be the practical one. One of you has to keep their feet on the ground because the other literally as his head in the clouds on a daily basis. You felt constantly at war with bullet pointed logic of your mind and the whatifwhatifwhatifs of your heart.

When Bradley dropped you off back at your car after your post-oceanside-dinner-milkshake-run, he asked you out again for the next weekend. Claimed he wanted you to have a second first date with him, even though you both already were planning on meeting your friends at the Hard Deck the very next night. 

His smile had been so sweet and his eyes so sincere there was no way you were going to turn him down. Even if you didn’t think you needed a second first date with him when the first had been one for the books. 

Bradley’s burning lips work their way down your neck. His hand at the base of your neck keeping you exactly where he wanted you. The delicious drag of his mustache along the sensitive skin of your throat makes your toes curl. His hot mouth sucking softly at your pulse point before laving it with his tongue. Can he feel how fast your heart is beating?

For your second-first date, the only feeling that had been coursing through you that day had been pure excitement knowing it would be Bradley knocking on your door. 

And when he picked you up, he arrived with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a bottle of your favorite champagne in the other.

There was an undeniable giddiness that evening, but also a tentative shyness between the two of you as you sat across from each other at one of the many seafood restaurants that dotted the boardwalk. The table had felt almost too big, since the two of you were both a little too in your heads. 

“Why did it feel easier last time-”

“I feel like I’m on an interview-”

After a couple awkward stops and starts, you both just looked at each other and had to laugh about it. It was better when you moved your place settings and slid into the spot next to him. When his leg nervously bounced under the table, you were close enough to rest a hand on his thigh. 

“Have I told you how pretty you look?”

“Only a few times now,” you replied as you nudged his foot with yours, “But I like hearing it.”

And then slowly but surely the nerves and awkwardness melted away as you two settled into the familiarity of each other. You did call him “Rooster” a couple times on accident, and he ended up almost telling you the same story twice before he realized it halfway through the second time. But it was a comfortable kind of bumbling as you explored the newness of this part of your relationship together.  

Afterwards, he had suggested taking a walk along the beach, you’d readily agreed at the thought of the sand beneath your toes and your fingers tangled between Bradley’s.

You didn’t walk very far before a large canopy made entirely out of thousands of string lights caught your eye. The area was roped off on the beach halfway between the boardwalk and the ocean waves. People were already milling about, some brave souls already dancing away as the final rays from the sunset illuminated them in a golden red light. 

“C’mon, kid,” he’d said already tugging you along with him by the hand, “Let’s check it out.”

“Bradley, I don’t know. This looks like some kind of private event.”

It didn’t click until he was pulling out his phone with the tickets already pulled up and ready to be scanned that he had planned it all along. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to one of these,” you told him with a grin on your face as you waited in the line to exchange your shoes for a pair of light up headphones.

“Have you now?” He was looking very pleased with himself as he slid an arm around you, tucking his hand into the back pocket of your jeans.

“I thought you said you were done with surprises,” you asked teasingly, smoothing down the front of his Hawaiian shirt. Enjoying the way his stomach tensed beneath your hand. 

“Now, where the fun in that? I think I like surprising you,” he murmured into your ear.

When you made your way to the front, he slipped the headphones over your ears before pulling you to the side, bending down to roll up your jeans a bit and then doing the same to his. 

The sand was still warm for the sun under your feet, and the twinkle lights were picking up the golden strands in Bradley’s wavy hair. He was so handsome and he was all yours tonight.

The two of you had the best time as you bounced around between stations, the colors on your headphones changing from blue to red to green as you told the other one to change over whenever a familiar song came on as the inky night settled around you.

You had danced with Bradley plenty of times of the years, like at school dances and at your mom’s second wedding. However, it was always the goofy and fun kind of dancing between friends. Where he would spin you until you were doubled over in laughter or where you’d compete to see who could pull out the most ridiculous moves.  

His fancy footwork and carefree exuberance still amused you to no end, but it was also the good kind of different the way he wrapped his arms around you from behind. You’d felt a good kind of free in the way you let your hips move against him without overthinking it. It was the good kind of exciting the way he feathered kisses down the side of your neck when the music playing through the headphones slowed down.

The two of you moving in sync and touching each other in ways you haven’t indulged in before, a little sweaty and out of breath. You had never felt so truly lighthearted and uninhibited as you did as you danced the night away with Bradley, as he shimmied with you, as he twirled you about, as he held you close. 

By the end of the evening, your cheeks were hurting from the wide smile that hadn’t left your face once the whole night. 

And there was no hesitation in the way you pulled his face to yours as people danced around lost in their own moments on the beach under the twinkle lights and moonlight that night. As you got lost in him.

The rough denim of his jeans between the soft skin of your thighs has you desperate to move against him for more. His fingers are playing with the frilly chiffon fabric of the red dress you bought forever ago and completely forgot about in your closet. You wanted to be as bold as the color you were wearing, to take the lead and slide his hands up your dress to where you both really wanted them to be. Instead you trail your lips long the strong line of his jaw, reveling in the way he sighs your name.

The next date you had planned. 

And the only thing you had told him about it was what time he should expect to be picked up. 

At the time he’d grumbled something about his mom raising him as a gentleman and that meant always picking the girl up. To which, you had retorted that Carole told you not to take nonsense from any man, and that included her son. Phoenix had clicked her glass with yours at that.

Bradley was notoriously bad a keeping a secret, excluding when he had planned that first date, but he was even worse when he was the one being kept in the dark. Needless, to say you thoroughly enjoyed teasing him that whole week before your next date.

And if he ran his hands more over your body as he tried to get you to give him even the smallest of hints, you couldn’t say you minded. 

You’d stopped by his favorite deli on you way home from work and ordered a couple of those giant sandwiches that were piled high with all the cold cuts and too many toppings, along with a few containers of different sides to round out the meal. Your fridge had been stocked his favorite beer from your last grocery run, so you’d grabbed a few cans of those and some sparkling waters and put those in your cooler basket with the other sweet treats you had already bought before you’d quickly changed and left to go pick him up.

You’d barely had the car parked in his driveway of his condo before he was opening the door and throwing his large body in your car.

“It’s not too late to let me drive, kid,” he’d said in greeting, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You really liked this part, the casual physicality of his affection. You liked it a lot.

“Oh please, you just want me to tell you what we’re doing,” you countered, as you backed up and pulled on to the main road. “Plus, I don’t see what your problem is. I drive you around all the time when the Bronco is getting a tune up.”

“Yeah, but only when it’s in the shop. I am physically pained to be in a Honda Civic,” he complained, as he shifted from side to side and moved the seat back trying to get more comfortable. Ever the drama queen.

“Hey, it’s a hybrid! I’m saving the planet,” you lobbed back at him, “How much fuel does your F/A-18 go through?” 

“It’s boring.” There was no missing the derision dripping from the word.

Such a little car snob.

“I think you mean it’s practical,” you replied primly. “I’m not going to apologize for having a car from this century, Bradley.”

“Is it even safe to be this close to the ground?” he groused as he looked at you from over the top of his sunglasses. 

“Well, my lease on this is up soon and I have been thinking about getting an all-American whip,” you paused for a moment as he perked up at the idea of that, “Do you think I would look cute in a Jeep?”

The taunt landed just the way you hoped it would when he groaned and clutched his heart.

“My girl is not driving a Jeep. That’d be like sleeping with the enemy!” he dramatically bemoaned, “The Bronco would stall out of spite knowing you’re driving the competition.”

You hoped he didn’t catch the way you’d clamed up. How your hands had tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles standing out in contrast against the paper-thin skin there.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t slept with someone on the first date before. And while you knew it was a matter of when and not if, you were still having a hard time wrapping your brain around the fact that you would be having sex with Bradley Bradshaw.

But there was fucking and then there was whatever this was. 

It already felt different with him than anyone else you’ve dated before. It felt like it would mean more with him and you couldn’t pretend you weren’t anxious about it.

This was Bradley.

Bradley.

Who had always made it to your tennis matches wearing the t-shirt he had made that boldly sported your last name across his chest after you had complained that the boys’ teams always better funding and therefore got better apparel. He was always the loudest person in the stands, except for your moms when they overdid it on the Sauvignon Blanc.

Bradley.

Who had always sent you your favorite kind of flowers to be delivered on your birthday and never failed to FaceTime with you regardless of where he was in the world or what time it was where he was stationed.

Bradley who was looking so handsome next to you in your practical Honda Civic wearing a snug light blue button up shirt and smelling really good. Woodsy with the tiniest hint of citrus.

With his tousled sun-lightened curls and warm brown eyes. His strong, sturdy nose. That mustache that had no right to look so perfect on his face. You’d liked every version of him you’d know throughout your life, but this one next to you? You lo--

“Light’s green, sweet girl.” He was wearing that little half smirk of his. The one that was entirely too knowing, and that looked entirely too good on him.

You had blinked at him a few times before you had realized you’d been completely caught checking him out. And it wasn’t until the car behind you honked that you were startled out of your Bradley filled mental wanderings.

Thankfully you were saved from further jokes at you or your car’s expense as you pulled into the parking lot of the library, happy for the distraction from your earlier thoughts.

“Do you have some books you need to return?” he asked a bit perplexed, his eyebrow knitting together. 

“Nope,” you answered. Sending him a smug wink as you reached over to click the button to unbuckle his seatbelt. 

He wasn’t the only one who could plan a surprise in this relationship. 

And in the midst of your self-satisfied musings, you had somehow missed the way he had rounded the car until his big hands were on your waist. Then he was turning you around and crowding you against the side of your very practical car.

“This ok?” he rasped questioningly against your ear, stroking your side.

You nodded rapidly. All words had escaped you the second he had pressed his broad, hard body against yours.

It was a miracle you didn’t drop the basket in your hands when his mouth collided with yours, his lips leisurely gliding over yours. You were still getting use to the sensation of his rough mustache on your delicate skin, but you liked the feel of it. 

You liked everything about him.

He pulled away after a few moments, nudging your cheek with his nose, “Hey, you good?”

There was a moment when you thought that maybe he had noticed the way you’d froze in the car when he had made that joke. He knew you so well, but even that felt like a stretch.

“Just peachy,” you replied, as you leaned in for another quick peck. But just as you tried to pull away, he tugged you back in.

“’m not done kissing you yet.”

“Bradley, come on,” you laugh breathlessly, the grin on your face derailing any further plans he had for your mouth. 

“Or, hear me out,” he mused, as he trailed a finger down your arm, until he reached your hand to take the basket from you, “We can make out against your car. Seeing as we’re already very good at that.”

“Nuh-uh.” You shake your head at him. “There will be no more making out.”

“At all?” he coaxed. His thumb sneaking under your top, stroking the skin above your hip.

“For the next couple of hours,” you amended. “Are you going to be trouble?”

“Only the good kind, I promise.” He was wearing that cheeky smile that always left you feeling a little flustered. Threading your fingers together with his free hand, he gestured for you to lead the way. 

You pulled him along with you as you followed the other groups of people who were making their way the same direction around to the back of the library where the large section of grassy lawn was located. 

“Last chance, you sure you don’t want to go make out in the stacks?” he teased as you passed by the entrance, giving you a heated once over, “You always were such a good girl in school, Miss Valedictorian.”

It made your cheeks warm at both the idea of him pressing you against the shelves and from him calling you a good girl. And you were almost tempted to let him have his way. To let him pull you out of the line you were waiting in in favor of finding out what his mouth tasted like in some quiet, dusty corner of the library. 

“Behave, this is an all ages event,” you reminded him, and yourself. He held up his three fingers in Scout’s promise. But you knew better, recognized what that smirk he was wearing meant, so you met him half way, “If you’re good, maybe we can do that for our third date.”

You had felt your pulse radiate through your whole body when he leaned in close and murmured, “I can be good for you.”

A pointed cough jolted you both out of the moment, you had been so wrapped up in him that you had completely missed that the line had moved. Muttering a sheepish Sorry, you tugged a shameless Bradley along with you to catch up with everyone else. 

When you made it to the front of the line, he tried to fish out his wallet before you could reach yours to pay the suggested entry donation fee. The volunteer chuckled as you tossed the blanket you were carrying at your troublesome date’s broad chest. And then you handed over the cash you had withdrawn from the ATM earlier in the day, plus a little more.

You were a patron of the literary arts, after all. A humanitarian with a point to prove. This was your date you had planned for Bradley, you would be the one sweeping him off his feet tonight.

The big screen they had set up gave it away, but you refused to tell him what movie was playing that evening even as he made guess after guess as you wove your way around people to find an unoccupied spot in the grass.

You kept him busy by having him smooth out the blanket until there were absolutely no wrinkles, and then distracted him with all of his favorite goodies as you unpacked them out of your cooler bag. Thankfully, it wasn’t too much longer before the event’s coordinator was welcoming everyone since you had run out of PG-rated ways to keep Bradley diverted without spoiling the evening’s featured film.

When the opening credits had started rolling for Singin’ in the Rain Bradley had turned to you, his wide grin lighting up his whole face. 

“I love this movie,” he said excitedly.

You smiled back at him indulgently, as if you didn’t already know that. However, you still had felt very pleased with yourself that he was so thrilled as you passed him one of the massive, overly filled sandwiches along with a beer. 

You had forgotten to pack some extra plates to put the sides on, so you and Bradley passed the containers of creamy potato salad, tangy coleslaw, and cold tomato salad back and forth. Occasionally feeding the other bites in between watching Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor’s antics on screen. 

A little while later, the two of you had cozied up on the blanket, the leftover food pushed off to one side. Bradley had pulled you into the space between his legs, encouraging you to rest your back against his sturdy chest. You had never felt as perfectly content as you did sitting there wrapped up in his arms sharing a bag of gummy bears and the other boxes of movie candy you had packed as the warm California breeze washed over you.

You had been surrounded by families and other couples, but the way he rested his chin against your shoulder and hummed along with Gene Kelly singing “You Were Meant For Me” was for your ears only.

There isn’t anything in this world that feels as good as Bradley’s wet lips sliding over yours. Nothing as exciting as wondering where his hands will roam to next on your body. Nothing as devastating as when he teases down the strap of your dress off of your shoulder with his nose as his mouth purposefully works along your collarbone.

Ever the gentleman, he’s never pressured you, or even brought it up. You know he is waiting for you to make the move, to let you be the one who sets the pace. To let him know when you’re ready to take that next step with him.

And you want to. You really want to. Even now, you can feel how enticingly hard he is beneath you as you moan into his mouth. 

You know that you’re the one holding you back. 

The one holding the both of you back. 

And you know exactly why.

The closest you two even got to toeing that line into something more was the night you got back home after spending a few days on the East Coast for a work trip. 

Bradley had wanted to pick you up from the airport, but you were getting in late and didn’t want him to lose out on the sleep that he needed to stay safe doing his job. He only let it go once you had promised him you would text him when you landed and got home in one piece.

You had been getting ready for bed after showering off the plane from your body, slipping on an old shirt you had recently rediscovered buried in the back of your dresser when your phone had lit up. And you really shouldn’t have been surprised to see Bradley’s name on your screen well past 2 A.M, but your heart still fluttered seeing his name pop up.

“Yes, Bradley?” you answered with a playful lilt in your tone. 

“Hi, kid,” you could hear the soft smile in his voice, “Did you make it home ok?”

“I did, but what are you still doing awake? You’ve got that new training program that starts tomorrow, and roosters aren’t known for being nocturnal creatures.”

“She’s got jokes, ladies and gentlemen,” he deadpanned flatly before tentatively continuing, “You said you were going to text me when you landed. But my phone has been suspiciously silent.”

You didn’t know if that swooping sensation in your stomach had been from feeling like you’d let him down or from the fact that he was calling you this late because he was worried about you. That he had stayed up wanting to hear from you because you mattered to him. You that you were in his 2 A.M thoughts. 

“I figured you’d be asleep, and I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted self-consciously as you puttered around you room, putting away a few of the things from your suitcase.

And it had been the truth. You had typed out a message when you were waiting in the ride share pick up area with your carry on, but ended up deleting it not wanting to bother him or disturb his sleep. 

“Nah, you’d never bother me. I was waiting to hear from you. Wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyways, not with you being flown around by some random pseudo-captain airline pilot wearing a pair of wings with a brand logo on it.”

The men you had dated in the past had always said the same thing without really meaning it, sending halfhearted thumbs up when you’d let them known you got home after a date or landed safely after a work trip. But Bradley wasn’t like those men, he truly meant the things he said because he cared.

“Not the branded wings,” you teased, before softly saying, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good, sweet girl. I’m just happy you’re home. You free dinner tomorrow? I want to hear all about your trip.”

“For you? Yeah, I think I can clear my schedule.”

“Good,” he said contentedly before pausing for a moment, and you heard rustling on the other end of the line, “So, what are you wearing?”

You burst out laughing, as you finally crawled into your soft bed, grinning wildly, “Bradley Bradshaw, you did not just ask me that!”

“What?” he asked innocently, his chuckle giving him away. “How about this, you tell me and I promise to never bring up the fact that you have contributed to any prematurely gray hairs that might have sprung up in the last few hours.”

“A silver fox Bradley Bradshaw?” Now that was something you were very much looking forward to seeing one day, “Be still my heart.”

“Chances are you won’t have to wait long,” he joked.

“Well, it’s funny you should ask,” you mused as you look down at the threadbare shirt you had on, “Because I am currently wearing a very old Cardinals Baseball shirt.”

He had given it to you after they had won the State Championships his junior year as a thank you for all the time you had spent helping him practice after school and on the weekends leading up to the playoff games.

“You’re messing with me.”

“I would never joke about Washington High school pride.” He laughed at that, because really, when were you not teasing him?

When you didn’t say anything more he’d pressed, “Wait, seriously?”

“Mm-hmm,” you purred smugly, playing with the frayed hem of the shirt.

“I want to see it.”

“Are you asking me to send a photo of myself in bed after 2 A.M?” you asked with faux shock, “Sir, I am a lady.”

That made him snort, “There wasn’t anything ladylike about the way you took down that burger the other week. But seriously. You’ve got sixty seconds, kid. Otherwise I’m coming over there to see it for myself.”

Your breath had caught in your throat. His demand made your heart beat faster in your chest, the two of you had never done anything like this before. 

“Ok, ok. Give me a moment.” 

Working quickly knowing Bradley wasn’t one for idle threats, you positioned yourself where his shirt is clearly visible, but also featured a glimpse of the top of your thighs and a hint of the smirk on your lips. Satisfied you sent it off to him and put the phone back up to your ear.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out incredulously. You didn’t know if he meant to say it out loud or not, but you’d felt the heat work its way in your cheeks all the same.

“Come on then, Bradshaw. You’re up. Tit for tat as it was.”

“I didn’t realize tits were on the table,” he rasped lowly.

You were thankful he hadn’t made this a FaceTime call, so that he didn’t see the way your jaw dropped.

There was a thrumming working its way through your body. There wasn’t anything explicitly dirty happening, but it felt deliciously thrilling all the same. It was exciting doing this with him.

“Nuh-uh, rules are rules. You’ve got sixty seconds,” you tell him, trying to sound more in control than you felt.

A few moments later you see the notification pop down, and you click into the text. The first thing your mind registered was his skin. 

So much golden skin. 

He was leaning against his head board, navy comforter bunched around low on his waist. His hair was a little mussed, and his mouth was pulled to one side in a half-smirk. He was just so handsome, you could even see the fine trail of hairs that led to his---

“Goddammit, Bradley!” you’d exclaimed putting him on speaker, so you could still hear him without putting your phone back up to your ears since you were too busy staring at the picture he had just sent. “Are you kidding me? This is some serious one-handed fodder!” 

You could hear his booming laughter on the other side.

“Happy now?” You could hear how pleased he was with your reaction in his voice.

“Truly, the happiest. You have no idea,” you replied, albeit a distractedly, “But, full disclosure? I am going to be gazing at this so disrespectfully after we hang up.” You’ve never been so bold before, but everything about that moment had been electrifying with him. Because of him.

“Enjoy your one-handed fodder, kid. But full disclosure?” his voice was teasing as he used your own words against you, “You’d need to use both hands. I’m glad you’re home, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, sweet girl.”

He hung up on you without waiting for a response as you gaped into your home screen.

As images filled your head of what it would look like to have both of your hands wrapped the length of him, you let your fingers trail down your stomach and under the waistband of your underwear.

You had already lost a lot of sleep thinking about Bradley. Dreaming about how it would feel to be naked and pressed close along his body. He runs so warm normally, would he be even hotter to the touch as you both rocked against each other? You wanted to know the sounds he made when he came.

Too desperate to come to bother reaching for your vibrator, you had propped your phone against your spare pillow looking at that photo of him cozy and warm in his bed, and with your other hand you easily slid two fingers into yourself. Circling your clit with one hand as you worked yourself with the other.

You wanted his fingers. You wanted his mouth. You wanted his cock. You wanted all of him.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself think about Bradley. His molten brown eyes. His strong forearms. The tantalizing veins of his thick neck. The way his mustache feels against your mouth when you make out in his Bronco. The powerful grace in the way his body moved during a game of dogfight football.

You imagined him unreservedly and unabashedly. 

Above you. 

Below you. 

Behind you.

You came like a flash. Back arching as you spasmed against your own fingers while thinking about his.

And a few minutes later, just as your heart rate had settled back down and you were about to turn your light off, you got a text from him.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝙸 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎-𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘, 𝚔𝚒𝚍.

Which promptly had you tossing your phone away from you as you squealed into your pillow. 

It was so easy to lose yourself in his kiss, breathing in each other’s air. Your mouths are drawn together like magnets. His hands are high on your ribcage, his brave thumb caressing the underside of your breast. You are dizzy off of the feeling of his tongue stroking yours.

There is an earnest yearning in the way you both kiss each other. In the way you touch each other. It’s almost like you’re trying to make up for something. 

“I can feel you thinking, sweet girl,” he says a little breathlessly as he pulls away from your mouth. His lips are swollen and his hair is a wavy, brown mess. “Am I not going a good enough job over here?” 

You know he is teasing you, but you can tell that he is giving you the gentle opening to talk about what distracting thoughts are pulling you out of being in the moment with him.

“I was just thinking about when you picked me up in your old Montero for the first time. You were leaning against it like my very own Jake Ryan,” you tell him as you place kisses across his cheek.

Not exactly the truth, but you don’t want to ruin the mood by telling him what was really on your mind. Not when you wanted to make him feel just as good as he was making you feel.

“I loved that car,” he moans lightly as you kiss along his jaw, his hands sliding up your back.

“I know,” you hum against his ear, “You didn’t talk to me for like a week when I spilled my milkshake in it that one time.”

“I should have kept that car, she was a classic,” he sighs as he leans his head against the back of the couch to look up at you. His hands skimming up and down the sides of your waist, still hard beneath you.

“You know, my parents still think I was some kind of manual stick-shifting wunderkind,” you tell him grinning down at him. Your thumb tracing the long scar there under his Adam’s apple.

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have taught you how to how to drive when you were fourteen,” he says with fondness. The grin on his gorgeous face nothing short of sheepish, “Your mom can never know. I still want her to like me.”

You smile briefly thinking about him teaching you in the afternoons after school when neither of you had practices to attend in the abandoned parking lot across town. 

How he had patiently taught you how to shift from neutral into first even after stalling out multiple times in a row. He had done his best to hid his wincing from you when you inevitably managed to grind the gears because he didn’t want you to feel bad about it. You can still remember how loudly he whooped for you when you managed to start it and get it moving in one go. Afterwards, he had taken you to the ice cream place to celebrate, that time with him in the driver’s seat. 

When you had finally gotten your learner’s permit your parents had called you a natural. And you had immediately known that there was no way you were ever going to tell them you’d learned from Bradley. That was a secret just for the two of you.

“You know,” you muse toying with button on his shirt, “Sixteen-year-old me would probably be losing her mind knowing that I get to make out with you anytime I want.”

“Huh, that so?” he smirks, a hand coming up to play with the ends of your hair, “Did you have a crush on me, kid?”

For the most part, before getting together you had been good about keeping your feelings for Bradley purely platonic. Except for a couple of slip ups here and there over the years, like that time at the Hard Deck after seeing the team play dogfight football for the first time. But that was another secret that you were never going to give up easily. 

Your friendship with him had always meant more to you than anything else.

“Mm, I wouldn’t call it a crush. What I had was a lot of hormones, and it didn’t help that you were pretty.” 

He had always been cute, even as a gangly teen whose arms and legs never seemed to be in sync, but the man looking up at you now was in a league of his own. His warm brown eyes were slightly hooded filled with mischief and something more.

“And now?” Bradley asks teasingly, his other smoothing up your back to press you closer. He leans forward to kiss the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

“Now?” you breathe out, as his mouth moves up along your neck, “Now I still have a lot of hormones, think you’re very handsome, and definitely have a crush on you.”

“Good,” he murmurs as his teeth graze your jaw.

“What about you?” you gasp, melting into him further. You want to keep him talking, so you don’t think about how you want his mouth on other places. He is so hard, so warm, and you want him so bad. 

But for as much as you wanted to strip off your clothes and his to let him have his way with you, it was the last boundary between being just friends and this. It wasn’t something that could ever be undone. And you wanted it so bad, it scared you just how much you wanted that kind of permanence with him.

It’s been almost two months and you’ve had him for years, but you want him like this forever.

“Yeah, there’s been a few times when I’ve caught myself thinking about you in less than friendly ways. You’re gorgeous, and smart, and funny,” He squeezes your waist, before admitting, “Always felt guilty when it happened though.”

He had thought of you too. 

Why did that make your chest hurt? Could you have been doing this for years?

“Tell me,” you quietly urge, running your fingers through his hair encouragingly, “I want to know.” 

You were desperate to know.

“Do you remember that house party we went to that Spring Break you visited me during my senior year at UVA?” he asks, letting his hands lightly trail up and down the tops of your thighs. 

You could have been doing this for years.

You didn’t trust your voice not to wobble and betray you, so you nodded your head instead.

“I had gone in to get us a couple more drinks, and when I came back out there were so many more people in the backyard than there were when I left. I mean, I was probably a little drunk, but it was packed,” he told you as his thumb rubbed small circles near your inner knee, “I remember looking for you when I got distracted by a great set of legs in pair of frayed denim shorts. And as I was working out how I was going to play it as I made my way over to her, she turned around.”

It wasn’t a secret where this was going. You knew what the ending would be before he even started telling you the story. Yet, you were still hanging on his every word with bated breath.

“You turned around. Couldn’t believe I didn’t recognize you in that moment. And the way you smiled at me,” he reaches up and cups your cheek, his thumb lightly tapping on the spot where your dimples lived, “God, I still remember, it hit me like a suckerpunch. Your hair looked so pretty under the string lights they had put up.”

“They were the shitty red and green Christmas kind,” you whisper. 

You remembered that party, it was one of the last times you got to spend uninterrupted one-on-one time with him before he joined the Navy. Before your friendship turned into a long-distance game of catching up and phone tag.

“They were and probably a fire hazard too,” he confirms softly with a chuckle, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you gaze at each other. “I felt so bad afterwards that I had been checking you out. Like I was taking advantage of our friendship somehow.”

This was a new kind of openness between the two of you in this little moment of transparent honesty. A reminder for how well you know each other that there are still new things to learn. 

“I remember when you picked me up from the airport, I think it was like the first time we’d seen each other in person in almost a year. And I had this moment when I saw you waiting for me that realized that the boy I had grown up with was very much a man,” you sit back a bit to better look at him, his cheeks were still flushed from earlier. “But god, Bradley, now? Now, you’re devastating.” 

You wanted him to have these parts of you, to fill him in on the things he didn’t know, the things you kept close to your heart. It was your story, but it belonged to him too.

“C’mere,” he murmurs as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck pulling you back into him. Your mouths are a whisper away from each other as you share the same air, and he is looking at you with such open want, “I didn’t realize until recently how much time I spent trying not to think about you like that when you first moved here. And now that I can, you’re the only thing that’s been on my mind. You’re so fucking distracting, sweet girl.”

If you thought you were needy before, now you felt like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin if you didn’t get your mouth back on his right that very second. 

He meets you half way for a desperate kiss. It’s hungry and open-mouthed. You come alive under his touch, his kiss energizes you in a way that no drug or stimulant ever could.

Your hasty, frantic hands landing everywhere. Never content to linger in one place for long. Not when you have so much of his body you are dying to map with your hands. With your mouth. You want to touch him everywhere. You want to taste him everywhere.

You nibble on the fullness of his lower lip, seeking entrance into his warm mouth. He opens for you without hesitation, his tongue ready and waiting to welcome yours. You can still taste the juicy, full-bodied red on him from that long-forgotten bottle of wine.

He says your name on shattered breath, pulling away only long enough to place wet, hot kisses down your neck, down your chest. Your hands are buried in his hair, clutching at his sunkissed waves.

“This damn bow,” he rasps as he roughly pulls at the little bow at the center of your flirty red dress as if it has personally offended him by its very existence. Once untied it reveals a bit more of the swell of your breasts to his eager eyes. 

Your skin feels almost a size too small for your body, and your throat is tight with want. His kisses were like champagne going straight to your head. His hands are the only thing you want touching you.

You don’t mean to let your hips rock against the firm swell of him, but his resounding groan is quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. And you know in that moment you need to hear it again, and again. So you roll your hips once more, intentionally this time.

Bradley’s low moan of pleasure makes you feel heady and reckless. You lick a stripe along the underside of his jaw. His hands fly to your ass, sliding under that frilly dress, grasping you with greedy hands when you kiss a spot behind his ear. Even in your frenzied state you file away his response to that for later.

And then you are lost in the feel of his mouth. Of his hands on you. Of your hands on him. Of the taste of the skin of his neck. Of the feeling of the zipper on his tight jeans hitting your clit just right as you writhe on top of him.

It starts as a shiver that makes your whole body erupt in goosebumps as he encourages the rolling of your hips against him. You’ve never felt as cared for, as safe as you do in his arms.

The tingling sensation begins at the base of your neck and like a flicker start it shoots down, down the entire length of your spine setting off in your cunt in spectacular electric bursts.

You spasm deliciously and devastatingly against nothing with Bradley pressed thick and hard against the center of you. The shockwaves gripping your body as you’re left gasping and panting into the hollow of his throat. 

“Did you just...?” he asks urgently. You can’t speak yet so you nod vigorously into his neck. “Fuck. That’s so hot.”

Pressing closer, you try to hide from the intensity you know you would find in his eyes. Burying your face further in his neck as you try to catch your breath. You breathe him in in hopes that his soothing cedar scent will help settle the rapid beating of your heart. 

“Sweet girl, please. C’mon, I gotta see you,” he murmurs desperately. He pulls his head back a bit trying to create more room to get a look at you, attempting to coax you out by brushing your hair back, “I need to see it. Please. Let me see your face.”

You can feel how turned on he is, can hear it in his voice. And you’re feeling truly shy around Bradley for probably the first time in your life.

“I’ve been thinking about what you’d sound like for weeks,” he tells you with such soft sincerity.

“Bradley,” you whisper finally pulling away from the sanctuary that is the crook of his neck. His heated gaze roams your face, drinking you in. He brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, this thumb skimming your lower lip. There are a thousand different emotions coursing through you and you know he can read them all. 

“God, you’re so beautiful. Talk to me, please,” he breathes, “What’s going through your mind? It’s just me.”

You have been so careful trying to skirt around this conversation. It has been the elephant in the room after every date, every heated make out session, every honeyed goodnight kiss. 

And you want him too much to keep avoiding this, even though it scares you.

“That’s just it, Bradley, it’s you!”

“It’s me?” he asks confused.

“Yes! It’s you, it’s me, it’s us. It has never been like this with anyone else. I have never felt like this with anyone else. And the way you look at me sometimes, it’s overwhelming.” You were still feeling flustered from your surprise orgasm, and you know you aren’t expressing yourself clearly. But you feel so flayed open before him.

“Hey, hey,” he says soothingly, “If this is too much for you, we can slow it down. Or if you aren’t feeling it, we figure out how to be just friends again.” He can’t hide the wince on his face as he says it, but you know he honestly means it. “It might take me a couple of decades to forget the way you sounded just now, but we would figure it out together.”

“No, I don’t want that. Don’t you get it? I feel the complete opposite, and that’s the problem!” 

“Ok, wait. You just came on my lap, sweet girl,” Bradley’s voice is unmistakably proud, even as he breathes out raggedly. “I’m trying to get my thoughts in order over here. Because that was the best thing I’ve ever heard and I’m having trouble getting my head on right to talk about this. So as much as I love having you on me, we have to readjust before we can continue.”

You make a noise of protest as maneuvers you both so that he is stretched out across the couch, while you’re nestled securely against the back of his couch and half draped over him.

“Let’s try this again,” he says rubbing small circles on your back, “I don’t want to mess this up by not knowing exactly where we stand with things, you are too important to me. Are you worried it’s going to be weird or that it’s not going to be good?”

“No.” That legitimately never even crossed your mind. But now a seed of doubt had been planted in your already anxious mind, “Are you?”

“Not even a little bit,” Bradley tells you with a shake of the head, “I know it’s going to be good.”

“That confident about your sexual prowess, huh?” It felt easier, safer to make a joke.

“Well, yeah. There’s that,” he hums with a half smirk, “But it’s you and me, kid. It’s gonna be good. How could it not be?��

There’s something about his steadfast sureness that warms your chest.

“Can I tell you what I’m worried about?” He waits for your nod of confirmation before continuing, “I’m worried about how I am supposed to function afterwards. How am I supposed to just get up and go to work in the morning after I’ve had you in my bed? Because once I get to have you like that, I’m never going to stop wanting more with you.”

And there’s the longing again, that pull in your stomach. You want him too, you want him too.

You are comforted knowing that he has things that have been on his mind too, that you’re not alone. Even if the two of you are concerned about two different things. And it was only right that you let him in, you could be unreservedly vulnerable for him. 

“Bradley, it’s been so incredibly good with us. But I’m so afraid that once we take this step, that all I am going to be thinking about is that we could have been doing this for years. That we could have had each other like this for years.” Even the idea of it hurts your heart, at the glimmer of the possibility that you could have gotten to this point with him sooner. “And I don’t want to have any regrets about the way our story has gone up until this point. But I especially don’t want to have any regrets about missing out on time with you.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead in understanding. 

“Let me ask you this then, would you trade any of it?” he asks as he slides a hand around your neck to tilt your head up to look at him, “Any of the adventures we had when we were younger? Or the weekend visits? Or any of the late-night milkshake runs for it?”

You knew the answer immediately, “No. No, I wouldn’t trade a thing.”

“Then we’re right on time,” he promises sincerely as he skims his thumb along the line of your jaw. “We’re right on time, sweet girl.”

It’s so perfectly Bradley, the way he knows exactly what your heart needed to hear.

And all the extra pressure you had been feeling releases from your body because it’s Bradley.

It’s just Bradley. It’s just you. 

It’s just you and Bradley. 

It’s been that way since you were kids. 

You’ve had him as a friend. You still have him as a friend. But you also get to have more. 

Of course, it’s going to be good.

Of course, it’s going to be right.

Of course, there were going to be what if’s. It was inevitable.

What you weren’t going to do is let yourself dwell on what-could-have-beens or regrets because you have him here and now. And that is more than enough. 

It’s everything. 

You untangle yourself from him to stand up as he watches you apprehensively. Waiting to see what your next move will be.

Standing in front of Bradley, you hold his gaze as you find the zipper on the side your little red dress. All concern leaves his face as you draw it down slowly before him. He doesn’t blink as you let the silky fabric skim down your body, puddling at your feet. And then he is looking at you with open awe and longing. 

Stepping out of it lightly, you confidently make your way to the stairs towards his bedroom.

“Well, are you coming?”

PART 2

Not to worry, friends! There is more to come! After all, we have to find out what happens once she goes up those stairs!

To those who like to spice up their life a la the Spice Girls, I’ve got more headed your way (and by more, I mean smutttt)! I have a taglist, so let me know if you would like to be added!

I wrote this as a birthday fic for the one and only @gretagerwigsmuse​! (Surprise! See I can be sneaky, even if you already knew about it, haha!) It may be a little late, but I hope it was worth the wait!

Mood board for Part 1

(This is written for part of my ‘Like I Can’ series. You don’t need to read it first, but you might want to. It’s pretty cute! You can check it out here!)

You can check out my other fics here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @chicomonks 

[gojoed]

I SEE THE SAME. | vash x reader. | 1.9k words.

“Did you really think letting them shoot you was a good idea.”

A wince was let loose in the otherwise quiet room. The only noise was the bustle from the town outside, even if it was night, and the static voices of the small radio that Vash always carried. Dim lights made it a little hard but not impossible to see his fresh wound.

Thankfully the bullet only grazed his waist, not getting lodged or going straight through him like other unfortunate instances. But it was still bleeding and if it were up to Vash, he’d let it continue so. But thankfully you were here, so that wasn’t happening tonight.

Sighing, you set down the first aid supplies down on the desk that was positioned near the bed and set yourself down on the chair, wheeling your way over to where Vash was. Seated on the bed, with his head held low and eyes that were shielded by his sunset tinted glasses. His blood seemed to seep through his black turtleneck more, he wasn’t applying any pressure to the wound whatsoever. 

Being a plant yourself, you understood that you both healed quicker than a human, but still it seemed unwise to just leave it like that.

Waving your hand in an upwards motion, you silently told Vash to lift his shirt. He obeyed, lifting it on the side that the wound presided. Vash leaned himself back slightly against the heel of his mechanical hand, while his flesh one held onto the fabric.

Unscrewing the cap from its bottle, you tilted it against a clean rag, letting the water soak it slightly before moving the bottle upright and setting it down on the desk. You moved your hand with the rag over to his exposed waist, but let it hover as you looked up at Vash, asking for permission. 

The glare of the desk light reflected against his glasses in a way that blocked his eyes from view. But he offered a smile, one that felt empty, as if saying “yes.” 

You didn’t need his glasses to be off to know that his eyes would give him away. Guilt. It was one of the most frequent emotions you always could see swimming within him. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and by God, Vash’s was drowning. 

Brushing those thoughts away, you bent forward, slouching a bit to dab at the bullet wound. The bleeding had stopped on its own, that’s good. Vash twitched a little when your free hand placed itself on the skin of his stomach, moving his shirt up. He lifted his arm a bit more.

There he goes again, helping others before himself.

“You know, you didn’t answer my question.”

He stiffened up a bit, but then relaxed as a small chuckle escaped his lips. 

“Well.. it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Your brows furrowed. Vash has had that “good idea” plenty of times during these hundred years or so. The evidence being the canvas of scars that was his body. Just how many more times would he allow himself to be hurt like this, you wondered. Knowing him, he wouldn’t stop, not with the insane amount of guilt that he always seemed to have. 

Once you were satisfied with your work, you tossed the rag onto the bed beside him and grabbed the bandages that were on the table. Ripping the package open with your fingers you placed a bit of medical tape to the free end. Leaving that on the bed for a moment, you placed a piece of gauze on the bullet wound before reaching for the bandages again when you saw that Vash had already gotten it. 

You whispered a small “thank you” for which you got a soft “anytime” from him as you placed the tape on his skin, beginning to wrap the bandages around him. 

Straightening your back you leaned closer to fit the bandages snuggly around his waist; which Vash then prompted to open his legs wider, moving the chair with one of them to move you along with it. Placing you directly in front of him in between his legs. 

Thankfully the wound wasn’t too severe, so you didn’t have to worry about using too much bandage. You had just bought it too, having restocked in town an hour prior to crashing in a pretty decent hotel. The townsfolk didn’t seem to recognize Vash from the wanted paper floating around, so you considered Lady Luck to be on your side. 

Finished with the bandages you cut it off, placing another piece of tape on it to then press it down lightly. You blew out a bit of air through your nose, looking at your handiwork. 

“Ok, all done Vash.”

“Thank you.” 

Looking up you saw him staring at you, glasses gone. He must have taken them off while you were fixated on wrapping him up. 

“Anytime.” You parroted his words back to him.

Light blue eyes made contact with yours before they didn’t, his eyes closing to give you another smile. It seemed a little empty this time. But he still must be thinking about the events that happened in the town before this one. Quite a bit of collateral damage was done to the town, as a result of bounty hunters having spotted you both and decided to see if they could get that sixty billion double dollar prize on their dirty hands. 

There weren’t any casualties to add to the mountain of guilt and shame Vash carried, but there were still injuries. Not to mention that the town’s plant was almost damaged thanks to the recklessness of those bounty hunters. And one of the townspeople who did harbor resentment towards Vash, caused him to have yet another scar. One that you had just cleaned up.

Did Vash really think letting people take their anger out on him would solve anything?

Leaning back onto the chair, it squeaked under the weight of your back. You crossed your arms and sat there, patiently. 

“You’re still thinking about them, huh?”

Vash makes a little noise akin to a squeak. He knows you caught him, and he doesn’t deny it. Opening his eyes you could tell they were a little watery, tears threatening to spill. But he just sniffled and laughed softly. Running a hand through his mop of hair he looked at you.

“Yeah, I am.” 

You were waiting for it.

“But.. I don’t deserve to cry.”

Ah, there it is.

Those same words that you’ve heard countless times as well as the countless times you’ve seen him worry over others than himself. He wanted to cry, but he felt like he didn’t deserve to. To him, it was his inability to act that denied him of such rights. Funny, how he also thinks the actions of his brother are also his fault. 

Uncrossing your arms, you reached for both his hands. You would think that his prosthetic arm would be cold to the touch, being made of Lost Technology. But no, it was warm, just like his hand made of flesh. 

Your actions were unexpected for Vash, and it made him even more confused (but curious) as to why you not only grabbed his hands, but when you followed that with holding yours against his. Palm to palm, each of your hands held in the middle of you both. You lined your fingers up with his, his being a little larger than yours but you didn’t mind. In fact it was one of his traits that you loved about him. The same hands that could hold a gun and pull a trigger were the same ones that held onto your own when traveling in the dunes of the desert.

“What do you see?”

Vash blinked. Once, then again. His tears had subsided slightly so he could see clearer. Looking down at where you two were making contact, he said:

“Well, I see our hands.”

The tone in which his voice was laced with made you laugh, almost snorting.

“Okay, that’s a little obvious. So, what do you notice about them?”

He cocked an eyebrow upwards slightly, biting his bottom lip a little bit. Vash’s hair bounced a bit, as he also moved his head a bit to the side.

“They’re.. They’re like mine.”

“Bingo! If I had some, I might have given you a golden star, y’know.”

That made Vash laugh, his usual cheerful self peeking out a bit now. 

“Okay, what else do you notice about them?” You swayed your hands together, as if doing so would make the answer come easier to him.

“We each have the same amount of fingers?”

“Right on, we both have ten to be exact!”

It was your turn to give him a smile, looking him right in the eyes. But he didn’t meet them, he knew if he looked at them he would break down in an instant. So he kept his eyes on his hands that were connected to yours, he liked the way it felt.

“What else do we have that are the same?”

The comfort he felt was disturbed just a pinch when you intertwined your fingers with his and swayed them side to side, moving both your arms in the process.

“We have two arms!” Vash straightened his back a bit more, your zeal seeming to be infectious and he was your victim. 

It only wavered a little bit when your hands left him too soon, now pointing a finger rather delicately at his face.

“What do we have here that’s the same?”

Vash continued to list off whatever he found that he shared with you. If he said eyes, your fingers would touch right under them. When he said a nose, he chuckled when you booped him, letting your finger stay on the tip. He mirrors your actions, touching wherever you touch him except on you. He let his hands cup your cheeks like you did to him, he let his fingers gently graze your lips just as you did to his.

Vash felt his shoulders relax, the tension slowly releasing. But he felt them quiver when you leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes.

“See, we’re not so different from everyone else right? So if they can cry, if I can cry, then that means you can too.”

Biting his lip he resisted the urge to let the tears fall, but he broke when your hands returned to his and squeezed. Only then did he let a broken sound come out of his equally broken soul. His eyebrows scrunched while he sobbed, the pain in his ribs came and went as his own cries racked within them. Vash wished he could stop, but how could he? When you were the one who pried him open and let the damn fall. 

You switched positions, pulling him into a hug so he could bury his face into the crook of your neck. It was a little awkward on your end thanks to the chair but you didn’t mind, didn’t care. All that mattered to you was that Vash let the pain leak out just like the tears did. 

It took him a few minutes to stop, his chest jumping thanks to the surprising force his sobs contained. He sniffled as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Vash broke the hug first, but returned to placing his forehead against yours and having your hands hold his. 

“So.. I’m thinking pizza and donuts, what do ya say?”

Vash’s laugh broke the nonexistent tension, it sounded a little broken but he smiled. Really smiled.

“I like the way you think.”

© boo-kugo on tumblr. please don’t copy or post my work on other accounts, websites, or platforms.

[zablife]

I Wanna Do Bad Things To You

Alfie x reader (Shelby sister)

Summary: You have a plan to betray your powerful brother with the help of Alfie Solomons, but your impetuous and infuriating behavior is far too dramatic for the mad baker. What happens when he puts you in your place?

Author’s Note: Written for the lovely Alex @cillmequick 6 month milestone celebration. Congrats, darl! Prompt “And what would people say if they listened through the wall?” Oxytocin by Billie Eilish. Inspiration taken from the whole song as well. Porn with little to no plot. Bit of a twisted love story.

Warning: 🔞, language, drinking, smut- impact play, fingering, degradation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (if you squint), dom Alfie, mean Alfie

Before Alfie could answer the loud rapping upon his door, it opened suddenly, the fading rays of the afternoon sun outlining your shapely figure in a heavenly glow. However, A Shelby at his door was rarely a good omen and Alfie surmised you were no angel. The ample cleavage spilling over the top of your tightly fitting bodice and the bottle of Irish whisky in your hand only confirmed his suspicions.

Slamming the door behind you, you sauntered toward him confidently, hips swaying seductively with each step. Alfie eyed you suspiciously, pressing the tips of his fingers together in anticipation of some unreasonable demand or another sent straight from Tommy. “Hello, Miss Shelby. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he said greeting you with a tip of his head.

You giggled and shook your head, playfully chiding, “So formal, Alfie. You should call me Y/n.” Alfie watched you remove your coat slowly and throw it over a chair as you continued. “I think we’re going to become very close you and I.”

“And why would that be?” Alfie asked, leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his stomach.

“I have a business proposition for you,” you said with excitement, boldly taking a seat on the edge of his desk. 

Alfie exhaled loudly muttering, “You Shelbys,” with a shake of his head. “Listen, pet, your brothers thieve my oxygen far too much as it is. Never satisfied with their lot. So you can trot on and tell that cunt Tommy we’re done dealin.’” He motioned to the door with a flick of his wrist, turning his attention to the stack of papers at his elbow. 

Undeterred, you placed the whisky bottle on the desk with a thud, running a fingertip around the edge of the cap lazily as you asked, “What if I told you the deal wasn’t with Tommy? I agree that he’s gotten far too greedy and it’s time we did something about that.” You took a breath before emphasizing, “A more permanent solution.” Your eyes flicked to Alfie to gauge his reaction, but he remained impassive. However, he hadn’t thrown you out yet, so you took that as an encouraging sign. 

Opening the bottle before you with a flourish, you grabbed a nearby glass and began pouring a shot. You slid it across the table, presumptuously asking, “A toast to new partners?”

He frowned, sliding it back to you with two fingers. “Nah,” he replied dismissively.

You tossed your head back with a bubbly laugh, kicking off the desk and slowly approaching Alfie’s chair. He tracked your movement with just his eyes, irritation building at your inability to take a hint that he was uninterested in your scheming. He looked you up and down carefully as you stood before him, noticing how you leaned over to ensure he got a look down your dress. 

You smiled to yourself as you traced a manicured hand along his shirt front, toying with the buttons, one by one. “If you find it hard to swallow, I can loosen up your collar,” you offered. You received a short grunt in reply, perhaps his body betraying his logical mind. Picking up the glass, you offered it to him again with a sweet smile. “It’s the first drop that kills you so there’s no harm in the last,” you joked.

“Wasn’t talking about the whisky, was I?” he asked in a low voice. Then pushing your hand away from his chest he added, “I’m sayin’ no to you, treacle.”

Your smile faded as you struggled to comprehend his sudden rejection. You weren’t used to hearing the word no. Standing to your full height, you pursed your lips in obvious displeasure and attempted to regain composure. “Then tell me why,” you said in a tight voice.

“I could write you a book, but I ain’t got the time. Suffice it to say, I just don’t fucking trust you,” he spat, leaning forward and placing his palms on the desk for emphasis. He stood, signaling the end of your meeting, but you were far from done.

“I hate Tommy as much as you do and I can be valuable to you,” you proclaimed, jutting your chin out with haughty insistence.

Alfie scoffed, “Tommy Shelby’s little sister? Darlin’, this is a man’s world.”

Your blood began to boil that you weren’t being taken seriously. With your plan quickly unraveling, you reached for the glass and downed its contents. But the burn of the alcohol only fueled your rage. You hurled the glass against the wall beside Alfie’s head as you shouted, “You arsehole! You don’t know what I’m capable of!”

Faster than you thought possible, Alfie’s heavy boots thudded against the floorboards in warning. Suddenly his hulking form was towering over you, one large calloused hand reaching out to capture both your wrists in one swift movement. His long fingers encircled you like a rope and tightened with considerable strength, eliciting a whimper from you as you fought to free yourself. He jerked you toward him with a grunt, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

You shook your head to move the fringe from your eyes, realizing he was close enough to feel your pounding heart. However, it wasn’t fear that gripped you in that moment. It was pure adrenaline and excitement. You could feel the heat building in your core as you waited to see what he would do. 

Alfie leaned down to speak to you, jaw clenched with fury. “You’re behaving like a fucking child,” he told you in a low voice. His eyes bore a hole through you and the intensity of it was so great you couldn’t look away. Your chest rose and fell against him, breasts pushing against his broad chest.

He took your chin in his hand harshly, eyes narrowing as he searched your face. “Is that how I should treat you? Like a naughty little girl?” You licked your lips as he continued in a hushed voice, hot breath fanning over your face. “Because I have to admit, right now I want to do very bad things to you, you fucking brat.” As he spoke his eyes darkened with unmistakable lust and you were certain he could feel you bending to his will.

You nodded as best you could with his iron like grip on your jaw. "Yes, I want it," you said breathily. Pleased with your submission, he leaned in to kiss you, pressing his full lips to you insistently and pushing his tongue into your warm, waiting mouth. As he began to pull away he bit your bottom lip harshly as he murmured against the swollen flesh, “You should really run away.” But the wickedness of his words had the opposite effect. You were rooted to the spot, ready for your punishment.

He threw your head away hard enough to turn it and you glimpsed shadows through the frosted glass window. Reality came crashing in on you and you bit your lip as you wondered if Alfie’s employees might be able to see or hear you with their boss. Keeping your eyes trained on the door you asked in a quivering voice, “What would people say if they listened through the wall?”

Alfie’s lips brushed your ear as he growled, “I don’t give a fuck who knows I’m ruining you in here. In fact, I wanna make you yell.” The vibration of his voice sent shock waves straight to your pussy and you felt wetness begin to pool between your legs at his debauchery. You rubbed your thighs together to get some much needed friction, too preoccupied to remember Alfie’s earlier promise of punishment.

You heard the jingle of his belt buckle before you saw the flash of silver beneath his palm and you became aware of Alfie removing his belt, easily sliding the leather strap from his waist. Your breath caught in your chest with a little thrill, knowing you’d thoroughly provoked him. In one swift motion he turned you to face his desk and roughly placed your hands onto the polished wooden surface. He wasted no time turning your skirt up over your waist, exposing you to the cold air. The sudden chill hit and a shiver ran through you.

Alfie stood in silence for a few moments, taking in the sight of you laid out before him. A devilish smirk crossed his lips at the thought of you coming in here without any underwear and he realized he was right to assume you were not as innocent as you seemed. He was going to see how much you could take. How far he could push you. He allowed the anticipation to grow, watching you quiver.

The only sounds came from the distillery, grinding machines and men’s voices shouting to one another. Someone dropped a crate of bottles at the bottom of the stairs, distracting you as the first crack of the strap hit your thigh with a painful sting. You gripped the corners of the desk tightly as a tear sprang to your eye, but you didn’t make a sound as the next blow rained down on your ass. Four more fell in rapid succession and Alfie watched the flesh jiggle with satisfaction. Unable to stop himself, he reached out to grab a handful of you and squeezed appreciatively as you whined at the contact, crying out as he kneaded the sensitive flesh in his rough hands. 

The belt dropped to the floor with a clank and he resumed his work, landing a harsh smack along your thigh so close to your pussy, you felt it begin to throb with need. He waited for you to flinch, but you remained perfectly still, wanting to please him. He stood for a moment stroking his beard as he watched you, feeling his trousers tighten, but he wasn’t finished. 

Raising a ringed hand to you once more, he continued, his open palm landing slaps hard enough to move your body forward along the desk, the edge digging into your hipbones. The sound of Alfie’s grunts and groans of exertion behind you had your mind twisted in confusion. You felt your clit pulse, desperate for attention. As he connected with your ass once more, you began to tear up thinking how close his thick fingers were to where you needed them most. Too frustrated and turned on to remain still any longer, you arched your back, letting out a moan so loud it bordered on a shout. 

Alfie stopped with a jerk, stepping toward you slowly and brought a strong arm to your waist to lift you from the desk. He unlaced your dress as he cooed in your ear, “All finished, pet. You took it so well.” He discarded the material on the floor, erection digging into your burning ass cheek as he carefully ran a hand over the other. You hissed as his cool rings made contact with your sore, reddened flesh and you heard him inhale before exclaiming, “Fucking beautiful sight.” The arm around your waist tightened as a cobra around prey, but his voice remained soft as he hushed you, pushing the hair from your shoulders. 

He left a trail of open mouthed kisses down the nape of your neck before moving on to the crease at your shoulder, the tickling sensation making you squirm. His dominance returned as he began sucking a deep bruise into the thin skin along your collarbone. The sudden intensity of it, causing your hands to fly to his arm, digging your nails in sharply. You panted out little moans for him with each swirl of his tongue, every one of your pretty noises making his cock twitch against you. He rewarded you with another bruise below your ear, his free hand rolling and pinching your exposed nipples to feel them stiffen to a pleasing hardness. 

By the time he switched to the other side of your neck, you were thoroughly marked up and bucking wildly against him from overstimulation. The inside of your upper thighs felt slick with arousal and you were clenching around nothing. If this was part of his discipline, it was not what you had bargained for. You waited in agony, needing to feel him seated within you, the comforting fullness stretching you properly. 

Alfie must have read your mind, turning you to face him. He wiped a tear that escaped the corner of your eye, smiling to himself at the sight of your neediness. Then mercifully he ran a finger along your dripping slit to capture your juices, pushing two thick fingers inside your velvet heat to give you some relief. You sighed softly as he curled his fingers inside you dragging against your inner wall slowly until he found a delicious spot that made your jaw drop in silent ecstasy. As he gave a bit more pressure you swallowed harshly, attempting to sink further onto his hand, but he stopped you, clamping his other hand on your hip.

With an obscene squelching sound, he withdrew his fingers cruelly, swirling his fingertips over your clit to tease you. “I think you must be enjoying this cause you’re making a a fucking mess on my desk,” he chided you. He brought his digits to your eye level to show you the juices dripping off him as proof. Then he placed his fingers on your tongue as he commanded, “Clean it up.” You obediently swirled your tongue over his fingers tasting yourself with every lick. Making eye contact with him you gently sucked with hollowed cheeks as you hummed around his digits. The corners of your lips curled, knowing the vibrations were going straight to his aching cock. “Do you like this, naughty girl?” he asked with a dark chuckle. He watched your pupils blow wide and he nodded, “Good, cause we ain’t finished yet.”

He pulled his fingers from you with a pop, smearing saliva and lipstick across your mouth, and you watched with bated breath as he removed his shirt and trousers. The moment you saw his cock spring free, you reached out to touch him, but he swatted you away. His hand wrapped around his shaft, pumping himself in front of you as an added bit of torture before he ordered you to the sofa in the corner. You scrambled to the shabby piece of furniture as Alfie growled, “On your fucking hands and knees.” As soon as you were in place, you felt the springs dip beneath you with his weight and then you felt his warm hand splayed across the small of your back holding you in place.

You felt the tip of his cock slide through your wet folds, gathering your juices and you shimmied your ass to entice him. Suddenly he was pushing into you all at once, his thickness splitting you open around him. Alfie groaned at the sight of you spread wide for him, unable to stop himself from pulling out and slamming back into you to hear you cry out. His animalistic nature took over, driving into you sharply with a snap of his hips, the force of it causing his balls to slap against your clit over and over. The repeated motion had you panting and moaning in no time and you could practically hear the smirk as he rumbled, “Such a pretty little whore. Let me hear ya.” You clenched around him, mewling at the sensation of him thrusting deep enough to feel in your stomach. Alfie stilled momentarily, enjoying the pulse around his cock and making note of how you gripped him like a vice after he degraded you. Fuck, you liked this and he would give you more.

Soon he began to move within you again at a slower pace, dragging his length within you as you arched your back for him. Alfie leaned forward gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail and gave a harsh tug on your roots. That was all it took for you to push back against him for more greedily. “You get off on being filthy, do ya?” he asked, voice dripping with condescension. You didn’t speak, too overcome by sensation to respond, but Alfie knew your secret now. “Squeezing me so tight, pet. I think you enjoy being a whore for me,” he grunted wrapping your locks around his fist to tilt your head back at a precarious angle.

“Show me now. Make yourself cum on my cock like a good little whore,” he goaded you. You didn’t need to be told again, hand flying to your swollen nub and rubbing tight circles. Your eyes squeezed shut as you listened to the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. Alfie’s grunts didn’t grow any louder as he sped up his pace, urging you on, but your cries reached a deafening crescendo as you felt your lower belly pool with heat, desperate to be released. 

“Wanna cum. I need to cum, please, please,” you babbled feeling Alfie pound into you with reckless abandon. 

Yanking you up by your hair so your back was flush with his chest, Alfie huffed, “Not yet,” clearly annoyed at your pleas. You bit your lip trying to stave off your orgasm, but it was building faster than you could stop it. Feeling the fluttering resume around his cock, Alfie warned, “You better hold it, naughty girl.”

Reaching behind you to grab onto him for stability you whined, “I can’t…I can’t." Alfie’s balls tightened at the sound of your pathetic cries and his hips stuttered suddenly, rhythm lost in the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume him.

Bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear he panted out, “Now…cum right fucking now….with me.” Your fingers flew over your clit, needing only a few light strokes to begin shaking in pleasure. As Alfie released inside you, he bit down on your shoulder. Your jaw went slack as he fucked you through the aftershocks. A primal grunt left his lips at the feeling of your tight pussy milking him of every drop.

Collapsing back onto the sofa, Alfie dragged you with him, making you straddle his lap. You draped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder, feeling your body becoming heavy with exhaustion. He ran a hand along your back soothingly until your heart rates returned to normal, then you heard his voice low and rasped rumble from deep within his chest. “Fuck me, treacle, I could have you like that every day.”

You smiled to yourself wondering if he might reconsider your earlier offer. You sat up to look him in the eye and in a determined voice you ventured, “Alfie, I meant what I said about getting rid of Tommy. We should be partners.”

“Careful, pet, can’t take it back once it’s been set in motion,” Alfie warned you, a hint of his dark nature returning. Then you felt his hand clamp around your throat possessively as he snaked his tongue into your mouth, sparking a desperate clash for dominance and ending with your eventual surrender for air. 

“You and I are the same, Alfie,” you gasped as you balanced a hand on his sweaty chest. Nuzzling his nose with yours you continued, “We need each other for this, the oxytocin.” Nibbling at his lip you admitted wantonly, “I like it when you do bad things to me.”

He gripped your face as he forced you to look up at him. “Think you might be right, but let’s get one thing straight cause I’m a dodgy fucker myself. As long as you’re still breathing, don’t ever think of leaving me.” The low rumble of his voice hypnotized you in such a way you couldn’t deny him. You held his intense gaze as you shook your head.

“Never,” you vowed. 

And that’s how the evening began, plotting to take Tommy’s crown so you could become Alfie’s queen.

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

Tag List:

@shelbydelrey

@wandawiccan60   

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@theshelbyclan

@polishcrazyone

@little-diable

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@dreamlandcreations

@cillmequick

@solomons-finest-rum

@potter-solomons

@hecatemoon87

@inkwolvesandcoffee

@buttercupsandboys

@liliac-dreamer

@vir-tual

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@margaret-morriss-secrethideout

[two-red-lungs]

write literally anything with dwayne go crazy do what you want i am so starved for content i am begging on my knees like that of a mere peasant

Absolutely will do queen here's a stupid little one-shot for you

Walk This Way (Just Gimme a Kiss)

TLB Dwayne/Fem!Reader Fluff

"Wasn't me she was foolin' 'Cause she knew what she was doin' And I know love is here to stay When she told me to walk this way! Walk this way!"

The music was tinny and compressed through the tacky tourist souvenir shop. Even over Aerosmith and the low murmur of the frothing summer boardwalk crowd outside the narrow doorway, the distant roar of the surf was audible.

You ran fingers through the waterfall waves of custom-name keychains, nodding and sideling to the side so a wandering polo-clad tourist could pass you in the front aisle. All tourists stood out like sore thumbs when you knew what to look for. Red-flash sunburns, fat brimmed golf sun visors, dressing like their plane was aiming for Hawaii and crash-landed on the California coast instead. All sure-fire signs of non-locals.

People nobody would kick up a major fuss over. It was Santa Carla after all: officers and neighbors would tut and shake their heads, muttering about how the city got so dangerous at night, how they should have been more careful.

Dwayne always loved how sharp an eye you had. Little hawk, he'd called you once. The other boys had laughed and hooted, repeating it mockingly, but you liked it. Damn if that hadn't made you preen for the rest of the night.

Lone tourist clocked, you scanned the crowded tchotchke store for the familiar face you were so accustomed to, but caught a glimpse of salt-worn leather instead. Dwayne was bent over a display.

"Hey." Hands in the pockets of your denim vest, you knocked at him with an elbow. "C'mon. I've got eyes on dinner."

Dwayne slowly turned around. His expression was stoic, impassive and serious, framed by dark hair. And perched on the bridge of his strong nose, like a majestic tropical bird? The most garish pair of sunglasses you'd ever laid eyes on. Semitranluscent lime-green plastic flecked with gargantuan sparkles and black shiny lenses, all capped off with twin painted palm trees that grew up from the frame corners.

Your entire face was scrunching up in a vain attempt at neutrality. "Lookin' cool."

A beat of silence.

"...Cool." He echoed. His brows slowly raised above the frames.

You lost it, laughing into the back of your hand and swiping at his face to get rid of the horrid things. He ducked your clumsy human swipes easy enough, fingers only finding open air, before breaking into a slow, warm smile and plucking them off his own face. Dwayne settled the eyewear behind your ears and dropped it down onto your nose with a thunk.

"Wow. Thank you." You tried to deadpan, diaphragm still spasming. When he flicked some of your hair to the side, settling it around the arms of the glasses, you let him, figuring he was trying to salvage the look. But then he plopped a hot, broad palm on the crown of your head and mussed your locks and you squawked, batting him away.

Dwayne always laughed so low and warm, like a big cat. "You look stupid." He told you, satisfied.

"Oh yeah, who's fault is that?" You grumbled, yanking off the glasses and shaking your mane out in a vain attempt at returning it to normalcy. As you did so, Dwayne let filament-fine strands of your hair filter through his fingers almost possessively. He waited for you to set the glasses down on the rack before closing the few inches of space between you and craning his head down for a kiss.

Not so much a request, but a demand. One you eagerly conceded to. Dwayne was... oomph. A wall of force. A bull, a heavyweight, a tsunami, and that was on a good day. He was David's first pick for throwing a punch in a gang fight, and with good reason: you could feel strength almost humming inside him like a live wire. Passing like a current through his soft mouth, though his fine layer of stubble that rasped against your upper lip.

There were fingers messing with your vest pocket. The sunglasses returned to your posession. "Keep 'em." Dwayne rolled a noise in the back of his throat, pulling back just enough to look down at you through thick lashes. "It'll be your disguise."

"Disguise. Sure." Your voice cracked for a second: he made you crazy with alarming frequency. You could swear your tongue was buzzing where he had nudged it so softly, so fucking suavely, with the tip of his own a second ago. Fucking tease.

"Yeah. Put them on, you're some random goonie. Take them off, and you're my favorite girl again." He flashed you that smug, shit-eating smile, the smile that said I know I'm all that, I know I'm six feet of all the shit that makes you weak. I always know exactly what to say to you.

You opened your mouth. You closed it again. Dwayne's dark eyes twinkled. "Dinner's leaving." You croaked out eventually.

He hummed. "Fast food. Sounds good."

Then he was off like a shot, smooth-paced striding across the store and flowing around obstacles like water, and you were scrambling after him. The hunter and his loyal little hunting hawk. Tale as old as time, right?

[starlitangels]

Meeting the King

Thanks to @darlincollins awesome post for this! I wrote this at work in all caps because of the way I usually type at work. So... I had to retype 3.2k words instead of just copying and pasting. *heavy sigh* the things I do for my art lol

—

“William wants to meet you,” Sam said as he snapped his phone shut. I stared, face impassive, screaming internally. Unblinking.

“Why?” I asked. “What did I do?”

Sam chuckled. “You didn’t do anythin’ wrong, darlin’. He just wants to meet you.”

“Why?” I repeated.

“Because you’re my partner. And William is the kind of king who wants to know the people who are important to the members of his clan.”

“Because he wants to know what kind of liability I am?” I hoped I didn’t sound too defensive or scared. Even though Sam could and would see right through the neutrality I was trying to maintain in my voice.

“No. Because I’m in love with you, and he wants to put a face to the name.”

William Solaire was the most prominent vampire king in the region. Old Blood. Five hundred years old. A few of the  “friends” I’d run with in the bad crowd that I’d met Quinn in used to call him a spider. A man at the center of a huge, intricate web of connections with so many favors owed to him that he could pull on a single string and the whole city would crumble.

And he wanted to... meet me.

This wasn’t optional. There was no choice here. If William Solaire wanted to meet me, he would meet me. Even if it meant him showing up in my apartment in the middle of the night.

And I’d rather not meet my mate’s king in my pajamas.

I finally blinked. “Okay,” I said.

Sam grinned. “When works for you?”

“Uh...” I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and brought up the security company schedule. David had... encouraged me to start working for the company again, and I’d reluctantly agreed. After the Inversion, half of the pack members my age had been too traumatized to easily make their way back into security work, so I’d begrudgingly started filling in. “I’m not doing anything in the evening on Thursday.” Truth of the matter was I wasn’t doing anything in the evening all week—but I needed some time to steel myself for this little... visit.

Sam nodded. “I’ll let him know,” he said.

I cleared my throat and nodded.

“Hey,” Sam entreated softly, setting a hand on my arm. “There’s nothin’ to worry about.”

“Mmhmm,” I said. “I know.”

—

“You must be Samuel’s partner,” a soft-spoken, French-accented voice said as I opened and closed the door to the office. I blinked to adjust to the light. The hallway of the office building was dim, but William’s office was bright.

The dark wood desk was the size of a twin-sized bed, with an expensive computer on one side. A large office chair sat behind it, in which sat the king. Behind him, a pair of massive bookshelves stood sentry on either side of the large window with its shade drawn. He had a corner office—the other window on the wall to my left sat with its shade open to let the glitter of Dahlia at night in through the glass. The bookshelves were packed to the brim with everything from large leather-bound volumes to... small, cheap, mass-market, paperback harlequin romance books.

I cleared my throat and directed my attention back to the vampire in his office chair. “I am,” I said.

“William Solaire.”

I gave him my name in return. I could have given him “Tank” but he felt like a more formal man and I doubted a nickname would satisfy as a moniker.

“He’s told me so much about you,” William remarked, getting up from his desk. His silver eyes were warm—like Sam’s—and there was kindness in the lines of his face. He looked like he was probably around forty, but the timelessness of his eyes betrayed the centuries behind him. He held out a hand for me to shake. I reached forward and shook it, putting on the old Big Bad Wolf façade to hide my hesitation.

“That doesn’t sound good,” I said sarcastically. “Let me guess: I’m the cagey shifter who trespassed and unintentionally put your clan in the crosshairs of a rogue vampire.”

William chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. “No. He told me that you are the love of his life.”

My ears and neck burned, the heat trying to crawl its way toward my face. Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all. “Oh,” was all I said.

He gestured to one of the cushy leather chairs across from his desk. “Would you like to take a seat?” he offered. I glanced at the chairs.

“Uh... sure.” I sat. Perching awkwardly on the edge of one of the chairs. I expected William to go back around to the other side of his desk to sit in the throne-like office chair, but he didn’t. Just sat in the other one beside mine.

“May I offer you something to drink?”

My first instinct was to make a joke about not finding blood particularly palatable, but I managed to bite back the comment.

“Um...” I picked at one of my nails. “Water is fine.” He smiled and reached around the side of his desk to what I realized was a mini-fridge built into the wood. He extracted a bottle of water and passed it to me. I accepted it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

“I imagine you’re a bit apprehensive,” he remarked.

A bit was an understatement, but like hell was I gonna let that on. “That’s one way to put it,” I said evasively. “I’ve never had occasion to meet a vampire king before.”

“Well, it is fortunate, then, that you and I have this opportunity to become acquainted.”

Sure, if you say so, I thought. “S’pose so,” I agreed.

He chuckled. I wondered what he found amusing. Probably the fact that I was, in fact, cagey. It was instinct. It was habit. And it had usually served me fairly well.

“Samuel speaks highly of you,” William commented.

“I’m... honored.”

He smiled again. The points of his fangs glinted just softly in the lights. “You do not believe you are deserving of praise?”

My hold on my manners slipped and I snorted, rolling my eyes. “It’s never been offered with ease before,” I said. “The only praise I receive is for how I fight. Everything else...” I shrugged.

“Are you aware that I’m acquainted with your alpha?”

“Vaguely aware,” I replied. “David has a lot of respect for you.”

“And I for him,” William said with a nod. “For a man to be made an alpha so young, he has done great things.”

If William thought I was bad at accepting compliments, I couldn’t wait to see David’s face when I told him what William said about him. He would never admit to being flustered—the man was too “dignified” for that—but I knew him. He would be very much flustered. And that mate of his would call him out on it.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m glad to be a member of his pack. He’s always shown me more patience than I deserve.” I swallowed. “David is like a brother to me.”

William nodded. “I understand the sentiment.”

“If I may—uh, sir—why did you want to meet with me? I’ll admit, I’m struggling to imagine that this is purely a social visit.”

He tilted his head to one side. “Ah. I was informed you tend to be blunt,” he remarked. “Very well.”

Here we go, I thought. Time for the other shoe to drop. Time for him to tell me to stay away from Sam. That I was putting Sam, William, and the entire Solaire clan in danger. Time for him to threaten me off. Time for him to ignore any protest I might make about Sam being the mate I’d chosen.

I was tough. I was strong. But I wasn’t strong enough to survive a fight with an Old Blood. Especially one who had managed to say alive for over five hundred years. No one survived that long by being polite and passive all the time. Not in a world like this.

He smiled. “I wanted to get to know you.”

“Uh... what?”

“You mean a great deal to Samuel. And Samuel means a great deal to this clan. As well as me, personally. He is a good man. The person he’s chosen to give his heart to must be someone special.”

I managed to cut off my scoff, but William raised a brow, acknowledging he heard it. “I don’t think ‘special’ is the word I’d use.”

“Then what is?”

“I’m not sure I can choose one that’s appropriate for polite company. What has Sam told you about me?”

“That you have a good heart. That you can be a bit stubborn, but you protect those you care about fiercely. He’s mentioned that you are intelligent and strategic, and a capable combatant.” His eyes drifted to my “Big Nasty”—as the kids in the pack called it—a two-inch, deep scar on my left forearm. Quinn’s claw-like fingernails flashing in the darkness... I shut the memory down before it could bubble up any more.

“But he told you the story of how and why we met, right?”

“Of course.” He nodded.

I cleared my throat. “And that... doesn’t... bother you?”

He was quiet for a few moments, regarding me with a thoughtful gaze. “What about it should bother me?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. The fact that I trespassed on your territory? Putting your clan in potential danger by mere association with me? The fact that I am... the type of person who makes a lot of mistakes and clearly Sam deserves better?”

He raised a brow again. “You think Samuel deserves better?”

“I-I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to have him in my life. I love him. I...” Here we go, I thought. “I... I chose him. To be my mate. I don’t want to live the rest of my life without him. But... I dunno. A man as good as him doesn’t deserve a mess like me.”

William folded his arms as I cracked the lid of the water bottle and took a drink. “Ah,” he said, nodding in understanding. “Would you like my opinion?”

“Uh...”

“Samuel is a man who feels life deeply. He is intelligent, and his heart is full. He is also a man who knows what he wants—even if he doesn’t admit it to himself all the time. If he chose you in return, as he has, you can rest assured that he wants you with his whole heart.” William tucked a loose lock of hair behind his ear. It was dark brown, somewhat curled, and fell just past his shoulders.

My ears and neck started to burn again. I looked away from him, instead focusing my gaze on the bookshelves. There were a lot of titles in languages I didn’t recognize. But I knew more than a few. Moby Dick, The Hunger Games, an obviously well-loved copy of Pride & Prejudice.

In the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to follow my line of sight. “Do you like reading?” he asked.

“I used to,” I answered. “It’s been years since I’ve... had time to just sit down with a book.”

He got up from his seat and crossed to one of the shelves. “What did you used to like to read?”

I shrugged. “Don’t tell my pack, but, uh, really anything I could get my hands on. I had a hard time reading classical literature, but I still liked the stories.”

William nodded, turning slightly to examine the titles. He wiggled his fingers as he moved them down one shelf and extracted a book. “I believe you’d enjoy this one,” he observed, passing me the leather-bound book. Much Ado About Nothing. Shakespeare. “An amusing tale. Shakespeare knew how to make an audience laugh. Would you care to borrow it?”

I leaned away from where he was holding it out to me. “I shouldn’t,” I said. “I don’t think you should trust me with something like that. It looks really old and—”

“If you’d like to read it, you are more than welcome to borrow it.”

Oh man. The thought of just taking some time for myself to relax and read—maybe sitting on the couch at Sam’s place, leaning on him or with my feet up on his lap—it sounded really nice. Just some quiet peace between me and the man I’d chosen to love for the rest of my life.

“A... are you sure?” I asked hesitantly.

“Of course.”

Cautiously, I took the book into my hands and set it on my lap. “Thank you,” I said.

He smiled and sat back down. “My pleasure. Now. Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable sharing.”

Well that narrowed it down.

I took a deep breath through my nose. “Well... I moved to Dahlia when I was a teenager. My family joined Gabe’s pack pretty soon after we got here. Uh... the pack calls me ‘Tank’ because I’m one of the toughest ones. I wear black a lot but my favorite color is actually green...” I cut myself off as William—flinched? “Sir?”

“I beg your pardon,” he said. Quickly, he got to his feet and circled his desk. I felt tension start to coil in my muscles. What had I said?

He rifled around in his desk drawer for a moment.

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course. You mentioned green and I had a sudden thought. There’s something I’d like to give to you.”

“Sir, I don’t—”

“This is something you will want to keep, I promise.” With that, he seemed to finally find what he was looking for. He straightened up. There was a file folder in his hand, filled with pages. He opened it and began leafing through them.

He extracted a page from the folder—though I couldn’t see what it was—and put the folder back in the drawer. He came back around and sat opposite me.

“Understand that when a human is turned into a vampire, the Department takes it very seriously,” he said, looking me in the eye and holding my gaze. It took a lot of effort for me not to break the sustained eye contact. Looking directly into a vampire’s eyes—even ones as warm as William’s—was daunting.

I nodded. “Right. Sam mentioned that after Frederick got turned.”

William ducked his head in acknowledgment. “Yes. And when they are turned by a member of my clan, the Department gives me their information.” He cleared his throat. “That is to say, they give me the information they had on the human, so that I might better guide the vampire.” He held the paper out for me, angled so that I still couldn’t see what was on it. “This was in Samuel’s file when Alexis turned him. I want you to have it.”

I took the page and looked down.

It was a full-size photo from an EIC—an Empowered Identification Card.

It was Sam.

Sam as a human.

EICs didn’t allow a full-toothed smile, but Sam had a close-lipped grin. He looked the same as he did now—maybe a few years younger, it was hard to tell—apart from...

Apart from the eyes.

His eyes...

They were green.

Deep forest green. Warm. Like the shade cast in the woods by leaves on a late summer afternoon.

My heart skipped a beat in my chest. I’d never even thought to ask...

I looked up. “Thank you,” I said.

William smiled. “Of course.” He set his hands on his knees. “Now. Tell me more about yourself, if you would.”

I cleared my throat. “Okay,” I muttered. “Well...”

We spoke for another half-hour. William was kind, and never pried for more detail than I was willing to give. Which was unusual for me.

Finally, he jolted when the small clock on his desk chimed. “Oh my. It’s ten o’clock. My sincerest apologies. I didn’t mean to keep you so late. Allow me to escort you outside. I assume you drove here?”

“Motorcycle, but yeah.”

He smirked. “Has Samuel ridden it with you?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Convince him, sometime. I think you both would enjoy it. He likes adventures more than he lets on.”

I smiled. “That I can do.”

He walked me out of his office and down to the lobby of the office building.

“Before you go,” he said, slipping a hand into the inside pocket of his sport coat, “take this as well.” He pulled out a business card. “That is my personal cell phone number, and the one beneath it is my office’s direct line. Should you ever need anything, do not hesitate to reach out.”

“Mr. Solaire, I really couldn’t—”

“I insist. You are Samuel’s partner. That makes you part of my clan as well. If on an honorary basis. You are family to him—you are family to me. To all of us.”

I took the business card and tucked it into the pages of Much Ado About Nothing like a bookmark. “Well... thank you.”

“Of course.” He grinned.

I put the book and the picture of Sam in my backpack—careful to make sure neither of them would get damaged on the ride home—and held a hand out. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Solaire.”

“Please, call me Will or William,” he replied, taking my hand and shaking it firmly. “It was nice to finally meet you too.”

“Goodnight.”

“A good night to you as well.”

With that, I let go and marched out into the parking lot. I slung my backpack onto my back and unclipped my helmet from where it was hanging off the bag strap. William was still standing at the door to the building as I put the helmet on and slung my leg over the bike. I gunned the engine and waved to him before bending forward and leaving the parking lot.

I saw him wave back at me before disappearing back into the building.

When I got home, I pulled my phone out.

Compose New Message To: Sam Collins Just got home. William is nice Sent

After a moment. I heard a familiar chime from deeper in my apartment.

I started laughing as Sam emerged from the kitchen, looking mildly exasperated. “Were you lurking to try and scare me, cowboy?” I teased. “It takes more than just hiding in the shadows.”

“No, I was not plannin’ on scarin’ you, darlin’,” he retorted, holding out his arms. I crossed to them immediately and wrapped my own around him. When I looked up to meet his eyes,, I could almost see the green they’d once been. “I was plannin’ on havin’ some food ready for you when you got back.

I smiled. “Always taking care of me,” I said, leaning in. He met my kiss easily. Warm. Soft. Safe.

I sighed contentedly. And pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.

“I love you, Sam.”

“I love you too, darlin’.”

I poked him lightly in the chest. “How come you never mentioned your eyes used to be green?”

“Y’know, for bein’ a five-hundred-year-old vampire king, William can be such a little sh—”

[wonderinglostsoul]

Chapter 3: Criminal Minds fanfic

Continuation of my Criminal minds fanfic. I really suck at titles. Anyway, you can read it in wattpad.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You are an FBI agent with a past and you were about to enter the BAU.

Trigger warning: BAU stuff like killing, violence, assault, mention of rape and suicide. I tried not to get too graphic with the description

Masterlist

JJ and Morgan went to the crime scene while Spence and Dave go to the medical examiner. You and Hotch went to the police station. You set up the evidence on the board while Hotch was reading the initial ME report. All of the victims was tortured first before they were killed.

“The unsub is organized and sadistic.” Hotch said. Still reading the medical report.

“Yes, I wonder why does he needs to torture them? Is that part of the sexual gratification?” You asked him.

“Yes, when he torture the victim he was able to satisfy himself as well.” Hotch answered.

“And all of the victims was last seen on a bar on a friday. And would disposed the body at the middle of the week.” You told him. You were reading the medical report too when Hotch asked you.

“What else can you say about the MO and the unsub based on the ME report.” Hotch asked you. He was like a teacher giving a graded recitation.

“Hmmm, based on the ME report there are no defensive wounds so the victims was tied during the torture and they cannot fight the unsub.” You answered.

“Good, what else?” Hotch was pressing.

“I also dont see any blitz attack on them or anything that can subdue the victim. So the victims might have come with the unsub willingly.”

“Very good, [Y/L]. We need to check the cctv of the bar to see if there are any clue on who is the unsub. Please call, Garcia.” Hotch told you. You call Garcia to ask for the security footage. While Hotch called the rest of the team to visit the bar where the victims was last seen.

“Come on, we will visit the bar our last victim went.” Hotch told you. You followed him into the SUV.

You were quiet on the way. Then Hotch asked you about your gun.

“So where do you hide your gun?” He asked, you were puzzled what he was talking about but realize he meant your snipping gun.

“Ahh, it was at the back of the SUV.” You answered. Pointing at the pack with your thumb.

“When did you learn to snipe.” He asked you again.

“I actually cannot remember anymore. I first hold a gun when I was a kid.” You told him.

“That young, your dad’s a cop?” He asked.

“No, he was in interpol” You answered. You glanced at him and see that he was surprised.

“He died,” You continued. “He and my mom, they died in a crash.”

“ I am sorry.” He said.

“Its fine,” You said. You look away. You are not yet keen to open up your sad past to anyone much more with you boss. Good thing you are already at your destination.

You and Hotch entered the bar. It was almost empty. The bartender was cleaning up the glass as you approach. You introduced yourself and show him your badge.

“What can I do for the FBI?” He asked.

“Do you recognize this woman?” You show him the picture of the latest victim.

“Ahh yes, Anne Boyle. She is a regular here. Always one with the boys. She was a little boyish but you know she was so beautiful.” The bartender answered. She looks at you for a moment and then remarked “Just like you. I bet you look beautiful in a dress and make up.”

You and Hotch glanced at each other. Now you both realize at to what extent you fit the victimology.

“When was the last time you saw her.” you continue asking.

“Last friday night. She was here alone, you know capping a busy week with a couple of beers.” He answered.

“Do you remember if someone approach her that night?” Hotch asked this time.

“Yes, Andrew Smith.” The bartender said.

“What did they talked about?” I asked back.

“I actually did not hear but Anna seems to be smitten. They went out together.” The bartender said.

“One more thing,” You said “Is she wearing a red dress and read shoes?”

“Anna? NO! She is a tshirt and pants kind of girl. She hates dresses.” The Bartender said with a laugh.

“Thank you.” You said.

You and Hotch went back to the SUV. You were quiet again, thinking about the case. Hotch breaks the silence.

“Are you okay?” He asked you.

“Yeah, just thinking about this case.” You answered, still not feeling it.

“You dont have to worry.” Hotch said. “We will protect you.”

You finally look at him. He glanced at you and gave you a little smile. He looks like a different person whenever he smiles.

“Thank you!” You said, smiling back at him.

You arrived at the station and the rest of the team was there. Hotch gathered all the information that you’ve got on the bar and one name emerge, Andrew Smith.

The police invited Mr. Smith to the station, Morgan and Rossi was doing the interrogation. They were asking him about the night of the disappearances and his alibi but he was not cooperating. Then Hotch receives a call, another woman has disappeared. He called Morgan and Rossi to tell them the new development.

“There is another victim. Her family reported her missing this morning.” Hotch said.

“But it is not yet Friday, how are we sure that this is related to this?” Morgan asked.

“The police said that he was last seen at the bar with Andrew Smith.” Hotch answered.

“So all of this was related to this man.” Rossi added. He gets his cellphone and dialed Garcia’s number.

“I thought you all have forgotten me and just let me rot in this cave.” She said sadly.

“We are sorry, Garcia.” Rossi comforted her. “But can you find anything with Andrew Smith?”

“Andrew Smith” Garcia said. You can hear the clicking of the keyboard in the background. “He is a local there. His family owns a farm house in the rural area.

He is an athlete when he was in highschool but oh…” Garcia trailed.

“What is it baby girl?” Morgan asked.

“He was expelled because of a raped allegation on one of his classmate. Christine Stan.” Garcia answered. “Christine killed herself leaving only a suicide note detailing the assault”

“Does Christine looked like our victims.”Rossi asked.

“Yes, they have a resemblance. I sent the details on your tablet.” Garcia said.

“Thanks, Penelope.” Rossi ended the call. The picture arrives at your tablet. Upon seeing her, you noticed the resemblance immediately. The hair color, facial feature, body type. You even have the same tshirt she was wearing at the picture at home. with this, you have an idea on how to force the suspect to talk.

“I want to go in.” You said. The 3 men look at you. They were contemplating. “I resemble her, might as well used that to our advantage.”

“I’ll come in with you” Hotch offered.

“No, if there is another man there, he will be intimidated and will not talk.” You said, You can see that he is worried, in fact even Morgan and Rossi is worried.

“I’ll ask JJ to come with you.” Hotch said going out of the room. You shake your head in frustration. Why cant he trust you with anything. You are not a weak little girl. You are an FBI agent. But you cannot do anything, he is still the boss. So you waited for JJ and when she arrives both of you went inside the interrogation room. As you expected, the suspect’s demeanor changed the moment he saw you. He started crying and provided all the information that you needed. You asked him where he bring the victims.

“They did not come with me.” He said.

“So what happened when you got them outside?” You asked puzzled.

“We just talked for a little while, make out thats it and the I left them. They were so angry after that but I cannot make myself to bring them somewhere and have sex so I just took off.” He said sheepishly. You know he was telling the truth. His demeanor does not match the unsub because in your mind the unsub would not break even with the site of someone like you. You and JJ exited the room to talked to everyone.

“I dont think he is the unsub.” JJ said.

“I agree.” You seconded. “His physical attributes might much our unsub but his mental state? He cannot do any of that. He started crying just by seeing me.” You added.

“I think we can deliver the profile.” Hotch said. “[Y/N], I think you can lead this one.”

Infront of the the Las Vegas PD you deliver your first profile.

“Our unsub is a white male in there 30s. Has some kind of connection with a woman named Christine Stan and Andrew Smith. He follows Mr. Smith on his trip to the bar and pick up the girls that he left there. He is physically fit and cannot be easily intimidated. He is also good looking and charismatic because he can easily manipulates his victim to come with him without anything to subdue them. You have to start checking every person that has a relation with Christine Stan to crack this case. Thank you!” The police started to disperse and start investigating.

Aaron approach the head of the PD to get Christine’s case file while Morgan calls Garcia to check the people related to her. Reid was studying the map to find any connection while JJ and Rossi was talking to some officer. You thought that maybe Andrew can provide you with more information if you do a cognitive interview so you went back to the interrogation room alone. His eyes light up when he saw you.

“Andrew, I wanted to try something with you. I want you to close your eyes and remember that night you were with Jessica (Latest victim). what do you hear?” You asked.

“I hear the muffled sound of the bar outside. There are groups of people arriving. They were talking and laughing.” He said while his eyes were closed.

“Good! Thats good. While you were talking to Jessica do you notice anyone around around you, a car, or someone that closely monitoring you.”

“Yes, it was a sedan, alittle bit older. It arrived the same time as I did but the driver did not go out. When I left I got a glimpse of the driver door opening but I did not see what happens after that” He said. Then he slowly opened his eyes.

“Do you remember anything from the car. Make, model, plate number?” You continue asking.

“It was a black american made car. Las Vegas plate. I remember 843 but thats all.” He answered.

“Thank you very much!” You were about to stand up when Andrew get a hold of your hand and pulled you closer. The half part of your body slammed at the table. Suddenly the door opened and Hotch emerges at the door. You can see that he was furious. He pulled you away from Andrew and you stand away from the table. Reid was at the door as well waiting to assist if needed. Hotch looks furiously at Andrew. He glanced at you and ask if you were okay. You said yes even if you lower right ribs hurt after it slammed on the table. You all went out and asked Garcia to find someone who owns the car as described by Andrew.

“The owner is Micheal Tate. He was at the same high school with Andrew and Christine. Ohhh they were on the same class. I also got Christines suicide note and she mentioned Michael there. I sent the copy to your tablets. I also sent his house and work address.” Garcia said.

“Thanks Garcia” you said. You read the note. Christine was thanking Michael for always being her only friend and she was sorry to leave him.

“Morgan and Reid you go to his house. JJ, Rossi you come with me and check his work place.” Aaron said.

“What about me?” You asked.

“You stay here.” He said with conviction. You went closer with him and whispered trying not to undermine his authority infront of the team.

“Come on, Hotch. I am not a kid. I am more valuable out there than to stay here. Besides I am the one who got you all that detail. Have a little faith in me.” You said as low as possible but still with conviction. He looked at you in the eye and then nod.

“Fine, go with Morgan and Reid.” He said. You half smiled and went with your team.

On the way, you did not see any place where you can set up your sniper. So you just join Morgan and Reid in the house but he was not there. Reid called you in his room and saw old photos of Christine and the unsub. He made an altar for her.

You investigate inside the room when you noticed a shed outside the window. You saw movement so you tell Morgan and Reid about it. When they look at the window the unsub started running into the woods. You called back up and opened the window to follow the unsub. You figure it was faster then going around the house.

“REID! GO TO THE SHED AND CHECK IF THE VICTIM WAS THERE.” You shouted while running. You can still see the unsub but he has a huge head start with you.

“STOP OR I’LL SHOOT. “ You shouted at him 3 time. when he did not stop, you shot him aiming for his legs. But due to the recoil of the gun, your ribs ache again and you missed him.

“Damn it!” You exclaimed under your breathe. The unsub was able to hide through the trees and vegetation. You slowly approached, gun raised. You walk carefully scanning every tree and leaves. You saw a movement on your periphery then with a snap you turn and pointed the gun. The unsub froze in shock.

“Show me your hands and kneel on the ground.” You said. He looked at you and he seems to recognize you. So you slowly lowering your weapon so he could get a look at your face. Then all of a sudden he smiled and bolted again in a run. You tried to follow him but he was gone already. He knows the forest more than you do. You can hear Morgan near the place the unsub was gone so you went there. You were able to see Morgan but not the unsub.

You radio the rest of Vegas PD to search for Michael. You and Morgan went back to join Reid. He was with the victim. They were riding the ambulance. Morgan called Hotch and told him what happened. Hotch said it was fine and both of you should go back to the station and think of another approach to catch the unsub.

On the car Morgan asked if you were okay. It is somehow disheartening that all of them has to take care of you within this case. You feel so vulnerable.

“I am fine. I am sorry I let him slip.” You said somehow feeling guilty.

“That is not your fault. He knows the whole place more than we do. He might have a escape plan all along” Morgan tried to comfort you.

“You, Hotch and the rest of the team, you all have to babysit me throughout the case. You always ask if I was ok or if I need company. I just feel worthless” You said.

“Thats not true. We know the unsub because of you. Without your ideas we might not be able to identify who he is”

“Reid can, he will for sure,” You said jokingly.

“But you beat him to it.” Morgan teases. You smiled at him.

“Thank you!” You said to him.

You arrived at the station before the rest of the team. Hotch’s team drop by at the hospital first to check on the victim. You were inside the police station when you noticed that you left your phone in the car.

“Morgan! Can I borrow the key? I forgot my phone on the car.” You told him. He handed you the key but get the attention of one of the officer.

“Hey, man can you accompany Agent [Y/N] to the car?” The officer was hesitant because he was busy but still agreed. When you were at the entrance and Morgan was not looking, you told the officer that you can go alone and that the car was just there in the front. He asked you if it is ok and you said yes so he went back inside. You arrived at the car and open the passenger seat. You found your phone in the chair. It might have fell out of your pocket. When you closed the door someone struck you from behind. Before you lost your consciousness, you saw that your attacker was the unsub

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: March 2023

It’s getting nicer out but I’m still spending plenty of time indoors watching and reading things, don’t you worry.

……….FILM……….

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) It’s been years since I’ve gone back to this and it really is one of the best superhero movies ever made, right? I hope the next one succeeds and it leads to more animated features. It just...you can do so much more. Sure the live-action superhero movies have a lot of animation but they’re bound by our physics and the uncanny valley and it’s just not the same.

……….TELEVISION……….

Ted Lasso (Episode 3.01 to 3.03) Glad to be back. It’s been interesting seeing the online rise, then fall, then rise again of support for this show but honestly, who cares? Do you like watching it? Great. Do I like watching it? Absolutely. It’s a project that was planned from season 1 and it shows and I wish more media was approached in this way.

Spy x Family (Episode 1.08 to 1.25) Okay needed to shift my expectations with this one. I really thought we’d get more of Yor and her assassin life. She’s kinda just a background character to Loid and Anya and that feels like a missed opportunity.

The Great (Episode 2.09 to 2.10) Great cap to the season. Full arcs for characters, a satisfying resolution and yet still enough of a hook to get me excited for the third season. Just some gorgeous, funny, dramatic television. Big fan.

……….YOUTUBE……….

Why everything you buy is worse now and How America’s richest donate their money by Vox Okay the first one really helped explain why stuff seems to be lower quality and it’s not just “better back in my day” sorta stuff. It’s just chasing that elusive profit, you know? And seeing the stats on how the wealthy donate was eye-opening. Taxes seem good. VIDEO (Worse Now) VIDEO (Richest Donations)

AI and Image Generation (Everything is a Remix Part 4) by Kirby Ferguson I’ve always appreciated the Everything is a Remix series and this only reinforces that. A measured response to AI image generation and what that means, why it’s flawed, and what happens next. VIDEO THE FULL PROJECT

What Does Glass Onion Have to Do with US? by Vivian Strange Okay a lengthy one but worth it. A new perspective on Glass Onion, a refresher on why I really liked US, and a really great connection between the two. Also a really great breakdown of the murder mystery as a genre as well and why it’s having a resurgence. All around great stuff. VIDEO

……….READING……….

Arabian Nights (Companion Library Edition) (Page 124 of 244) Thrifted this and for some reason never knew it was a collection of short stories? Which seems obvious now. Anyway I’m sooooo slow at really short story collections but they’ve been interesting to read. Something about the translation feels like a slog to actually read but the stories included are a lot of fun. 

Wonderland Revisited and the Games Alice Played There by Keith Sheppard (Complete) I’m super picky when it comes to adaptations of Carroll’s works. Many take Wonderland and make it dark, twisted, and mature (meh) but I find the more interesting take is one that continues with the same momentum. This one doesn’t quite work in capturing the spirit of the original books for me but there’s a lot of really great ideas in here.

Superman for all Seasons by Jeph Loeb & Tim Sale (Complete) Having loved their Batman books I picked this up and, being younger and dumber, didn’t like it at the time. Where was the action? Where were the villains? I was naive. Going back to this I really appreciate the study of Superman, the narrative through the supporting cast, and the struggles that can’t be resolved through punching. Man Loeb & Sale were a team.

Fantastic Four: Full Circle by Alex Ross (Complete) As an one-off story, this delivers everything I’d want out of an FF adventure: group banter, weird worlds, and lots of mumbo jumbo science. Plus I mean the artwork is truly humbling. I had to read it twice and I still only 80% understand it all but that’s not a complaint. Totally worth picking up if you have even a passing interest in the Fantastic Four.

Ultimate Spider-Man Volume 5 & 6 by by Brian Michael Bendis, Mark Bagley, and more  (Complete) Decided to pick up with my reread of the Ultimate Spider-Man series again and woof I forgot how much I didn’t like volume 5. The first half is an Ultimates story that I STILL find too wordy, and the movie tie-in of the second half never quite clicked. I dunno maybe there are too many losses and not enough wins for Parker in this one? Volume 6, however, is great. It has one of the most frustrating deaths in the series but it really explores the aftermath and impact. And introducing Johnny Storm and using him as the reason Spider-Man gets back into the hero stuff is really great. Spider-Man doesn’t need to solve all problems with punches and this book gets that.

……….AUDIO……….

Wild Planet by The B-52s (1980) After listening to a greatest hits album on repeat as a kid, I’m going back to the early stuff. Can’t get Private Idaho out of my head.

FREE I.H.: This Is Not the One You've Been Waiting For by Illuminati Hotties (2020) They always pop up in lists when I search for “more stuff like Sleigh Bells” but it finally clicked for me after listening to content//bedtime. Love this album.

……….GAMING……….

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) Whoa okay so my weekly group just fled the land of the Fairies after some drama with the Queen of the realm (you can read about it here) and then my Mof1 game ALSO had some Fairy drama involving the Queen. Apparently she’s a dramatic lady.

And that’s it. See you in April!

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

The Portrait (An Alcina x Maiden Fanfic)

You walk into the Atelier and find yourself once again gazing at the portrait of the Lady of the Castle, Lady Dimitrescu. She must have commissioned the portrait when she was younger because she looked like she was in her mid-20’s. She stands in an ivory-colored dress with a full skirt, holding a glass of wine. Her face is clear of her laugh lines, under-eye circles, and wrinkles but she is still as elegant and beautiful as ever. You move closer to get a better look and suddenly wonder who might have painted this portrait. Were they close to Lady Dimitrescu?

“Do you like it?”

You whirl around swiftly and find yourself face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. The corner of her mouth quirks up in an amused grin, making her laugh lines indent into her cheekbones. Her golden eyes are glittering with mischief.

“Well?” she prompts.

You come back to yourself. “I-It’s lovely, my Lady,” you stammer. “Did you commission someone to make it for you?”

Alcina lets out a laugh like tinkling bells. “Why, yes. In fact you could say that the two of us were rather close.” She steps closer to you and the portrait, a knowing smirk on her face. “It was actually me that painted that portrait.”

“You?” you blurt out suddenly. Then you realize how rude you must sound. "Forgive me, my Lady,” you say, ducking your head in apology. “I meant no disrespect. I just didn’t know you were the artistic type.”

“Oh, I’ve dabbled in a lot of different art forms in my life, pet,” she says, and you see her eyes mist over as she reminisces. “I was classically trained in opera, I’ve painted landscapes and portraits, written poetry...I even was a jazz singer for a time. I made that portrait when I was 25. I was a very different woman than the one you see now.” She smiles self-deprecatingly. “Well, aside from the obvious, anyway.”

“It’s exquisite,” you breathe as you lean your head to get a better look at the portrait. You think of something and turn to her. “Do you still paint, my Lady?”

“Lately I’ve taken to sketching. And now that you know my secret,” she says, giving you a conspiratorial wink. “Perhaps I might come in here and do my sketching while you clean.”

You suddenly remember the actual purpose of why you came to this room in the first place. “Right! I need to polish the bells! I’ll just get started on that, then!”

You hear her chuckle low in her throat as you scramble up the ladder, taking out your polish. You look over back at her and she has sat down on the sofa, slipping a pair of pearl chain half-moon spectacles over her nose. She takes out her pens and charcoal, flips to a new page in her sketchbook and bends her dark head down to work.

Soon you and Alcina have a little arrangement going where every time you enter the Atelier to work on your tasks, you know you will soon see Alcina ducking her head under the lintel to work on her sketching. While you are on the ladder, you sneak glances at her every so often. Her lashes kiss the tips of her cheekbones and her brow is furrowed in concentration. Sometimes you will look from her to the portrait and you conclude that if possible, her aging has made her even more beautiful.

You feel a hand on your back and jump making the ladder wobble slightly. The hand braces you against the ladder so you don’t fall and you hear a soft chuckle behind you. “I’m sorry, dear. I suppose I should have announced my presence beforehand. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s not a problem,” you say and you feel color flood your cheeks as you see you are truly face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. Her face is merely inches from yours. Her golden eyes catch the light from the chandelier and up close you see they are not just golden but with hints of silver around the iris.

“There’s this spot around the gears that doesn’t get enough attention that I’d like to show you,” Alcina hands hover around your waist. “May I?”

You nod your consent and she gently moves you on the ladder until you’re on the other side. She bends down and whispers in your ear. “Just between the cog and the gear. Do you see it?” The smell of her perfume is intoxicating. You nod that you understand and she smiles. “Good! I know you always do a thorough job and I wanted to bring that to your attention.” With that she settles back down and resumes her sketching.

This goes on for a while, you working while Alcina is sketching. Occasionally she will take a break and stand nearby observing you as you work. You find it difficult to concentrate when she is around but she eventually smiles to herself saying, “Yes. Very good,” before returning to her seat. A couple times you are not certain but you think you might have seen a flush creep up her cheekbones before she resumes her sketching.

A couple of weeks of this go by and you notice Alcina is not satisfied with the progress of her drawing. You see that she is erasing more often and often starts from a completely new page in her sketchbook. “No, no, this isn’t right!” you hear her say aloud one day. You chance a look at her as you are on the ladder polishing the candlesticks. She is furiously scribbling on the sketchpad and when a loose lock of her ebony hair falls into her eyes, she pushes it impatiently away. You try to lean down further to get a better look. You’ve seen how talented she is, surely the sketch couldn’t be that bad…

Suddenly you feel the ladder twist from under you as you lose your balance. Your arms pinwheel helplessly in the air as you try to regain your footing but to no avail. You shut your eyes tight as you fall, hoping at the most you’ll just sprain an ankle.

Instead of the hard floor, you fall into something soft. You open your eyes and jolt back as you see Alcina’s aureate eyes staring back into yours. She chuckles. “It appears I cannot do much but startle you these days it seems.” She looks at you with a concerned expression. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Yes, my Lady, I’m fine,” you mumble. You blush scarlet as you are very aware that her gloved hand is on your upper thigh, your skirt riding up in her haste to catch you. She becomes aware of this too and smoothes your skirt down, murmuring an apology, but not before you catch the blush in her cheeks.

She turns her head quickly away to hide it, her hat covering her profile. “Would you like to take a moment and rest, dear? You’ve been working so hard, you deserve a break.”

You nod soundlessly and she takes you over to the sofa where she has been doing her sketching. She closes her sketchbook with a snap before you can get a good look at it.

A maid arrives with Alcina’s afternoon tea. “Set out an extra cup for Y/N, if you please,” she commands the parlor maid. The maid nods and pours you both cups of steaming apple cinnamon tea, perfect for a cold winter’s day.

When the maid bows and leaves, you turn to Lady Dimitrescu. You clear your throat. “Um, my Lady?”

She smiles at you over her teacup. “Yes, pet?”

You can’t help it. You’re positively burning with curiosity at this point. “What have you been drawing?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Alcina’s cheekbones flood with color. “Oh, it’s nothing special really,” she says hurriedly. “Just some scribbles.”

You can hardly believe it. Was Lady Dimitrescu, usually so full of pride and grace, embarrassed? You see a scrap of paper on the ground near the sofa and pick it up. Alcina tries to stop you but you’ve already turned it over in your hands. You let out a little gasp of surprise as you see what Alcina has been drawing all this time.

There on the paper is a charcoal drawing of you polishing the bells. In the corner of the page is a closeup of you, your face shining in the chandelier light.

You look back at her, your mouth open in shock. When you finally gain the ability to form words, you ask, “Is this what you’ve been working on all this time, my Lady?” you ask quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Alcina nods and opens her sketchbook to show even more pages of you. You staring at her portrait, you reaching up on your toes on the ladder to dust off a high shelf, you pouring her tea. There are pages upon pages of your likeness.

Alcina turns her head to face you. “I must confess that I had been in need of a new muse for my art,” she says. “When I saw you gazing at my portrait, something stirred within me. There is something about you that draws me to you.” She takes your chin gently in her gloved hand.

“Your hair,” she says, and she takes off your cap and settles your unbound hair about your shoulders. “Even pinned under your cap, it cannot conceal its beauty.” She takes your hand in hers. “Your skin,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to the back of your hand, making you feel a pleasant shiver go down your arm. “How it shines under the lamplight. Your eyes.” She is moving ever closer. “The way I could get lost in those fathomless depths. And your lips…”

Her face is so close to yours now, her lips parted. “What about my lips?” you whisper, scarcely daring to breathe.

You are not quite sure who closes the distance between you first, but you are suddenly in Alcina’s arms and you are kissing her fiercely, your hands weaving their way through her ebony locks. Her hands settle themselves around your waist as her tongue gently parts your lips. You lay back on the sofa and bring her head gently down with you. She braces one hand on the side of the couch while the other gently holds the back of your head.

The sound of the clock chiming startles you, making you break apart suddenly. Alcina lets out a girlish giggle. “We simply have to do something about those nerves of yours, draga mea,” she purrs. You smile and lift your head up to receive her kiss again.

[clonecyare]

I Can Handle Myself

Summary: You were perfectly capable of handling yourself when it came to matters of your safety. But that would never stop Fox from doing his part.

Pairing: Commander Fox x senator!reader

Tags: assination attempts, protective fox, senator!reader, republic gala, canon typical violence/shenanigans, banter, secret relationship, kissing, suggestive ending,

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: The 2nd instalment of my outfit series. This one is based on this outfit submitted by @murdertoothpick for Fox. Each fic in the series can be read as stand-alone fics.

1st instalment: Playing a Dangerous Game - Captain Rex x medic/!reader

|| Masterlist || Tag list ||

----

“I am going to say this one more time, Commander. I do not need a babysitter for this Gala, I am more than capable of handling myself.” You said matter-of-factly as you walked through the halls of the senate, datapad in hand, tapping perhaps a little passive-aggressively on the screen.

Commander Fox chuckled under his bucket, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“With all due respect, Senator, you were the target of an assassination attempt 4 days ago.”

“And I survived. Nobody would be stupid enough to try a second attempt at Republic Gala, not with the Senate present.”

Fox chuckled and fell in step with you, bumping shoulders with you as you walked. “Maybe so, but it’s the wishes of the Chancellor that you have a member of the Guard escort you, while the rest patrol the Gala.”

You stopped outside the entryway to your office and put one hand on your hip, datapad and a stack of flimsi files clutched under one arm and pointing accusingly at Fox with the other from behind the death grip you had on your caf. “You’re enjoying this.”

You nodded politely to Hound who had been standing guard at your office, and he saluted with a polite, “Ma’am.” He took his leave as Fox took his place, leaning against the doorway with his head tilted as you punched in the keycode. The doors slid open, and he followed you inside, removing his bucket with a gentle hiss and holding it under his arm against his hip.

You couldn’t help but stare a little, just briefly. He was sporting a few soft grey hairs at the sides of his neatly trimmed hair. It made him appear just a slight bit older and more sophisticated, the neat locks of loose hair framing his handsome face.

“Perhaps a little. I do get quite the kick of you not getting your own way.”

His smug comment brought your attention back to the present and you muttered something in response with narrowed eyes. Dropping the stack of files and the datapad on your desk, you hopped up to sit on the edge and crossed one knee over the other. The lightweight fabric of your skirt sported a high slit, exposing the skin of your legs and upper thigh.

You sighed, resigned to your fate and leaned back on one palm, swirling the steaming caf in your paper takeaway cup.

“Who will be my knight in shining red armour, then?”

You asked as you blew on the hot caf and took a sip.

Fox, whose eyes has been previously occupied following the slit of your skirt up to your thigh, snapped out of his daydream and plastered a handsome smirk on his face.

“Oh, that would be me. I’ll pick you up at 7 sharp, mesh���la.”

“Wha-” You did a rather ungracious spit take withyour coffee, as the Commander slid his helmet back on and moved through your office doors with one final look back at you.

“Oh, and don’t be late.”

----

Leaning into the mirror you carefully applied the deep crimson red lipstick, treating the task with the utmost delicacy, lest you waste your look entirely. You stepped back once you were through and took a moment to admire your handiwork.

Dressed head to toe in deep, rich red tones and soft fabrics, you felt you had outdone yourself this time. If you were to be on your Commander’s arm all evening, the least you could do was make an effort, right?

You smirked softly, tilting your head in the mirror. Yeah, this would show him.

You had decided to go for an elegant gown for this evening, floor-length and a deep wine red in colour. The upper portion was a bodice lined with velvet and fitted to your body, with sleek black linear detailing down the front. Around the upper edge and over the shape of your chest was lined with intricate gold detailing.

In the centre of your chest, just under the hollow of your throat, sat a delicate golden brooch, which held from each side 2 long strips of the same wine-red material from your dress, draped prettily back over your shoulders, accentuating your chest and neck.

You had chosen several simple gold jewellery items, and tied your hair up into an intricate bun, completing your look and signature red lip. You were just touching up the corners of your lipstick when there was a firm knock at your door.

You headed for the door, opening it with a smile.

“Good evening, Commander.”

You smiled, voice sweet like honey. Your Commander, to your delight, was stood frozen in the doorway looking at you. In one hand he held the cap of his dress greys and in the other, a bouquet of Queen’s Heart flowers.

“Fox?”

You smiled softly and reach a hand out to touch his forearm. The gentle touch broke him from his stare and he quickly cleared his throat, offering you the bouquet with a bow. “For you.”

You smiled and took them with a courtesy, “they’re beautiful, come in, let me find a spot for them.” You stepped aside to let him in, finding the perfect spot for the flowers on your table.

When you turned back, Fox was watching you again, though this time he was smiling handsomely. You smiled back, “well, how do I look?”

“Mesh’la. Truly mesh’la.” He smiled as he offered his arm. Your cheeks flamed a pretty pink, bringing a satisfied smirk to the Commander’s face as you slid your arm through his own.

You locked up the apartment and made your way strangely quiet Senate District. The air was crisp against your skin, cooling the warmth you felt where you were brushing arms with the soldier lightly.

“You know, you clean up pretty well outside of all that plastoid.”

You smiled playfully, looking up at him. He smiled back, chuckling and shaking his head lightly, hair bouncing lightly in the gentle breeze. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm. I would go so far as to say a 10/10.”

Fox groaned deeply in his chest, head hanging sightly. You swore it was to hide his smile.

“I hate you.”

You smiled fondly and pressed into his side, free hand resting on his arm that was holding yours.

“No, you don’t.”

----

Perhaps you may have been wrong about the Gala. Fox had his reputation for being a little… prickly, at the best of times. But, as the over the top affairs go, the Commander had proven himself quite the charmer.

He has stayed dutifully by your side most of the evening, So, having a bodyguard was, as it turned out, a blessing in disguise - though you would never admit as much to anyone else. Far fewer senatorial aides tried to approach you upon spotting the head of the Coruscant Guard on your arm. Even several of the more conservative senators passed you by upon receiving his death glare.

At one point, towards the end of the evening, you had even managed to convince the stoic Commander to join you on the ballroom floor to dance. Well, sway, would be more accurate. The two of you moved around the room in a gentle sway, you humming softly along to the tune while Fox rested his cheek atop your head.

You raised your glass of Algarine wine to your lips in an almost mini toast, “Well Commander, it seems we had noth-”

Your words died in your throat as the glass suddenly shattered in your hand. The blaster bolt that has cause it clipped your right cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. A roar of commotion suddenly filled the room, with several masked individuals pushing through the crowd. Most of the shots were trained on you, but you now noticed a group of them firing off into the guests as a distraction.

“Get down. Now!”

Fox barked, crowding you to the floor. Thire and Thorn were already pushing through the crowds, firing at 2 of the intruders and calling in backup.

“Commander!”

Hound threw Fox’s blasters towards him and took off after one of the assailants, Stone calling for backup. The leader of the group was faster, though, taking another shot that you managed to dodge as Fox tackled him, throwing himself between you and the hitman, and knocking his blaster from his hands. The pair wrestled for the single DC-17 that had fallen between them, each landing several punches.

In the end, the hitman got the upper hand. Blood rushed to your ears, cancelling out the commotion behind you. As soon as he pulled the pistol on the Commander, you were behind him, panting heavily, pistol to the back of his head.

“Drop it. Now. I promise I’m faster.”

Fox looked at you with wide eyes, before the dropped to your exposed thigh and the small holster secured around your upper thigh, soft brown irises slowly darkening. Discreet, made for a small pistol like an ELG-3A.

The man dropped the blaster and Fox grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, binding his wrists and looking over his shoulder at you with a chuckle as he pushed the man towards one of the Corries that had arrived.

The room was emptying now, only a few shaken aides left milling around, and few vod who were cleaning up and securing the room. Fox lifted a hand to brush a few hairs back behind your ear, and you smiled.

“I told you I could handle myself.”

Fox laughed, holding your cheek as his calloused thumb swiped over your cheek, wiping away the trail of blood. “Yes, you most certainly did, cyar’ika.”

You turned your cheek into his palm and pressed a light kiss, looking up at him.

Fox took one precursory look around the ballroom and bent down, kissing you hard. It wasn’t soft or sweet like you knew they could be. It wasn’t careful and quick, like so many of your kisses had to be in order to remain a secret.

It was rushed, and desperate. You could practically feel the adrenalin rolling off him in waves. It was an oddly comforting feeling, one you had grown to know only too well. The kind Fox radiated after gruelling sessions guarding the Senate. Or after the occasional run-in with the cesspool of Coruscant’s underworld.

But it was most notable in these moments. When you had found a way to put yourself in the firing line again. When he couldn’t let his mask slip, when he couldn’t treat you as more than a senator under his protection. When all he could do was his job.

It was these moments afterwards that he needed you the most, that you needed him. It was in these moments, you knew exactly what you both needed.

You broke away, eyes never leaving his own as you took his arm.

“Take me home, Fox.”

----

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@captainrexsfuturewife