#the client was like 'yeah i want her to do it' and then this coordinator was like nah she can't and i was like???? yes i can | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phyrestartr · 6 months ago

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PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?”

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle.

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold.

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him.

“...No proof.”

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you.

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige.

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational.

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair.

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you.

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard.

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?”

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought.

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.”

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.”

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless.

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.”

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly.

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly.

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?”

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.”

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?”

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.”

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?”

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you.

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest.

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.”

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.”

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.”

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.”

Man. Man.

“A statement.”

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.”

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up.

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.”

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you.

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it?

Fuck me. This shit is highschool.

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it.

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now?

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos.

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy.

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize.

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy.

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?”

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning?

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?”

“Absolutely.”

“Tch. Omegas.”

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?”

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?”

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?”

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?”

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not.

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.”

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually.

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad.

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck?

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.”

“Okay, cool. When's your next–”

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.”

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.”

“M'not. Fuck you.”

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?”

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm.

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never.

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today.

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now.

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!”

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him.

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?”

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly.

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention.

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents.

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy.

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked.

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?”

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha.

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?”

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna.

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one.

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.”

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little.

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons.

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?”

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.”

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.”

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise.

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.”

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit.

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.”

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore.

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–”

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.”

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably.

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor.

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features.

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose.

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?”

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up.

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.”

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.”

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.”

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.”

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–”

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted.

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes.

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–”

“I'll take you home.”

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.”

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature.

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.”

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh.

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe.

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why.

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–”

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?”

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.”

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first.

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control.

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash.

“Fucking–wait, just–”

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door.

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone.

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him.

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges.

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?”

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast.

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.”

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled.

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.”

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat.

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.”

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.”

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?”

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.”

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?”

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.”

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue.

“You’re exhausting.”

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.”

“Wow.”

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door.

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face.

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad.

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.”

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.”

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away.

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard.

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.”

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?”

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?”

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you.

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–”

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did).

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really.

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail.

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else.

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt).

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry.

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it.

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.”

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches.

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath.

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing.

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink.

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.”

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire.

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.”

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.”

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time.

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though.

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked.

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?”

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.”

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?”

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.”

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.”

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes.

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move.

“Fine,” you grumbled.

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it.

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?”

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly.

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.”

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go.

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.”

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that.

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched.

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?”

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in.

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more.

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.”

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide.

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.”

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest.

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it.

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun.

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once.

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey.

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed.

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.”

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you.

But maybe, maybe, you had a point.

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up.

“Ow. Gross.”

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.”

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.”

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst.

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

#male reader insert #sukuna x you #sukuna x m!reader #jjk #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #reader insert #ryoumen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk smut #jjk x male reader #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #itadori sukuna x reader

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paulmias · 10 months ago

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paul mescal request 👀

maybe meeting him at an industry party and sharing a cigarette and then it evolves

You Can Be The Boss | Paul Mescal X Fem! Reader

As an actress, and daughter of two of the biggest names in your country of the 90’s, It was inevitable that your name would make it onto the list of Gucci’s Fashion week list.

They had flown you out to Milan, saw that you had a hotel room and clothes for the event, all so you could sit and watch as dozens of models strut about in clothes most people would have to work decades to afford.

When the models would pass you, your gaze kept lingering to him, how could it not? There was a mesmerising sort of charm about him. It consumed you, you had tried to approach him when the event coordinators were ushering hoards of high profile people into limousines to take them to the after party, but you’d had no luck.

You couldn’t find his eyes in the sea of people dancing to whatever the DJ was playing, the music was far too loud, it brought back the migraine you had managed to shift a few days back, after swiping a champagne flute from one of the waiters walking around with them, you snuck out onto the balcony that overlooked Milan.

Having forgotten to bring your own case of cigarettes, you let out an exasperated sigh before downing the champagne. When you lowered the glass from your lips, He was there, cigarette between his lips, almost grinning, his appearence had been so sudden that you’d jumped and dropped the flute over the balcony.

Watching it fall, you felt like an asshole for whoever would have to clean that up later. “Fuck!” The words escaped your lips before you could think properly.

You heard his chuckle and turned to face him. The urge to tell him he was at fault restrained itself. “Do you want a light? I saw you checking that bag of yours for one.” Paul offered. You nod, not exactly desperate for one, but you certainly wouldn’t decline one.

He puts his between his lips and then pulls the case out from his pocket, the only one that remains is squished, not nearly useful enough for you to smoke.

He pulls the one from his lips out, and offers it to you. “You sure?” You question. He nods, and you look so relieved before placing it between your pointer and middle fingers.

After a few exchanges of the cigarette, he speaks as you have it in your lips. “I’ve seen your work, I adore your recent film. Are your team pushing for award nominations?” He asked.

You nodded, your agency was not nearly as cutthroat in that aspect as you would have liked, but you had signed a six year contract with them five years ago, so you would soon be free from them, and hopefully be able to join a more affluent agency. You handed him the cigarette.

“Thank you.” The two of you spoke in unison before chuckling “Yeah, my Uhm, my team are trying but I’m with an agency that are like, more focused on modelling so it’s a bit of a challenge but, I’m still young, I’ve got time to win awards.” You replied.

He takes a drag as he nods. “You looking to change agents?” He questioned, you nodded. “My manager’s looking for new clients, I could pass your name along if you’d like.” He offered.

His manager, you had heard, was a woman very dedicated to her job. “I’d love that, thank you.” You told him. You take a step closer to him, it just feels natural. “You’re gorgeous do you know that?” He asked.

You blushed, which caused him to chuckle, it wasn’t mockingly, rather, one of enjoyment of seeing you so flustered by his compliment. “You’re not so bad yourself.” You replied.

He dropped the cigarette onto the floor and leant forward, his face centimetres away from your own, and then he cupped his hands around your face, pulled you in and kissed you.

A/N: This is my first time writing x reader stuff .. hope u enjoyed

#paul mescal #paul mescal x reader #x reader #normal people #connell waldron #aftersun #gladiator 2 #gods creatures #foe #carmen

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thewulf · 1 year ago

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Cowboy || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was managing a gala and the theme was diamond and denim- so old rich people pretending to be cowboys with gaudy bling. And they hired a line dance teacher, and when I tell you this man had such Jake Seresin vibes!!!

A/N: Stop I had such a good time writing this one!! Sorry it took almost a month to get out but I hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 2.5k +

“You’ve gotta stop stressing Y/N. It looks beautiful in here. It’s going to go well.” Your longtime friend and new coworker Michelle grabbed your arm as you frantically looked around the venue for God knows what now.

You let out a breath, “I know. It just has to go well. My promotion is kind of riding on the success of tonight. We need to bag this client going forward.” You let your anxiety out in front of her. You needed to impress the bosses tonight. You knew if you did they’d finally make you a manager. A position you’d been vying for.

“Relax, you’ll be just fine. You know what you’re doing. They picked you to run the show for good reason.” She squeezed your arm before dropping it, “Call me if you need anything. Try and enjoy the party.”

You laughed, “Impossible. But thank you Michelle. Couldn’t do this without you.” You walked off outside helping the florists set up the garden tables where dinner would be served.

“Excuse me.” A thicker than normal southern accent brought your attention away from the table you were placing the final touches on.

When you turned you weren’t expecting that to be there right in front of you. Handsome was an understatement. The man before you was drop dead fucking gorgeous. Not a single thing wrong with him. Who knew you had such an affinity towards literal cowboys.

“Yeah?” You asked trying your hardest to play it as cool as possible.

“Could you tell me where the,” He paused looking down at his phone, “main hall is? I’m here to teach the line dancing.”

You smiled wanting to tease him just a bit. Something told you he could handle it, “You don’t say?”

He pulled his cowboy hat off bowing a bit towards you, “Miss. My name’s Jake. Jake Seresin.”

Oh, this was just too good. Handsome as hell and a gentleman to boot? Your heart was beginning to beat faster and faster. You needed to answer him soon or things could get awkward, “Y/N. Nice to meet you Jake.” You left your last name out on purpose, “I’m the event coordinator. You stopped the right person.” Giving him a warm smile, you beckoned him to follow you with a wave from your hands.

“Isn’t it my lucky day.” He shot you a wink testing the water a little bit. He too found you painstakingly beautiful. And that smile sent his heart into a frenzy, just like yours. You were too caught up in your own head to notice any tells from him though.

“Mine too.” You opened the door for him to follow you through. Thankful for the small distraction not leaving your brain floundering. You weren’t usually one to flirt back but something was telling you to.

“You been doing this for a while?” Jake asked you interrupting you from your frenzied thoughts.

You nodded letting him catch up to your quick pace, “A few years now. I really like it. How about you?”

He laughed, “I do this in my spare time, when I’m off between deployments. I’m usually a pilot for the Navy.”

You grinned. Handsome as hell. Gentleman and he had an incredible job? He didn’t seem quite real. Taught line dancing for fun? It’s like you manifested him right then and there, “Aren’t pilots supposed to be in the Air Force?” You just had to tease him. You had a brother in the military and knew how sensitive they were to the mixing of the milarites.

A brief flash of shock crossed his face before he spotted you trying to hide the laughter behind your hand. A jokester you seemed to be. Somebody who liked to press the boundaries. Jake was used to being the one doing that. Not having that done to him. Not that he didn’t mind, it was almost too fun, “You got all the jokes there don’t you darlin’?” He smirked deciding to press your own boundaries right on back. He knew how his words affected women. How one look could get them second guessing their own actions. Jake was a pro, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Thank goodness you were wearing foundation, or the blush would’ve given you away all too easily. You were enjoying the simple flirty back and forth between the near stranger who pulled you towards him with such ease, “You haven’t even seen the half of it Jake.” Flashing him a sly smirk you opened the door towards the event halls ballroom where the activity was set up for the group. Surprisingly this event always seemed to be the hit of the corporate party year in and year out. You had a sneaking suspicion jake would be an incredible teacher and make the activity all that much better. He was so charismatic.

“Thank you.” He tipped his hat once more as you held the door open for him, “I like the sound of that.” He took in the room before him, “So, this is it?”

You nodded a small smile gracing your lips, not being able to hide it if you tried, “All yours cowboy.”

He laughed flashing you that gorgeous smile at the same time, “Careful now, I might fall in love with you if you keep talking to me like that sweetheart.” He took a small step towards you closing the small distance between the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick you thought you could swim through it. Your damn brain left you at quite literally a loss for words.

“Not that I’m not enjoying my time.” You knew you were rambling, were you even making any sense, “But I need to check on a few things. Are you all good for the 5 o’clock start?” You asked not daring to take a step away feeling the heat radiating off his body. He was so damn close you were sure he could hear your rapid-fire heartbeat.

“That’s a shame.” He removed his hat fully this time to get a good look at your face up close. He’d never seen someone quite like you. Beautiful. Clearly intelligent and driven. A mouth of a literal angel. Somebody he knew could challenge him but pull it back when needed. He just knew you were good. You were special. The universe put you in his path for his reason. He had to be sure to stop you before the end of the night. Ask you out or give you his number. Whatever you wanted, “Will I have the pleasure of teaching you Miss Y/N?” He asked once his eyes had fully scanned your face.

Shaking your head quickly you missed the quick flash of sadness in his eyes, “Oh, no. Not even you can perform miracles Jake. But I’ll make sure to stop in after you get started.”

He laughed shaking his head right back at you, “Maybe one day you’ll let me try.” He wanted to plant the seed in your head. Let you simmer on that thought for the remainder of the day before he got to talk to you again, “But until then. I look forward to seeing you again, Y/N.” He flashed you another gorgeous grin before turning away. Taking that tension right away with him as he walked to the front of the room to get ready for the group.

You let out the breath you were holding once you walked out the doors of the hall. You let you mind wander back to him and let yourself go on autopilot as you continued to get ready. Only Michelle breaking you from your mind got you out of that disassociated state.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded quickly, “Absolutely. More than alright.”

“Hmm?” She looked you over curiously as you finished perfecting the napkin at the dining tables.

“The line dancing instructor is a total flirt.” You didn’t tell much more before her normally bored expression turned into something much more devious. She’d always tried to get involved in your love life. This might be the opening she’d been waiting to pounce on.

“Is he cute?” She questioned, clearly very interested.

You nodded bashfully, “Terribly handsome.” You admitted not being that afraid to hide it. She’d surely go and check for herself at some point. No purpose in lying, she had eyes that could see herself.

“I’ll be back.” She smirked making a beeline towards the inside.

“No! Michelle.” You laughed pulling her arm to stop her, “Go in while the class is in session or something.”

She shook you off with ease, “I’m a worker. It’ll be easy. Give me five minutes.” She grinned. You let her go knowing once she had it set in her mind she’d be doing it no matter what.

She was gone for longer. No doubt getting caught in conversation with the friendly man. When she got back she had a sneaky little grin on her face, “Oh, he’s down bad for you Y/N.” She giggled.

You shook your head not really believing her because how could he? You were you and he was that. It just seemed incompatible, “Shush, he is not.”

“Then explain to me why he just played 20 questions with me about you?” She crossed her arms over her chest waiting for an explanation. You had none. Because why would he? You’d be lying if you said it didn’t bring a smile to your face.

Her smirk only grew wider in your silence, “Please just go see him later. I’ve got a good feeling about it. Please?”

You nodded quickly, “I was already planning on it.”

“Good.” She squealed with glee going back to the kitchen to finish the prep she left behind to talk to you.

You leaned against the door watching the group of people learn how to line dance from Jake. He was a natural. Flirty with the older women. Confident with young kids. Kind to the embarrassed teens. Bro’s with the boys. He could do it all. Who knew this was how you day was going to go?

Walking around the back you caught Jakes eye. Giving him a quick wave, you stopped to watch. Smiling as the joy from the group reverberated off the walls, no doubt thanks to Jake.

Not five seconds later you heard him speak, “Alright, try it for yourselves. I’ll be around helping.” And then he was making his way right towards you.

“You made it.” He spoke the second he stopped in front of you.

A quick nod brought your eyes right to his, “I did. I made a promise, didn’t I?”

You’d do anything to see him smile like he did right there, “You sure did. I’m glad you kept it.”

“Wouldn’t miss a chance at this.” You grinned referring to the class and to him. A double entendre per say.

He held out a hand, “Take another one then. Chance that is.” He winked sending a shiver right down your spine. You hoped he miss the goosebumps that rolled right down your arm. Should you? It’d only be a moment. It’s not like the client would mind.

Deciding to go for it you gently placed your hand in his, “Alright cowboy. But you have to lead. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, and I don’t think there’s a bone in me that has an ounce of rhythm.” You let your insecurities flow out after seeing him dance so effortlessly before you moments ago.

He nodded pulling you, softly, right behind him, “Sure thing darlin’. Nothing to be nervous over. They’re all in their own little world anyway. It’s just you and me.” He tried reassuring you once he found a spot off to the side, careful of your reluctance to go towards the front.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” You admitted, sure the makeup you’d applied twelve hours earlier was long gone by all the sweating you’d done throughout the day setting the event up. The blush he made you feel was surely evident at this point.

He laughed grabbing at both your hands setting you up for whatever dance he was planning on leading you in, “I won’t let you fail. Trust me on that.” All you could do was nod up at him as you listened to him. It felt deeper, like it meant something more.

Smiling the entire time, you listened to both him and the music as you fumbled your way through the partnered line dance. You apologized and giggled every time you stepped on his foot or bumped into his side. He took it in stride smiling back at you. Bumping you back. Lifting you up so you wouldn’t trample your feet.

You were having pure, unadulterated fun with the nearly complete stranger who made you feel oddly comfortable. You clicked with him the moment you laid eyes on him and now the rest felt like destiny. For being as reluctant as you were you were surprised how disappointed you were when the music ended, and Jake dropped your hand. You shouldn’t have wanted him to hold it like he just was but here you were, pathetic.

“You’re a natural.” He smiled admiring you from the small distance he’d placed between the two of you.

You snorted out a laugh, “And you cowboy, are a liar.”

He shook his head taking the cowboy hat off now, “Embellisher of the truth. My momma would be awfully disappointed if she heard you call me a liar.” The smirk that crossed his face should’ve been illegal, it had your knees shaking for dear life.

You laughed it off though, nodding in agreement, “Sure, we’ll go with that. Embellisher of the truth.” A genuine smile came to your face as you conversed easily with him. It felt so natural. Incredibly different than anything you were used to.

He looked around a tad disappointed himself, “I hate to cut this short gorgeous, but I am being paid and people need some help.” Placing the cowboy hat on you he took a step back with a lopsided grin on his face, “Keep that. Maybe a little too big for you but it’s yours.”

“How do I look?” You stuck your leg out holding onto the hat with the other, posing a bit for him.

He shook his head knowing he needed to see you again, “More stunning than words can describe. You were meant for a cowboy hat.” He reached out giving your hand a squeeze, “Tell me when I can take you out on a real date Y/N?”

“You want to? Take me on a date?” You weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. All signs pointed towards they did but you needed to confirm. What a whirlwind of a day you were having.

“I’d be honored.” He grinned waiting for your response.

“How’s Friday night sound?” You asked sounding far too eager. But that same smile from earlier didn’t let you get too embarrassed.

“Friday sounds amazing. I’ll pick you up?” He asked sounding a tad more timid than he had moments prior.

“It’s a date cowboy.”

He smirked giving your hand one last squeeze before walking away, “it’s a date darlin’.”

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mayhemmanaged @hardballoonlove

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tgmsunmontue · 7 months ago

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More than movie magic... 17/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN

Chapter 16 is pretty much the only explicit chapter (so far), so you can skip it if you like, but it's not explicit by my standards, and it's very soft/tender.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

There’s an annoying buzz and he knows it’s not his alarm, because he very carefully ensured that all four of them were turned off last night before going to the barn and meeting Bradley. It’s not stopping and he wonders if maybe Bradley has an alarm set, but Bradley’s glaring at the ground, specifically the pair of pants holding the phone that’s vibrating and he groans. They’re his pants, so it’s likely his phone ringing.

“I just want to ignore it,” Jake mutters, letting his head thump back onto the pillow.

“At least get it and turn it off. It’s not even seven,” Bradley says, pushing him slightly, but still kissing his shoulder and it’s clearly a promise for something if he hurries back to bed and he rolls out, reaches for his hastily discarded jeans and pulls out his phone. The front screen is lit up with the image of Karina and if she’s calling this early it’s potentially not a good thing.

Fuck.

“Sorry, it’s my PR manager. I better take this.”

“You want me to go?”

“No. No, not at all,” Jake says, giving him a quick kiss before sitting on the edge of the bed and Bradley rests his hand on his thigh, fingers running through the fine sprinkling of hair, and it wavers between ticklish and turning him on and he has to ignore it either way, thumbs over to answer the call.

“Hello? Karina?”

“Yeah. Hi. Morning Jake, sorry for the early call, but I left it as late as I could. Would have called earlier, but well, was trying to figure out how far the photos had spread.”

“Photos?” Jake asks, because there aren’t any photos he can think of that would make Karina need to call him so early, and she’s in California, it’s even earlier there.

“Yes Jake. Photos. You know, you’re meant to be one of my easy clients.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Photos got leaked of you dancing and kissing a guy. Now –”

“Not just a guy. My boyfriend,” Jake says, turning to Bradley to ask the silent question with his eyebrows. The smile he gets back is all the answer he needs. “It’s fine.”

“Oh. You couldn’t have given me a heads up?”

“It’s like… two days old? Three I guess?” Jake asks, rubbing his eyes before dropping his hand to cover Bradley’s one, although he turns it and links their fingers together. The reassuring touch makes the tension melt out of him before it even has time to build, Bradley shifts and wraps his arms around him, legs also stretching to be either side of him and he lets himself lean back into his solid warmth.

“Oh great. Then I’ll go for the whole invasion of privacy thing –”

“No. No… you don’t need to do that either. My entire family were there. It was probably one of them that took photos and posted it to their Insta account or something. Just. Confirm I’m in a new relationship with someone and I’d like people to respect our privacy going forward.”

“Okay. I can do that. Do I get a name?”

“I don’t want his name coming out until he says it’s okay.”

“Of course.”

“It’s Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Oh.”

He’s not sure how to interpret that single word, but then she’s telling him she’ll handle it and hanging up on him and okay, so today is going to be a shitshow for her, but he’s far away from it and can probably ignore everything for a few days. He twists his head to try and meet Bradley’s eye.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t want you to get caught up in all this.”

“Were you planning on me being a secret?”

Jake frowns.

“You think I dance with people like I danced with you in the hope that it’ll stay a secret?”

“You think I let famous people dance with me like that with the expectation that it will be a secret?”

“Yeah. Okay. Point taken. But there’s a difference between wanting to protect you from media scrutiny and keeping it a secret. You’ve met my parents. Everyone here probably thinks we’re sleeping together…”

“We are sleeping together,” Bradley states.

“They might think it’s only sex.”

“Well, then they’d be wrong. Jake… they’re going to dig shit up on me. I was a child actor, my parents both died when I was young. However I was raised by two people who guarded my privacy like hawks…”

“Two people?” Jakes asks, doing a double take.

“Yeah. Pete and his partner…”

“Pete Mitchell has a partner?”

“Yep.”

“That private huh?”

“Yep. You’ll meet them soon enough…” Jake isn’t an idiot, knows Bradley is being deliberately vague with the pronouns, although they could just prefer those pronouns of course.

“Jake. I knew what I was signing up for. Media circus and all. If it bothered me that much I would have said something, or simply stayed away from you. But I’m right here. And I’ve got no plans on going anywhere.”

Something uncurls inside him, because knowing that upfront is a relief, although he knows Bradley could change his mind, or simply get over it, being the center of said media circus.

“Also, while we’re having this conversation, they’ll dig up my net worth and all the people saying I’m a gold digger will have to shut up.”

Jake twists further around to stare at him, because that’s surprising. Bradley just grins, presses a kiss to his shoulder and Jake keeps twisting, pushing back until Bradley is lying on the bed and he straddles him, places his hands on his shoulders and Bradley just looks up at him, smug and arrogant like he knows what he just said is going to annoy Jake and he’s done it on purpose.

“You’re kind of an asshole.”

“I grew up in Hollywood, when you think about that, then it’s a miracle I’m as normal as I am.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. What is your net worth?”

“I don’t know. Probably more than yours.”

“Really now? You don’t know?”

“Meh. I don’t care. But I’ve been around a lot longer than you, and I’ve had people managing my money very carefully for longer than you’ve been in the business.”

“But you work…” Jake says.

“So do you. I work because I love my job. Not because I have to. It’s why I can afford to be picky about the jobs we take.”

“You took this one.”

“Well. Yeah.”

They just stare at each other for a few beats and Bradley shrugs and Jake lets out a pleased laugh and sprawls over him, kissing him and feeling like everything will be okay.

“I’m not going to be reading the press okay? Let alone believing any of it or letting it bother me. If I have any issues with anything I’ll raise them directly with you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

… … …

He has to leave Jake, there are no spare clothes and his shirt is definitely not fit for wearing, so he’s going to have to walk back to the bunkhouse shirtless, which is definitely not ideal but he refuses to be embarrassed. Of course, when Rueben lets out an ear-splitting wolf whistle, drawing attention he has no choice but to flip him the finger, but Jake has people. Well. His mom. She’s bringing him a change of clothes, and Bradley might like Aunty Kaye but he is not hanging around naked in bed. He’s also not accepting the offer for her to bring him clothes either, no matter how kindly the offer was made. Especially with how Jake’s apparently sensitive all over and it looks like Bradley left no stone unturned last night. Or this morning.

It’s still early, and while he’d have very much liked to spend the day in bed with Jake, it’s still a workday, the filming schedule tight and he’s meant to be on set in thirty minutes to oversee Rueben, Natasha and Jake carry out some corralling. He showers quickly, scrubbing himself clean and steps out to his phone ringing, toweling himself dry with one hand as he accepts the call.

“Hey Mav.”

“Bradley. Hi. You okay?”

“Yeah. Of course,” he says, pulling his underwear on with one hand, swapping over hands holding the phone so he can wiggle a little.

“Uh. Really?”

“Yeah. Really. Why?”

“Oh. Just. There are some photos circulating. Have you seen them?”

“Oh. You’re ringing about those. It’s fine. I don’t need to see the photos. I was there. It’s fine. Nothing we’re hiding.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh indeed,” Bradley says, and he knows Mav can probably hear his smile.

“He… he doesn’t drive you absolutely mad?”

Bradley laughs, because Jake doesn’t drive him mad at all, drives him to distraction maybe, but not mad. He puts the phone on speaker and sets it down, continuing to get dressed.

“Nope. Well, not in the way you’re thinking. He’s… God Pete. He’s sweet and caring and such a momma’s boy. His mom is his best friend she gives him absolute hell and he lets her.”

“Oh. Bradley. You are gone gone…”

“Yeah. I am gone gone,” Bradley agrees, because there is no point in denying it, and he’s pretty sure Jake already knows, and if he takes away Pete’s ammunition now he has less material to wind Bradley up with.

“Huh. Okay then. I’ll tell Ice to cancel the job.”

Bradley rolls his eyes.

“Don’t say shit like that. He’s not in the mob. Tell him to reign in whatever crazy plan you’re concocting. I’m fine.”

“Uh… well…”

“Mav? What crazy plan are you concocting?” Bradley asks, letting out a sigh.

“Nothing. Really. Just. We thought we’d come out for a visit.”

“No! I’m working. You don’t need to come and visit. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Well. How do you know it’s not a one-night stand?”

“Because we communicate Mav. Like adults. I know it’s a foreign concept for you.”

“Hey!”

“Also, pretty sure Jake doesn’t make his one-night stands have dinner with his parents the day before. And I met so many of his family last night I lost track…”

“But I haven’t met him!”

“Maverick! Pete. You worked with him for months!”

“I mean I haven’t met him as your… boyfriend.”

“You’re on a plane aren’t you,” Bradley states, realizing the truth of it as he says it and okay, at least Jake might feel like Bradley’s getting the better side of the bargain once he realizes how unhinged Mav can be when it comes to him. “Tell me you’re alone.”

“Well, there’s the pilot,” Mav says, totally deflecting and Bradley knows.

“Mav.”

“Well, you know how protective he gets!”

Fuckity fuck fuck Bradley thinks internally, because it’s one thing to have Pete Mitchell as a father figure, it’s totally another to have Tom Kazansky. And he’s already alluded to Jake that Pete has a partner, although he has no idea what phase of their relationship they might currently be in, with it waxing and waning as sure as the moon, but always there even when they weren’t together. And they’re both enroute here. Because of fucking course they are, although he knows Tom is only really coming to keep Maverick inline.

EIGHTEEN

#Hangster #Sereshaw #more than movie magic #Top Gun Maverick

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incorrectmarvelquotesss · 1 year ago

Text

— abience —

Warnings: fluff, angst, self-loathing!Bucky, mentions of PTSD, light mentions of racism

Summary: His head wasn’t clear and you were just in the way of his anger. || Soulmates AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: ~6k

A/N: This took too much time to edit and I’m pretty sure there’s still some mistakes. Anyway, it’s almost my birthday which means I want to do something for it here. Let me know if you guys want a drabble day or something like that. Enjoy!

*the strong urge to avoid someone or something*

Bucky grabbed a pen and looked around for a paper, telling Tony to calm down over the phone. When he finally gave up on finding a piece of paper, he opted to switch hands and scribble the address down on his right arm. He mentally thought that he should be happy for being ambidextrous even though it was Hydra’s doing, but Tony’s voice made Bucky tune back into reality before he could get too lost in his head.

“That’s the restaurant and remember to wear something casual,” Tony started, ranting about Morgan’s birthday dinner party. Gone was the Tony Stark that wanted every magazine to know his whereabouts and have overly sized parties. Now he would rather spend time in a diner that Steve had taken Morgan to, which she absolutely adored, and only have his family there.

Him and Pepper had the life that Bucky had wanted. He knew that they were soulmates, hearing about the time when Pepper had written a time and place on her forearm to meet with a client. Tony’s forearm had displayed the exact writing—and he claims to have recognized the handwriting—and decided to drop by the place where he pulled Pepper’s sleeve up and finally found his soulmate. They had their ups and downs, but they complemented each other and brought out the best in each other.

Bucky figured that that was what soulmates did. Complement each other. Brought out the best in each other. Complete each other. Help when one didn’t help themselves. He sometimes couldn’t help but wish he knew his soulmate, but he had decided it was better if he didn’t meet them. The Winter Soldier was still infamous for his actions, no matter how many times Bucky joined the Avengers for a mission to save the world—or universe. The lingering stares and whispered hatred followed him and he was sure it would eventually get too much for his soulmate.

Unless it was Natasha, he guessed, having been through something similar, Though she had found her soulmate a while before Bucky showed up. Steve had always thought that Peggy was his only soulmate in existence, but fate had proved him wrong when he had seen Natasha’s perfect cursive cross his arm as she drew out the words she wanted to get tattooed one day. Bucky had realized that they were a perfect match in more than some ways. The two were always coordinated and in sync, so it didn’t phase anyone on the team.

“I know,” Bucky huffed out, head snapping up as the doorbell echoed throughout his apartment. He looked at the clock and knew that there was only one person who could be here this late at night—it was only nine, but no one showed up that late. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tony.”

“Yeah, alright, Buckaroo. And don’t forget to wear your happy face,” Tony said before hanging up on him. Not unusual for the genius, billionaire, philanthropist. Bucky had long gotten used to it, knowing he hung up on everyone, except Pepper and Morgan. Bucky couldn’t even resent him for that—Bucky would never dare hang up on Pepper or Morgan.

The doorbell chimed again and Bucky rolled his eyes, placing his phone on the island of his kitchen and walking towards the main entrance. He paused for a second when he caught the scent of cinnamon, hand frozen on the doorknob. It reminded him of a sweeter time, a bittersweet memory surfacing with hazy edges and leaving the lingering taste of a velvety texture in his mouth.

He twisted the door open.

“Hey, Bucky!” Sam said, barging in and toeing off his shoes without wasting a second for an invitation. He had gotten used to that ever since Sam decided to move into the apartment across from him. Even though he used to do it before moving into the building. It was just more prominent now to Bucky, the barging in with late night leftovers or pastries and sweets from the bakery down the street. The one where that sweet woman, who Sam didn’t shut up about ever, worked.

“What do you want?” That was his regular greeting and Sam accepted it.

“Well, you know that bakery down the street?”

“No, I don’t.”

Sam ignored him and said, “That girl I told you about tried out this new recipe with cinnamon buns and wanted me to try them, but being the good friend I am, I brought some for you to try too.”

“Jee, thanks,” Bucky drawled out as Sam placed the buns into the two plates Bucky owned. He had only one before, but Sam bought one for himself and left it here for things like these.

There was a reason why he never invited people over.

The living room had one two-seater with a small side table that was usually stacked with books from a shop he had found tucked between a few larger buildings. The carpet was actually a blanket that Bucky had bought a few years ago and often used it as a mattress. The two bedrooms were practically empty, a bed and a night table the only two things in each. Bucky used neither rooms nor the dining room, hence why there was no table in there. The two stools were pulled up against the island in the kitchen where Bucky, and Sam occasionally, ate any meal.

“Well, you are very welcome,” Sam sassed, chuckling to himself as Bucky’s broody mood lightened slightly at the familiar sight of cinnamon buns. “The woman said that she finally has a lead on her soulmate, y’know?

“That’s good for her,” Bucky said, not exactly in the mood for more soulmate bullshit. His left arm was permanently gone from existence so if his soulmate was right-handed, the chances of finding her decreased immensely. So there was more that Hydra took from him then. If he focused on it, he could probably find about a gazillion things they had taken from him. His sanity being the first one. Control, emotions, soulmate, time, name, the list could go on and on.

Sam bit into a bun and groaned, falling into the stool and smacking the island with his hand twice. Bucky bit back an insult, feeling like Sam was being a bit more dramatic than usual for something so small. He was used to the sounds and compliments that left his mouth after a bite, but the actions were new. And Bucky could say they were stupid and unnecessary, but held back because the previous pastries had been good too.

“Good sweetness, this is amazing,” Sam moaned, making Bucky pick up his own cinnamon bun. He eyed it with distaste, but bit into it anyway.

He felt his heart warm as the heat of the bun hit his tongue. Then the flavours flooded his mouth, bursting through the dough and making him inhale sharply. The sweet taste of cinnamon made him lick his lips. The light pinch of strawberry made his mouth water, desperate to take another bite and another. He barely registered when he had taken the second bite, the flavour of the pastry making him feel fuzzy and cozy. Comfortable.

“So,” Sam stressed out, his eyes already telling Bucky that he was about to tease him, “how is it?”

“It’s good,” Bucky grunted, putting the bun back on the plate while his face burned. He averted his eyes from Sam, wiping his fingers against his thigh and then flicking the dust off of his sweatpants. He didn’t know what it was about the bun, but it made him flustered. Nervous. Unsettled. There was a memory attached to cinnamon, that much he had clicked together. He just had a gut-sinking feeling that the memory was connected to his mother.

His mother had already been a sore topic of discussion. He could remember his sisters just fine, Rebecca being the most occurring between her, Eleanor, and Mary. Other than Rebecca, the three of them had bright steel-blue eyes. Rebecca had inherited his mother’s brown eyes, but she looked like the feminine version of Bucky. He remembered the countless times someone had pointed it out, saying that they could have been twins if Rebecca was a bit older. His father had always laughed and said it was in his strong genes that the two of them looked like him.

Steve had tried to talk about his mother—the one he barely even recognized—but Bucky had somehow managed to ignore all of those conversations. Steve, retired with Natasha by his side, had yet to finish a whole sentence about Winifred Barnes in front of Bucky.

“I was wondering,” Sam started, giving Bucky a glare when he sighed, “if you were going to Morgan’s birthday party?”

“I am,” Bucky replied, lifting up his bun and eyeing it, pondering on whether he wanted to indulge in the memory or not. If he took a bite and remembered what made cinnamon so special to him, maybe he would finally remember the brown eyes he adored and the warm arms that welcomed him home everyday after school.

“Great! We’re going together then,” Sam stated and stuffed the last piece into his mouth. Bucky cringed inwardly and shook his head.

“No.” Bucky put his bun down and Sam eyed it.

“Yur nof guha eaf faf?” Sam pointed at the bun, voice muffled, but gestures telling Bucky exactly what he was asking. Bucky rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively, watching Sam jump in his stool slightly before grabbing the piece from his plate. Sam swallowed down the piece that was in his mouth and added, “We’re so going together tomorrow. My car’s at the shop.”

“Why?” That was the one question Bucky ever asked. He found it easier to ask that and have the other person continue to talk than small talk. Idle chit-chats that he could barely remember were the worst and his biggest nightmare at this point.

“Well, the engine started making this noise,” Sam began, gesturing with his hands and elaborating on the noises more than Bucky wanted. Bucky’s shoulders started to relax as he realized he was in for a long night.

———

Sunlight glared at him through the blinds, waking him from the dreamless sleep he was finally getting. Bucky begrudgingly rolled out of his makeshift bed, cursing Sam for staying until midnight watching Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs after Bucky let it slip that he took his sister to go watch it. He rushed down the steps of his apartment building, still shrugging on his damn flannel and biting into his plum as he turned the corner. He finished it off by the time he had crossed the street, sending up a hand to a car that had stopped for him.

His shoulder knocked into someone as he entered the bakery, desperate to have something in his stomach before he took the subway into Manhattan. He muttered out an apology—the person had already disappeared—and continued his venture into the bakery Sam always talked about. Bucky had never been inside nor had he realized that it was a cafe/bakery. The scent of coffee and pastries made him pause for a second before he stepped into the queue. Ordering his coffee and paying for it, he found himself looking around the place.

It was made to look vintage, that much was obvious. The walls were a cool brown colour with beige accents creating swirly patterns around the whole cafe. The tables and stools lined up on the walls were another shade of brown that matched the round tables in the middle of the floor. The chairs for the tables were a light cream colour that matched the ceiling and the register counter. There were pillar replicas cut to fit into the corners of the walls, ninety degrees perfectly.

Once the barista called his name and held out his coffee, he rushed forward to grab and then walked out of the bakery. Cafe. Cafe/bakery place. He turned slightly as he walked away to glance at the name; Moonstruck. That didn’t help calm the debate happening in his head. Was it a cafe or a bakery? Is it both? Is it—

“Hey, Buck!” Sam called out from behind, a cunning smile on his face. He waved a hand teasingly as he lightly jogged over, a coffee in his hands as well. “Thought you could go without me, did you?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and continued to walk away, muttering, “Don’t know what I was thinking.” He took a sip of his coffee and looked up just in time to avoid a collision with a cyclist.

“I’m gonna ignore that and—” Sam paused to sip his coffee and gave the cyclist a glare— “tell you flannels are a good look on you.”

Bucky glanced down at his attire and shrugged dismissively. His black pants, black shirt, and red flannel were nothing to compliment. He found them all too casual and, quite frankly, the only decent pair of clothing he had for this outing. He didn’t say anything to humour Sam, instead taking another few sips of his coffee. It was good, very well-made, but that was another thing Bucky kept to himself.

“Oh! You got that coffee from Moonstruck, didn’t ya? I’d recognize that logo from a mile away,” Sam started, wiggling his eyebrows when Bucky sent him a glare. They reached the station, taking the steps down and scanning their cards to get in. Sam had, thankfully, kept his mouth closed for the time they waited for the subway to arrive, sipping his coffee and sending smiles at a particular woman who kept eyeing him with a smirk.

They both had to stand in the subway; apparently Saturdays in the middle of fall meant rush hour in the early afternoons. Bucky wondered briefly if he had rode in the subway back in the 40s. He knew there were working subways in New York then, but he doubted he ever took it. If he had to compare the money his parents had back then, he was sure they would be living as luxurious as Tony was now. They had a car and some foods that others would have had to work for months straight for.

As the subway started nearing the stop they were due to get off at, Sam started getting jittery.

“Do you think Steve’s gonna be there?” He asked, eyes darting to Bucky as he leaned against a divider. After Steve had given the mantle over to Sam, Sam had been doing nothing but trying. His view on the idealistic Captain America was different from what Steve’s was. He wanted Captain America to not just represent the country and the people in it, but also shed light on what America really was. It wasn’t the best country in the world, nor was everyone living in it the best people. Sam wanted to put that out to the world.

Bucky and Steve could respect him for it. Sam thought that they wouldn’t, simply because they didn’t share the same life experiences as him. They didn’t have police pulling up behind them already on high alert, just based on the colour of their skin. They didn’t have to endure the stares and subtle gestures of moving away or moving something away from them. Sam had explained what he saw Captain America to be with hesitancy, seemingly fully expecting the two to laugh in his face or tell him that it was wrong. But they had nodded solemnly and agreed, knowing that they would never know the struggles but could at least try to understand and help in any given way.

“Probably,” Bucky replied after a moment of thinking, shrugging. His one-word answer wasn’t enough for Sam.

“You think he watches the news? They’ve been dragging my name through the dirt with last week’s disaster,” he continued, grabbing the rail as the subway stopped to let passengers down at the stop. Last week’s disaster meant the tabloid of Sam talking to Zemo before the Wakandans took him in. He had watched a news channel dissect the picture, drawing to the stupidly hilarious conclusion that Sam had links to Hydra. The mere idea was laughable.

“Don’t worry,” was all Bucky grumbled out, stepping between a few people as they made their way to the doors. It wasn’t the best thing to say because Sam let out a frustrated sigh and had an irritated expression on his face. Bucky knew he should have had more things to say, to comfort Sam, but words were complicated. Bucky could never find the right ones and he found himself cutting his sentence down to just a few words.

The speakers went off with an automated voice telling them to stay clear of the door just before a ding and the doors slid open. Sam and Bucky slipped out of the subway, moving past the crowd that waited to get on and jogged up the stairs out to Manhattan. The stench in the air never failed to make Bucky’s throat itch for a few minutes. It was better when they passed the rush of the tourists and traffic in central Manhattan and made their way towards where the diner was nestled. Sam decided against saying anything for the time being and Bucky was thankful.

———

“Ay! Buckaroo and Cappie made it!” Tony announced, clapping Sam on the back as Sam glared at him. Tony kept his grin on his face, making it bigger for the sheer amusement of seeing Sam get all riled up at the nickname. Bucky had long accepted his, hearing it from Morgan a few times, said just a hair wrong and decided it was cute.

“Buckaroo!” Morgan shouted at the top of her lungs and ran straight towards Bucky, launching herself at him. Bucky, being an ex-assassin and having been greeted like this since the third time, let a smile grace his lips as he extended his arms just in time to catch her mid-jump.

“Hey, Mags.” He felt her arms wrap around his neck and arms around his middle as he held her close to his body, giving her a long hug before squeezing her tightly and letting her go. She jumped in his arms, bright eyes looking right at him with an excitement he hadn’t seen before.

“Did you write the address on your arm?” She asked, eyes widening as she whipped her head to look over her shoulder before turning back to look at him, hair slapping his cheek lightly each time. Bucky cocked an eyebrow and nodded slowly. She grinned wider, if that was possible with her small cheeks and face, and said, “Your soulmate’s here!”

Bucky’s heart dropped, feeling the blood drain out of his face and head towards his ears, thumping loudly. His face must have been somewhere between shock and horror, but Morgan mistook his expression for surprise and wriggled in his arms to be put down. She darted towards the back of the diner, towards his soulmate, shouting something at him along the lines of come on, buckaroo, she’s waiting. Bucky snapped out of his initial shock, but it turned into panic. Full blown panic. His head was spinning with worry so he did the only thing he could do.

Run.

Fight or flight, and he, like a coward, took the latter. He spun around on his heels, knocking his shoulder against Sam as he exited the door they had just entered. His chest rose and fell with each laboured breath he took, a shiver licking up his spine as he felt the cold seep into his bones. It was deeply embedded, drawing out a shudder from him as he fell forward, one hand on the wall as he tried to catch his breath. His chest felt heavy, suffocating him from the inside, squeezing his ribs and never letting go. Breathing was getting harder and it felt better not breathing.

“Bucky?” Steve’s hand was on his shoulder, squeezing tightly to let him know that he was here. Bucky wanted to throw his hand off and tackle him to the ground, but all too soon, his mind cleared, breathing got easier, and his panic subdued to calmness. His eyes darted up, meeting yours with a sharp gasp.

“Why?” He asked, more harsh than he wanted to. He knew that soulmate’s could feel and transfer feelings, with so much more he had to discover, but he didn’t want you to do it. He was fine, suppressing his feelings from you for so long and pushing yours away from him, so why did you do it?

“I—I could feel it,” you said, almost hesitantly as if you knew he was trying to hide it. Sam, who Bucky hadn’t noticed, spoke up from beside you.

“This is bakery girl, man! You’ve had so much of her food to taste,” Sam started, gesturing to you with a sweep of his hands. “Y’know she’s a keeper when her food tastes that good.” Bucky’s eyes felt tighter as he looked at you, sensing the change in your mood the second he did. He didn’t even feel the sick and twisted smile on his face until he went to speak.

“So? What difference does that make? I. Don’t. Want. It,” he seethed out, grin fading out when he saw the tears in your eyes. The betrayal and hurt he felt at that moment was more painful than any bullets he had taken. Utter bullshit. The second a sob broke through your lips and you turned away, a piece of him broke. He was sure what it was—his arm, leg, nose, or whatever—but something broke. It left a stinging pain in his chest.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” Steve hissed, grabbing and pulling him to turn by his shoulder. Steve’s anger radiated off of him in waves, making Sam slip back inside with a single glance towards your figure in the distance. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Bucky muttered, not even meeting Steve’s eyes. He knew he screwed up, fucked up big time, but his mind was made. He was clear before with his thoughts about soulmates and the sudden appearance of his, of you, made him freak out. He wasn’t ready. He just wasn’t.

“Well, you better find the fuck out before I fuck up some else shit of yours, James,” Steve retorted with a slip of desperation.

“Get off of it, Steven,” Bucky tried, finally raising his eyes to meet his. Steve’s nostrils flared in anger, face turning the lightest shade of red as he grabbed Bucky by the shoulders and shook him.

“You better get your fucking act together, Barnes. That woman didn’t deserve being called it or your shit. Your anger is displaced; you’re mad at yourself, not her. You’re a fucking asshole when you don’t think, y’know that?” Steve finished ranting and glanced at the door to the diner. “Now, we’re gonna go in there and act like you didn’t just fuck up and then, later today, you’re gonna go apologize to her. And you make sure you do that properly. The second she stepped in here and realized who she might potentially be soulmates with, she baked a whole ass cake for Morgan. In blueberry flavour because Morgan had told her so when buying her slushie. She’s nice and didn’t even bat an eye when Wade showed up.”

“Hey,” Tony’s voice came, head peeking out of the door. His eyebrows furrowed as he took a quick sweep of the scene before sighing and stepping outside. “Go inside, Old Cap.” Steve scowled at the name, muttering something about the team being a pain in the ass before heading in with a shared glance with Bucky. Tony replaced Steve’s spot and held his hands up in mock surrender with a smirk on his face. Bucky started scowling at him.

“Look,” Tony started, putting his hands down and wiping the smirk off his face, “I don’t know what just happened, but I’ve got some clue with the way you ran out here like your ass was on fire. I don’t know what Steve said to you, but I’m not here to tell you what to do with your life. Though, you do need to get a life. Jokes aside, I felt the same way about soulmates as you do.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, scowl falling and a non-amused expression on his face, doubting that they thought the same way about soulmates. Tony rolled his eyes and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“Fine, not the exact same way, but similar. I—I was a fuck up. I screwed every woman who threw themselves at me and the ones who didn’t, I tried my best to break down to the point they’d want to throw themselves at me. I—Pepper never cared much about that side of me. But she saw and saw past it. When I found out she was my soulmate, her handwriting gave her away. But I didn’t want it to be her. I couldn’t have had it be her, because she knew everything about me, from the drinking to the girls to my traumatic childhood. But—but she looked past it. She didn’t hate me or throw me out of her life. She gave me a chance.”

Tony looked at him expectantly, visibly awaiting an answer.

“What?” Bucky gruffed out, not seeing the point of this. He already knew that Tony was a womanizer and Pepper was a saint for putting up with him. The past few years had changed Tony in a good way and they all had Pepper and Morgan to thank.

Tony huffed out another annoyed breath, narrowing his eyes slightly and looking at Bucky as if he should have known what he was trying to say.

“If Pepper can forgive me for mistreating her for years, Y/N can forgive you for whatever impulsive asshole move you made.”

“Y/N,” Bucky mumbled, liking the taste of your name on his lips.

“Listen, Bucky.” Tony hesitated after that, but nodded and continued, “I’m not usually this sentimental or emotional, but I’m gonna be for your thick head to understand. Soulmates are better together. There’s this—this aching in your bones when you're not with them and—and their scent, their presence, calms you. Pepper, she makes everything feel better too. You go find her—after the party cause Morgan likes you more than anyone else—and tell her you’re sorry.”

Bucky nodded, finally realizing that the ache in his chest was just that. The feeling of being away from you was settling into his chest, deep in his bones, and his head was feeling light. It was the distance from you that was doing that to him. He was going to apologize, no matter how many times he needed to.

He figured he had a better shot at it, knowing Pepper forgave Tony.

———

The party was still in full blast when Bucky felt he had had enough of the building ache in his stomach. The ache seemed to worsen every time he felt a twinge of hurt, knowing exactly where it was coming from. Your tears, the anguish and hurt, all of it was digging a hole in his chest deeper and deeper. The invisible knife was twisting his insides as he gave Morgan a long hug and shook Tony’s hand. Tony gave him a smirk and pushed his glasses up his nose with the middle finger with a smug expression. Bucky ignored it, dropping his hand and walking out of the diner.

He took the subway back, keeping his head low as the dull throb in his head started to grow. It was gone in a few seconds—you had cut your emotions from him once again. Every time he had felt your emotions transfer over to him, they went away in a few seconds like you were trying to keep him from feeling what you were. He had done the same to you for years, so he deserved it—that’s what he kept telling himself.

All those years, he felt your emotions through the bond, but he never dwelled on those happy feelings. At first it was because Hydra pumped him up with shit that blocked his soulmate off completely. They kept him protected from your feelings, but that didn’t stop them from making him send nasty emotions your way. The rookies would take turns making him send you all kinds of emotions through the bond, some of which he was sure he would be thoroughly ashamed of if he remembered them all.

Then it was because he felt as if he didn’t deserve to be happy. He didn’t want the happiness that seemed to radiate from you everyday, so he pushed it back harshly, letting the tiniest bit of anger seep into you. Now, it was because he couldn’t let other feelings get the best of him. He had been going on missions, back-to-back, for three months and those missions would not have been completely with a sense of sympathy. Until Steve made him take this month off as their superior, he was blocking your emotions from reaching him. He let them seep through him a few times in the past month or so, relishing in the calmness.

The subway pulled to his stop and he got out as soon as the doors opened. He ran up the stairs, the hole in his heart starting to close the closer he got to your bakery. You were there. If the lights and shuffling were something to go by at least. His heart was ready to crumble when he peeked through the window and saw a teenager working his way through the shop with a broom. But then the kitchen doors were swinging open with you walking through, a pained smile on your face. Your tears had dried up, but there was no mistaking the puffiness around your eyes and the red tinge to them.

Bucky knocked and walked in, surprised to find the door unlocked.

“Sorry, we’re—” You cut off as your eyes landed on him. You took a moment to look at him carefully, eyes narrowing in both confusion and uncertainty, before directing your voice to the teenager. “Nico, you should go home now. Your mom said you needed to be back before eight and it’s already seven.”

“Are you sure you don’t—”

You turned towards Nico with a smile, thin-lipped, but a smile nonetheless, and said, “Go before I kick you out.” Nico grinned and shrugged, but placed the broom up against the wall, a pile of dust and garbage near the end of it and pushed past Bucky with a glare.

“Don’t fuck up,” Nico whispered as he paused to grab his hoodie from the coat rack by the door. Bucky gave a mere nod, one that was barely even there, and heard the door close behind him.

The tension that lingered in the air after Nico left made Bucky shift uncomfortably. He could tell the sun was going, probably touching the horizon with its end and painting the sky in orange and pink hues. The shop was going from warm to cold. The chatters and people that had kept it lively were gone, a quiet humming and buzzing coming from the kitchen. The displays were empty of the pastries and goods that were up in the morning, warm and fresh.

“Did—Did you need something?” The slightest crack in your voice made his eyes dart back to you, unaware of when they had drifted off of you in the first place. Your hands were playing with the hem of your sweater, one on the zipper and one fiddling with the end of it. Your feet shifted on the ground, going from straight to tilted to straight again.

“I, uh, I wanted to say sorry,” Bucky started, wincing when he tasted the words on his tongue. They didn’t feel right nor were they what you deserved. After what he said and did to you—not just today, but throughout your entire life—he had to give you more. He wanted to give you more and then some. “But I don’t think that’s enough. I—I want to show you that I’m sorry. Truly. Not anything half-assed or, you know, not real. I want to make it up to you.”

He stared at you for a long second. His eyes trailed over your eyes that had widened sometime through his little ramble, going down to your lips that pressed together in a thin line, and then to your hands that were no longer fiddling but fisted up together. You lifted one to comb through your hair, exhaling a gentle breath of a laugh. Your sweater rode up on your arm, his handwriting displayed across your forearm coming into view. A small smile appeared on your lips, one that only had the tips of your lips curling upwards.

“You can start by helping me clean up,” you teased, sniffling slightly and tilting your head at him. The smile on your face slipped as you whispered, “Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t,” Bucky agreed quickly, head nodding fast enough to leave him feeling lightheaded. “I just—I’m a little fucked up in the head. I’m not the best man in the world and you could definitely do better than me, so much better. So if—so if you don’t want me at all, if you want someone else—”

“I wouldn’t have stayed at the diner if I didn’t know what I was getting myself into,” you interrupted, voice soft and gentle. It was soothing enough for Bucky’s shoulders to sag with relief. He hadn’t noticed the tension in his body until then. You smiled again, a little more than the last one. “I mean, ending up at a diner with the Avengers who are basically in the media's limelight all the time, I kinda know what I was getting myself into.”

“It could have been Sam,” Bucky blurted out, trying to get a reading on you.

You eyed him curiously as you answered, “Unless he has two soulmates, I’m pretty sure I knew who it could’ve been.”

“What about—”

“Bucky,” you stressed, shaking your head as a breathy laugh escaped your lips. “You can’t push me away with your self-doubt or self-loathing. You’re stuck with me.”

That’s what he was doing. Pushing you to your edge with his constant self-hating and questions that would make anyone pull out their hair. He wanted you to be the one pushing him away after a slip-up, after a mistake, and be the one hurt. He wanted you to hurt him the way he hurt you. But you were smiling at him, laughing at his nagging questions, and trying to tell him that he was stuck with you.

You’re stuck with me.

That didn’t sound too bad.

“Bucky?” You took the few steps that were between you two and left a few inches of space between your bodies as you gazed up at him. “I know you’ve got baggage—Sam talked about his mystery friend up in that apartment building. He told him a few things here and there, letting me fill in the gaps. It didn’t take long for me to put the pieces together and chalk his friend up to being you.”

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked away from you. A soft and warm hand touched his cheek lightly, hesitant fingers trailing on his jaw, before you pressed your palm into his cheek and guided him to look at you.

“I’m willing to try this, Bucky, if you are.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered between your eyes, once or twice flitting down to your lips. He could feel his chest warm and bloom with something close to adoration, resolve crumbling the longer you stared at him. His jaw unclenched under your touch and, before you could pull away from him, he curled his left hand around your wrist gently, so light that it was feather-like. He twisted his head enough to place his lips against your pulse point, lingering as he caught the scent of cinnamon.

“I want to try,” he whispered, lips tickling the inside of your wrist as you grinned. His heart thumped against his chest in a way that made his insides melt, all in a good way. Your fingers patted his cheekbone lightly, tilting your head and narrowing your eyes slightly with a glint in them.

“Then get cleaning.”

#mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #mcu x reader #marvel mcu #bucky barnes x y/n #mcu x you #mcu x y/n #avenger x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #james bucky barnes #james barnes x female reader #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier

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the-writer-nerd-ro · 2 months ago

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I'm way behind posting this but everybody enjoy the Lake Episode!!! No required reading but Marian and Maddox are Hunter's cousins and Petunia is a florist who works with the funeral home sometimes

The girls couldn't afford a beach episode so we're going to the lake

It was May and already oppressively hot, especially if you tended to wear dark-colored long-sleeved vintage dresses. Hunter kept ice pops stocked in the breakroom for the staff, but it wasn’t enough.

On the days her cousin Marian came and tended to the cemetery he decimated half a pack of ice pops on his own.

“It’s too hot,” Marian complained as he ate his third popsicle of the day.

“You’re telling me,” Hunter agreed, wiping her brow with her puffy sleeve.

“We should go out on my boat this weekend.”

Hunter stared at him. “You have a boat?!?”

“I didn’t tell you? One of my clients loved what I did with his yard so much he gave me a boat.”

“Your life is unreal. If I do a good job coordinating a funeral the most I get is a polite nod. Maybe a referral, if I’m lucky.”

Marian shrugged. “Rich people are crazy.”

“Do you even have a boating license?”

“Mm-hm. Sara’s invited too, obviously, and I think Maddox is coming. Morgan is at some writing workship.”

Hunter glanced at a floral arrangement on her desk.

“We should invite Petunia.”

Marian scrunched up his face, able, after a moment, to remember the two times he’d met the pretty florist.

“Okay, sure. Tell her she needs a fishing license if she wants to fish with me. I figured you and Sara would probably just want to swim. Maddox can do whatever.”

“Yeah, I don’t touch fish,” Hunter agreed. “You have fun though.”

“Oh, I will. Can I have another popsicle?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Hunter wasted no time filling Sara in on the impromptu weekend plans, as well as her ongoing matchmaking scheme.

“I’m in,” Sara agreed, “No tsure what I’m gonna wear, though.”

“I’m sure it will be exceptional. There’s no one in the world with a style like yours.”

“Aww, thanks babe. I can’t wait to see what you what you pick out, either.”

That was easy, Hunter had a very small pool of vintage swimsuits, so she put off outfit planning for later and focused on getting Petunia on board.

“I’m not sure, Hunter. I’m not much of a swimmer.”

“You don’t have to swim, you can hang out on the boat with Marian. It’ll be much cooler near the water, though.”

“Alright, if you're sure your cousin won’t mind.”

“He won’t, the more the merrier.”

There was, by the day of, one less than anticipated, though the crew wasn’t any less merry.

Sara and Hunter had hitched a ride with Petunia, who lived on the same side of the city as them, so they met up with Marian at the lake.

“Turns out Maddox just wanted a ride here, she’s going to a lake party with some of the people she’s attending college with next semester.”

“Genius,” Hunter commended.

Sara nodded in agreement but she was a little bummed she hadn’t heard about this party, her partydar was pretty good.

Marian smiled at Petunia, lifting his hand in a half wave. “Glad you could make it. Welcome to the Water Lily.”

“She’s beautiful,” Petunia said respectfully.

“Thanks, hope she floats,” Marian joked.

“You’re kidding, right?” Hunter asked.

“Yeah, of course I am. I might let you capsize but Sara and Petunia don’t deserve that.”

Hunter snorted.

“I’m glad you’d at least save my girlfriend from drowning.”

“Don’t worry, Hun, I’d dive to the bottom of the ocean to save you,” Sara promised.

Hunter knew Sara was serious about that, fortunately they didn’t live anywhere near the ocean.

“I like your swimsuit,” Petunia complimented, though it was unclear if she was talking to Hunter, whose vintage swimsuit was more like a navy blue dress than a swimsuit, or Sara, who wore bright orange swim trunks and a cherry covered bikini top and had covered the whole thing in a flowy, translucent pink cover-up.

“Thanks,” Hunter and Sara said in unison, not questioning it.

“You’re not going to swim?” Marian asked.

Petunia was wearing thigh-length overalls and a green shirt that said “Women Fear Me, Fish Want Me.”

“No, I prefer to fish.”

“Finally, someone with taste. Good idea about inviting her, Hunter.”

Petunia blushed, but the sun was hot and so the reddinging of her face went unnoticed.

“I packed Lunchables and Lays Stax for lunch, let’s get on the water before it gets crowded,” Marian said.

Sara cheered, throwing an arm around Hunter. “We’re going to have way more fun than Maddox.”

“Absolutely,” Hunter agreed, always down to one-up her youngest cousin.

They boarded the Water Lily and set off, eager to make the most of their Saturday.

Marian was deeply focused as he drove the boat to the perfect little fishing spot, so Hunter and Sara kept busy by chatting with Petunia and liberally applying sunscreen on each other. Hunter applied sunscreen to Sara like she was painting a masterpiece, and Sara applied sunscreen to Hunter like this was the first time she had ever touched her lover.

Once they were screened up, Hunter took a couple pictures and videos of Sara looking over the water. She hoped to get some pictures of Petunia and Marian later, in case she ever needed it for an engagement party slideshow.

She had lots of practice setting up Marian with rad ladies (before she’d met Sara, basically any girl she’d crushed on who turned out to be straight). Maybe this time he wouldn’t fumble it.

Marian was completely unaware of his cousin’s plans for his love life. If he’d been aware of her matchmaking misadventures, he would have attempted to put a stop to them years ago. Right now, all he cared about was catching some fish for dinner. What did it matter if Hunter was baiting a hook of her own?

Petunia was vaguely aware that this was a set-up. She knew what Hunter and Sara were like. And she knew that Hunter knew she only delivered flowers to the funeral home personally for a chance at seeing Marian. And for free ice-pops, but that wasn’t as big of a pull as Marian. It was silly, but he was exactly her type. He was cute, kind, and he cared about plants almost as much as she did.

And, in an exciting turn of events, it seemed they both liked fishing.

Sara and Hunter wasted no time giving the potential love birds some space, cannonballing into the lake and splashing around.

Marian moved to a seat next to Petunia and distributed the fishing poles.

“Let me know if you need any help with anything. Some people don’t like baiting their own hooks.”

By the time Marian had finished saying that, Petunia already had a nightcrawler on the end of her hook.

“Thanks, I might need help getting the fish off the line, I’ll let you know.”

Marian admired her confidence, it seemed like Petunia had no doubts she’d catch fish, it was only a matter of how many.

“It’s nice to meet someone else who likes fishing. My little sister Maddox used to be my fishing buddy, but now she’s too cool to do anything with me.”

“I’m not too cool,” Petunia blurted.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You seem pretty cool to me.”

Petunia took a swig of her water bottle so she didn’t start to overheat.

“I could say the same to you.”

Marian smiled a little but didn’t know how to respond, so he turned his attention to their bobbers in the water.

He was not at all surprised when Petunia got the first bite, reeling it in like a pro.

From the water Hunter and Sara cheered, confirming that their privacy was an illusion.

“Beautiful,” Marian said appreciatively, unhooking the fish and tossing it in the cooler.

“How do you cook your fish?” Petunia asked.

“I filet them, then I salt and flour the pieces and fry them in a skillet with crisco, or coconut oil if I’m trying to be healthy.”

“Mmm, sounds fantastic.”

“You’re welcome to join me. I mean, so far you’ve caught 100% of the fish.”

Petunia pretended to consider it for a while.

“Okay, on one condition.”

Marian raised an eyebrow. “And that is?”

“You let me make mac and cheese.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“My family would always serve mac and cheese with fried fish,” Petunia explained.

“That’s a good tradition.”

“Probably the best tradition they have.” Petunia had broken a couple of her family’s other traditions, but she loved and respected them enough to keep their cheesiest ones alive and well.

“Thanks for offering to share it with me.”

“Alright then, fried fish and mac and cheese. It’s a date.”

Marian looked flustered, trying to formulate a response when suddenly he felt a tug on his line.

He poured his focus into keeping that fish on the hook, grateful for a bit of a distraction.

By the time the second fish was in the cooler, it seemed unnecessary to address the date comment. If it was a date, he would make it a damn good one. And if it wasn’t a date, well, at least they’d have fried fish and macaroni and cheese.

Hiding slightly under the boat, Hunter took in these new developments with glee.

There was no way Marian could fumble this one, Petunia was laying it all on the table.

“I bet you a million dollars that they’re officially dating by the end of June,” she whispered to Sara.

“You don’t have a million dollars.”

“I bet you a million kisses.”

Sara pondered it for a second. “Hm. That’s going to be hard to count, but I accept your terms.”

In this particular bet, there weren't exactly any losers.

They splashed around for a little longer, content to float together in the coolness of the lake on an otherwise stuffy Saturday, before finally climbing back on the Water Lily for sunscreen and pizza Lunchables.

Marian and Petunia had caught several more fish by that point, and were talking like they were old friends. Hunter was certain, more than anything else, that she’d hit the mark with her latest matchmaking scheme. And Marian had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

#sara pena #hunter richardson #sara x hunter #hunter x sara #drawfee fanfiction #drawfee #marian richardson #maddox richardson #petunia watts #this fic has been in the works for AGES

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ikeromantic · 1 year ago

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Entwined, Ch. 9

Part 9 of a multipart series. Mai has been reborn in the modern age after a full life in the Sengoku. The warlords as spirit animals find her again after 500 years of searching for her soul. Approx. 2700 words.

Part 1

Previous: Part 8

“Did you have a good chat with your friend?” Mai asked as they made their way down the beach. There were only a few people out and about. An old man sunning himself. A mom and her two children splashing in the surf. A one-eyed kitty sat on the nearby dock, tail swishing. They nearly had the whole beach all to themselves.

He gave her a sidelong look. “I did.”

“Thanks for the clothes, by the way. You didn’t need to buy all this for me.”

“Don’t worry about it. There is no other way I’d rather spend my money.” He gave her a warm smile. “I owe you for taking up your time this afternoon anyway.”

She shook her head. “No. No. I did need the break. And I haven’t been to the beach in awhile.”

Mitsuhide nodded instead of responding with one of his usual quips.

There was so much in his expression that she could not read. Mai wanted to ask him about his teasing earlier. About his conversation with Motonari. And what he knew of her headaches and the strange dreams that invaded even her waking hours. The words were there on the tip of her tongue, but she found herself unable to speak them. As if some fear held her silent. Fear, perhaps, of learning a truth she wasn’t ready to accept, or hearing a lie she could not stomach.

“Let’s swim,” she said instead. It was still a bit cool out to be in the water, but she didn’t care. A feeling of recklessness burst over her. A sudden desire to do something, anything. To move, even if that motion changed nothing about her situation.

“Alright, little mouse.” He ruffled her hair playfully, his humor back in full force.

They found a spot to set their things and changed in the nearby dressing rooms. Mai was tempted to put back on the white and gold bathing suit just to see if it had the same effect a second time around, but self preservation won out and she wore the blue one instead.

Mitsuhide was already waiting for her on a blanket spread over the sand. He was wearing a pair of loose swim trunks. They were white, with curling blue lines up the sides that emphasized how low they rode his hips. Her eyes were drawn to the line of soft, white-blond hair that led in a trail beneath his bellybutton to the waist band of the shorts.

Mai felt her mouth go dry at the sight. There was something intolerably sexy about the V of a man’s hips, and on Mitsuhide it was . . . delicious was the only word that came to her mind. She had to take a breath and make her heart calm down. This was not the way she was supposed to feel about a client - or a friend. And he had someone else, she reminded herself. He just liked to tease her.

He seemed to catch the look in her eyes as she saw him, and his smile grew wider. “Do you approve? I know I didn’t model for you at the shop, but I didn’t think I needed to. Men’s swim trunks are all the same, no?”

“No,” she said breathily and then coughed and said it again in a more normal tone. “The - the seams. The fit. Uhm.” Mai cleared her throat again. How did he have this effect? She saw countless men in their underwear during fittings and when taking measurements. And she’d had boyfriends. Not a lot, but enough to be immune to - to abs. And that pelvic V. And the delicate platinum hairs that caught the light. And that little freckle on his left hip . . .

“Uhm?” He laughed. “Technical sewing term?”

“Yep. Yeah.” Holy cats, she thought. This was entirely unfair. She wished she’d decided to come out in the white and gold suit, just to even things up.

“You look great in that one.” Mitsuhide gave her an appreciative look. “The blue suits you.”

“Mmm.” She noticed it matched the blue on his shorts. “It looks like we coordinated.”

“Oh? What a coincidence.”

The way he said it made her doubt that very much, but she decided not to make anything out of it. He was just teasing her again. Flirting. He probably acted like that with a lot of girls he worked with. Nothing special. Mai told herself that, and almost believed it. But even with those thoughts swirling in her mind, she couldn’t help but feel special as he took her hand and led her out into the surf.

The water wasn’t as cold as she’d expected it to be. A little cooler than the air, she thought, as it surged up her bare legs and splashed her thighs. She stumbled a bit as the tide pulled at her ankles.

“Careful little mouse. The currents can catch you if you aren’t paying attention.”

“I know. This is the same beach I used to come to with my parents. And I swim here sometimes with Asami and Kaiya.” She splashed him with her free hand, and he let go of her to splash her back.

“Cruel vixen. I wasn’t going to start a war with you, but now you’ve done it.” He laughed and sent a jet of water toward her from his fist.

Mai tried to dodge but ended up catching most of it on her chest. “Oooh I am going to get you for that!” She sent a wave of water at him, which he didn’t even try to dodge. The droplets beaded and ran down his skin like little sunlit gems. Which wasn’t fair, she thought. Water absolutely did not do that on her skin.

They kept the splash battle going until a wave got them both and knocked Mai completely into the water. Mitsuhide helped her up, chuckling as she spluttered. “In your state, I think it’s only fair to call a truce.”

“I accept,” she grinned, pushing her wet hair out of her face.

After that, they floated for a bit, and swam, and then sat on the beach and talked about silly things. Favorite movies and music and what kind of pet they would get if they could have any pet in the world.

“I’d get . . . a little mouse,” Mitsuhide grinned.

“Oh come on. Be serious! You could have any animal in the world and you would want a mouse?” She rolled her eyes. “I can tell you’re teasing me again. God, you are so evil!”

“Evil? Never.” He laughed. “You are just underestimating how adorable a mouse can be. Brave, even though her little heart is pounding in fear. Her eyes, big and wide and gentle, her pink little nose wiggling. And her soft little feet!”

“You know, I almost believe you.” Mai sighed.

Mitushide turned, stretching. He rolled his shoulders, the muscles of his back bunching and relaxing as they sent water droplets dancing down his skin. “So what about you,” he asked, looking at her over his shoulder.

Mai pulled her eyes away with some effort. “I - I don’t know. I’ve always thought koalas were cute but they sleep all the time. I guess I’d want a pet I can cuddle and play with. Like a red panda. Or a fox. They’re cute.”

“A fox, hm? And what would you do with your little fox pet, if you had one?” His smile looked somehow smug, as if he’d wanted her to give that answer.

“I don’t know. Take him for walks? Curl up with him in my lap and watch tv? Normal pet stuff.” She sighed. “I guess I should dream bigger. Like a bear or a tiger. Or a horse! I could ride him.”

“Overrated.” Mitsuhide sniffed. “Stick with the fox. You’ll have more fun. They are very playful animals.”

She laughed. “True.” Then Mai paused, a question bubbling out of her before she thought about it. “How did you know to make the marks you did? At the fitting?”

Mitsuhide shrugged. “Why is it so important to you?”

“Because those are - those are mine. I made them up in college so people couldn’t easily steal my designs. I’ve never taught them to anyone.” There was the tug again in her chest, insistent.

His eyes narrowed in thought. Mitsuhide replied with a flat tone, though his eyes shone. “I told you a master never reveals his secrets.”

“Oooh I should have known you wouldn’t be serious!” She growled in frustration. “Let me see if I can figure it out. Maybe . . . you studied them when I was doing the design and fittings for your play. That’s it, isn’t it?” It was the only thing that made sense to her, though Mai could not imagine someone putting in the time and effort to do so. And for what? So he could surprise her with it today? That was unhinged.

“I suppose that’s one theory.” He settled back, laying on the blanket to gaze up at the sky.

“You are infuriating.”

He grinned, his eyes closing. “Thank you, little one. I do try.”

Mai huffed and lay back on her towel. The warm sun felt glorious on her skin after the cold ocean water. She closed her eyes and let herself relax. Worries about her dreams - and daydreams - could wait. Maybe she would see a doctor about it, and they could tell her what was happening to her. Perfectly solvable. Later.

They lay like that for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts, close but not together. Almost, but not quite touching. A comfortable silence stretched between them for a time. Mitsuhide was the first to break it. “Tell me, little mouse. What is it that you want?”

“What?” Mai peered over at him. “That’s kind of a big question.”

He nodded, still laying with his eyes closed, expression unreadable. “Just in general. Lots of people want a career. Marriage. Kids. A nice house in a good part of town. So what is it you dream of?”

She wasn’t sure how he meant the question. Serious or teasing, playful or genuinely curious. But she took it seriously. “I used to think all I really wanted was to be a great clothing designer. To be respected in my field, make money . . . but . . . I kind of have that, for the most part.”

“And?” He prompted.

“It’s not everything I thought it would be? I mean, I still love making clothes. Taking an idea from design to completion and seeing the joy in my customer’s face is great. And I make enough to get by even if I’ll never be rich. It’s just, I think sometimes I do want something more.”

Mitsuhide turned his head to face her. “Like what?”

“Someone to share it with? I mean, I have friends and I’ve dated. It’s not like I’m a hermit.” Mai laughed. “I just think sometimes it would be nice to find someone that understands me and cares about me and . . . I guess I sound pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No.” He cleared his throat. “Not at all. I think that’s what most people want, even if they don’t admit it.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Even you, oh mysterious actor man?”

Mitsuhide grinned. “Even me.” He propped himself up on an elbow to face her. “Am I really so mysterious to you?”

“Absolutely.” She teased him and laughed again, but stopped as she noticed something melancholy in that golden gaze. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you forever,” she admitted, though she hadn’t meant to. “Not like . . . like anything weird. Just, when you’re around. It feels like you belong.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek in a caress too loving for a mere friend. Too familiar for any but a lover.

Mai felt something hot and electric tremble through her nerves at his touch. She held herself completely still, her lips closed tight, for fear she might lean into it or make a sound. Then his hand was gone and he was standing up, brushing the bits of sand and sea salt from his skin.

“We should get back. It will be dinner soon and I have to get ready.”

Whatever Mai felt, she thought it was pretty clear he didn’t. A bitter disappointment rushed in to fill the spaces of her chest that were warm only a moment ago. “Going on a date,” she sniped.

Mitsuhide’s usual grin fell a little and he shook his head. “No. Only one date a day for me.” He held out a hand and helped her up. “Just some industry people. The assistant to the regional cultural director, the mayor’s secretary. That kind of thing. Work related.” He shrugged.

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure how to react to that answer. She’d known he had some pull but those kinds of connections seemed beyond what your average actor would cultivate. Then it fully landed, what he’d said. One date a day. “Wait. Was this a date? Because -”

He laughed and tousled her hair. “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

“Are you seriously quoting Shakespeare as an answer?” She tried to frown at him but his expression was so ridiculous. That wide, sharp smile and his eyes so full of a pretend innocence.

“If the bard said it first and better, I don’t know why I’d try to improve on the text.” He laughed. “Now are you going to help me pack up or am I carrying all this on my own?”

Mai gave him a sly grin. “Well, since this is a date, I suppose you’re on your own. Have to prove your manliness and all that.”

“Oh? Is it not well-proven already?” He skimmed a hand down his side and Mai couldn’t help the way her eyes tracked the movement. It wasn’t fair for him to be so pretty. So infuriatingly gorgeous. So . . .

She cleared her throat and forced her eyes up. “I’ll give you a point or two for that. But you should probably put on a shirt.” And then followed her own advice and put a cover-up on.

“The struggles of modern day masculinity. Alas.” He easily packed and hefted the bundle of stuff they’d bought for the day. “At one time, I would have slaughtered my way through enemy lines to rescue you. That would have been proof enough. But there just aren’t enough decent opponents these days. And modern law tends to frown on the whole killing thing.”

“And that’s a good thing.” Mai laughed as she led the way back to the car. The one-eyed cat was still sitting on the dock. It watched as they passed, tail swishing.

She did end up helping Mitsuhide load everything into the car. The drive back was short and pleasant, with Mitsuhide continuing to bemoan the modern state of manliness. Mai teased him and they both laughed. It felt good, she thought. Really good. The chemistry between them had her whole self humming, body and soul.

When they reached her flat, he walked her to the door, bags in hand. “So, little mouse? Shall we do this again sometime?” He smiled down at her, one arm braced behind her against the door. If he set his other hand on the brick, she’d be trapped between him and the building, which didn’t bother her as much as it should.

“Sure. But next time, let’s just plan it? That way it feels less like a kidnapping and more like hanging out with a friend.”

“Is that what today felt like?” He tilted his head toward her, his platinum blonde hair falling in his face. A strand of it brushed her cheek.

“Ah . . . I . . .” Her mind stuttered to a halt as he shifted closer. His breath tickled her cheek. She was sure he was about to kiss her. Her head tilted to match his, her lips pursed, her body leaning toward him.

Mitsuhide set her bag into her hands. “Have a good night, little one.”

“Y-you too?” She felt an almost physical weight of disappointment that he hadn’t kissed her. Or even tried to kiss her. Mai watched him drive off with a deep feeling of confusion. Had she misread him? Was he just teasing? Damn it.

As she walked upstairs, the one thing that she was certain about was that she’d wanted to kiss Mitsuhide. Which meant there was something she needed to do. She pulled out her phone and texted Hideyoshi.

Hey! Can we talk?

Chapter 10

#ikemen sengoku au #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff

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moonchildstyles · 2 years ago

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thinking about all the cute gym pics harry takes :( and pretty mirror pics of his outfits that are hidden away in his camera roll :(( i’m so soft thinking of him sending them to you with a sweet smile poking through behind his phone:( older h is 100% a mirror pic honey like sending pretty girl pictures of him before one of their dates so she knows what colors to wear :( gravity h sending flower a cute mirror selfie with a little peace sign before class cause he liked his sweater :(((( .. back to the gym pics wah h leaving you in bed in the morning to go the gym and sending you a pic when you’re all whiny asking him where he is </3 ugh will sob if i think about this more

aster mirror pic… him at work……. tattoos……… pretty hair …. definitely sitting in his rolly stool man spreading

STOPPPPP YOU KNOW HE HAS SOOOO MANY PICS LIKE IT HURTS ME SO MUCH TO THINK ABOUT LIEK I NEED TO BE IN HIS LIFE IM ON MY KNEES I AM BEGGING HARRY PLEASE!!!!!!!

very obsessed w the idea of older h sending her pics tho so she knows what colors to wear if she wants to coordinate w him like that is SO :(((((( and he def gets a little like blushy at all of her reactions telling him how cute he looks like very "thats my man!!!!" vibes that make him very full hearted for her :(

ASHDFUSHDUS AND GRAVITY:(((( SENDING HER PICS BC HE LIKES HIS SWEATER:((((((( like def telling her he bought a new sweater and she asks to see it and shes expecting him to send just like a pic of the sweater but then its him in it like stop:((( his little sprout peaking over and his painted nails and his dimple :((((((((( a peace sign too like I have to marry him I do!!!!!!

BUT YOURE SO SICK:((((( him sending you a pic of him from the gym when you get all pouty asking where he is bc he left before you woke up and its just a pic in the mirror w his sprout and like you can tell hes been going at ut for a while cause hes a little sweaty and ugh im just :((((( baby daddy:(

but you are the most deranged for saying aster h would send her one from his tattoo stool.....long hair and black nails and MANSPREADING............ like maybe his client is running late so hes just a little grumpy texting her how bored he is and him sending that pic to her.....like you know she saves it and she likes it a little tooooooooOOOOO much but all she says back is "you look cute h!" but he knows her toooo well so theres a little "yeah? thanks angel" andusfhosuhfous idk maybe im in a mood but he somehow gets her to call him daddy just before he goes back to work and now shes just in a mood fr

#anon #ask #inspo #concept

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lunartearrose · 10 months ago

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Oc kiss week 2024 #2 - Rain

Ocs: Forage the Tiefling druid, Gwen the seamstress living doll.

Gwen belongs to Sammy, my DM! I don't think she has a public tumblr as i was not told it, but she is on discord. Didn't get permissions to tag or tell either way, just to use Gwen ^^;

World: DnD campaign(s) and maybe an extensive minecraft au i chuck a bunch of ocs into

Another drabble under the cut! Warning for typical dnd violence.

Whenever it rained, Gwen always thought of her boyfriend. And whenever he was away on hunter guild business, it always made her long for his return.

Tonight, it was one of those nights. The rain was pouring loudly against the walls of her boutique, a comforting and constant sound as she wrapped up her work for the night. In Particular, she had been commissioned for a beautiful wedding dress…

“Hey, so… I didn't want to bring this up earlier, but….” Harmony spoke up from the sidelines, using a pair of opera glasses to look at Gwen's tightly packed order list writing, “Didn't the client want a white dress? White with a dragon motif?”

Gwen paused, glancing at her work. “Well, they did. Did I make a mistake?”

“Well, for one, that's not pure white - it's an off-blue. But I guess it's subtle. The more interesting choices you have on that dress are the pearls and the coral. You're also definitely sewing eels instead of anything dragon-like.”

“I- well-” Gwen stammered, doing a once-over of the dress, “a subtle blue is often used to accent white and make it feel whiter - and I'm not done with what you're calling an eel! Just gotta add the scales and the. The head… and don't dragons like treasure?”

Harmony gazed at the dress through her pair of opera glasses. “Are Forage's shed coral antler-things a typical choice for dragons to hoard?”

Gwen sighed, shoulders slumping as she hid a blush. “...to me they are.” She muttered softly. “I'll fix it in the morning…”

“I'll get you up early so you can get it done without a rush.” Harmony replied.

Wrap-up continued, and Gwen inspected her spools of thread. The stuff she used for embroidering was almost out!

“Hey, do you think the supply shop is open still?” Gwen asked.

“Maybe the one in the hunter's guild.” Harmony answered, “If not that one, try to find Miranda's or something.”

Gwen frowned. “Miranda kinda scares me… I also don't think I want cursed thread, but I'll try the hunter's guild. Thank you.”

As Gwen put her coat on and grabbed an umbrella, Harmony called after her, “Keep to the populated streets. You know. The murders.”

“Y-yeah Harmony thank you Harmony”

With that, Gwen went to brave the storm. It was a heavier rainfall than she thought!

And with weather like that, barely anybody was on the streets. She was about half way to her destination when she realized this wasn't exactly safe. And the people that were there… weren't exactly minding their business.

She tried to pay it no mind, but more and more people were beginning to follow her. Take the same turns, move almost beside her… something was deeply wrong.

Seeing a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye, she quickly dodged out of the way of a dagger meant for her. She ran as fast as she could, as voices shout to each other, coordinating her downfall. She screams, but her voice is muffled by the rain.

She eventually slipped on the rainy ground, landing hard on the coral and rock cobbled ground. As blades of all kinds pointed her way, dripping with what was surely poison, she curled up, arms blocking her face in defense…

But then, strangely, she felt something. A dizzy sensation that messed with her sense of up and down, making her ears pop. As much as it made her hair stand on end, the sensation was familiar. She knew this power.

The blades never came down.

She found herself sitting on the surface of a puddle, now looking miles deep, to unknown depths. Several of the men carrying blades were entangled in tendrils that extended from the deep blue darkness, choking them even after their blades dropped, plunking into the darkness below. Soon to follow, the men were dragged down, a rush of bubbles the only signifiers of their screams for mercy.

One assailant had managed to avoid the deep pool, and attempted to string a bow as fast as their trembling hands should.

“WHERE ARE YOU, YOU MONSTER?!” the scared ranger shouted, “I SWEAR, IF YOU DON'T COME OUT, I'LL SHOOT HER!”

“Oh, but were you not planning to shoot anyway? Do not talk out of two sides of your mouth.” A sweetly cruel voice pierced the rainfall, clear as crystal waters.

The ranger spun while the druid talked, attempting their last-ditch effort - but in a blink, their body had been pierced by stalks of shimmering coral. There was no bloodfall - the stalks of coral greedily soaked up everything that was meant to fall, not a drop to spare for the ground.

“Watch your step. The coral still bites.” The druid giggled.

The ranger screamed in agony. Forage appeared from the stalks, his eyes cold as he surveyed his prey. In the heavy downpour, his hair wavered like tentacles, enjoying the soaking rain. Feeding off of it. His shark tail waved from side to side, and the fins beneath his ears perked at the sounds of fear.

“Now. Either you talk, or you die. What possible purpose could you have for attacking my dear Gwen? She'd never hurt a fly. Surely you were all about to strike the wrong person.” Forage asked.

“FUCK YOU!” the ranger screamed, pulling a leg off of a spike to kick Forage, “BOTH OF YOU GO TO HELL! DIE!”

Forage let their boot hit his wrist. In turn, the water clinging to it was heated to boiling by his Tiefling blood, cooking his enemy's injuries for good measure. He smiled, teeth pointy like a shark's.

“Die it is, then. I am certain the guild must've caught plenty of your ilk by now. Your sob story does not interest me in the slightest. You hurt Gwen, after all.”

With that, the coral grew wildly, engulfing the ranger, crushing, spearing, sucking the life from them until all that remained were the horribly beautiful stalks, glowing softly in the rain. Slowly, the coral began to grow down and away, flattening itself to seep back into the cracks of the cobblestone and filling any gaps.

“Forage…” Gwen spoke. She was shaking, wondering if this was real, or if she hit her head when she fell.

The purple tiefling spun around to face her, the coldness washing away with the heavy rain. “Gwen! Are you alright?! That cut was not deep, was it?”

He was quickly by her side, wrapping up her arm with some bandages. He's really, real… and… he really, really went crazy on those guys for trying to hurt her!

“I am sorry, I was not careful with my spell slots - I do not think I have the juice to do much healing. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I-I’m alright… j-just help me up…” Gwen replied.

Quickly, Forage did just that, hugging her tightly. At that time, she noticed the state of his clothes.

“Did a pack of wolves tear you up before you got into town?” Gwen asked.

“Well… I did end up having a… well… scylla moment again. Hence the quick cover up with my ripped coat. But it was only briefly! That's why I was able to grab all those jerks at once.” Forage explained, ears drooping a bit. “I-I didn't scare you, did I? I think my brain would explode if I hurt you…”

“Nono, you didn't attack me at all.” Gwen explained, “I'm just… gosh, it really is you. I really missed you.”

“Okay, I'm glad. I missed you too, Gwen…”

At this, she glanced up, still hugging him tight. Even after ten years, He still took her breath away… with his cute looks, and mesmerizing eyes… and oh, what a gleaming smile…

“Right! What am I thinking… I owe you one of these, right?” Forage smiled. He leaned in close and whispered, “A kiss has its own healing magic, right?”

Not even pausing to agree, Gwen quickly pulled him in for that kiss. They held each other closely for a long while, giggling and kissing, over and over. They were soaked by the end, but neither cared at this point.

Or well, Forage worried over Gwen's state! Her body was stitched, wasn't it?!

“Shoot! We should get home, shouldn't we? I do not want you to catch a cold or anything!” Forage said, glancing up at the sky. “The rain will not stop until tomorrow. The ground's been begging for it.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Uh, where did I put my umbrella…?” Gwen said, glancing around.

Forage perked up for a moment, running to grab his staff from where he had left it on the ground. From the orb in the middle, a tentacle emerged, offering up the missing umbrella.

“There it is!” Forage said with a smile.

Gwen gently took it. “Thank you, octopus.” She said.

With that, the two walked home together, Gwen under the umbrella while Forage held her hand, getting soaked without a care, as he liked to be. They got through the doorway and Forage took the time to help her dry off, joyously talking about his trip back home.

“Oh, hey.” Harmony greeted the two from by the stairwell. “You get your thread, Gwen?”

Gwen paused… and then facepalmed. Forage gently patted her shoulder, and promised he would get some for her early tomorrow.

#ockiss24 #oc kiss week #forage (oc)#forage the tiefling #gwen (oc)#rain #artists on tumblr

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dream-meister-translations · 2 years ago

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MEL CHARACTER CARD #2

━

Not long after the jewellery incident…

MEL : Hey, Volks, who made this tea? It doesn't taste good at all…

EMMA : Oh, that was me…

EMMA : (I made it for myself, not you…)

MEL : The steeping method is all wrong. How can you take pride in brewing a cup of tea like this?

MEL : And those flowers don't match at all!

MEL : The colors clash with the furniture! They're so ugly and worthless, why not just throw them away?

EMMA : (Those are the flowers the laborers bought us…)

EMMA : Mel, we plan to place those flowers on proper display at a later date.

VOLKS : Well, how about this?

EMMA : Huh?

Volks takes the flowers and moves them beside the staircase.

VOLKS : If we put them here, won't they harmonize with the room and look festive while doing so?

MEL : But that's beside the point. The flowers are all wrong to begin with!

Come to think of it, Mel's always like this around Volks. Always finding something to criticize…

━

Then one day at lunch…

MEL : Mmm, mmh… What in the world is wrong with that chef's nose? They went completely overboard with the spices.

EMMA : Yeah? I heard they have a reputation for spicy food.

MEL : It's absolute ludicrous that people praise them for this kind of thing. I don't know how anyone goes out of their way to eat here…

EMMA : Mel. You're way out of line.

VOLKS : Hmmm… Indeed the spicy aroma in the air is incredibly strong.

VOLKS : For someone with such keen senses, it's only understandable they make you uncomfortable…

MEL : Hah! See, Master, I told you, didn't I? There's something wrong with the kind of freaks who enjoy this trash!

VOLKS : That said, Mel… One's preference for a food's taste or aroma varies from person to person. No matter how worthless you find them...

VOLKS : Not everyone agrees with you, you know that, right? Take myself and Emma for example…

MEL : Huh? Ugh…

EMMA : I'm… Sorry for getting so mad at you, Mel. I've been trying to be more like Volks since the last time you guys had an argument like this…

VOLKS : You don't need to apologize, Emma. Such a rebuke can be an important factor in one's growth.

VOLKS : Hm… In that case…

VOLKS : If you're feeling the same way, then I will redouble my efforts to refine him.

EMMA : ………..?

━

One day, after another such exchange…

VOLKS : We've received a request from Gloria, the land of majesty and power. They wish for the Dream Weavers to coordinate an event for the Princess debutante.

EMMA : Debutante…? So its a party to celebrate her public debut?

VOLKS : Yes. And as per the client's wishes, it must be perfect in every way.

VOLKS : So, I wanted to ask… Emma, you're a girl, and Mel's incredibly insightful. …What do guys think?

MEL : Hah! They want it to be perfect? Pity, you don't know the meaning of the word!

EMMA : (Mel's looking even more upturned than usual today…)

MEL : Heh, heh… But, oh well? If you say you need me, I'm powerless to stop you. So what can I do for you?

VOLKS : Thank you for your help, Mel… Now then, let's begin…

VOLKS : To start with, I've prepared a sample dress for her to wear at the big event.

EMMA : Wow! It's stylish and fresh! It's perfect for a girl's public debut!

MEL : Hmmm… Maybe for your average girl, but you're kidding yourself if you think it's the kind of thing a princess would wear…

MEL : Of course, it's perfect if you're looking to blend in with the crowd, but it simply has no impact at all. The princess would have to be super plain and super boring to wear a dress like that!

EMMA : (Harsh as always, it seems…)

VOLKS : Your opinions of the princess aside, I appreciate your honesty. Did you have any other concerns?

MEL : Of course I do! Let's just start from the bottom and I'll tell you everything you did wrong, okay? Let's start with…

Mel began listing off one scathing remark after another, criticizing everything he laid his eyes on. But even still, Volks simply listened to every last one of Mel's criticisms with unwavering satisfaction, smiling all the while.

#Yumekuro #YMKR #Yumekuro Translations #YMKR translations #Otome #Dream Meister Translations #Otome Translations #Dream Meister And The Recollected Black Fairy #Yumekuro Mel #YMKR Mel #Mel #Yumekuro Volks #YMKR Volks #Volks

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mesillusionssousecstasy · 1 year ago

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The Idol 1x01: Quotes

“- But what is the image saying? (Xander) - That she’s young, beautiful, and damaged. (Nikki) - Sh... - Eh, not damaged. She had problems that she overcame beautifully. (Nikki) - O-Okay. Uh, the robe, the hospital wristband. (Xander) - Mm-hmm. - I mean, are we romanticizing mental illness? (Xander) - Absolutely. (Nikki) - And you’re fine with that? That’s cool? (Xander) - You people are so out of touch. (Nikki) - You people? (Xander) - You college-educated internet people. (Nikki) - Okay, yeah. You’re criticizing me for going to college. (Xander) - Oh, will you let people enjoy sex, drugs, and hot girls, okay? Stop trying to cock-block America. (Nikki) - No, Nikki, I’m not some sort of prude. I just don’t think that with everything that she has been through, she should be wearing a hospital wristband. (Xander) - Mental illness is sex. (Nikki) - No, it’s not. (Xander) - Yeah. If you live in Sioux City, Iowa, you are never gonna meet a girl like Jocelyn. She’s not walking down the street, she didn’t got to your high school, she doesn’t work at the bar or the diner, and she did not marry your best friend. And if, on the off chance, she did, she is still never, ever gonna fuck you. Unless, she has some very, very serious mental problems. And that right there is why mental illness is sexy.” (Nikki)

“- According to the nudity rider, we only can show the side boob, the under boob, and the side flank. (the intimacy coordinator) - I didn’t ask. She did it. (the photograph) - Okay, so I’m not allowed to show my body? (Jocelyn) - Not in the general, like, human rights structure of it all. (the intimacy coordinator) - You realize how fucking annoying and insane that sounds? (Xander) - It’s actually very progressive. It’s to make sure she doesn’t feel pressured. (the intimacy coordinator) - Right. I don’t feel pressured. (Jocelyn) - Fully respect that. (the intimacy coordinator) - This is her album cover. (Xander) - It’s also my boob and my house. (Jocelyn) - Fully respect body autonomy.” (the intimacy coordinator)

- “Hey! You! Come here! You want $ 5′000? You keep this door shut for the next three hours. Hold it. You gotta hold it really hard. (Chaim) - Who’s in here? (a guy) - All right? None of your business. Just take it or leave it, yes? Yeah? Okay, good. (Chaim) - Yeah, yeah.” (a guy)

“- No one’s having a pschotic... Let’s all calm down. (Benjamin) - Yeah, please.(Chaim) - Deep breath. Kay. I’m gonna give some information. I need it to be received peacefully, calmly. Okay? We’re the number one trending topic on Twitter. (Benjamin) - Okay. All right. (Nikki) - It’s not... (Benjamin) - No. I find out who did this. May God have mercy on their fucked up, depraved soul. Okay?” (Chaim)

“- It’s gotta say, it’s gotta say “revenge porn”. It’s gotta say “revenge porn” or they’re not gonna take it down (on the phone). - Andrew Finkelstein (at the gate). - Do you have ID? (security guard) - No, I’m from Live Nation. I’ve been here many, many times. (Andrew) - That’s great. Do you have ID? (security guard) - No, I don’t fucking have ID! (Andrew) - There’s a lotta people here today. We can’t let anyone in without an ID. (security guard) - Jesus fucking... Okay, let me deal with this fuckin’jabroni. Hang on. I’m gonna Google myself. Here, watch this. Ready? “Andrew Finkelstein, Live Nation”. What? Whoa! Who’s that? Huh? See that punim? See this face? See that face? Wow, they’re similar. (Andrew) - Okay, okay, sir, calm down. You don’t have to be so rude about it. I’ll get this figured out, okay? (security guard) - Yeah, I don’t have to be so rude. You know, my fucking star client has face full of cum. I’m not rude. (Andrew) - Mr. Finkelstein. So sorry for the inconvenience. (security guard) - Now you’re sorry. Thank you. (Andrew) - Right this way. (security guard) - You’re mensch. Wonderful fucking service.” (Andrew)

“- Lock him in a closet, too? (Destiny) - Remind me to let that guy out at some point, but not yet. (Chaim)

“- You know, you worry too much. Just relax. (Chaim) - I worry too much. My shareholders think I worry too little. You know, every time I fuckin’ breathe in and out, I hemorrhage money for Christ’s sake.” (Andrew)

“- Oh, there’s no shame in being a slut, case in point. I’m just worried she’s having another psychotic break. (Andrew) - No, no, she never had a psychotic break. Never had one. She was just exhausted and she was tired. (Destiny) - She’s a trouper. She reminds me of myself at that age. Okay, the thought of you younger is terrifying to me. (Benjamin) - I was having fun. I was getting fucked in the ass of the Capital Records building stairwell and then walking straight into meetings. (Nikki) - Yeah, I remember. I was the one fucking you. (Andrew) - Jesus Christ! (Benjamin) - Learn form the best. (Andrew) - Can I just remind everybody that we have “Vanity Fair” with us today? So, if we could just... keep the shit-talk to a... (Benjamin) - Oh, my God! Having her around is like living in communist China. (Nikki) - Benjamin, did you get the revised statement from Holly? (Andrew) - Revenge porn? (Benjamin) - Yeah, exactly that. Make sure that every dipshit with a keyboard has it spoon-fed down their fuckin’throat. (Andrew) - But it’s true? (Benjamin) - Well, if we say it it. (Andrew) - I’m in a “Twilight Zone” episode. (Benjamin) - All right, people. (Andrew) - Okay, see you later. (Nikki) - We live to fight another day.” (Andrew)

“- Tomorrow, I wanna wake up to, uh, like, 150 Google Alerts telling me Jocelyn’s some kind of feminist hero, right? (Nikki). - Okay. Yeah, me too. (Benjamin) - You can do that. (Nikki) - But I’m gonna start with victim and move up from there. (Benjamin) - Yeah well, it’s the same difference. (Nikki) - I don’t understand anything. How could it possibly be any fucking worse? Just tell me a scandal that was worse, recently! (Chaim - we don’t want to know). - She’s coming out of it more famous than when she came in. And that’s! That’s the win. Let’s just put it that way.” (Benjamin)

- “Ah, you’re dangerous. I mean, how could anyone not fall in love with you? (Tedros) - I don’t even know you. (Jocelyn) - You fit perfectly in my arms.” (Tedros)

- “What a fuckin’ boner killer. (Tedros) - I know, she prevented us from starting our family. (Jocelyn) - (...) and I hate it, and you’re gonna hate it, too. (Jocelyn) - You hate it? How can you put out something you hate? (Tedros) - Well, you obviously don’t work in the music industry. Pop music is just... superficial. (Jocelyn) - I think Prince would disagree with you. (Tedros) - I love Prince. (Jocelyn) - Are you gonna call “When Doves Cry” fuckin’ superficial? (Tedros) - No, I love that song. (Jocelyn) - If that song came out today, it’d be a smash tomorrow. (Tedros) - So, all I have to do is make music like Prince? (Jocelyn) - I didn’t say that. (Tedros) - Easy. I’ll just do that. (Jocelyn) - No... I didn’t say that. (Tedros) - Why didn’t I think of that? (Jocelyn) - You can’t make music like Prince. Pop music is like the ultimate Trojan Horse. Ya get people to dance, ya get people to sing along. Could say whatever you want. Shit’s powerful. (Tedros) - I like you. (Jocelyn) - I like you, too. You got the best job in the world. Should be having way more fun. (Tedros) - I’m trying.” (Jocelyn) While playing “Pieces of Your Heart” by Meduza & Goodboys)

“- Did it hurt? That photo? The betrayal of it? (Talia from Vanity Fair) - Of course. But, I mean, what am I supposed to do? (Jocelyn) - I don’t know. Fuck up the guy that did it to you. (Talia) - Like in the piece you’re writing? (Jocelyn) - Yeah, actually. I think it would be inspirational for young women and girls all around the world who have been targeted and humiliated in the way you were. (Talia) - Revenge is empowerment? (Jocelyn) - It’s human, I think. (Talia) - Look, I mean. I think... five years ago when people would tell me that it was important to comment on something publicly, I would buy into it. But now I just know that I’m being hustled. (Jocelyn) - Yeah, I mean, obviously, my editor is breathing down my neck, gun to my back, trying to get me to get you to talk about this photo. It’s all anyone can talk about. (Talia) - I get it. We all have to answer to somebody. (Jocelyn) - Who do you answer to? (Talia) - God.” (Jocelyn - Wrong, the public opinion).

“- I don’t know. I haven’t done anything in, like, a year. And I just feel like people are, like, waiting for me to fail. And I just don’t wanna, like prove them right. (Jocelyn) - Yeah, but, Joss, you always do this. You always second-guess yourself right before something comes out. You’re just gonna drive yourself crazy. (Leia) - I just don’t wanna, like, make a fool of myself. I don’t want people to, like, make fun of me. (Jocelyn) - They are not. Trust me. It’s good. It’s, like, really good. (Leia) - (....) What’s wrong with him? (Jocelyn) - He’s so rape-y. (Leia) - Yeah, I kinda like that about him. (Jocelyn) - Joss... No. Gross. So disturbing.” (Leia)

“- Hello, Angel. (Tedros) - You call all the girls Angel? (Jocelyn) - Just you. (Tedros) - Yeah right. (Jocelyn) - Fuck’s up with her? She doesn’t wanna hang out with us? (Tedros) - She’s my assistant. And my best friend. (Jocelyn) - She’s your best friend and your assistant? (Tedros) - Yeah. (Jocelyn) - She’s your best friend that words for you? (Tedros) - Yeah, isn’t that nice? (Tedros) - Really? Hm. (Jocelyn) - Don’t you think that’s kinda, like a nice arrangement? Oh, for her it’s amazing. Fuck. Can I be your best friend? I’d love to get paid. (Tedros) - Can I play you my new song? (Jocelyn) - Are you desperate to put this specific song out? (Tedros) - No, I’m not desperate to put anything out, my team is. ‘Cause everyone in my life is, like, telling me that it’s really great, but I don’t believe them. (Jocelyn) - Why? (Tedros) - ‘Cause when you’re famous, everyone lies to you. (Jocelyn) - And you trust me? (Tedros) - I just think you’re enough of an asshole that you might tell me the truth. (Jocelyn) - Cheers to that. (Tedros) - I don’t know. I feel like it’s, like, too superficial or something. (Jocelyn) - (...) If you’re gonna sing a song called “I’m a Freak” you should at least sing it like you know how to fuck. You gotta stop carin’ what people think. You are too locked up in your head. (Tedros) - Yeah? (Jocelyn) - Yeah, you’re thinking too much. You need to block out the world. Feel it. Do you trust me? (Tedros) - No. (Jocelyn - Good reply!)

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