#translation: he had to work a double shift today

[valtsv]

as someone who has been beaten and drowned and shot and stabbed and strangled and trampled and

[mysteria157]

Chapter One

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Hints of Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: Don't worry about it.

Summary:

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Toji. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

His hands are so bloody, that if you ever knew the source, you would'nt want someone like him to try. He shouldn't be here, taking up so much of your time, asking for more. But he's selfish.

-or; Toji, a notorious hitman, moves to America for more money and a better life for his son. He didnt expect to sleep with you, let alone want more. When his dangerous life catches up to him, he takes on one final lucrative hit, but realizes this target has unseen connections hitting closer to home. Now he must navigate a perilous job while desperately keeping his criminal double life hidden from you.

Authors Notes: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. As stated in the masterlist, this fic is a continuation from Maneater, so reading that will definitely help set the tone for this fic. I plan to dig deep with this story and really find my voice writing a different genre.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

| Twitter | Ao3| Masterlist | Prologue | Next Chapter

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

…women like you drown oceans -Rupi Kaur

*** You ***

Pop!

The sharp sound of gum expanding and then exploding causes you to flinch, your eyeliner pen frozen just above your lid. Through the mirror’s reflection, you shoot a glare at the open closet door, where your cousin rummages through your clothes.

Pop!

She’s in her own little world. If this were any other circumstance, she would have been scolded for her habit of popping gum—a top offender on the list of annoying behaviors ingrained in both of you since childhood. You detest the sound, and if you were closer, you would have punched her in the stomach by now.

You and your cousin typically get along well, but she enjoys testing your limits to coax you out of your shell. The only way to shut her up is by letting her tire herself out during her talkative rampages or swinging at her when you’ve had enough.

Every day with her is a gamble of which will come first.

Your eyeliner is still hovering by your upper lid, suspended in place as you watch another sundress get haphazardly thrown against the closet wall instead of being put back on a hanger where it fucking belongs.

You can’t bother with trying to get violent with her, you’re way too preoccupied with other thoughts. More incessant thoughts like how to play it cool on a date. It’s not that hard, right? Be yourself, get a gauge of the man trying to impress you, entertain a few hours of your day and then back home to relax.

Easy.

If it were anyone else but Toji, then it would be easy.

You had buried yourself in double shifts and extended hours in the lab just to distract yourself from today. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off the fact that someone you are sort of interested in…wants to see you. And he reminds you every day when you look down at your phone.

Despite his admission of being a lazy texter, Toji is surprisingly consistent. But the messages take on a blunt form wrapped around a small pearl of care.

Toji: Eat breakfast. What good are you in a hospital if you pass out?

Toji: Stop taking on more shifts, its stupid. Go home and rest.

Toji: You better not be tired this weekend. 

No matter how hard you try to force your face to stay immobile, each text makes your lips twitch into a small smile. He masks his words in harsh deliveries, but the intention is obvious. The satisfying jolt that shoots up your spine when your phone buzzes with a notification from him should be embarrassing. It should be.

But you love it.

It’s absurd, really. Only two weeks have passed since you met him, hardly enough time to form any meaningful connection. Yet, that night at your uncle’s was unexpectedly delightful. Toji was, against your better judgment, charming and attentive, almost to the point of clinginess. And, undeniably, he’s attractive. And a fucking fantastic lay.

So, despite your instinct to ignore a man and the way they flaunt their feathers for your attention, you want Toji to bring that same energy as last time.

You lean your elbows back into the shiny wood of your vanity, focusing your attention on your eye as you lower the eyeliner to your skin.

Pop!

The sound makes you jump, disrupting your focus and smearing the eyeliner across your temple.

“Rene!” you bark, slamming your eyeliner down on the vanity top with a force that makes your hand sting, and you yank a drawer open in search of a makeup wipe. “Stop popping your gum before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.” As you wipe off the smudged makeup, you catch the reflection of your cousin emerging from your closet.

She embodies a beauty that’s almost blinding, matched only by her lively personality. So naturally, heads turn when she enters a room, her chocolate skin seemingly radiant wherever she goes. With her thick, kinky hair always in a protective style and her unshakeable confidence in her intelligence and appearance, Rene caught Shiu’s attention immediately, and he’s been captivated ever since.

She is one of very few in your family who truly gets you, who sees the world with clarity and understands its nuances and how to navigate through it without compromising her ideals. Since childhood, you’ve stuck to each other like glue. She understands you and your guarded demeanor, you understand her and her loud personality. She’s one of your best friends.

But at this moment, as she stands before you in booty shorts and a tank top that accentuates her curves, her twist out cascading from a pineapple updo, and an outfit draped over one arm, she is pissing you off as she pops her gum againwith a cheeky expression.

“I like your makeup.” A sly grin stretches on her face, enhancing her soft features. You ignore her, feeling your defenses rise as she effortlessly peels back your layers. The liquid eyeliner glides against the smooth brown of your skin, forming a subtle cat-eye as you pretend not to notice her approaching you from behind.

She gracefully settles onto your vanity top, ignoring your lipstick casing that teeters over and rolls across the shiny surface. You shoot her another glare before moving to your other eye. “You should put on some mascara too. When you give him head later today, I’m sure he’ll love to see it run down your cheeks and—”

You swing at her not even a second later, landing a solid smack on the side of her thigh. “UM Ow?!”

“Um?? Shut the fuck up,” you growl, sneering at her with a leveling scowl that you hope cuts through her.

It doesn’t.

Rene snorts, shrugging off the vanity and moving to your bed to change her clothes. As she pulls your dark jeans over her thick thighs, you can’t help but wonder if you should dress more…sexy?  Your jean shorts reveal enough skin, and the jersey fits snugly around your torso. You’re no stranger to dressing to the nines and making heads turn just like her, but you value practicality more than appeal. It’s a football game, after all, and you love football. Why bother looking overly sexy when you’ll be screaming and stuffing hotdogs and pretzels in your mouth?

Despite the logic, a hand of insecurity tightens around your throat.

Rene, like the annoyingly clairvoyant bitch she is, tastes the shift in the air and rolls her eyes at you through the mirror’s reflection. “You look fucking amazing. Toji asked you out—frequently, I might add.”

The memories of his persistence flash through your mind in a rush. Heated touches in the backseat of your truck, sweaty skin sliding against each other, and your mouth dripping with moans of satisfaction were constantly interrupted by his repeated question.

“Let me take you out.”

As if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted more. As if he wouldn’t leave your uncle’s house that night until you flat-out told him to leave you alone.

You haven’t entertained a man since your cheating ex, so your defenses remain high and guarded, fortified with brick and mortar, armed to fend off anyone who comes too close.

But in such a short time, Toji managed to advance further than others with hard skin resilient to your attacks, and a constant insistence to be by your side. He’s spoken to you in ways that would have landed others in the ER, yet his words were always laced with harsh care to make you confront your own overreactions instead of hiding.

“Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

“You’re not mean to men; you just don’t do bullshit.”

“It’s okay to be a little excited about this,” Rene interjects, slicing through the thick current of your anxiety.

And you are, excited and a little nervous, though you don’t respond to her, simply reaching for your clear lip gloss to finish your makeup.

By the time there is a knock on your door thirty minutes later, you and Rene are ready to go. Your curls are piled high on your head, tendrils falling to frame your face and your hairline slicked with curled edges. There’s a subtle shake in your hands wrapped around the handle of your front door, betraying the calm façade you wear.  As you open it, expecting Toji’s familiar face, you’re met with Shiu, a toothpick in his mouth and a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You greet him warmly with a hug, letting him inside. He can only hug you for a second before rushing past you and toward the direction of your room, anxious to see his fiancé. “Don’t fuck on my bed!” you yell after him, loud enough for your cousin to hear.

It’s only a minute later when there’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, shocking you into reality again as you realize that you haven’t moved since inviting Shiu inside. In your stupidity, you look through the peephole and swallow the gasp at Toji’s distorted form.

“I can see your feet. Open the door,” his deep voice cuts, familiar and commanding.

Your fingers curl against the wooden surface of your door, nails scratching lightly along the veneer as you wrestle with the innate temptation to be stubborn. Besides Nanami Kento—another close friend and coworker—Toji is the only man you’ve let talk to you like this. He’s a little bit of an asshole, but beneath his rough exterior lies a tender core that beckons you to peel back the layers like an onion, eager to feel just how soft the bulb is in the center. You’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain, and it’s a longing that ignites a hunger that you haven’t experienced in a very long time.

With a resigned sigh, you swing the door open to be welcomed by the sight of him, a picture that leaves you momentarily breathless. You swallow the drool that pools instantly in the back of your throat, curl your toes in your sneakers to resist the urge to spring forward and slant your lips against his, and bite the inside of your lip so the twitching on the sides does not turn into a gentle smirk.

“You look good, baby,” his words roll off his tongue effortlessly, his gaze sweeping over you with a knowing intensity. It feels as though he’s studying a heavily guarded masterpiece that he finally has his hands on to steal. He notices every stroke of paint, every blotch that makes you who you are and it’s with a concentration that leaves you dizzy enough to grip the door tighter in your hands.

Though only a week has passed since you last saw him, his presence still grips you with a force that borders on intoxicating. Clad in a black shirt that accentuates his commanding presence, his broad shoulders exude a magnetic strength that summons you, stirring a primal desire to dig your fingernails into him like you did that night in your truck. One of his hands is tucked in a jeaned pocket, the other is behind his back, and jet-black locks brush his cheeks as he chuckles, undoubtedly amused by the dumbfounded stare that you’re still shooting his way. His scar cradles the side of his lips in a seductive curl as he smirks.

God, he’s so—he’s so—

His presence seems to fill the entire room, a tangible force even without crossing the threshold of your home. An urgent ache surges within you, craving the warmth of his embrace, the security of his strength.

“You gonna let me in or just keep your mouth open for the flies?” His voice breaks the reverie in your mind, a well-known blend of annoyance that fills your chest immediately. You’re reminded of how effortlessly irritating he can be, yet there’s a strange allure in his confidence.

At this point, you don’t have a quip loaded up quick enough to shoot back at him. So, you step aside and hold your breath as his large body crosses the threshold of your home.

The last time he was at your door, he barged inside with a barely contained fury and pulled you into an argument that stemmed from your unwillingness to be vulnerable and his lack of expertise in expressing himself. It was a weird song and dance that marked the beginning of something you still don’t fully understand. Now, he’s here with a slightly different demeanor, calm and self-assured as he plants a firm kiss on your cheek as if he’s a hardworking husband returning home just in time for dinner.

You gape at his nonchalance, watching in disbelief as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his hand from behind his back, presenting you a bouquet of flowers in a manner that feels both rushed and sincere. You look down at the flowers, wide-eyed and blinking to make sure the reality you are currently in isn’t actually a simulation.

Daisies.

Not the cheap, wilted blooms you kind of expected from him, but fresh, vibrant flowers. Their white petals gleam softly, each grain of pollen in the yellow center visible in the light of your kitchen. The stems are freshly cut, wrapped in a simple red bow and your chest is fluttering with a severity that unsettles you.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked. And I don’t trust Shiu with an honest answer so…” His words trail off, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

 Your lips curl around words that won’t form, and you mentally sort through your book of tricks. It’s a book you’ve spent years filling after countless experiences. Men will do just about anything for pussy. There’s no reason to be shocked at why they do the things they do—they’re all the same.

But even from that first day you met, you have already shuffled through your book when it comes to Toji. Every time you look up whatever trick he tries to pull, you come up with an empty page. There’s never a solution or a pre-written response that you can use. You have no choice but to figure this out on your own and fill in the pages later.

“If you don’t like them, you don’t have to take them,” he cuts into your thoughts, words edged with a trace of embarrassment that he’s trying to cover up with frustration. “Just give them back—” He reaches for the flowers, and you reflexively pull your arms away, much to your own shock at the way your body moves on its own.

“I like them,” you blurt out, your voice not as strong as you want it to be but thankfully steady as the words leave your lips. “They’re very nice, Toji. Thank you.”

He drops his hand, shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat and giving you a sharp nod. His eyes take in your face for only a second before they flit away to focus on a random spot in your living room, a hint of blush on his cheeks that makes the fluttering in your chest pick up in speed. It’s a weird feeling that will consume you if you don’t stay in control.

So, you push it down, swallow the pool of saliva in your mouth so it can help the glide, all the way down to the pit of your belly to extinguish the embers that threaten to lick to life. You shuffle past him and into the kitchen to fetch a vase, your mind sorting through the symptoms of various pulmonary diseases to distract yourself from the giddiness of him getting you flowers.

A normal thing. The bare minimum for a man. But it makes you feel great all the same. They aren’t your favorite, not even close, but it’s a gesture that shatters your preconceived notions about Toji that probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What are they?” he asks, face still pink below his eyes that linger on the countertop instead of at you. You untie the bow at the stems and slide the daisies into an antique vase with crystalline ridges, shooting him a questioning raised eyebrow in response. One of his hands gestures wildly to the vase you are filling with water. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Snapdragons.” Toji throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched together in a clear display of confusion that makes you chuckle. You push the now full vase of flowers to the center of your kitchen countertop, the sight warming your stomach no matter how much you try to stop it. “They aren’t in season, but there’s a vendor here that sells them in the Spring and Fall. Growing up, we lived right next to a river where they would grow. My father would pick them every year and bring them to my mother as a gift. Whenever they wilted, he picked more and replaced them…over and over until they weren’t in season anymore.”

You dig your teeth into the wet flesh of your cheek to stop yourself from rambling, the need to talk more about yourself is at the tip of your tongue. He’s quiet as he takes in your response, eyebrows twitching with fleeting emotion before they smooth out into their usual calm expression. Maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks, but he looks as if he’s locked away your little nugget of information and is ready to move on to the next thing.

More of you.

That gaze is now free of shyness and taking you in, sharp and cutting and rough around the edges, his green irises sliding down to the exposed skin of your thighs, and they must beckon him because he makes his way towards you with a dominating presence that tightens your throat. He walks around the countertop, avoiding the sharp edge from biting into his side and now he’s standing in front of you, looming and dwarfing you without even trying. You catch a whiff of his cheap cologne—a different scent from what you smelled before—but still rich with bergamot undertones that make you more curious than bothered at his frugal mentality.

“Can I kiss you? Or you gonna smack me instead?”

Even though he’s teasing, he displays the growing knowledge of your boundaries and the lengths you will go to protect yourself.

“What, you want to get smacked, Toji?” you retort, lifting an eyebrow at him, your neck tingling from the strain of looking up due to his height. God, he’s such a big man. Big and burly and just enough to overwhelm you in a way that you crave so, so much.

“Nah. I want a kiss,” he confidently responds, blowing away the cloud of lust from around your head.

He’s too close and yet not close enough. He smells too good, looks too good with a voice that’s too deep and melodic for you to ride on logic for a full day, but you need him closer, so much closer and—

Your back brushes against the edge of the kitchen sink, making you tense at the realization that he’s backed you up against it and is looking down at you with that nasty smirk you entertain more than you should.

“You…” you begin, trailing off when one of his muscular arms reaches past you to rest onto the counter on one side, still giving you an escape route even though you’ll take being trapped against him any time of the day. “You already kissed me on the cheek when you walked in without asking me. Don’t be stingy.”

Toji clicks his tongue in disappointment, the sound pushing a rush of electricity down your spine that’s generating too much energy between your legs. He shrugs, broad shoulders pulling up and down, stretching his shirt in the most delicious way. “That’s not enough.”

Although lust is darkening your thoughts slowly despite your resolve, you still have enough common sense to remember the kind of woman you are. You’re someone unwilling to tolerate fuckboy behavior and would rather humiliate a man than give in to temptation that would only embarrass you in the future. You have to stay in control. Just for the rest of the day to measure his intentions with a level head. Even though you feel heavy with lidded eyes, you slip into that second skin of yourself with ease.

“Ask nicely,” you whisper.

He takes the bait—like they always do—and slinks further into your space, his broad and muscular form brushes against your softer one. Your gaze remains indifferent as he asks to kiss you in a sing-song voice that’s borderline annoying and teasing, threatening to make you laugh despite your resistance.

You take in his question with a noncommittal hum and slide a hand up the soft fabric of his chest. The muscles underneath flex and twitch beneath your palm, echoing memories of that unforgettable night when you could slide your fingers on the sweat of his abs as you rode him for all he was worth.

Your hand rests against his cheek, watching as he slowly falls for your trap, inhaling deeply with his lips a mere breath away from yours before you speak calmly and softly.

“No.”

You stroke his cheek in a soothing manner before patting it a little too hard that’s close to a smack, yanking a grunt of frustration from him as he pulls away with an bothered growl. You relish in the sigh of his scar twisting when his face curls with annoyance, his eyes rolling and his arms folding across his chest like a child being denied dessert. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, growing in intensity as his eyes narrow at you.

“You’re so damn annoying,” he pouts, and the fact that he truly looks put off for not getting a kiss only makes you laugh harder.

***

The sight and sound of cheering fans excite you, filling you with childhood memories of games with your father. As the four of you make your way through the large parking lot and in the direction of the stadium, you take in the display of emotions that cross Toji’s face as he is immersed in a part of culture unfamiliar to him. The intricacies of American sports are puzzling to Toji, you realize. While you wave excitedly to the fans who are tailgating and grilling food and playing cornhole, he looks on in disbelief. When you explain the concept of tailgating to him, his expression deepens even more. He doesn’t like the hecklers that litter right outside the entrance and try to sell nosebleed tickets twelve times the market price. He thinks porta-pottys are foul as he takes in the long line of people who wait along the side of the large parking lot. You can tell he’s a little overwhelmed, and aggravated by the new things he learns. But he doesn’t complain, content to listen to the three of you as he watches his surroundings.

Despite the array of emotions that engulf him, he keeps you by his side without a second thought. The closer you get to the stadium, the thicker the crowd gets. When you make it through security and begin the long journey up the stone circular walkway of the stadium, Toji wraps a muscular arm around you and rests his hand on your hip in a grip that conveys a protective strength that shoots fluctuating reactions through you.

At first, you think he just wants his hands on you, and you’re prepared to smack his touch away. But then your perception shifts; a random man bumps into you with a sharp elbow into your arm and he turns around with an angry expression ready to yell. The glare that Toji levels at him leaves the man sputtering and apologizing before he slinks back into the crowd.

Normally, you don’t thrive off blatant displays of masculinity, but the sight of the man running away from Toji’s imposing stare makes your stomach fill with a deep-seated lust that surprises you. Like you’re a cavewoman, watching her caveman beat at his chest when another caveman gets too close to you. Toji grumbles to himself about the sheer number of people, his voice tinged with frustration even though his reassuring touch is gentle as he guides you through the throng of people toward your seats.

Thankfully, they aren’t nosebleeds, and they give you a good view of the field, with players already warming up. There is a large group of kids who hang off the rails, squealing in delight as their favorite players come and say hello and sign their jerseys and footballs. The speakers boom with music and commercial ads, the warm air carries the smell of popcorn up your nose, and your blood pumps in excitement.

It has been a while since you attended a football game, distant memories of sitting on your father’s shoulders as you both cheered in the stands. Since his death, you haven’t had the drive nor the time to attend another. So, to be in this position again with a man you are still trying to understand, it’s odd. But it’s not unwelcome and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. When you watch football at home with your family, you’re a different person. You are loud and unashamed to express your feelings when you watch the games unfold. You stand up and sneer and bark at the officiant who can’t even hear you. You argue with your family about plays and players who will never know you. You love every emotion that the game brings out in you, and you’re unashamed to hide it. Toji is going to see a side of you that will either push him away or make him slink closer for more.

So, when the game begins with the kickoff, you join in the collective screams of the crowd, waving a towel in the air adorned with the yellow and black of your favorite team that is playing.

To your surprise once more, Toji did his homework. He effortlessly explains the rules as you both watch the first quarter together, looking to you for approval to make sure he’s correct. His attentive nature transforms into active participation as he cheers alongside you, his voice deep and booming compared to your screeching.

In the second quarter, there’s an injury on the field and the clash of pads ceases for long enough that fans leave their seats for food and to stretch their legs. Shiu and Rene disappear to get themselves a drink and it’s just you and Toji in the middle of empty seats.

“You’re a screamer,” he teases, his voice low and appreciative as he leans on his thigh with a cheek resting on his fist. His hair flows in the warm air before settling on pale cheeks.

“Too loud for you?” you retort, even if mildly curious about what he thinks of this side of yourself.

Toji purses his lips as he regards you with relaxed eyes. “It didn’t take me long to realize you’re not a dainty little thing. And besides,” A smile stretches across his face, white teeth glinting with a sinister disposition before his lips load with a remark you know will be salacious. “I like my women loud.”

You can be loud if he wants you to be. Preferably in another place besides your car where he can thrust like a man mad between your legs and dig those gleaming white teeth into the skin of your neck—

Oh.

For fuck’s sake. 

Your blood simmers in your veins at the suggestion in his words. His eyes watch your throat when you swallow a thick pool of spit and that smile grows impossibly larger, a Cheshire cat looking at you with nasty intent. He’s too aware of the effect he has on women, and you have to look away from him to resist succumbing to the seductive charm that he wields naturally.

You steer the conversation back into your hands. “You were so curious about me when we first met but I don’t know much about you. Are you here in America for a reason? What do you do for work?”

In your own line of work, observation is key; every subtle cue from your patients holds significance, revealing layers of truths that they usually try to conceal. So, when you notice the tension in Toji’s jaw at your question, the way his features contort subtly, it’s a detail you slot into a drawer of curiosity that takes part of the file cabinet of Toji in your mind.

“I’m a private investigator,” he confesses harshly, catching you off guard. It’s a revelation you don���t anticipate. His imposing features give you the impression of a firefighter or maybe even a cop. Not someone watching others in his car, bugging houses and apartments, and gathering evidence. A PI? You open that drawer of curiosity again and slot away this information as well. He shrugs away the awkwardness that your silence brings, nonchalant and dismissive, avoiding your gaze. “It pays the bills. The hours suck sometimes but…the work is easy.”

“So…naturally I can’t really ask about the things you do?” you don’t hide the inquisitiveness that coats your words.

“It’s nothing glamorous enough to talk about.” And that’s all he offers you in response.

You have a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, each vying for attention from a man who is as tight-lipped as you. How did he even get into this kind of work? Who are his clients? Cheaters, embezzlers…or criminals?

That and so much more brew in your mind, tumbling over the other but ultimately dissipating when you sense his reluctance, evident from his still-averted gaze and tense shoulders.

“What about family? You asked me about mine, but I never got to hear about yours.”

Granted, you only told him about the members of your family who danced in your backyard when you both were wrapped in one another two weeks ago. He doesn’t know about the more intimate parts of your family life. He doesn’t know about your father’s death, or the estrangement of your stepfamily. But that can come later. Toji hasn’t given you enough of himself.

Toji’s features now morph into disdain, souring the air between you. The bright emerald of his eyes dims with a grayish overcast, the liquid of the irises hardening like cooling lava.

His response is terse, laced with palpable displeasure that intensifies the acrid taste in the air. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t get along with them, and they do their best to not get along with me either.” The timbre of his voice is lower, menacing enough to let you know it’s a subject he won’t entertain. At least for right now.

You open your mouth to speak again, to maybe apologize for making him uncomfortable, to reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him over something like this. He shifts in his seat, clasps his hands together and absentmindedly picks at a callous on the side of his thumb. The pink flush on his cheeks is not one of bashfulness, but of frustration and embarrassment. From the sliver of his eyes you can see, there is something simmering beneath the surface that might take you a while to unveil.

 “I do have a son, though.” The sentence shoots into the air and down your spine with a chilling clarity, breaking the flow of your thoughts as you blink in astonishment.

Pardon???

Considering he’s a grown man a few years older than you, it’s understandable. But the notion of him being a father never crossed your mind. The concept of children isn’t foreign to you; you see and take care of them every day. It’s the concept of children coming from him that’s a new development you have to consider.

While you believe you can handle a relationship with a single father, you’re upset at being told now, rather than before.

“You were with me all day two weeks ago and you never took the time to mention you have a son?”

You don’t hide your irritation. Once your trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to regain. Why would you give away sacred pieces of yourself to a man you wouldn’t trust to hold those pieces with care?

Despite your frustration, you rationalize.

Maybe Toji was nervous to bring it up? Some people may like to ease into such topics. This relationship, or whatever this is, is brand new and smooth. There haven’t been any cracks caused by arguments or behavior that is damaging.

But this isn’t about having a job that he’s not proud of or admitting that he is not financially responsible. This is about an entire child, a facet of his life that he cannot hide away. How long would he have waited to tell you if the topic of family hadn’t come up so soon? Would he have told you? Would he hide his son away and push him off to a babysitter on date nights so you are never aware? Would he sleep over at your house, so you can’t see the room that’s decorated for a child or the toys scattered about the floor?

As you wrestle with the growing anxiety that crawls across your skin, Toji fumbles for something in his pocket, his face a satisfying beet red as you watch him hand you his open phone. Bright from the illumination of the screen, you take in a picture of a young boy who bears a striking resemblance to Toji. His raven locks spiky and disheveled, his green eyes sharp and ethereal, and he wears a bored and calm expression just like his father. The chubbiness of his cheeks and innocence in his eyes tug at something in your chest; he can’t be any older than six years old. The sight of the boy makes you think of the many kids you take care of every day, and some of the frustration subsides within you.

“His name is Megumi,” he informs you, shy despite his rough exterior. He picks at the callous on the side of his thumb again, and one of his legs begins to shake in place.

The frustration dies down more. It’s a beautiful name, and as you look at the picture, a small smile tugs at your lips. You wonder what kind of a boy he is.

“Fuck listen—just I-I’m shit at this.”

You look up at him and take in the apprehension on his face. His lips are downturned in a gentle frown, the scar on the side of his face warped along with the muscles of his mouth. There’s a sense of shame in his gaze, and it somehow makes you feel relieved to know that he can feel just how upset you are.

“I don’t date women…I fuck them and stay around until they want me gone.” He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat his words. They shoot out of his mouth, piercing your skin with their directness. It’s a little painful, and you struggle to absorb his blatant honesty, feeling flashes of anger and indignation fill your chest as your lips part, ready to respond with directness of your own. “But you’re the first woman in a long fucking time that’s made me want more. So just…” he trails off, stuttering over what to say before ultimately growling low in his throat into silence.

You hesitate, lips flinching and syllables of fury dissipating in the small space between your top and bottom lip. “You gonna let me meet him?” you snap because you’re still mildly irritated as you give him his phone and pinch the muscle of his bicep with a harshness that reflects your fading anger and your desire to see him squirm for his actions.

He swats your hand away as if you’re a pest, moving his arm from you with a sneer that holds no malice. “No let me just lock him in my closet every time I want to see you—of course, I’ll fucking let you meet him.”

You throw him a withering glare, ignoring his sarcasm, and the smirk that slides onto his lips only makes you want to either smack or kiss him. The fact that you can’t decide on which only annoys you more.

*** Toji ***

“Gimme two hot dogs and a pretzel,” Toji mutters to the concession stand attendant. It’s halftime, and the walkways behind the stands are crowded with fans hurrying to go to the bathroom, or for more food and alcohol. You stand close to him, a welcome warmth that he wants more of but refuses to ask for on the off chance you deny him. He doesn’t feel like pouting for the rest of the day.

“And what’ll it be for the lady?” the attendant asks with a level of humor that is off-putting, a smile on his face that Toji knows you itch to smack off.

“It is for the lady,” you correct, a hint of condescension falling from plush lips that you still won’t let him taste. The attendant sputters, his face red as a tomato as he takes the rest of Toji’s order, doing his best to ignore the deadly glare you shoot him as he counts Toji’s money. A snort rattles from Toji’s chest as he watches you. He’s known from the beginning that you’re fiery, but seeing it firsthand fascinates and arouses him at the same time.

This environment is different for him, odd in every way, and a foreign ground that he’s unsteady on. The celebratory atmosphere reminds him of the loud laughter and fireworks from festivals that he could hear outside the Zenin compound throughout the year. He thinks of the Tanabata festivals he never got to experience or the years of Hanami that he was forbidden to enjoy. He could only take a small bit of pleasure in cherry blossoms in the Zenin gardens, blooming and scattering their petals on the well-kept grass to mark the beginning of the season. As a child, he was never allowed much. He was seen as ‘inferior trash’ that was insignificant and unworthy to be looked at let alone talked to unless it was to yell or belittle. Naturally, his family didn’t want others to see where said trash came from if they could help it.

He can’t think about it right now—he won’t. The thought of his family brings a tight coil of pain and anger in his chest, a coil he had used as fuel to cope with his dangerous decisions.

There’s so much more that he needs to focus on, like the fact that you’ve already taken a big bite out of one of your hot dogs. Half of it has disappeared from your hand, and there’s ketchup on the edge of your mouth as you chew. He notices the way you shift your hips from side to side in your seat, and the satisfied hum that escapes your throat. You’re satisfied, and while you eat with manners, you don’t hide your boisterous enjoyment, finishing one hot dog and moving on to the next, your pretzel wedged between the meat of your seductive thighs.

He’s been trying to be respectful all day ever since you denied him a kiss in the kitchen, but you’re tempting him. When you answered the door earlier in the afternoon, the hand that was in his pocket pinched the side of his thigh until the shameless thoughts could fade away.

You’ve graced his presence with shorts and a jersey, a yellow and black number that lays against your chocolate skin in a way that still seems to make you glow in the setting sun. No braids this time, your natural curls have fallen from your bun after screaming so much, framing your face and causing your gold hoops to wink at him. You didn’t wear makeup that night when he met you, so the sight of eyeliner on you today, and the way it accentuates the curve of your eye and the heaviness of your long lashes, it makes him shift in his seat.

He’s had to clench his jaw and bear the pain of his teeth grinding against each other to stop himself from ogling at the mouth-watering canvas of your legs. You’re all curves with dimples at the bottom of your thighs when you sit, and his gums ache to sink into the flesh so you can squeal and beg for him to touch you where you want it most. It’s been weeks since that night and he’s feigning for more. When you smile at him or shoot him a glare, it reminds him of that commanding aura you had in the backseat of your truck, and the back of his neck prickles with sweat.

While the thought of you skinning him alive if he decides to be a Neanderthal turns him on, he wants to be civil. In your kitchen earlier today, you allowed him to get close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin, to catch the scent of coconut from your curls, tantalizing his senses until your firm ‘no’ sobered him up immediately. It was a stark reminder of who you are, and how little you tolerate.

He'll behave.

His eyes catch you guzzling down five heaping gulps of your beer, the foam coating your upper lip. You wipe it away with your finger, sucking the digit into your mouth, and popping it out completely oblivious to how sinful you look and Toji’s catapulted into that day when you sucked your own cum off his fingers.

He has to behave.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket sours his mood immediately, turning his gaze from your form as he digs into his pocket. It’s the third time it’s buzzed today, and he knows who it is. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he can only put off his job for so long.

Unknown: Good job on the assignment last week. 

Unknown: Your pay should be in your account by tonight.

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

“Everything okay?” Your voice pulls him from his phone, and he meets your curious gaze, one of your elegant eyebrows lifting in question as you assess him. “Something with work?”

“Yea,” he replies and regrets it immediately.

Lie #1

It’s not a complete lie—it is work—but the details…

Toji takes a long swig of his beer, attempting to soothe the shame that washes over him.

You really are a screamer.

Toji sits back in his seat, watching you with a wicked smile as you unleash a torrent of colorful language that makes his cock twitch. Even though you roar with the crowd, your voice rises higher.

“That’s a fucking flag! I should come down there and officiate for you instead you stupid piece of shit!”

Your curls brush the skin of your cheeks that puff in your frustration, your arms folding across your chest as you cock your hip and growl beneath your breath. You’re easily the loudest one in this section of the stands. Rene revels in it, egging you on by rooting for the opposite team and giggling when you bark at her. Shiu is content to watch the display, a fresh toothpick in his mouth and an arm over Rene’s shoulders as he idly twirls a lock of hair at her nape. You’re all yelling and sputtering indignation as you watch the game unfold, your team losing by what Toji has learned is a touchdown.

He knew this side of you was there. He could tell in the weight of your gaze that night. It's a side of you that he did not expect to see so soon. He soaks it in. He takes in the way you cuss out the man three rows down who won’t stop glaring at you. He absorbs how high-pitched the screech of your voice makes his eardrums shake, and he revels in the smile that forms on your lips when your team scores the game-winning touchdown.

When there are lulls in the game, you tell him about your career. You’re a pulmonary pediatric fellow at a hospital here in town that’s only a year and a half from completing your fellowship. You smile when you talk about the kids you take care of and your associates at work. You’re proud of your research and of how far you’ve come.

All of it, every part of you that you show him, is comforting. Warm despite how cold you appear. It’s a comfort he didn’t imagine having…ever in his life—especially a dreary life like his. But he soaks up this—you—as much as he can.

When the game is over, you’re elated and giggling, tucked into his side as he guides you through the drunken crowd. The moon is high in the sky, and it bathes your skin and makes you stand out in the crowd. You look up at him, smiling softly with a buzzed gaze that’s two beers deep.

“Did you have fun? Not bad for your first American game?”

“You screamed the entire time,” he teases, chuckling at the way you gape up at him and then sneer before turning away. He throws his arm around your shoulders, using the touch as a safe territory to keep his hands to himself, and pulls you closer.

You demand cotton candy which he indulges in as well before you both part ways with Rene and Shiu. The journey back to your apartment is a quiet one. As Toji drives, the warm July air fills the car, mingling with the faint strains of classic rock playing on the radio. Toji watches with flickering glances as you hum along, your eyes closed and the breeze wafting through your curls loose around your shoulders.

Something inside of him rattles. Whatever it is, it’s long-forgotten and buried deep within him, surrounded by cobwebs and dust that have accumulated over time since that dark day years ago.

*** You ***

From the short journey of his car to inside of your apartment, you repeat to yourself that you have to take this slow, for your own peace of mind.

You keep the most intimate parts of yourself locked away and only those who are worthy of you have a copy of the key. But somehow, and in such a short time, Toji has stolen a copy for himself and slotted the key into the door. But thankfully, the door is caught against the wall, hinges rusted over and ungiving.

You have to know more about him before you let him in to look at those parts of you. If you jump the gun and give him more so soon and end up hurt, it will throw you into a depth of pain that you promised yourself to never touch again if you could help it.

“You have a good time?”

Toji’s voice breaks the silence, his arms folding tightly across his chest, betraying the restlessness in his hands. His messy black locks, tousled by the late July humidity, partially hide his emerald gaze, which flickers briefly to meet your own before darting away.

Your socked feet pad across the hardwood floor, closing the space between you, and your head slowly tilts to look at him. Despite his façade of composure, his scar curves against his lips in a slight twist, twitching as he tries not to frown. Thin eyebrows pitch down in frustration, and you catch the way his fingertips drum against the skin of his biceps. He’s fidgety—nervous. Is he upset with himself? Ashamed that he couldn’t take you out on a proper date with dinner and a movie like everyone else expects?

Hopefully, he will learn that you go against the grain of proper in so many ways.

“I had a great time,” you confess softly, noticing the subtle relaxation in his stance at your words. The thrumming of his fingers stop, the tension in his shoulder fades. “You wanted to take me out and I let you. That all you want from me?”

He’s such an expressive man.

His face twists, perturbed by your bluntness and the prospect of delving into emotional territory. “I told you already that I want more.”

His declaration sends a fluttering through your heart that is reminiscent of the feeling you had when he surprised you with a slice of yellow cake. It’s comforting, and you want to lean into it. But it’s not enough to overwhelm you. You’re still in your right mind and still aware of your expectations even though he captivates you.

You press your finger into the firmness of his chest, hard so that the muscle pillows around your digit. The gaze you shoot up at him is unyielding, serious, and menacing enough that he straightens his spine just a little.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. I’m not saying things need to be serious with us but…you need to show me that you mean it.”

As you speak, you assess Toji, who shows no signs of amusement or ignorance. His posture is rigid, his back ramrod straight, and his deep green gaze locked onto yours.

“That night we had was great. I won’t deny that but…I won’t compromise my expectations and I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m not going to let you fuck me just because we did it before. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

You relish in the way his eyes widen, contemplating your words and the severity beneath them before his face smooths back into its usual cool demeanor. He unfolds his arms from his chest, and you curse inwardly at the way you immediately watch his shirt stretch across defined pectorals.

“You know you’re a feisty little thing.”

Heat from the way he speaks and annoyance at his lack of attention flare within you like wildfire. You open your mouth to yell, to bark at him to be serious, but the sound of his laughter extinguishes that fire inside of you instantly.

He doesn’t offer an apology for his comment and you don’t need one. You know you’re feisty and steadfast. It’s the only way you can function around men to survive, to stay afloat and still have a grasp of who you are. And if Toji couldn’t handle it, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him or entertained a date that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“I’ll try,” he finally offers, voice soft but filled with conviction. Normally the small remark would offend you, but surprisingly coming from Toji, it’s enough.

Observing his behavior today and a little bit two weeks ago, you note his acceptance of your quirks and individuality—at least the bits you allow him to see. He marveled at the amount of food you ate and joined alongside you. He let you babble to him about every single player on your favorite team and how many championships they had won. He let you display your strength in your voice and personality, didn’t try to control or overshadow you like so many other past experiences you’ve had before learning how to rule the men in your life.

He let you be yourself.

And that thought makes you finally open your mouth to give him something he had asked for earlier, something you had previously denied despite your own desires.

“You can have your kiss,” you offer with a shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your heart picks up in speed as the implication registers on his face. “So you better do it right.”

It’s an invitation that he snatches away from your imaginary hands and tears open with thick fingers, greedy and growling with finality.

His sharp gaze traces the contours of your body, unabashed in its appraisal, leering at the pieces of skin visible to him. You know he’s been looking at you all day, but his observation now is intense, heavy and without reservation and you’re fumbling from the sudden rush of longing that pumps hot through your veins.

Toji inches closer, your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, his towering presence overwhelming your small stature. His height ignites an evolutionary desire in you that makes your mouth water, makes your cunt pulse with need beckoning for him to fill the mold he left inside two weeks ago. You’re still not used to climbing up the summit of him, so the air is thin once more, pulling the oxygen from your lungs and stuttering in your chest when a large hand cups the side of your neck and tilts your face up to him like an offering.

When his lips slide against yours, your fingers in his shirt tighten. His touch singes the ends of your nerves, boils the blood in your veins that pump fast throughout your body. Your skin is burning, searing when muscular arms hoist you up and wrap your legs around his thick waist before your ass is sliding on the cold marble of your kitchen counter, your lips still sealed against his.

There’s so much of this that feels like that night at your uncle’s. So much and yet not enough.

He drowns you with his touch, digs his fingers into the plump flesh of your thighs before yanking you, hard and with unforgiving impatience, closer to his body. The fabric of your jeans rubs too harsh against your wet panties, digs against the sensitivity of your clit and you repress the insatiable yearning to roll your hips against his.

Toji’s large hands slide up your body, traversing the mesh of your jersey that hugs you before cupping each side of your face again to tilt you sharper in the way he wants. Blue raspberry from the cotton candy you both indulged in after the game coats his tongue that licks your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and you grant him access, surrendering a whimper into his mouth as his tongue slides sinfully against yours. Tastebuds kiss your own, slide against them with whispered promise of satisfaction if you just relax and melt further into him. Just a little.

But you can’t, god you can’t.

You’re losing control and you have to stay strong. You have to stay above the waters of logical thinking even though you’re sinking with every stroke of his tongue, with every sweet, hot breath into your mouth, with every inch of flesh that your fingers dig into his chest because you need more. More than a kiss, more than what he’s offering, and you know he can give it to you. Toji can pull you into the inferno he’s raging inside of your body until your clothes are scorched off and his skin is sliding against yours sweaty, sticky, and undulating with every roll of his hips.

But he doesn’t give you more. He doesn’t pull you further into that fire.

The intensity of his kiss dies down slowly, his lips pulling away from yours with a wet smack as you pant along with him. Toji kisses your lips once, then twice, nips your bottom lip to seal everything he’s given before smirking down at you. Too devilish and arrogant and you don’t have a working brain cell in your head right now to correct him. His hands that cradle your cheeks slide down to your upper arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

“You still gonna let me be nice to you?”

His words are an echo of that night, his own way of telling you that he’s here. That he wants more—that he wants to give you more. You just have to let him.

With your head still swimming and the pulsing between your legs refusing to calm, you want him to be more than nice right now. But remembering the boundaries you have set, you nod instead and sigh into him when he kisses you one last time, sweeping his blue raspberry-flavored tongue against yours before pulling away, acting as though it’s nothing, as though you’re not sweaty at the small of your back and trembling with desire.

“Lock the door for me,” he commands, words devoid of a questioning tone, but filled with a sense of security and protection that you lean into.

“O-okay,” you manage to breathe, your heart slowing back into sinus rhythm, only to jump again as he places one final kiss on your lips, then your nose. You frantically bat him away before you lose consciousness, because any more and you’ll drag him into your room and disregard everything you said five minutes ago.

 You watch him saunter away, pull his keys from his pocket, and twirl them in his hand before winking. “I’ll text you.”

It sounds so ridiculous coming from his lips, from a grown man who looks as if he doesn’t even know what a cellphone is, let alone a text message.

But it still makes your heart jump all the same.

You can only nod in response because your throat is too dry and heavy in the back of your throat with each swallow you take. You follow him to the door and roll your eyes at his annoying smirk before he closes the door behind him, casting your apartment into silence.

Your fingers wobble as they turn the locks of your door into place. You’re lightheaded, brain flitting through salacious memories of what you both did weeks ago and what you could easily be doing now.

You throw your back against the door and sag to the floor with an annoyed sigh.

*** Toji ***

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

Toji: I’m interested. Send me what you have.

[hoe4sports]

The receipt

Alexia Putellas ft Mapi Leon x Reader

A/N: I’m discovering a new found obsession with Alexia.

Triggers: nothing, google translate Spanish.

You were casually placing up the newest curtains that you had got in earlier that morning. It was so peaceful to work in an interior design store especially during the morning shifts. You got to spend time walking around touching soft materials, looking at new bedsheet covers and blankets. You got to talk to so many new kind people within one day. It was the perfect job for you.It was Monday morning, and the awaited new items had come in a bit late. You were struggling with the big boxes being everywhere in the litte shop, but regardless you loved seeing what things were in trend and what had just arrived.

A hand suddenly tapped your shoulder leaving you terrified as you were busy daydreaming about what my future appartment was gonna look like. You turned around and it was the sweetest old man. “Good morning, is there anything I could do to assist you today?” You said as you smiled while climbing down from the little latter you had been using to hang the curtains.

“Good morning Miss, actually yes, my wife is celebrating her 90th birthday this week and I want to get her something special.” The old man replied as he smiled. You nodded and looked around you for inspiration. “Is there anything you had in mind or do you want some help?” You said as you smiled knowing exactly what you wanted to recommend to him. “I could really use some help, she has so many things!” He exclaimed as he zipped his jacket down. The store was always very hot, so you definitely understood him. “I have the perfect idea! What about a robe? We have multiple kinds. We have thicker materials, silk, cotton or even have linen.” You said as you walked towards the bathroom department of the store where we had the robes. I pulled out the rack of robes and showed him the colors. “Wow” he said as he touched them. “She likes pink and she is a cold person” he said as he furrowed his brows into a thinking position. “Perhaps this pink one thats double layered, then” you said as you pulled it out of the rack. “That will do!” He said as he smiled widely clearly satisfied with himself. “Does she like good smells, soaps, towels?” You asked as the man nodded rapidly. “I suggest this pink soap bottle with a rosy smell, this complementing room spray and this matching towel” you said as you put them together to portray what they would look like. The old man nodded as he smiled widely. “Ring me up Miss!” he insisted as you made you way to the desk. You rang him up, he paid and you wrapped the gift in a cute giftbox adding a variety of ribbons and a tag. You did your very best to make the gift look special and the older man was visibly pleased. “Here, for your wife sir!” You said as you handed him the beautifully wrapped box. The man thanked you multiple times and told me how he was always happy to shop with you because of your very thoughtful customer service. You thanked him and waved him goodbye as he walked out.

This was the part of your job that you loved. You loved seeing customers get just what they want, have their visions come to life and be pleased to find something they have looked for. You walked over to the pile of boxes and pulled out some candle holders in crystal. They were something that every rich hausfrau would need. You kept unpacking the latest news and got to the bedding section. There were tons of new styles coming in synch with the season changing from winter to spring. You grabbed the higher latter from the back and climbed up to place the bedding. The bedding was heavy and you were juggling them back and forth between places to find the perfect spot for the new arrival.

“Hola, Do you work here yes?” A voice said behind you as it tapped my hip. You turned around and there was a woman standing next to the latter looking up at me. She was quite attractive, and you felt slightly embarrassed by the fact that your ass was in the same height of as head since you were up on the latter. You jumped down, and smiled. “Good morning mrs, is there anything I can do to help you this morning?” You said as a put down the items I had tried to place before getting interrupted. Her friend came around the isle and she had funny a look on her face. “Si bonita, yo necesito una..” she was stopped by a smack in the back of her head. “Tonto! Tienes que hablar Inglés!” the other woman exclaimed. “Dios mío! Cállate por favor!” the attractive woman said back. You smiled knowing that you could speak perfectly Spanish as your step father was Spanish. He had been brought into your life as a toddler and he insisted in spaking Spanish with you claiming that it would help your learning abilities. “Sorry, yes, I need some clothes for the bed.” She said in a clearly Spanish accent. You giggled “Clothes for the bed?Sheets? You need sheets?” You said as she blushed.

“Dios mío! Estupido de mierda. Nos estás avergonzando a los dos delante de la cura.” the woman said as she shook her head. You giggled again as you started walking. “Follow me please”. You came to the baskets with sheets and you looked at the pair. The blonde woman was still red and the brown haired woman looked like she was gonna piss herself laughing. “Cotton or satin, what do you prefer?” You asked as you touched the sheets in front of you. The blonde woman’s eyes widened. You smiled and explained.

“Cotton is cheaper. It stretches but I also gets wrinkly. Satin is more expensive, more silky but it dosent pill and it dosent wrinkle. Both have the fitted sheet look.” You said as a reached out for one of each for her to touch. She touched the sheets and looked confused. “What is your preference?” She asked. “Oh, I use the satin ones! They feeling cooling on the skin and they are way more durable than the cotton ones.” You said as she nodded. “I’ll take the satin then” she said as she winked. Did she just flirt with me? You shook the thought of quickly. “Now, what color do you prefer? We have navy, black, grey, white and cream” you said as you pointed to the different types. “Dios mio! Realmente necesito encontrar una novia.” the brunette said as she playfully slapped the blonde’s toned bicep.

“The navy and black sheets dosent work well with blonde hair or fur. The white or cream sheets dosent work if you have a partner with black hair or black pet fur.” You said as you smiled while you were silently hoping that there was no partner. “I’ll go with crème then, no partner.” she said as she smiled shyly and looked at your blonde hair. You were doing everything you could to not blush.

You beeped the sheet and looked at her. “It’s 49 punds. Are you a member?” You asked as you were focusing on the screen in front of me. She shook her head. “Do you wanna be a member? I would just need your phone number.” You said as you smiled hoping you could sign her up as a member because it would mean that you got extra bonuses. “Si, dale tu numero!” the brunette whispered and nudged her. “Yes, +34 914 36 38 40, you can write my name as Alexia Putellas.” she said and you happily obliged. “Quieres una bolsa para ello o lo tomas como estás?” You smirked as the blonde blushed and the brunette bend down hysterically laughing. “Ella puede entender español, mierda estúpida” she wheezed out. “I’ll take a bag.” The blonde muttered while looking down at the bank terminal. She paid for it and you handed her the sheet in a bag with the recite. “Thank you, and goodbye!” You said as the pair started walking out. You got back into working on bedding placement when after a while, a hand tapped my knee. Jesus, you thought to yourself, not one moment to finish the wall. “Good morning, how ca-“ you stopped as you saw the blonde woman again handing you a reciet. “You dropped it.” She said as she disappeared out of the store. You opened the receipt to see who had lost it so you could keep it if they came back. The recite had pen marks on it and when you looked closer it was a message.

“If you ever want coffee, +34 914 36 38 40.

-Alexia “

[merlingenrecs]

The truth comes out—and things go terribly. Perhaps Arthur doesn't take the news well and draws his sword. Perhaps Uther finds out and Merlin is strapped to the pyre. Perhaps Merlin has to escape from Camelot and leave all he loves behind. Can there be a happy ending? A hopeful one? Or will things forever fall apart?

Today's gen fic rec theme: Magic Reveal Gone Wrong!

↓ Find the list of fanfic recs under the cut! ↓

⚬ I don’t know you anymore by cynthia1314, 1k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/49552066 summary: Arthur felt his blood turned cold. Was this a dream? He wondered frantically. There was no way Merlin just killed his uncle without even touching him. That was magic, but Merlin couldn’t have magic, could he? Or perhaps that was an unknown creature who wore his friend’s face.

⚬ The Lies that Break Us by Fulgance, 2k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/934566 summary: Arthur reacts badly.

⚬ A Blessing in Disguise by s0mmerspr0ssen, 20k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/42762729 summary: After Camelot is almost lost to Agravaine and Morgana, Merlin is about ready to reveal his magic to Arthur. But when he finds out Gwen is pregnant, Merlin’s priorities shift. Soon, he is focused on keeping little Prince Amhar safe from harm, no matter what. Merlin sets out to invoke a blessing on Arthur’s son, hoping to keep evil forces at bay, but things quickly spiral out of control…

⚬ Confirmations by DollopheadedMerlin, 12k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/46113418 summary: Merlin feels overburdened and under the weather, but he doesn't want to add stress to Arthur's efforts in revitalizing his kingdom after recovering the throne from Morgana, so he tries not to take it personally when Arthur gives him a hard time. But when reports tell of a dragon within Camelot's borders and Merlin gets dragged along on a mission against his nature, the king only seems to double down on his mistreatment of his servant, making protecting the royal clotpole a lot more difficult as he fights off an untreated fever.

⚬ Let Me Die, Let Me Drown, Lay My Bones In The Ground by quotidian_void, 40k, rated M https://archiveofourown.org/works/56036113 summary: The storm that had passed through Albion didn't only bring devastation to Camelot.It also brought a party belonging to the king, queen and princess of a distant land on the edge of Albion's maps. As per propriety and courtesy, the king of Camelot was required to hold a feast and provide accommodation for them. The feast started off smoothly, the royals of Camelot getting along quite well with the royals from Harden.But a single questioned changed everything. Including the destiny and future of Arthur and Merlin.

⚬ The Magic In Your Blood by Aimael, 68k, rated M https://archiveofourown.org/works/24527002 summary: "Arthur had to wonder, whether he should not feel something, anything at all, that would hint at him being controlled by Merlin. Even as he tried, he still felt nothing." Merlin is heard saying things that he shouldn't have said, and Uther is determined to do whatever it takes to free Arthur from the sorcerer's influence - which might be more difficult than expected.

⚬ Refined by Fire by wryter501, 155k, rated T https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11306307/1/Refined-by-Fire summary: It began, as any shift in destiny did, with a choice - run and hide, or stay and fight. And because Merlin chose to stand still, his destiny and Arthur's - and others' - took a sharp right turn. Discovered by the knights, arrested by Arthur, Merlin faces Uther's questioner and judgment... Gold is, after all, refined in the flames... Mid-season 3 in-canon reveal.

⚬ Learning Curve by VikingSong, 14k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/52184794 summary: Arthur and Merlin each face steep learning curves when Arthur experiences an unexpected language immersion. Miscommunications abound, things are lost in translation, and—unsurprisingly—chaos ensues in the court of Camelot. When painful secrets come to light and the definition of loyalty is called into question, Arthur and Merlin must work past linguistic and interpersonal barriers to reach an understanding. Or: In which Arthur speaks the language of the Old Religion, Merlin pulls research all-nighters, and the council members discover they don’t remember nearly as much Latin as they thought they did.

⚬ Rend and Rebuild by PeaceHeather, 100k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866667 summary: One wrong move in the heat of battle changes everything. Merlin is a sorcerer, and Arthur has stabbed him.

⚬ New Beginnings by nsowlwrites97, 33k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/31863937 summary: The words seemed to lose their meaning the more Arthur tried to make sense of them, bleeding in and through each other like ink dissolving in water. The only fact he knew to be true – absolutely, permanently, irrevocably true – was that Merlin was dead.

⚬ Beauty in the Ashes of Our Lives by Fulgance, 20k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/934780 summary: After Merlin is executed for Uther's murder, Arthur's world falls apart.

⚬ Atlas by ParadiseAvenger, 10k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/34723003 summary: In pursuit of a sorcerer, Arthur and his knights stumbled into a cave. As the ceiling collapsed on them, Merlin had no choice except to reveal his magic or let all his friends die. That choice was not a choice at all.As Merlin's magic began to run out and tensions with the knights run high, it seemed he might have made the wrong choice after all.

⚬ Is this resolve? By kyrakaryanne, 1k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/47559634 summary: Arthur could kill Merlin, for this. Not because the law would justify it, but because Merlin would never stop him.

⚬ Help Thou Our Host by signy1, 22k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/53393428 summary: One way the battle of Camlann could have gone. On the night before the battle, Merlin only has one request for Gwaine." When I'm dead, I want you to remember me for who I was, rather than what I was. If you can."

⚬ Whatcha Say by darkbluedark, 3k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/46337155 summary: The roof caves in and the truth comes out.

⚬ The Goose, the Bad, and the Ugly by sinivalkoista, 3k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/38503747 summary: Arthur is turned into a goose, and Merlin tries to catch him and turn him human again before Camelot is destroyed.

⚬ Whispering Your Name by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle, 22k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874179 summary: The Dorocha. They are the voices of the dead, my child. And, like the dead, they are numberless. Or: A different take of the dorocha. Instead of them being faceless screams that attack you, they are actually figures of the dead. Merlin doesn't quite realize how much death affected him until him and the knights go to close the veil. ⚬ Because It Was by Gingeraffelene, 4k, rated K+ https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13607047/1/Because-It-Was summary: Arthur reacts badly to Merlin's revelation and quickly regrets it, but not quick enough. How does one find an all powerful warlock who doesn't believe he deserves to be found?

[rxqueenotd]

The Verdict- Chapter Two

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of death, awkward OC, it’s pretty mild at this point. if you’ve seen Anatomy of a Fall, you basically know what’s about to happen.

A/N: if you’re back for chapter two, welcome back. Swann Arlaud at the Oscars actually recoded my DNA. imagine writing 11 whole chapters and then literally going back and completely re-writing them- that’s what I’ve been doing with this story. I won’t be following along word for word with the plot of the movie, nor will I be recounting everything perfectly. I tried that (I’ve watched Anatomy literally 4 times to the point that I actually dreamt in French one night) also huge shoutout to my friend @luxlisbons for her support and a huge shoutout to the dictionary and thesaurus that have basically become my Bible. also if you want to be tagged when I post the upcoming chapters, just let me know.

Vincent glanced across the office space to find Leah seated on the floor, surrounded by a chaotic array of case files. She appeared lost in thought, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"You're quiet," Vincent remarked, making his way over to her.

Leah looked up, a hint of frustration evident in her eyes. "Would be nice if I could speak French. It's taking double the time when I have to translate all this."

Vincent reached out and took the report from her hands, flipping it over to reveal a series of photos on the back. "There are pictures on the back, you know?" he pointed out. "This autopsy report is inconclusive at this point. He supposedly fell from the third floor window."

Leah, feeling a glimmer of hope, asked, "Have you interviewed her yet?"

Vincent nodded. "I went to see her the day before you arrived."

"And?" Leah inquired, hoping for a breakthrough.

Vincent's expression remained somber. "A man is dead," he stated matter-of-factly. "Was that lost in translation?"

Leah shook her head, the weight of the case pressing down on her shoulders. She returned to the pile of files before her, determined to unravel the mystery that lay within.

________________________________________

“Do you eat?” Vincent’s voice rang out, startling Leah from her place on the floor. She chuckled, her concentration finally broken after hours of sifting through each piece of evidence Vincent had presented her with.

“Sometimes I do,” she joked, standing to stretch, her shirt riding up enough for Vincent to see a stripe of her stomach.

“Do you plan on eating today?” Vincent asked, perplexed by how she must be running on fumes considering the time she had spent unmoving.

Leah’s eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. “Probably should,” she sighed. “I’m starving.”

With a grin, Vincent guided her to a cafe across the road and down the street. Over a course of croque monsieur and a few cups of coffee, the two lawyers exchanged glances and subtle smiles.

“You’re quiet again,” Vincent's voice broke through the silence, his eyes studying Leah's thoughtful expression as she gazed out the window.

Leah’s lips curved into a small smile. “Sorry,” she said, her fingers absently tapping on the table.

“Lost in translation again?” he joked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Leah shook her head, her gaze returning to meet his. “No, just lost in general. Jet-lagged,” she admitted with a tired laugh.

“So, you passed the Bar on your first try?” Vincent asked, leaning back in his chair, his curiosity evident.

Leah nodded, a proud glint in her eyes. “I did, yeah,” she replied, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. “How does that work here? What’s the process of becoming a lawyer?”

“Law students sit for the Bar exam at the end of a Master's degree,” Vincent explained, gesturing with his hands to emphasize his point.

Leah nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. “So we’re not that different,” she mused, a small smile playing on her lips.

Vincent chuckled softly. “As far as having things in common, you and I have both passed the Bar exam, yes,” he agreed.

Leah shifted in her seat, fidgeting with a napkin. “I’m not good at this,” she gestured between the two of them, “talking about myself.”

Vincent’s laughter filled the air between them. “That’s okay,” he reassured her with a nod.

Suddenly, the cafe grew busier, the hum of conversation surrounding them. Vincent noticed the change and turned his attention back to Leah.

“Where are you staying?” he asked, his tone gentle and curious.

Leah met his gaze, a hint of gratitude in her eyes. “Uh, Saint Germain?” she replied, blushing embarrassingly at her American way of pronouncing the name.

Vincent nodded, his expression unchanging. “Do you want me to walk you home so you can get some sleep?” he offered, his sincerity evident.

Leah's eyes widened in surprise, touched by his kindness. “You don’t mind?” she asked, a softness in her voice.

Vincent shook his head, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to,” he said, his eyes meeting hers with warmth and understanding.

________________________________________

Leah glanced at the phone resting on the bed amidst a pile of discarded shirts, her brow furrowed. "It’s awkward," she began, her voice tinged with uncertainty, "I mean, it's not a language barrier issue because he speaks English well. But yesterday at lunch, he was trying to make conversation, and I was completely lost in my own thoughts. The whole interaction felt off, and now I have to endure hours in a car with him to go meet the defendant and her son in the middle of nowhere."

A voice emanated from the phone, cutting through Leah's musings. "Maybe it's just your awkward charm," it teased, provoking a scoff from Leah. "I'm not awkward, Kate. I'm just observant. There's a lot to be learned by listening, you know?"

As Leah slipped into a long-sleeved top and checked her reflection in the mirror behind the bedroom door, she heard Kate's next question. "Is he good looking?" Leah chuckled softly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Yes, he is."

Kate's curiosity didn't stop there. "Do you think she's guilty?" Leah pondered the question, her gaze drifting to the phone in her hand as she mulled over the case details. "I'm not certain," she replied thoughtfully, "but given my track record with men, it's hard to distinguish between genuine intentions and hidden motives."

The abrupt sound of the doorbell pierced through the apartment, causing Leah to startle. "And now he's here to pick me up," she muttered, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling in her gut. "I'll fill you in on everything tomorrow," she promised before ending the call.

_________________________________________

The journey from the vibrant heart of Paris to the serene, imposing presence of the French Alps served as a physical and metaphorical transition for Vincent and Leah. As they navigated the winding mountain roads, Leah's gaze was drawn to the changing landscape, her mind a whirlwind of anticipation and uncertainty about the case and her role in it.

Vincent, for his part, found his attention intermittently captured by Leah when he allowed himself to take the seat of the neutral observer—her dark brown hair reflecting the sunlight, her compact, curvy figure a stark contrast to the sprawling, rugged beauty outside the car window. It was an awareness he couldn't quite shake, an acknowledgment of her beauty and the energy she brought into his carefully structured world. Leah, for her part, glanced at Vincent as her eyes roamed across the changing scenery around them, letting them dart across his side profile, the slope of his nose, the lines etched around his distinctive eyes.

The time they had spent together had been consumed by meticulous details regarding the case and its sordid details, not allowing any time for pleasantries outside of what Leah’s resume held, and what little information she was able to gather about Vincent from a rigorous google search. Besides the conversation the day prior in the cafe, they were still relatively strangers to one another.

Arriving at Sandra's secluded home, they were greeted by a scene of tranquil isolation, the peace of the valley juxtaposed with the storm brewing within its inhabitants. Sandra, with her guarded demeanor and measured greetings, presented a figure of resilience, her German accent marking her words with precision as she navigated the conversation in her adopted language.

Leah's interaction with Daniel, Sandra's son, and the family dog, Snoop, was most shocking to Vincent. Leah's gentle, unassuming approach won Daniel over, her laughter and warmth cutting through the reserve that had initially greeted them. Vincent observed these interactions with a growing appreciation for Leah's natural empathy and the ease with which she connected with Sandra and Daniel, despite the shadows that hung over the household.

The discussion of the case took on a new dimension as Leah's presence seemed to soften the edges of the tense atmosphere. Her insights into the case brought fresh perspectives that even Vincent had to acknowledge were invaluable. Yet, it wasn't just her professional contributions that caught his attention; it was the way the alpine light danced in her hazel eyes, the genuine concern etched on her porcelain skin, and the graceful way she moved through space.

As the day wore on, Vincent found himself increasingly aware of Leah—not just as a colleague but as a woman who intrigued him.

The visit to Sandra's home, intended to deepen their understanding of the case, ended up opening up a dialogue into one another’s thought processes. The sum of which came to fruition as the moonlight illuminated sharply against the car’s hood.

Vincent's voice cut through the silence inside the car, breaking the rhythm of the road beneath them. "Who are you exactly?" he inquired, stealing a quick glance in her direction before refocusing on the winding path ahead. A puzzled expression settled upon her face as she met his gaze, her features momentarily frozen in confusion.

A soft, genuine laugh bubbled from her lips. "What?" she responded, the musical lilt of her voice betraying her confusion at his question.

"They were hanging on your every word back there," Vincent remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Sandra's a tough nut to crack, but you seemed to have opened her up a little."

"I could barely get a word out of you yesterday," Vincent added with a chuckle, his eyes back on the road.

"Sandra," Leah began, her voice taking on a more serious tone as she turned to face him, "How do you know her?"

Vincent's reply was brief, a pause punctuating his words. "Old friends. Ancient history."

A thoughtful expression crossed Leah’s face as she considered his response. "You know what they say about history?" she mused, her gaze steady as Vincent fell silent.

Vincent's brows furrowed slightly. "What do you know about ancient history?" he countered, a smirk playing on his lips.

"That it has a way of repeating itself," Leah responded cryptically, her words hanging in the air like a lingering mystery.

Vincent's laughter filled the car, mingling with the hum of the engine. "For someone who's usually so quiet, you seem to have a lot of insight into things you claim not to know," he observed, his eyes glinting with a newfound curiosity.

As doubt crept into Leah’s mind, she pondered the implications of her words and the connection between ancient history and the present moment. Little did she know that the echoes of the past were about to resurface in ways she could never have foreseen.

[callsignspark]

soft-tober | 01 | Javy Machado

soft-tober is about experiencing the joys of October with loved ones. each day is a fall-related one-shot for one of the couples from my Dagger, Sword & Shield universe, plus a few extras! today is Javy and Erin with "Do you want some hot chocolate?" from this prompt list.

If you’d like to be tagged for soft-tober, please send an ask!

word count: 1k

soft-tober masterlist | main masterlist | divider credit here

warnings: extreme fluff, mentions of being naked but nothing nsfw

callsignspark disclaimer: my blog is an 18+ space; minors do not interact - you will be blocked. I do not consent to my work being copied, run through an AI generator, translated, or posted elsewhere. I do have an AO3, where I eventually will be cross-posting my works.

01. “Do you want some hot chocolate?”

The beeping of the alarm clock rouses both of them, as it has every morning since they started sharing a room. And like every morning since then, Javy presses a kiss to whatever part of Erin’s face isn’t smushed into her pillow before silencing the alarm. She’s back asleep before he can get up to go through his pre-run routine. Double-check the weather report. Stretch. Make a post-run smoothie.

Today, he doesn’t even get to the first step.

Instead of sunlight streaming through the windows, rain is pelting the glass, making their room chilly. Javy lays there for a minute, two halves of him arguing whether it’s really necessary to run this morning. He knows he should. It’s his third year being a TOP GUN instructor, and while he’s still in fantastic shape, it’s very slowly getting trickier to keep up with the kids he’s teaching.

Ultimately, with a promise to do half an hour on the treadmill later, the side that’s arguing to stay under the warm covers with his girlfriend wins. He rolls towards her, staring at her freckled face and chuckling to himself at the way her face is mushed against his pillow that she’d somehow stolen during the night, a tiny puddle of drool staining the fabric. Something only he finds adorable.

Erin Messuri is a lot of things - smart, funny, caring - but she is not a pretty sleeper. Javy learned that soon after she became his roommate. That first week, after she moved into the room that had previously been Jake’s, he was stumped as to how someone so beautiful could wake up looking like she fought someone in her sleep and then, within 20 minutes, be completely ready for the day. Then she fell asleep on the couch one night after dinner, and Javy watched in real time as she contorted herself into the most uncomfortable position he’d ever seen and immediately started snoring.

Looking back, he realizes that’s probably the moment he fell in love with her. Though he didn’t realize it for several months.

“You’re still here.” Erin’s voice is soft, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he watched her mouth move, he wouldn’t have known she was awake.

“It’s too chilly to run this morning.” He leans forward, pulling the covers down to kiss her shoulder, still bare from last night's activities. “Wanted to stay with you.”

She hums, shifting to her side so they’re pressed chest to chest. “Well, I’m not complaining. I never get to wake up with you during the week.”

The words have barely left her mouth before her head goes heavy against his arm, asleep again. Javy smiles to himself, brushing a soft hand over her hair and pressing a kiss to his girlfriend’s head.

Soon to be fiancée.

The little voice in his head reminds him, making his eyes dart to the dresser, picturing the black velvet box hidden in the back of the drawer that holds his flight suits. The one drawer Erin never goes in because the lingering jet fuel smell can irritate her asthma.

A tiny irrational fear that something has happened to the simple silver band with a blue sapphire gemstone, the stone representing the month they met, causing him to check on it once or twice a day. He likes to think he’s been relatively normal and calm since purchasing the ring, but he’s not sure how successful he’s been. He knows he’s been better than Jake, who was so twitchy that Flora figured out what was going on two days after the piece of gold jewelry that she now wears every day was purchased.

Javy lets them lay there until Erin’s first alarm - the first of five - goes off, smothering a laugh at how she rolls over and smacks at the alarm clock until it stops beeping without ever fully waking up.

“C’mon, baby; if you get up with me right now, I’ll give you a special treat.”

“No, thank you; you gave me a special treat last night.”

This time, he can’t stop the laughter. Laughing even harder when she rolls over, shooting a grumpy look at him, one that would be more effective if she wasn’t naked with her hair sticking up.

“Well, as special as last night’s treat was, I was thinking more along the sustenance route. Waffles and something a little different. Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Coffee.”

“No hot chocolate?” Javy teases. Erin loves chocolate, but as long as they’ve known each other, she’s never started the day without coffee.

“What if you made me a homemade Dunkaccino?”

He blinks at her. “What the fuck is a Dunkaccino? Is this some stupid East Coast thing?”

“First of all, you’re also from the East Coast, Mr. Florida Man.”

“I am from New Orleans! Being born in Florida is an unfortunate circumstance that I could not control!”

“Second!” She continues, talking over him as she climbs into his lap, awake now that he’s got her riled up. “Nothing made by Dunkin’ Donuts is stupid - you’ve just been deprived. Third-”

Erin squeaks as Javy flips them over, the two laughing as he hovers over her and presses slow kisses against her neck and collarbones.

“Third, a Dunkaccino is a delicious combination of coffee and hot chocolate that is the perfect way to warm up on a rainy October day, but they stopped making it years ago.”

“Mmmm… I can probably finagle something like that together for you, ma’am.”

“Really?”

“Of course. No promises if it’ll be good.”

“Well, as long as there’s still regular coffee, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Her eyes twinkle at him, making his heart pound after all these years.

“God, I love you.” Javy kisses her, probably a little too passionately considering it’s before seven on a Tuesday, but he can’t help it. Overcome by her and her smile, her laugh, her dependence on caffeine that should probably be concerning but isn’t considering her job.

Erin pulls back, her cheeks a little pink from the intensity of the kiss. “I love you, too.”

He almost breaks, almost asks her to marry him right there and then, ruining the surprise engagement he has planned for next month, but she interrupts him before he can.

“Javy?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I still need the coffee, no matter how you end up presenting it to me.”

“On it.” Mrs. Machado, he adds silently, pressing one more kiss to her lips before pulling on his shorts and heading to the kitchen, closing out the browser tab he was using to research local photographers in favor of figuring out how to best combine coffee and hot chocolate to make something that actually tastes good.

@gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @hangmanbrainrot | @princessphilly | @hangmanssunnies | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice | @laracrofted | @yuckosworld | @mika-darling | @bradshawsbaddie | @bobblebobsbae | | @ohtobeleah | @withahappyrefrain

[lost-technology]

Hello, fellow Trigun fan who's way older than me! So you're a Trigun fan since the early 2000s, what was it like back then?

From what I can remember of it, just as weird as it is now. I can remember it being slightly less sexualized? There was plenty of horny-obsession with the characters then, but it seemed like there was a little more room for general stuff. Vash x Meryl and Wolfwood x Milly were more popular ships then than they are now. Vash x Wolfwood was wildly popular (all the yaoi / slash ships were, Vash with Wolfwood, Vash with Knives, Knives with Legato), but there was more attention on the het ships, as well. The het ships were actually as popular as the slash ships. When all we had was the '98 anime, but invested fans knew of the manga, there were a few people who had access to the manga who could read Japanese who would do their own scans and translations of various...and dubious quality. We waited for bits and pieces with bated breath, but never knew how wonky the translations were or how much of a personal bias toward their own fan-theories / ships /whatnot any given translator was putting into their uploaded scans. This continued on even after Dark Horse translated and printed the manga officially in English, because those of us who were collecting the print-manga were still looking up scans to see the rest of the story that hadn't come out of Japan yet. It was a time before the social media giants we know today, so fandom was on message boards, BBS boards and forums dedicated either to general anime or to Trigun in particular. There were also fan-groups on places like Livejournal. I remember being a part of a Livejournal called "100 Bullets," which was for "drabbles" - fanfiction of exactly 100 words. People would throw out prompts and writers were challenged to create little 100 word fics from it. There is a such thing called a "double drabble," which was 200 words, but "100 Bullets" confined things to 100 (no more, no less) as a challenge. I see the young 'uns (in all fandoms) throwing out the word "drabble" to just mean short fic and then writing something that's 700 words or so and I am just inwardly screaming "No! This is NOT how that works! This not how that works at all!" On a board I went to, Trinut, we had a little writing contest to make up our own ending for the manga before the ending came out. I wrote a story that I still kind of like (over on fanfiction.net) where Vash and Knives killed each other and the area of their last battle was haunted by their ghosts / energy. I might bring that one over to Ao3 someday... That kind of thing was pretty much how we expected it all to end. Some people were actually ANGRY that the manga got a happy-ish ending. There was one jagoff and his friends who created a BBS that got popular because he had "inside information from a friend in Japan" that Trigun was getting a revamped series like Hellsing Ultimate that was going to fit more with the manga (this was back in 2009 or so). People followed him for information. His handle was MillionsLivio if I am recalling correctly. He was rude and stuck up and not many people on Trinut or other boards liked him at all, but loads of people flocked to his board (I forget the original name of it, but it eventually shifted to all-anime and rebranded as Blue Panda). I joined it briefly because a friend wanted to do a roleplay and preferred me as a Vash-roleplayer over their resident one. I quickly quit after I realized that MillionsLivio's ACTUAL NAZI RHETORIC and racism WEREN'T him doing a fake "early 2000s Internets' edgy" persona, but were his actual viewpoints - shared by his core circle of friends. Like I said, I couldn't stand the guy, but a lot of people thought that people like that were faking it just to get a rise out of people, you know, reddit-troll types. In hindsight, here in 2023, we know by know that all of those edgelords were...the real thing. Yes, I met an early alt-righter in Trigun fandom of all places. (At least he actually hated Vash. He was a Knives and Livio fan, but you know, I don't understand how anyone could like Trigun at all and be... like that). The world is weird.

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s 2023 Birthday Prologue translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a story that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lucien’s 2023 CN Birthday Event (The New World)✧ Birthday Story | Birthday Prologue (You're here!) | Birthday Date | ASMR | Birthday Party

MC: The last shot for the empty frame, everything else is fine. Xiaojia, please go back and provide me with a rough cut of today's footage.

MC: It's a wrap! Great job, everyone!

After confirming tomorrow's shooting schedule with the production team, the last ray of sunlight has already set. I yawn as I return to my room, take a shower, and dial Lucien's phone number.

Lucien: Today's phone call seems to be coming in a bit earlier than yesterday, it looks like everything is going smoothly.

MC: Yes, indeed. And we managed to make up for the progress affected by the rain earlier today. I have a feeling it's a good sign for finishing ahead of schedule.

MC: However, Lucien...

I lean in closer to the phone screen, squinting my eyes.

MC: Why are you still in the lab at this hour?

On the other end of the screen, Lucien is wearing a white lab coat, with the cold light reflecting off the corners of his eyes and onto the frames of his glasses resting on his nose.

Lucien: Some of the data is running a bit slowly, so I'm waiting for them.

MC: Pfft, is it a very important experiment?

Lucien: Not really. I just wanted to wrap things up today.

Lucien: After all, my little lady has been working so hard for the upcoming vacation, and if I don't keep up with her, I wouldn't be a good boyfriend.

With Lucien not having to go on business trips this year and after confirming his other work arrangements, I decided to pre-allocate two days for him. The plan is to rest a bit after celebrating his birthday.

To ensure that this short break won't be disrupted by any unexpected events, I scheduled and completed important work tasks for the upcoming month in advance by working overtime.

MC: So, is there hope that these slow-running data will reach the finish line today?

Lucien: Well, it depends on how you define the concept of "today".

Lucien: If we calculate it in a 24-hour format, it might not be possible. But if we look at it according to my sleep schedule, it seems there's hope.

His serious tone makes me can't help but laugh, although I'm helpless in such a situation, I still pretend to be serious and poke his cheek through the screen.

MC: You can't stay up all night, even if you have to spend the night in the lab, you should take a short nap.

Lucien: Do you still have work to deal with?

MC: Yes, there are some details to confirm... What's the matter?

Lucien didn't respond to this sudden topic. He simply gets up from the screen, and when he reappears, he's holding a soft pillow in his hand.

Lucien: Then, sleep with me for a while.

Perhaps it's because he's lying down, his voice sounds a bit lazy, and as a result, my heart involuntarily softens a bit.

MC: Let's sleep then, goodnight.

It's not until I hear the steady sound of breathing from the other end of the screen that I shift my gaze back, attempting to refocus my attention on work.

But my gaze keeps involuntarily shifting towards him, wanting to know if he's sleeping soundly, wanting to know what's in his dreams.

Almost as if on a whim, I clicked on the several B&B I had saved in the past few days and began comparing them.

Considering the short drive, the suitability of the venue for setup, and the surroundings...

I keep flipping through options until I finally lock onto the small wooden cabin that has been capturing my attention from the start.

Perhaps it's because of the arched circular bay window that overlooks a vast expanse of grass, or perhaps it's because it resembles an egg, always giving the impression of having a special meaning.

MC: ...15, 16, and factoring in the time for setup...

I'm double-checking the calendar, booking the room for the 14th to the 16th on the website, and then sending a confirmation request to the B&B manager.

Just as I'm about to purchase the birthday decorations as well, Lucien happens to wake up.

MC: You're awake. Did you sleep well?

Lucien: Mm, maybe because I dreamt of you.

MC: (smiles softly) Then why did you wake up so quickly?

I hear Lucien speak.

Lucien: Because I know that by waking up, I can see you.

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

MC: ...Let's place the canvas to the side, so that the hanging ribbon can fall right here.

I mutter to myself while gesturing, tirelessly adjusting the positions of the balloons, gift boxes, and fairy lights.

Then I walk back and forth in the room, simulating where his gaze would first land when he enters.

MC: Lucien's perspective should have a wider view... so these balloons here should be hung a bit higher.

After tidying up the mess of packaging bags and changing the water in the vase, I rub my sore shoulders and nod in satisfaction.

The warm yellow light spills through the arched circular bay window, enveloping everything in a cozy warmth.

I slump onto the small sofa and gaze out through the glass window.

The abundance of greenery makes one involuntarily slow down their breath, as if by doing so, they could catch the pleasant scent of fresh grass.

MC: (smiles) I hope Lucien will like it here.

My phone suddenly vibrates twice.

B&B Administrator: Miss MC, the groceries you ordered are already placed at the front door. There are frozen items, so please collect them promptly.

MC: They arrived so quickly... Alright, the customized birthday feast is officially underway!

[forgottenstarlightwishes]

[X] @second-wife-playbook

Warbie waited at his makeshift desk for the item to come back. The spool of thread was suppose to go to Earth but one of his coworkers had accidentally sent it to Hell or was it on purpose? Considering his current situation he would not be surprised if the mistake was intentional just so they had a reason to keep him in Hell or dismantle the Department even more.

It had taken a few months to work out the kinks with his small team back in Heaven, but the plan was they would forward the the less than desirable wishes down to him. Surprisingly Hell, had more readily available resources to piecemeal wishes. But today was different, an Earthlings gift had been sent to a resident in Hell and he nervously drummed his feathers hoping with all his might that the recipient wouldn't send some monstrous curse back in the return box.

His phone buzzed and the screen spat out the box. He quickly opened it and let out a startled squawk as he was immediately blinded by the light. He slammed the lid back down with a gasp tipped the box and opened it again, reached in and pulled out a-

"Fabric?! Oh! Oh nonononono!" He held the piece out and could see the careful needlework that had went into the piece. "They've already used it! Though that was incredibly fast. They must have alot of skill and...a lot of time, oh no but this is bad!" It was stunning and beautiful and the clouds that they had embroidered translated into a shifting series of clouds above. But that was the problem! He folded it and the light immediately dimmed.

He paced around the dusty old office for a few rounds trying to figure out what he could do. He could not possibly undo all the stitches and reclaim the thread nor could he send the piece directly to the human client. What to do? What to do? What to do? Then what felt like eons, an idea struck! He shuffled across his feathers and pulled out a needle. He didn't want to do it, but it was the only thing he could do to reclaim a part of the delivery. He slowly and carefully began to pick at the stitches until he managed a 3 strands of thread that Cori had cut to length. With a bit of magic he managed to smooth out the strands and reattach them, wind them back up onto a small spool. It wasn't as brilliant as the original, but it was still quite stunning. He looked back at the embroidered piece canted his head. He could not let this lovely piece go to waste. With a pen and paper he carefully traced the image, and holding his palm over the clouds, a dusting of the glimmering light transferred into the pattern. "Th-this might work. "He stammered and packaged both the pattern and tiny spool of thread into a small orb, addressed to the right person on Earth with a tag that read, [A rainbow that you can hide in your desk drawer.] With a tap, off it went streaking upward to the sky, very unlike how they would streak downward when he was in Heaven. Crisis averted. He knew how much effort his coworkers had put into that spool. It had taken them months to put enough energy to give it that effect. Warbie looked upward at the walls to the dusty old study where the lights danced like the northern lights. Maybe too much energy. "I should return this, but it is a little too bright, and its missing stitches now." he muttered with concern.

"Oh! What if I made it like...this." He said flying up to a shelf and pulling out an old antique double cover shadow box, then bringing it back down. He placed the embroidery piece down inside of it, then layered a thick piece of canvas above it, then closed the glass lid and stood it up. The little song bird warbled with a smile as he laid his head down for a moment to enjoy the now softened sky with the silhouette of a forlorn castle in the background, it now glowed a warm dreamy light rather than the harsh sunny one from before. He then closed it the final lid, hiding the light within and placed it back into the return box along with a note that read: ┈━═☆ To Our Generous Unintentional Client.

Thank you very much for your cooperation. You have blessed us with your skill and impeccable needlework. We did not have the heart to unravel all your hard work, so we reclaimed just enough thread for our client along with a small example of your piece. We realized we could not send back your piece as is after tampering with it, and we did not realize how bright it could be, so we have mounted it in this double lidded shadowbox to preserve your work, so you may view it at your leisure- and not get blinded, so sorry for the intensity of it. We hope it did not harm your eyes and you will enjoy this shadowbox.

If you have any questions or concerns please feel free to contact us, just swipe the comet on the letterhead."

Sincerely, Reed Warbie

Recollector : Department of Wishful Thinking

With a tap, the box was packaged into a silver orb with a star embellishment. "Back you go. Do make someone happy and not angry." He whispered carrying the orb towards his phone. He tapped it and in it went and back to Cori.

[hekates-corner]

Apothecary Diaries | WN Translation | Arc 9 - Chapter 18

Hi and welcome!

For a number of reasons I ended up here. I relay all that happens in the chapters, playing wine-aunt.

So, be warned, all the spoilers are down below. If you'd like spoilers, but less - my dm's/asks are open!

New here or missed a part? Check out the Masterlist.

Chapter 18 | Hitoban Pt. 3

There was an uproar in the courtyard but as soon as Jinshi, the mightiest man, told them to disperse, everyone returned to their posts. Once everyone was gone they checked inside the net.

“What *the hell* is this…..” - both Jinshi and Basen went wide-eyed. Based on Basen’s reaction, Narrator-Mao concludes that the bird must’ve escaped him before he could get a proper look.

The bird that Chue had caught was an owl (esp ural owl), about a foot long. However, it had a somewhat eerie look (kao) to be called an owl and they were taken aback by it.

It’s face (men) was white and round, as if it was wearing a mask (men). The feathers around the face were dark, so if it were in a dark place without spreading its wings, it would look like a floating mask (men).

But—

“It’s kind of small, isn’t it?” - It’s Tianyu who says it plainly.

I think Narrator-Mao goes on noting that even in front of Jinshi, the moon prince, Tianyu looks/is bold/imposing. The double mention of Jinshi’s titles is throwing my translators off.

Maomao nudges Tianyu with her elbow.

“Oh, I’m very sorry. You were here too, moon prince”

Maomao finds Tianyu pretty unfriendly. Of course she’d moved herself elsewhere.

Jinshi too wore a slightly hard/stiff facial expression. On the surface it was the smile of a heavenly being/he had the smile of a celestial being.

“There was an uproar. It would be strange if we didn’t notice. But what were you doing?”

Maomao thinks something that's either “shameless” or “hypocritical”

She goes on wondering as narrator what he (Tianyu) is going to say since he (Jinshi) even sent Basen to her.

Maomao steps forward because she doesn't know what Tianyu would say/reply.

“Okay. Lately, there have been rumors that strange things have been happening around this mansion. The military attaché with the medical officer had been consulted about this matter by a servant, so he investigated it while patrolling the residence. Today, I was consulted by that servant in the morning, but I was reluctant to ask the military officer, who had (just) finished his night guard, to directly investigate. His original job is to protect the medical officer, not doing chores.”

Maomao thinks “Let’s mix a little sarcasm in there”

She goes on adding something along the lines of “So I, as a court lady and medical officer went out to see if I could hear the story.”

Jinshi’s pretty much like “I see/Hm. Then what about the doctor next to you. There must be other work for a doctor to do.” (referring to how she couldn’t wake Lihaku but chilling with Tianyu’s fine) - His eyes sharp/cutting/discerning.

In her head Maomao’s like “Ah-” - going on as narrator that in the end it wasn’t good to involve Tianyu at all.

“I’m very sorry. I forced myself to follow her (he’s basically saying he forced his presence upon her). Maomao is better at dispensing medicine than a young medical officer like me, and I’m currently learning a lot of things *from her*. When I heard Maomao was walking around the courtyard, I thought she was looking for something to use as ingredients for herbal medicine, so I followed her.”

Mind-Mao’s like “This guy… …” - apparently Tianyu shifts the way he refers to himself, using second person now. She also notes as narrator that he apparently seems to purposefully misspell someone’s name on purpose (I think it’s hers?)

She feels like Jinshi’s eyes have become even more stern/steely.

“I see. I understand the general situation, but is it true that the real mystery is this bird/I have a general understanding of what’s going on, but the key question is, is this bird the true identity of the monster?”

Maomao’s like “Yes. Half of it.”

Maomao looks at the owl.

“There will be people watching us here. I’d like to change the location and ask for more details, is that okay?”

“Yes, sir.” - Maomao accepts Jinshi’s offer/request.

“I’ve never seen a bird with a face (kao) like this before.” - Jinshi gives the caged bird a serious/fixed long look.

From the courtyard they were led to the guest room used by Jinshi - there’s also another couple of rooms in use that Maomao notes you could hold a light/small tea party in.

Jinshi is sitting as the host, and around him are the usual: Suiren, Maomao, Taomei, Chue and bodyguard Basen. Narrator-Mao also has a feeling that Basen’s older brother Baryou is probably nearby but she doesn’t think he’ll come out.

For some reason Tianyu is also in the same room, smiling.

Maomao thinks that Tianyu should just say he has some job to do and decline.. but as narrator she knows that “if something seems interesting, he’ll follow you, that’s Tianyu”.

“Why did you think this bird was the true identity of the mysterious “Hitoban”?”

At Jinshi’s question Maomao closes her eyes. She has to be careful not to give Tianyu strange information. (one could also use suspicious or unexpected, etc)

“Okay - the first thing that struck me as odd/I thought was strange was the word “mask” (men). When I heard that people had seen “masks” on trees and buildings, I first looked around/checked the trees.”

Then she found the bird droppings which clarified that it wasn’t a small bird, but a carnivorous one of a certain size.

“Small bird were normally flying around the residence during the day, so I suspected that if there were carnivorous birds, they must be nocturnal.”

“I see/Hm. At that point you felt like the bird was the true identity of the monster, but what was the basis for that?”

“If you know this bird, you can imagine it. This is my first time seeing one in real life, but I knew that there were birds that looked like they had masks (men) on. They were drawn in an illustrated book of living things that I got at the pharmacy I used to work at.”

Jinshi, Narrator-Mao assumes, would probably know what the illustrated book is - it’s one of those taken from the Shi clan’s fortress. She also notes that he should be the one holding onto it now, so he can see it if he gets someone to bring it to him.

“The name is said to be: barn/masked (men) owl. If it was a normal owl, you wouldn’t think it had a floating face - but, above all, I feel like this owl has a slightly unusual color.”

Dark feathers. She notes that she thought most owls had black wings and a white belly, but this one’s almost entirely dark brown except the face.

“May I ask you a question?” - Tianyu raises his hand.

“Let’s hear it/Say it.” - Jinshi’s tone is a little more imperious/coercing than usual.

“It certainly looks like a mask, but isn’t it too small? It’s too pretty/cute to be a human face though/called a human face though.”

Tianyu looks at the owl in the cage. The owl didn’t act violent, it just looked sleepy. If they were to put nesting material in the cage it might sleep.

“Human eyes are ambiguous/unclear. I think that the presence of the white floating in the air is significant. Besides/Also-”

Maomao takes a piece of paper out of her pocket - when she’s looking for a writing utensil Chue quickly handed one to her. Narrator-Mao notes that she moves quick/works well. In addition, she often provokes Basen, who let the owl escape, by giving him an irritated look.

Maomao writes four dots on a piece of paper and shows them to Jinshi and Tianyu - they should be exactly where eyes, nose and mouth are.

“The human eye is designed so that when the dots are lined up like this, it looks like a human face. This is similar to the idea of seeing a persons face floating on a pillar/It’s just like the way people’s faces are often seen on pillars.”

“Understood. You found out the identity of the mask(men) floating in the night.”

Tianyu puts his hand in the cage and.. pokes/nudges the owl - it doesn’t put up/offer any particular resistance. Taomei(?) comes over with a plate with raw chicken on it.

Maomao thinks “Luxurious.”

As Taomei(?) offers the owl the chicken with chopsticks, it easily takes a mouthful (beakful? xD). It has no qualms about eating things offered to it by others.

“You found out the identitity of the mask (men). But what is the identity of the head (atama)?”

Narrator-Mao notes that Tianyu’s not a fool - he remembers exactly what Maomao said.

“Mask (men) and head (atama)? What does that mean?” - Jinshi’s asking for an explanation.

Maomao decided to speak again, including a review.

“There have been reports of sightings for the past 20 days. At that time it was called “men” or “kao”. However, it seems that the last few sightings are of a head (atama). Moreover, it was floating outside the mansion.”

“I suppose you are trying to say that “mask/men” and “head/atama” are different things. So, if this bird is the “mask/men” what would/will be the head/atama?”

“That’s the thing.” - Maomao glances at Chue.

“What is it? Do you need something from Chue-san?”

“It’s not Chue-san, is it?”

Maomao was thinking about the chronology. Witness testimony of the “atama” from a few days ago. This coincides with the date when Maomao and the others came to/arrived in Saito. And there’s one person who seems to be doing something strange.

“Pardon me. Chue-san has been with Maomao-san for the past few days.”

That’s right, she was away plowing the field with Maomao.

“This is just a hypothesis. However, just by looking at this owl, I feel like I figured something out.”

Narrator-Mao takes note of the owl eating chicken with its foot, spotting beautiful goldwork.

“Probably, but I think we’ll find it soon. We just have to leave a little trap.” Maomao grinned, patting the owl with its creepy face.

The next day Chue appears, alongside with her the distinctive sound of her footsteps.

Maomao had finished cleaning up the breakfast and was preparing medicine with the quack doctor.

“Are you a prophet, Maomao-san?” - Chue said/asked while blinking.

“I see that you found it. Have you been rough with them?”

“What are you two talking about? I have no idea what you mean.”

He’s a quack from beginning to end, but since it’s too troublesome to explain Maomao asks him to continue dispensing medicine - after, the tea should be prepared.

Chue, looking like she owned the place, sat on a chair waiting for Guen to bring the tea and sweets. (i’d like her balls, ngl xD)

“Okay. As Maomao-san said, I kept watch over the owls cage at night. Then, I looked to the place where the owl suddenly started making noise - there was a big problem/and lo and behold, there it was. I/We found someone dressed in black with a strange mask on.”

Chue seems to be having fun, drinking the tea that Guen was offering quietly - the sweets he brought were dried fruits from Saito.

“I couldn’t believe he really looked/was dressed like that.”

Even Maomao was surprised that it fit so well.

“So, is that suspicious person the one who raised the owl?”

“Correct.” - Chue makes a large circle. (i’d assume with her arms)

“Maomao-san, why did you think that the culprit behind the strange incident was the owl breeder?” - Chue asked frankly.

Maomao recalls/remembers the owls characteristics.

“Because it was clearly a pet owl. It also had the decoration/ornament on its legs and it didn’t seem to get angry in the cage, so it was eating the processed chicken without any caution. I thought that he had been taking care of it for many years, rather than just temporarily caught it as a pet.”

“Ah/Oh”

“And there was one thing that bothered me about the sightings.”

Narrator-Mao explains: The sightings of the “mask/men” were reported about 20 days ago, and the sightings of the “head/atama” was reported a few days ago. There’s one/some similarity.

“If it was twenty days ago, it must’ve been around the time that Empress Gyokuyous niece left for the capital.”

“Ah/Oh” - Chue seems to understand.

“Owl’s were originally one of the offerings brought to the capital/The owl was originally one of the offerings taken/to be taken to the capital. What if it somehow escaped?”

“Oh/I see. So did they decide to capture it now because the royal family was coming and they wanted to present it again? Is that the reason he put on such a strange mask so that no one can see his face?”

Maomao had an idea about the strange appearance - but it’s not a clear answer, just one of the guesses that Maomao makes.

“Maomao-san. Chue-san is a easygoing person, but I’m not a fool, so I won’t take Maomao-san’s opinon as just a story.” - Narrator-Mao notes that she’s basically telling her to keep it short - once she hears this she feels lighter/her mouth does.

“I think the mask and black costume are probably meant to resemble the owl’s parents.” - Chue tilts her head at Maomao’s words.

“Do you know what imprinting is?”

“Yes, Chue-san knows. When a bird is born from an egg it recognizes the first thing it sees as its parent.”

“Right. I wonder if the caretaker intended to release the owl back into the wild. I thought that they might’ve tried to avoid them remembering people’s faces.”

“Oh”

Narrator-Mao remarks that judging by the owl’s droppings, it was probably catching its own food.

“But in the end, it seems like it developed the habit of receiving chicken from people. If an owl with a funny face was accustomed to humans, rich people would buy it as a novelty, or give it as a tribute to a nobleman.”

“Do you mean that the person who raised it didn’t like that and let it free or let it escape?”

“It’s just an assumption.”

“However, the owl that was supposed to run away ended up living in the villa of Gyokuen-sama. And if the royal family were to stay there, it would be a big problem.”

“That’s just hypothetical.”

“If you call for the owl and are dressed as you were when you raised it, it will come - then catch the owl and release it far away.”

“Assumption.”

“I know.”

Narrator-Mao notes that to call the owl they’d have to blow a whistle or something. The owl responded, but couldn’t get out. (that’s when it went crazy in the cage while Chue was keeping watch on it)

She goes on that whether or not her assumptions are true, one thing has been learned.

“There’s no doubt that he’s an owl breeder.”

“I agree.”

Maomao and Chue laugh with a grin. The quack doctor watches the two evil spirits outside the mosquito net and is frightened. If he, like Maomao assumes, is a person that can raise birds from chicks, a certain problem will come closer to being solved.

“The wind reading tribe”, told by a former serf named Nenshin - a tribe said to have been surrounded by the dog clan.

Maomao thinks that they probably can’t survive just by holding festivals/rituals.

Also, if “we” think about how they exterminated insects, one answer emerges.

The “wind reading tribe” is said to have handled birds. Maomao recalls that a certain thing was once done with birds.

Communication using pigeons.

Similarly, if birds were used as a means of communication, the wind-reading-tribe would become adept at not only festivals but also about espionage.

Maomao decides to meet the suspicious person they had caught.

Notes | Chapter 19

Yeah.. it was an owl all along xD outside of Tianyu, this was the most confusing back and forth so far. If you stuck around or knew what the ending was gonna be, congrats!

Maomao calls Jinshi shameless/hypocritical because Lihaku had mentioned he's been involved in getting the job to Maomao yet acted like he didn't know a thing.

Yes, Jinshi was jealous and Maomao knows.

I'm sorry that the mansion and villa thing keeps switching, we all know it's just a pricey, fancy house at the end of the day

So, now it's officially confirmed for you and me that the "dog clan" was Nenshin's group. It was confusing for me, but yeah.

Hope you enjoyed and stay safe!

[0613magazine]

221101 Rolling Stone

‘What If I Don’t Like Music Anymore?’: A Wildly Honest Conversation Between BTS’ RM and Pharrell Williams

BTS and Pharrell have a secret collab coming — and that's just one of the revelations from this meeting of two superstars

AT THIS POINT in their reign as the world’s biggest band, the members of BTS are accustomed to hero worship and nervous fans. But as that group’s leader, RM, sits across from Pharrell Williams in early September, onstage in an empty, secured auditorium at Los Angeles’ Museum of Contemporary Art, he’s unnerved to find himself on the other side of the equation. It feels “embarrassing,” RM says with a smile, to talk about his artistic journey in front of “my own idol.”

Williams, eternally youthful and smooth-skinned (needless to say), is relaxed and full of small talk, in a leather jacket, matching leather shorts, boots, and a blinding array of ice-studded jewelry on one wrist. RM, in a Bottega Veneta double-breasted brown suit, is quieter, seemingly shuffling through the many questions he’s prepared in his head. 

For all these two men have in common, thousands of miles and a couple of decades separated their coming of age. From the distance of Virginia Beach in the Eighties, a young Williams was able to observe the growth of hip-hop almost from its birth, before becoming a key force in that genre and many others as one half of the Neptunes and on his own. When RM was growing up outside of Seoul, rap had already gone global, to the point where Nas, Eminem, and local groups like Epik High could seduce a studious South Korean kid into devoting his life to music — which, after some twists and turns, led him to BTS instead of the underground hip-hop career he imagined.

Both artists move between behind-the-scenes work and performing. In addition to producing and writing for BTS, RM has done the same for songs by many other South Korean artists; Williams has been striking that balance like no one else since the Clinton administration — this year alone, he’s produced tracks for Kendrick Lamar, Pusha T, and Rosalía, while enlisting 21 Savage and Tyler, the Creator for his own single “Cash In Cash Out.”

Even before this conversation, Williams and RM joined forces. As Williams reveals, he recently recorded a song with BTS, working remotely, for his next album. RM has a debut solo album of his own on the way, and during their conversation, Williams makes him an enticing offer related to it.  A few weeks after this conversation, BTS’ label, Hybe, announces that the group’s members will be serving mandatory military service and will focus on solo work before reuniting in 2025. Today, RM is frank about the fact that he and BTS are at a crossroads in their lives and career, and he’s unafraid to ask for Yoda-style advice from someone whose nonstop shape-shifting has been rewarded with unmatched, decade-spanning success.

RM: I just want to point out [your 2006 solo song] “Take It Off (Dim the Lights).” Because that was on one of my playlists. I even translated it into Korean and recorded it once when I was an amateur.

Williams: Whoa! That’s crazy.

RM: These days genre doesn’t mean anything. But at that time, I think some rappers criticized the rappers who sing or use Auto-Tune. Sometimes you sing, sometimes you rap, sometimes you just sing the hook. So how do you position yourself when you participate in a song as a performer?

Williams: Wow. First of all, no one’s ever asked me that, believe it or not. I make decisions based off feeling. I don’t make them based off of convention.

Listen to the ‘Musicians on Musicians’ podcast featuring RM and Pharrell Williams

RM: “I got to rap.” “I got to sing.”

Williams: Yeah, no. It’s just whatever it feels like it needs. And I’m going to channel it as best as I can, because I’m trying to tell somebody else who’s better than me to do it. Oftentimes, what would happen was artists will be like, “Nah, we want you to stay on there.” And I’ll be like, “No, but it’s for this person.” I channel what I feel like is missing, and I forget that it’s going to be me. Because if I think that it’s going to be me, then it won’t be as good, and I won’t be as confident. For example, there’s a record that I did with Mystikal a long time ago—

RM: Wow!

Williams: Yeah. “Shake Ya Ass.” Right? Chad [Hugo] and I produced it together. But when I was writing that hook, I was pretending that Eddie Kendricks from the Temptations could do it. I remember saying to them, “Oh, man, we’re going to get the guy from the Temptations to do it.” And they were like, “Nah, no. The record company wants you to stay on there.” It was this weird thing where I started to realize that my sweet spot is when I channel other people and I surrender to what the music needs and not let my ego or my feelings get involved.

RM: As a team, we’ve been to the U.N., and we also met President Biden. We never thought these things [would happen], but I think naturally we became one of the representatives from the Asian community. I’m always thinking to myself, “Am I that good? Do I deserve all the responsibilities?” And I’m really doubting myself. I’ve heard that you do a lot of stuff for the community. So I wonder how you deal with all the responsibilities to be good and moral.

Williams: I mean, the [charity] work that I do, there’s always a circumstance. Either I’d say some dumb shit and then regret it later, or there’s been a time when I have a record that sort of affected a certain portion of a demographic. So then it made me think about things differently. And then I go set up a [nonprofit] and act against the ignorance that I was a part of. And educate myself, enlighten myself. Then other times, I also do it because of what you just said. 

When you ask yourself, “Man, am I good enough?” Or, “Do I deserve all this?” I think what makes it easier for me to sleep at night is when I go do that work. It helps answer those questions. It’s like, wherever there was a deficit in your confidence of you deserving to be here or getting that kind of awe from the fans, wherever the minus is, this adds to it. 

RM: I hope all of my confusion and these stupid thoughts will help my life get better, [and I can] be a better grown-up for the fans.

Williams: What people don’t realize is when you have literally hundreds of millions of fans and you encounter them 100,000 at a time . . .

RM: Can’t notice a single face. It’s just a mass.

Williams: It is a massive energy coming at you, and you say, “Jump.”

RM: Then they jump.

Williams: Then they jump. And you sing, and they sing every word. And you can feel through their voices that so many of their lives have been affected and changed because of something you’ve done. I don’t know how you do that. Because I’ve had a couple songs do that, and then when I get out there and go sing it, that would make me cry because it was too much of a responsibility. Man, every time I get that close to that, I always step back.

RM: Why? Is it too heavy?

Williams: It’s too heavy, man. It’s too much of a responsibility. That’s why I really revere people like yourself and your band members and other artists like Bey and Jay and even Kanye — like, man, what y’all go out there and go face every night on that stage? It is humbling and it’s overwhelming. And sometimes your nervous system has got to be built for that. Let me ask you this, how do you deal after you come off the stage, feeling electrified and shocked every night, how do you decompress?

“I’m a human and I really get nervous and I sometimes get depressed by, and even get swallowed by, all the energies,” RM says. “But I try to deal with it because I love the music.”

RM: My first performance was in front of 10 people in some small clubs when I was, like, 15. And I forgot most of the lyrics. So at that time I realized, “Oh, I’m not a star type. I’m not one of these frontmen who could enjoy all this shit like Kurt Cobain or Mick Jagger.” I’m just a human who loves writing music.

For example, we had these stadium shows in Las Vegas last April. It was four nights. But every night is a challenge. After we finish the first three songs and then we take out the earphones and we’re like, “We’re fucking back” — from that moment, there’s a different persona, a different me for the next two hours and a half. But before that, from the rehearsal and even in the plane, I got really, really nervous and [feel] so responsible, because I really am aware that fans buy the tickets and they come from Brazil, from Japan, Korea, from everywhere. They come there for just that one night.

So it fills me, like I have to pay back. I have to offer them the best night ever in their lives. So it’s a mess, and it’s too much energy. I’m a human and I really get nervous and I really sometimes get depressed by, and even get swallowed by, all the energies. But I try to deal with it because I love the music. I love their love. Because I think love is really happening when we give to somebody, not when we take. So I just want to give back to them. They brought us from just a small city in Korea, all the way back to the heart of this music industry, Las Vegas, L.A., New York. Me having an interview with Pharrell, it could happen because of fans all over the world. I’m just always grateful and I don’t want to disappoint them. 

BTS are currently in what your bandmate SUGA described as an “offseason” — which got mistranslated as a “hiatus” — with more focus on solo work for the moment. RM, you’ve said that to a certain extent, you feel like you’ve lost a sense of direction for the group.

Williams: I definitely had my struggles with having a lack of a sense of purpose.

RM: When?

Williams: Right around [2006], when I put out In My Mind. As soon as it didn’t do what I wanted it to do — I mean, culturally it made an impression, but egotistically it didn’t perform the way I wanted it to. It just didn’t do what I was used to at that time, and that really hit me hard. So that made me start to think about purpose and things having real true DNA and not just aesthetic purpose, but real true meaning and something that could be meaningful to people, but at the same time, still fun. And I’ve always loved the girls, so that was always going to be a part of it [laughs]. 

So I understand what that is. I know what it’s like to hit that place in your career for whatever reason — and you guys are doing fine, but I think from what I’m hearing and what I’m understanding, you guys, you hit a place where you were like, “What are we doing? Who are we? Are we who we said we were?”

RM: Right.

Williams: And as you think about who you are and you think about what you mean and what your intentions are, it’s also kind of determining who you want to be. I mean, how’s that feel? Like, where are you in that process right now? Because you’re working on a solo record, right?

RM: Yes. Like 90 percent of the work is done. I’ve released some mixtapes as one of the members of the band, but it was just an experiment. I think this time it’s maybe my official first solo album. But it’s been, like, 10 years since we had our debut as a team. K-pop is all about the band and the groups. And as I told you, I personally started my career as a rapper and as a poet. So that was a tricky part actually, because K-pop is like a mix. It’s the mix of American pop music, other visuals, Korea, and social media and stuff. It’s really intense and really hectic. So it has some pros and cons of its own. 

After 10 years, I think it was not our intention, but we actually became a sort of a social figure, and we took it. So a K-pop band going to have a speech at the U.N. or meeting the president, I think I was really confused and I’m like, “What am I, a diplomat or what?”

Williams: Right, yeah.

RM: I was just a small rapper and lyricist when I was young. So it was 10 years, really intense as a team. And I actually was in charge of almost all of the interviews and representing the team in front of the other members. That was my role, I guess. I think I got really . . . I don’t know, “Yo, I got to stop this for a bit. I got to shut it down and fall away from it and then just see what’s going on,” making my mind really calm down. That’s how I got to concentrate on my solo [album]. These days I really have been thinking about when I first listened to you, the first feeling and the vibe, and the reason why I started, why I chose music for my whole life, I guess.

When I started my music, I was like 14, and now I’m 28. So I’m in that process. It’s really tricky and confusing, and I just don’t know what’s going to happen. So if you could give me any advice, because it’s different from the K-pop, but you’ve done a lot of projects, like, N.E.R.D, Neptunes, and of course your solo work. So any thoughts about . . . ?

Williams: Being in the Neptunes, being in N.E.R.D, and having a solo record really helped me, because you do one thing and then you take a break. You do another thing, then you take a break. And it allows me to put on different hats and put on different masks. So I understand that, and I know having that departure is going to make it really fresh for you. I think it’s good for you to do that because then when you come back to it, to the group—

RM: To the team.

Williams: Yeah, I think it’s going to be super fresh. Who are the producers on your solo record?

RM: Sometimes we do our stuff on our own, and there’s an in-house team always working with us in the label. Sometimes we get our songs from outside too. It’s flexible. You produce maybe sometimes with Chad or just on your own, right? Is that a lot of work?

Williams: For me, it’s like Michelangelo when he was making sculptures. He’s just . . . and I’m going to screw this up, but his whole thing was he was just getting rid of the rocks that were in the way of the sculpture, something to that effect. It’s the same thing. I’m just carving away at it and adding layers until I feel like it’s right. And then if I feel like I need some help, then I’ll reach out to somebody. My ego would get in the way when I was younger, but now my loyalty is not to my ego.

RM: What is it to?

Williams: It’s to the song. It’s how do we make the song the absolute best? That’s where I’m at now.

And I don’t want to do anything that just feels like, “Oh, that’s cool, that’ll fit.” No, I don’t want to fit. I want to knock the wall down and want to set the whole entire block on fire. Not one room, the block. Not the house, the block on fire. I want it to be on the news at night. Listen: “Block on fire.”

RM: Block on fire. B.O.F., block on fire. That’s a cool name for a brand, actually. 

Sometimes as I grow up — and I’m between my chapter one and two, like I said, the group and solo; maybe I’m between music and maybe [visual] art, between that. So sometimes I really feel afraid, like, “What if I don’t like music anymore?” I love art. But it’s somewhat different.

Williams: It is.

RM: It is. Music is like, it’s everywhere. I’m sad, but it’s everywhere. Sometimes I really feel afraid — like, music, it’s not my first thing anymore, sort of like that.

Williams: Yeah. That’s temporary.

RM: Oh, really? I’m relieved.

Williams: Yeah. Then all of a sudden you go, “Whoa. It’s the only thing I want to think about.” It’ll happen.

RM: What do you get from visual art, fine art?

“How do we make the song the absolute best?” Williams says. “I don’t want to do anything that just feels like, ‘Oh, that’ll fit.’ No, I don’t want to fit. I want to set the whole entire block on fire.”

Williams: I think for every modality that we have, every submodality that we have, meaning visual, olfactory, gustatory, kinesthetic, auditory, it’s pretty much all the same. Like with food, something can taste sweet or sour. Things can smell sweet or sour. Visually we can see something that looks sweet to us and something that’s sour. With the auditory, we can hear something that is so sweet and so pleasant, and then we can hear something that’s like, “Ooh, sour,” you know? 

And so I really get enjoyment by working with artists in different artistic disciplines to determine where the congruence is. Like, “Oh, wow, that’s your sweet. Oh, that’s your sour.” You know? 

RM: A fun thing for me with visual art is that when I listen to some great music, I’m blown away, but still, sometimes I feel really jealous. It [can be] really, really painful. So it’s funny, right? But for visual art, I just won’t draw a single line because I want to remain as an outsider. But I’m a lover. I’m a fan. I’m a maniac. So when I look at all the paintings and maybe sculptures, I just feel really relieved because I can love it as much as I can.

Williams: That’s awesome.

RM: Any new projects coming up for you?

Williams: Well, my project, it’s called . . . it’s [under] my name, and the title of the album is Phriends. It’s the volume one. You guys [BTS] are on there, obviously. And I’m actually talking about this way more than I’m supposed to, but it’s a song from my album that [BTS] sang and it’s amazing, and I’m super grateful.

RM: I just love this song.

Williams: I love it too.

RM: Fuck, yeah.

Williams: Everyone that hears it is like, “Whoa.”

RM: I fucking love it.

Williams: I love it, love it, love it. But I’m just going to put this out there. You said you’re 90 percent done with your solo album. But if within that last 10 percent, if you need — you don’t need me, but I mean . . . 

RM: I always needed you, for 15 years.

Williams: OK, well, if you want to do something, we can actually do it.

RM: Please.

Williams: Yeah, and you tell me what you want. Uptempo? We go uptempo.

RM: I’m honored and grateful.

Pharrell, any final words of advice for RM?

Williams: You know what? I would just say continue to move forward. Continue to be curious. And don’t put any kind of pressure on what it is that you do by saying . . . No absolutes, like “Oh, I will never do music again,” or “I will never . . . ” I wouldn’t do any of that. I would just—

RM: No nevers.

Williams: No nevers. Just stay along for the ride. Just keep going.

RM: Cruising.

Williams: Yeah. And just see where you end up. Because it’s really interesting.

Source: Rolling Stone

[achronicwitch]

Monday, June 17, 2024

12 Week Year 3.1-2

The Plan:

Watch the Grandgoblins while Son is on a tree-removal job and DIL is working a double shift at the hotel

Work on the tapestry I'm supposed to be working on (as opposed to the one I started just 'cuz)

Study Esperanto for at least fifteen minutes

Work on fleshing out my antagonist

Try to get the pharmacy to give me my damn pain meds

Full tarot reading

The Reality:

Son didn't have to work today so we didn't have the Grandgoblins until later this afternoon.

The cluck pucks were a success, going from frozen to perfectly scrambled, and made an excellent toddler lunch. They also made a baby lunch; the husband offered Spud a taste and he squalled for more. Then Bean had to play 'a bite for brother a bite for me'. So definitely yes to cluck pucks!

My executive functioning wasn't -- mostly task initiation. I countered this by making a checklist and cutting myself some slack. The most important self care and household maintenance tasks are happening slowly but at least they're happening.

I made a breakthrough during my writing session today! I'm so pleased I want to bend my cohorts' ears while bouncing in excitement. But I need to save that energy and momentum for the page.

My hair is long enough to touch the seat when I sit down with it unbraided. That's five years of growth after I cut it in mid-May of 2019 in honor of my Mom's passing. May it grow past my knees before I have to cut it again.

My pain med prescription is expired. It's no big deal because I have a doctor's appointment coming up and I'll renew it then. Until then I have access to the herbal variety.

I added my daily quota of rows to the tapestry, did my Esperanto lesson and some extra translation to knock the rust off, did my 12-Week tarot reading, and mended a hole in a laundry bag.

[opedguy]

Biden Blames Oil Industry Not Himself

LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com), Nov. 1, 2022.--President Joe Biden, 79, showed why he’s the propagandist-in-chief, blaming the oil industry for price-gouging, driving voters away from the Democrat party only days before the Nov. 8 Midterm election.  Biden wants the public to believe he’s outraged by the high oil prices which he blames on the oil industry. But the inflation in energy prices, spreading to every other commodity and service, started Feb. 24 with the way Biden handled the Ukraine War.  Instead of working with U.N. peacekeepers to get Russian President Vladimir Putin to retreat from Ukraine, he started a proxy war using Ukraine troops to topple the Russian Federation, fueling the worst inflation seen in the global economy in 40 years.  When Biden talks of a war dividend for the oil industry, he’s kidding himself, after his proxy war against the Russian Federation created worldwide oil shortages and skyrocketing prices.

Biden now talks tough before the Midterm election, essentially saying the high energy prices and inflation are not his fault.  When Biden came to office, he had his AOC [Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez] agenda to stop what former President Donald Trump did to make the U.S. energy independent. Biden cancelled the Keystone XL pipeline, effectively gutting the fracking or tar-sands industry, making in more difficult to make profits.  Once AOC got her grip on Biden’s energy policy, it left the U.S. vulnerable to any outside oil shock that happened when Biden  announced March 8 a boycott of all Russian oil and natural oil.  Biden imposed the same requirement on the European Union [ED], driving the same shortages and skyrocketing energy prices in Europe.  High energy prices translated into inflation at all commodity levels, especially energy and food, leaving the world reeling from the Ukraine War.

Biden’s focus on the oil industry’s profits takes the focus off his decision to prosecute a proxy war against the Russian Federation.  “Record profits today are not ecause they’re doing something new or innovative.  The profits are a windfall of war,” Biden said at the White House, standing beside Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen and Energy Secretary Janet Granholm.  When Biden talks of the “windfall of war,” he’s admitting that the Ukraine War has fueled the runaway energy prices and inflation, not primarily the energy prices.  As oil prices rise precipitously because of worldwide shortages and skyrocketing prices, the oil industry naturally makes more profits.  But the main driver to the runaway inflation is the Ukraine War.  Going into the ninth month, Biden has no plan with his proxies in Kiev to end the war.  Biden made a decision to topple the Russian Federation.

Biden likes to shift the blame for the economic mess on everyone else.  He’s been asked by many foreign leaders, industrialists and members of Congress, in his own progressive caucus, to end the Ukraine War.  Biden has doubled down on feeding Kiev unlimited cash-and-lethal weapons, thinking he could break the Russian military, something that hasn’t happened.  Ukraine’s eight months of war resulted in a 25% loss of its sovereign territory, now scrambling, through various counteroffensives, to get back the lost territory.  But like most holes, 44-year-old Ukraine President Volodymyr Zelensky just keeps digging deeper. Zelensky complains daily about Russian war crimes but does nothing to resolve the conflict at the peace table.  Putin has made numerous overtures to move the conflict from the battlefield to the peace table, all of which rejected by Biden and Zelensky.

So, when it comes to runaway inflation and soaring energy prices, it can be primarily attributed to the Ukraine War.  Biden says the oil industry should  “act beyond their narrow self-interest,” to “invest in America by increasing production and refining capacity” to support “their consumers, there community and their country,” blaming all the increased prices on the oil industry.  No one told Biden he must spend $70 billion on Kiev to topple the Putin government.  Zelensky said recently the wouldn’t enter into any peace talks with Putin leading the country.  So what’s the world supposed to do, wait until Zelensky gets enough revenge on Putin to satisfy his need for blood?  Biden’s attempt to blame the oil industry ignore his decisions on the Ukraine War that’s left the U.S. and the world in the worst inflation in 40 years.  Ending the war would help resolve the current energy and inflation crisis.

Biden’s chances to getting a “wind fall profit tax” out of Congress are slim-and-none.  Instead of blaming the U.S. oil industry, it’s time the White House look at their Ukraine War policy that feeds Kiev unlimited cash-and-lethal weapons to fight a bloody proxy war against the Russian Federation. If Biden wants to curb high energy prices and inflation, he needs to let U.N. peacekeepers move the conflict off the battlefield onto the peace table. Improving the global oil supply requires oil-producing countries like Russia to sell their oil into world markets.  Keeping the war going only adds to the worldwide shortages and skyrocketing prices.  Biden and Zelensky may despise Putin but he’s turned Russian into one of OPEC’s leading oil exporting nations.  Ending the war and working out a lasting peace would return the world’s energy supplies to a normal level, lowering prices and reducing inflation.

About the Author

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news.. He’s editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

[lovetohate001]

This is more of a fluff request, but a female reader who is a worker at the lab who starts having a crush on Peter, but she also draws/sketches and one day she draws him and maybe he sees her drawing him?

(Love your work by the way 💖💖💖💖 you write him perfectly 👏)

Love and Other Arts

Peter Ballard (001) x Reader | Fluff

Word Count: 850

© lovetohate001, 2022. reposting/translating is not allowed.

@expired-artery made a beautiful fanart for Love and Other Arts! Go show it some love HERE !

Sometimes working at Hawkin’s Laboratory became too much. With all the children here. And the fluorescent lit hallways. It was void of all the life living outside, in the forest, where the sun could kiss your skin, and the fall breeze could sweep through your hair. The children never got to go outside. Not really. And it pained you to think about it too deeply.

Some days, you wished you’d never stepped foot into this place. And other days you were beyond thankful for the generous salary you received at the end of every month. A double-edged sword you never knew what to do with, in all truth.

The children had been on their best behaviour today. 011 had finally shown some improvements in her training. She’d battered a few of the children up in the process, but Doctor Brenner had been thrilled.

For the rest of the day, the other children were rewarded for their efforts and rested for the afternoon. 011 was in the Rainbow Room with Doctor Brenner, as he’d promised. You silently prayed that she’d have enough energy to carry on tomorrow. Brenner had a way of pushing the talented children too far once he saw them excel. It wasn’t exactly healthy for them either.

You pushed your thoughts aside and sank onto the bench outside, your back against the wall. Employees were allowed outside the breakroom, giving you the time you needed to clear your head. And you had a pretty amazing view of the forest too.

It was already 5 pm and the sun was setting, gilding the outline of the pine trees in orange. A gentle breeze swayed them, the creaking of their branches and the cry of birds filling the peaceful silence.

“What to draw…” you mumbled to yourself, a pencil between your teeth as you stared down at your sketchpad. “Maybe…” you shifted and pressed your pencil to the page.

An oval. Soft sweeps of hair. Sharp cheekbones. A cupid’s bow. After some time, you heard the breakroom’s door open. You quickly shut your sketchbook and looked up. It was Peter.

“Hey you,” he greeted warmly, leaning against the wall near you.

Your heart couldn’t help skipping a few beats with the way those stunningly blue eyes of his looked at you. He was just beautiful…and so so kind. Kinder than any of the others here when it came to handling and teaching the children. You admired him for that. He was actually somewhat human.

“You were kind to 011 today. No one else would’ve dared, especially with Doctor Brenner’s mood today,” you replied, offering him a small and nervous smile.

Peter sighed and cast his eyes down to the floor, scuffing his feet on the pavement. “Being kind isn’t the most out of ordinary thing here, is it? Not when you’re here, at least.”

“Hmm…” you hummed, “I guess you’re right. We’re similar like that.”

“And may we never change,” he said proudly, finally taking a seat beside you.

“You come out here often, don’t you?” he tilted his head towards the sketchbook in your hands.

“Yeah,” you let out a breathy laugh, hugging your sketchbook tighter to your chest, “I guess I like being out here. I draw the landscape sometimes.”

“Can I see them?”

“Huh? See What?” your eyes widened a bit in panic. “Oh…you mean my drawings?”

“I saw one of the pictures you drew for 003 the other day. A tree covered in snow. It was done well,” he said, nothing but kindness in those eyes. No judgement whatsoever.

“Well alright then, if you insist.” With a deep breath, you handed your sketchbook over to him and held your breath.

You eyed him warily as he flipped through the book. He inspected each of them with so much attentiveness. Your heart skipped a beat again. if you could just take the book from him before he saw the drawing you’d started today.

“So, I guess that’s all I’ve really done before- I’m still working on the one from today, so please-“

“Is this me?”

Too late then.

“Oh…um…” your face heated up and you looked anywhere, absolutely anywhere except at Peter Ballard next to you, who was now asking you-

“You have a good eye. I think you drew me perfectly.”

“Thanks,” you said, still not looking at him. You were mortified. Incredibly so. And you couldn’t imagine how stalker-ish he must think you are now.

“Well…I think I’ve been here for more than my five-minute break. But please,” he put a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look up at him, “I would love to sit here next time. Maybe that way I can watch you draw and be a model at the same time. It’ll help with the angle you’re drawing me from, I just know it.”

And with that, the breakroom door opened and closed behind him as he left you alone in nature once more.

You couldn’t help but squeal into the sketchbook now pressed to your cheek in astonishment.

“He wants to model for me?!”

Maybe this place wasn’t as dull as you thought it would be.

MASTERLIST

SEND AN ASK / FIC REQUEST HERE!

[k-evans-reads]

Playing With Fire

Chapter 8

Summary: After a change of heart nearly ten years into her career as a pediatric intensive care unit nurse, Ellie Maxwell has moved back home and returned to her old job at the local bakery, where the regulars are the firefighters from down the street. When sparks begin to fly between Ellie and the guarded, closed-off Chris, will anything come of it?

Pairing: Firefighter!Chris Evans X OFC Elizabeth “Ellie” Maxwell

Word Count: 10,178

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: 18+.

Previous | Main Masterlist | Playing With Fire Masterlist

A knock echoed on the door of the bakery, Ellie lifting her head and smiling widely when she saw the familiar face through the pane of glass in the door. Hurrying over, she unlocked the door, letting Chris in from the cold before closing it back behind him. She still had the broom in her hand when Chris swiftly pulled her against his frame and kissed her so deeply she was almost out of breath when he parted from her lips. 

She opened her eyes to see his own staring at her, Ellie raising her eyebrows as she told him, “Well hi to you too.”

“Sorry, it’s just been way too long since I’ve been able to do that,” Chris admitted with a shake of his head, and Ellie had to agree. They’d had a quick breakfast date the previous Sunday with plans to get together while Hazel was in school on Tuesday and Wednesday, but the snow storm ruined those plans as Chris spent every minute of Tuesday and Wednesday running around with Hazel at home. 

But while some things didn’t go to plan, the best part of her week was when Chris surprised her on Monday by bringing Hazel by the bakery unexpectedly. Ellie only expected to meet Hazel after several weeks - or even months - of them dating, and while Chris only introduced her as a “friend” to Hazel, it still meant the world to Ellie, and she knew it meant the same to Chris by seeing the look in his eyes the entire time. 

“I certainly didn’t mind,” she laughed, locking the door again before she turned and reached for her AirPods, putting them back in the case before she walked towards the broom and dustpan. “I’m almost done cleaning up and then we can go.” 

But Chris - who still had damp hair sticking to the nape of his neck from his shower - rushed over and told her, “Here, I’ll sweep.” 

She stepped aside, letting him sweep as she finished changing the last of the trash bags from the trash cans around the bakery. “How was your shift today?” She asked, turning and glancing over to him. He was dressed in a sweater and jeans with sneakers on, something she knew he didn’t keep at the firehouse. He tended to get off work on Saturdays before she did, which clearly had left him time to run home and change - and drop Dodger off - before he came here.

His back was to her as he shrugged, Ellie watching as the muscles beneath his sweater shifted with the movement. “A little rough… we had a fire in that old abandoned building over on the edge of town and that one was tough to get out but other than that, it’s been pretty uneventful,” he told her, then turned and shot her a wry smile as he made his way back over to her and admitted, “Pretty glad to be here with you now though.” 

“I am too, baby,” she whispered, leaning up to peck his cheek before she grabbed the dustpan, dumping the crumbs and trash into the open trash bag. Then, she tied the bag off, turning to double-check the bathroom was clean and ready for the Sunday crowds.

“So any thoughts on what you’d like to do tonight?” Chris called as he leaned his hip against the counter, his voice carrying down the short hallway into the open door of the kitchen where Ellie was putting on her coat so that she could take the trash to the dumpster. “I’m not picking up Hazel until tomorrow morning because Ashlee took her to New York today to go to an aquarium so they won’t be back until late. So I have time for whatever you want to do.” 

“I’m mostly just hungry,” she laughed and she could hear Chris’ own laughter and she opened the door, crossing the few short feet to the dumpster before she threw the trash in and came back inside. 

Chris’ tall slender frame appeared in the open doorway while Ellie was washing her hands for the last time, a small sideways grin on his face. “You know I can always eat,” he whispered, before he suddenly turned his head and narrowed his eyes, then they widened as he turned back and told her quickly, “Hey Ellie, your phone is ringing.” 

“Sorry, I’m just going to take this really quick,” she replied, brushing past him and reaching for her phone from where she left it on the counter. She smiled at the name that was showing, putting the phone up to her ear as she said, “Hi Mom, how are you?” 

Her mom’s warm voice filled Ellie’s ear as Diana asked, “I’m good, how are you? Are you still at work?” 

“Yeah, just finishing closing up,” Ellie replied, turning around and smiling as Chris gave her a small grin before he looked away, busying himself with his phone.

“Oh perfect! Amanda is taking Nathan to a little swim class tomorrow afternoon so we were going to do family dinner tonight. Dad’s got the brisket almost finished and I made your favorite cornbread muffins and macaroni and cheese.” 

“That sounds so good but I can’t make it tonight. Chris just got here and we were going to go out,” she explained, her eyes moving to glance out the windows before they moved back to Chris’ frame.

“You could bring him over if you want,” Diana said quietly, trailing off a bit before - at Ellie’s silence - she excitedly added, “You know that we all want to meet him!” 

“I don’t know Mom,” Ellie whispered, turning to face away from Chris as she admitted to her mom, knowing about Chris’ worries and past which had led them to take things slow, “I think it might be too early.” 

Without judgement or hesitation, her beloved mother rolled with the punches and replied, “Okay, well I’ll make sure to save you some leftovers.” 

“Thanks Mom, I’ll come over tomorrow, okay? I love you,” Ellie told her before they hung up, Ellie turning back around and seeing Chris raising an eyebrow at her from where he was standing next to the oversized windows near the door and the hall to the bathroom and kitchen. 

“Everything okay?” He asked with a casual and even tone, his face unchanging as he looked at her. 

“Yeah, it was just my mom. She was just calling to invite me over for dinner,” she shook her head and explained, “We normally all have dinner together on Sunday evening but they’re doing it tonight.” 

He shrugged, his expression shifting as he told her, “You can go if you want, I don’t mind.” 

“Well they invited you too but I told them we have plans,” Ellie added with a slightly tense grin, her face flushing.

“I don’t know that we really do,” he admitted with a chuckle, then reassured her, “We can go if you want to, Ellie.”

“Chris, I really don’t want to have to meet my whole family tonight. I know that’s a big step.” 

“I know, but I’d like to,” he insisted, moving from where he was standing next to the door to stand in front of Ellie behind the counter, facing her. 

“...Are you sure?” 

“Well I mean, I overheard there was brisket so that kind of sold me,” he chuckled, his face scrunching up. 

Knowing that this was his way of saying he was ready to take another step with her, Ellie wrapped her arms around his firm waist, looking up into his eyes for a long moment before she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, saying so many things without a word. Once they parted, Ellie grabbed her purse and Chris made sure he had his keys before they left the cozy bakery, Chris suggesting that she just ride with him on the way out to the tree farm where she directed him along a small dirt road alongside the tree farm until they reached the quaint farmhouse sitting in back that made Ellie feel warm from the inside out everytime she laid eyes on it. 

She couldn’t help but feel a little bit nervous, unsure how all of this would go. It still was all so new with Ellie getting to know Chris, not to mention the fact she met Hazel this week, but their discussion about taking things slow and not rushing anything from last week was still in the back of her mind. Chris still had walls up - not only around her, but around everyone who wasn’t Hazel or his brother - and although they’d made progress since then, she was worried that this could be too much too quickly.

If there was one thing that Ellie didn’t want, it was to scare him away. There was something different between them, something she hadn’t fully felt before and she didn’t want to lose that or give up on the possibilities of what could be. It wasn’t a secret to her that her family was a little unsure about Chris, with good reason, because of how it all had started with him hiding his past and Hazel, and she felt apprehension in her gut about how they could perceive him, or honestly how Chris would perceive them and possibly cause his walls to go right back up. 

But at the end of the day, she knew that she didn’t have control over it and had to let it be what it was, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t feel that knot inside her stomach when she came walking in the front door with Chris at her side. The lively conversation that was happening in the home immediately stopped when they stepped inside, all eyes landing on Chris before her mother happily announced, “You came!” 

“You know you’ll always get me when you mention your macaroni and cheese,” Ellie laughed, reaching to pull her coat off and hang it on the hook, then placed her hand on Chris’ thick bicep and introduced him, “But I want everyone to meet Chris and Chris, this is my family.” 

“It was really nice of you to include me tonight,” Chris told them with a shy smile on his face, the nervous look in his eyes that Ellie recognized from their first interactions together.

“We’re so glad you were able to come!” Diana smiled, moving through the cramped kitchen past the dining table from Ellie’s childhood to hug Chris tightly.

“Chris I know I’ve told you before but now that you have a face to the name, this is my mother Diana and that’s my dad, Brett,” Ellie told him, her voice soft as she pointed to her father. “Then this is my brother Daniel, his wife Amanda and this is my adorable baby nephew Nathan.” 

Chris smiled at them, the nervous look staying in the back of his eyes as he said, “It’s really nice to meet you all.” 

Ellie’s older brother had a smirk on his face as he reached for his beer, telling Chris, “We’re glad to meet you too, Ellie won’t shut up about you.” 

“Daniel!” Ellie quickly interjected, her cheeks flushing as Chris laughed, his nose scrunching with amusement. 

Brett quietly grabbed a beer from the fridge and offered it to Chris and he and Ellie moved into the kitchen more. Ellie was preoccupied with shooting daggers at her older brother, who was raising his hands innocently and saying, “What? It’s true.” 

“Ignore Daniel, he’s an idiot,” Ellie told Chris, shaking her head. “But my dad will be happy someone else is here to appreciate his brisket. It’s the one thing he cooks really well so he’s pretty proud of it.” 

“Hey, I made that turkey one time!” 

“Yeah and we practically had to use a chainsaw to cut through it because it was so tough,” Diana remembered, patting Brett’s shoulder as she moved past him to get another bottle of wine open, Ellie nodding when her mother silently asked her if she wanted any.

Amanda, who was holding baby Nathan in her lap, said with a smirk, “That was like four years ago and I still don’t think my stomach has fully digested it.” 

“Okay I think everyone needs to keep their sarcastic comments to themselves for once and get a seat at the table,” Brett cut them off, the laughter silencing as everyone moved to the table, where Ellie was helping Daniel add two extra places for herself and Chris.

They all sat down, Ellie watching fondly as Amanda and Daniel got Nathan situated in his high chair at one end of the table, just as Diana began passing around food for everyone.

“Chris, we’re so excited you could join us for dinner and get a chance to meet you,” Diana told him, glancing at him as she passed Ellie the salad. “Ellie said you’ve been here before.” 

He nodded from next to Ellie, and Ellie couldn’t help but squeeze his hand underneath the table comfortingly as she served herself some salad. She wanted to reassure him that they wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t think he was anything beyond what he showed them to be, but she knew his mind was already beyond that. His voice wavered a bit in the beginning as he replied, “Yeah, my family always comes to your tree farm every year to get our Christmas tree. In fact, we were here just a few weeks ago getting our tree. We always love the ones we get from your farm.” 

Her father nodded as well from the head of the table, where he was sitting across from his grandson. “Well I’m certainly glad to hear that,” the man smiled, but then smirked and added, “And if you’re just lying to me to make a good impression, I accept that too.” 

“Chris, I know your sister Carly,” Amanda began to speak, turning her attention away from where Nathan was munching on some mac and cheese to look at Chris. “I’m the second grade teacher at Lakewood so I’ve met her a few times at staff meetings.” 

“Oh really? My sister loves that school and so do I,” he smiled, and it was the first genuine expression she’d seen on his face since they arrived, but the hint of tension and nerves remained.  “My daughter goes to preschool at Lakewood.” 

“How does your daughter like it?” 

“Oh she loves it,” he said easily before he shrugged, explaining,  “Hazel doesn’t have any siblings so she loves being around other kids. She told me the other day that the only bad part about preschool is that she can’t bring our dog, Dodger, to school with her.” 

Brett huffed out a laugh, shaking his head and pointing a finger at Ellie as he told Chris, “That sounds just like Ellie when she was a kid.” 

Ellie’s brother and parents began trading stories from Ellie’s childhood, of her misadventures at school, home, and around the farm. Chris laughed louder at each and every story, shaking his head as he admitted that they did sound just like Hazel - to everyone’s amusement. And while he often reverted back into himself as the conversation shifted to every new topic, Ellie enjoyed getting to see the way he navigated this evening. 

Although Ellie could tell how nervous Chris was from seeing the look in his eyes and his stiff body language throughout the early evening. She didn’t blame him for feeling that way with this dinner being sprung on him so suddenly, but it made her happy to see the tension leaving his shoulders and his expressions relaxing as the night went on. This wasn’t the first time Ellie had brought a boyfriend home, sitting in this exact same position but she hadn’t ever felt this level of comfort and felt that something was so right, especially this early on. Ellie already could tell that this was going to last. 

Tucking a piece of her wavy blonde hair behind her ear, she turned to look at Chris as he was sitting there happily listening to a story her father was telling and something struck her for the first time. She realized for the first time since meeting him that the handsome firefighter that sat next to her - who was a year and a half younger than her - didn’t seem older than her. Normally Chris carried so much on his shoulders from being a single parent to then going into a high stress job. He had been through so much in his twenty-eight years of life, and those experiences had only made him lean into growth and persevering through them all. 

But in this moment, he seemed like a normal twenty-eight year old, sitting with an arm resting on the top of Ellie’s chair, the other slapping against his chest as he wildly laughed at the ending of her father’s story. The weight of responsibility was gone from his face, replaced with nothing but contentment and it made Ellie want nothing more than to bring some of that peace to his life, lifting some of that heavy weight off his shoulders. The only thought that flashed through Ellie’s brain was just how much she loved this… just how much she was starting to love him. She knew she was falling and boy was she falling fast, but Ellie didn’t want to stop it because she wasn’t afraid of falling in deep for him. 

“Okay, I think it’s time for some cake,” Diana sighed as she pushed herself up, heading into the kitchen, where she grabbed the cake cutter from a drawer, just as Daniel excused himself to use the bathroom. 

Amanda sat up in her chair from where she was holding a babbling Nathan. “Oh, I brought some fresh strawberries too! I’ll go get them from the car,” she offered, then met Chris’ eyes and asked, “Chris, would you mind holding Nate while I go out?” 

“I’d love to,” Chris smiled, Ellie’s heart stopping as he reached for the baby, holding him in his thick arms. The dark-haired boy gave Chris a gummy smile as Chris said, “C’mere big guy.” 

Ellie couldn’t help but stare at the two until her mother interrupted her thoughts, asking, “Hey Ellie, can you come help me get those plates down?” 

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Ellie replied, standing up and moving through the archway into the kitchen. Once the plates were retrieved, she stood next to her mom and quietly asked,  “Okay, so what do you think of him?” 

“Oh honey, that boy is a keeper,” Diana told her in a hushed tone, looking at Ellie with a happy look on her face. 

“I think so too,” Ellie confessed to her as a large grin spread across her face. “I knew you’d love him once you met him.” 

“Honestly I wasn’t really sure what to expect with him,” Diana admitted, shaking her head. “With Chris not having told you the truth and knowing some of the things about his past I just… wasn’t quite sure what he’d be like but he’s a good one.” 

Ellie nodded, knowing they all had shared the same suspicions. She kept having the same thoughts about Chris on a loop in her mind and she had to vocalize at least some of it, telling her, “I’m really crazy about him, mom.” 

“I can tell he feels the same way about you.” 

“Do you think so?” Ellie asked quietly, hope filling her heart as it stopped beating. “I know Chris likes me but sometimes he’s just so hard to read. He’s more closed off with his feelings sometimes… I’m sure because of what he went through with his ex, but sometimes it just makes me unable to know what he’s really thinking.” 

“Ellie, seeing the way he was looking at you could have made me cry. If you saw the look on his face when he was staring at you while you were talking, you’d know that you have nothing to worry about with that one,” Diana reassured her, grasping her daughter’s arm before they heard Chris laughing and then saw him playing with Nate at the table.

And when Ellie walked back out to the dining room with plates of cake in her hands, she saw Chris look up from where he was sitting, playing with the happy baby and when she saw the look in his blue eyes, she knew exactly what her mother was talking about. Seeing the softness in his eyes and that little hint of a smile on his face made her know without a doubt that all of the things she was feeling were reciprocated just as much. 

Feeling nothing but overwhelming emotion for him, Ellie couldn’t help but lean down to press a soft quick kiss to his lips before taking the seat next to him again with nothing but happiness in her heart. Although he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone as they came back to the table, each grabbing their piece of cake while Amanda dished up the fresh strawberries, Chris felt that same happiness. It wasn’t really a secret that he didn’t have much of a social life. He really only spent time with his family, Hazel, and his co-workers, mainly Mark, during the week. He was too busy for a whole lot else and with his guarded nature, opening up wasn’t something that came easily to him, but with Ellie, he wanted to try. 

The feeling stayed with them both as they left Ellie’s parents and decided to head back to Chris’ house and see Dodger before it got too late. As he drove them across town and pulled into the short driveway, Ellie took in the dark home, unable to make out most of the details, but knowing it perfectly suited both him and Hazel. It could - in her mind - only be described as being his home, down to the Patriots camping chairs in the garage and the overwhelming amount of outside toys stored for Hazel. 

After greeting Dodger, the dog happy to see both Chris and Ellie, Chris let Dodger outside into the fenced yard while he dumped more water in the dog’s bowl. Ellie toed off her sneakers and joined him in the kitchen as Chris sat down ungracefully at the kitchen barstool, pulling out his phone while she grabbed herself a water. 

“Elles, come look at this video that Ashlee sent me of Hazel at the aquarium,” Chris laughed, waiting until Ellie sat down next to him and huddled next to her, slouched over the counter as they both stared at his phone. “Look at her face when that shark swims by!” 

She watched the video showing Hazel’s face from the side as she  - Chris’ profile - lit up when the shadow of a shark crossed the tiny face, Ellie laughing along with Chris and saying, “She’s so excited! God, could Hazel be any cuter?” 

“That little curly top melts my heart,” Chris said fondly, shaking his head and texting back a reply before he locked his phone, sliding it away from him on the counter. 

“It looks like she had a pretty good day today,” Ellie whispered to him as she faced him, her hand moving through the hair at the back of his head. 

He looked at her with that sideways grin that made her heart skip several beats, his hand moving to rest on her thigh as he told her with a shrug, “So did her dad.” 

“Other than the fact you had to go meet my entire family at the drop of a hat,” Ellie laughed, her thigh twitching as he gently squeezed it. 

But Chris shook his head, his smile falling as he told her, “I actually had a really good time. Your family is really wonderful,” then he paused, a smirk spreading across his lips as he told her, “Besides, seeing you hold your baby nephew was pretty damn cute. You looked really good with that baby.” 

Ellie let out a loud laugh, shaking her head and telling him with an eyebrow raised, “Well I wasn’t a pediatric nurse for nothing.” 

They laughed together, sitting contently together until his phone buzzed again with another picture of Hazel - this time of her asleep in her car seat - and laughed some more at the expression on the little girl’s face, at how exhausted she must have been after her big day with Ashlee. 

He was looking at his phone with that smile again before he looked at her again, the expression remaining as his eyes flicked over her face. And she knew. “Chris… I wanted to tell you something,” Ellie began quietly, her hand dropping to his shoulder. 

“What is it?” He asked, a single brow raised.

“I just want you to know that I love you, baby,” she said slowly, pausing nervously before she rushed to continue, “I know it’s really soon and that you've been through a lot in the past and you don’t need to say it back, but I just want you to know.” 

He hesitated, stammering a little as he told her, “Ellie… I…” 

“Don’t say anything,” she interrupted, reassuring him, “You don’t need to say a word, I just wanted you to know that I love you.” 

Hearing those words and letting them sink in made Chris feel like every wall he had around him came down at this moment. There was nothing but warmth inside him from hearing those words directed at him. At first he felt like it had been so long since he heard that but he realized that honestly it was the first time anyone, outside of his family, had said those words to him and actually meant it. Ellie spoke those words with nothing but truth and emotion, wanting nothing in return and that touched him so deeply that he could feel tears stinging at his eyes. 

All he could do was wrap his thick arms around her, pulling Ellie into him while he nuzzled his face in her neck, just needing to feel her close right now. He felt so undeserving, so inadequate to receive such pure love from Ellie, but he was receiving it nonetheless and nothing could have felt better. The anxiety in his brain wanted to convince him that her words weren’t true. That somehow there was something going on, some ulterior motive that would cause her words to be untrue, or that she’d change her mind later on, but he knew that just wasn’t the case. He could hardly remember the times that he and Ashlee had ever said those three words to each other, being so few and far between, especially after they were married, but it had never felt like this. Hearing those words from her never felt like it did right now and all the emotions it caused in him made Chris know without a doubt that they were true and honest. 

Chris lifted his head up just enough so that he could bring his lips to hers, kissing her with a wordless promise that although he wasn’t quite ready to take that step of saying that, he was feeling it inside and wanted to be able to communicate it back to her. He wanted Ellie to know just how much he adored her and wanted her in every sense of the word. Even the ones he couldn’t quite say yet. 

Their lips met over and over again, Chris’ hands slipping underneath her black shirt and far enough up her back for Ellie to pull away from his lips, “Chris… are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he whispered without an ounce of hesitation or anxiety, moving to kiss her again.

But Ellie’s lips pulled back from his again, her eyes staring at him with furrowed brows. “We can wait, I don’t mind,” she insisted, swallowing nervously and continuing, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything just because I said that I love you.” 

Chris shook his head, trying to assure her that there were entirely no worries or fears that he had. He wanted her, and he knew that he wanted to do this. “I promise you I don’t feel that way.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Ellie… I just want you,” he whispered to her, a small grin on his face.

And if Ellie wasn’t already putty in his hands, she was completely melted from those words and the tender look on that handsome bearded face. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself completely against him while she kissed him with so much passion that Chris felt like he was seeing stars. They stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing passionately and building up the desire that was already burning between them. 

When neither could breathe properly, they pulled back, both bleary eyed and sloppily kissing at whatever part of each other's faces that they could reach. Finally Chris pulled back, his hands slipping out from under her shirt as he looked into her soft eyes, telling her, “I’ll be right back.” 

She watched as he pushed himself off the couch, going over to open the door to the backyard and called out for Dodger before the adorable pooch came trotting over to come back inside. Chris leaned down, kissing his head before leading him to the kitchen where he pulled out the bag of dog food, filling up Dodger’s bowl before grabbing him a bone to keep the happy dog occupied. When he walked back over to the couch, he saw Ellie relaxed against the couch, a happy contented smile on her face. 

At first, Ellie wasn’t completely sure what the chain of events would be, knowing that this next step wasn’t easy for Chris. He had expressed needing more time and Ellie wasn’t about to push him. She didn’t want to be the one to advance things, giving Chris an easy out incase he changed his mind, but when he leaned down and scooped her up effortlessly in his thick arms, it clued her in that she wasn’t the only one who was just as eager for this moment. 

Ellie threw her arms around his neck, clinging onto him as he carried her up the stairs and down the short hallway. She started kissing along his neck, her whole body feeling flushed at just how incredibly strong he was, and that mixed with his gentle demeanor was enough to light her on fire. 

He placed her down gently on the dark wooden floor, his hands moving to her hips just as she spun them, Chris’ back pressed to the white door as her hands squeezed his shoulders before she clung to him, kissing him with a fervor. Their hands were everywhere, grabbing and rubbing along whatever they could find, Chris feeling so weak at the way her body was flush against his. 

Ellie’s hands were squeezing at his broad shoulders while his lips attacked her neck, sucking along that soft skin that he couldn't wait to feel more of. Chris’ hands were lingering at her hips, unsure about the next move he should make, his fingers moving to hover around the button on her jeans before finally going for it and popping open the button. 

She moaned softly when he hit a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, making his pants feel a little tighter at that sound. His hands continued pulling at the zipper before he pushed the denim off of her hips, Ellie wiggling her way out of them as Chris’ hands trailed up her soft skin, feeling her thighs underneath his fingertips. She pulled back slightly from his warm body as his hands kept trailing upwards, her black sweater gathering as he followed the curve of her sides and took the black shirt up and over her head, adding it to the pile before Ellie threw her arms back around his neck to press herself completely against him, so desperate to feel him. 

Their lips met for about the thousandth time, kissing fervently as Chris started walking them backwards toward his large bed until Ellie’s legs hit the mattress. He gently pushed her backwards, letting her lay on the bed, her blonde hair splayed out on his pillow as she caught her breath. Chris climbed on the bed next to her, his lips immediately finding hers while his big hand rubbed along the curve of her side, wanting to commit the feeling of her soft skin to memory. He pushed away the thoughts that threatened to take over his mind, the fears and insecurities, and instead forced himself to focus on this - on Ellie, who was here, in his bed. She had already proved all of his fears wrong over these past three weeks, and while he was beginning to shift his views thanks to her, he was still fucking terrified to do this, even if he wanted to. And he wanted to.

“I love you Chris,” her soft voice breathed out in between their lips meeting over and over again. 

And those simple, honest words seemed to pull every doubt about himself from his mind for a moment. It had been so long since he had felt loved like this… actually he hadn’t ever really felt it from a partner before if he was being totally honest. But here he was, only a few weeks into this with Ellie and he was already in so insanely deep for her and that both terrified and electrified him. 

Needing to feel her, and wanting to - no needing to -  communicate all of the emotions inside him, Chris let his hand wander up to gently rub across her soft orange bralette, being able to feel her hardening nipples underneath the thin fabric. She sighed against his lips, letting Chris know how much she liked it but when his hand slid down farther and farther, he could feel a sudden exhale of breath from her that gave away her anticipation. 

Ellie’s heart was pounding when Chris’ warm hand slipped between her legs, cupping her over her scalloped edge floral cream panties. She knew he had to have felt how soaked she was for him already, knowing the fabric was more than just damp at this point and feeling his touch so close and yet not enough had her whimpering against his lips. 

He started sucking along her bottom lip as his hand gently caressed her over her floral panties, only getting Ellie more worked up than she already was. She didn’t feel like it was a secret that she wanted Chris in every single way. She was completely head over heels for him and getting to be laying in his bed felt even better than she dreamed it would have. Ellie breathed in his musky cologne, loving the way it made her feel completely surrounded by him while he let go of her bottom lip, coming back to kiss her deeply while a single finger trailed along her panty covered slit, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She needed him closer, her hips rolling up into his hand and giving him the hint as he kissed her senseless. 

“C-Chris, please babe,” she practically whimpered, too far gone already to hear the hitch in his breath at the begging. 

He was just as eager to feel her, bringing his hand up so he could slip it underneath her panties, his index finger bringing her a little bit of relief when it pushed between her folds. Chris felt his own arousal growing at the feeling of just how wet she was for it, helping to boost his ego a little bit in a moment he so desperately needed it. Their tongues were tangled together when Chris let his thick finger drag up and down her core, getting used to the feeling of her soft center that was so incredibly ready for him, but when he slid his finger up to feel her clit, Ellie had to pull away from his mouth as she gasped loudly. 

Chris started gently, rubbing extremely gentle circles along her sensitive button as Ellie laid her head back on the pillow. He couldn’t help but gaze at her, eyes shut tight while her pink swollen lips fell open as a long sigh fell from her mouth. She looked so beautiful laying there, making a wave of thankfulness wash over him that she had showed up in that bakery over a month ago. Although when he first met her, there was no way he would have dreamed that the sweet woman would soon be lying here in his bed, moaning out his name while he rubbed those perfect circles to drive her crazy. 

He saw her chest heaving as she labored for breath, his lips kissing along her neck, shoulder, collar bone and any other skin he could find while he kept working his fingers where she wanted him most. Ellie felt like her senses were on fire, loving that she felt him everywhere from the warmth of his body to the tickle of his beard and soft brown hair while he messily kissed and nipped along her skin. She loosely wrapped her arms around his shoulders, trying to pull his strong firm body even closer as his index finger started pushing a little harder and rubbing quicker circles that had her back arching while she squeezed her arms around him. 

Chris drank in all of the little noises that escaped her from her gentle gasps to sharp sighs, loving each and every one until her fingers dug into his back, clinging tightly as she inhaled loudly, cluing him in that she must have been right there. He sucked along the base of her neck as he kept up his tight circles, bringing her over her peak as she cried out, her body completely rigid before she seemed to completely melt into the bed, every inch of her relaxing into the soft blankets. 

His lips pressed a few kisses up her neck before finding her gorgeous relaxed face, placing a few sweet kisses to her cheeks and forehead, ready to lay down and see what would happen next. This softness, this calm energy that had settled over Ellie was something he wasn’t used to. Any previous experience in these situations was frantic before either an argument started or he left to go home, but as soon as Ellie was brought back to reality, she was grabbing for him. Ellie pressed her body up against him, pressing a few messy kisses at the edge of his mouth before finding his shirt and starting to tug at it. 

But suddenly that anxiety that seemed to always linger in the back of his head was thrust to the forefront. Although it wasn’t the first time he’d been in this situation with other women, it had been so long, and truly had never been like this before. He never was wanted for anything the way Ellie seemed to crave him, never desired. The few people he’d been with - including his ex and the tiny handful of random hookups he had early on in the divorce days - were purely out of a need to expel that energy, a need to handle the hormones. But Ellie seemed to just want him… for him. And that was something he didn’t know how to handle. 

He was so crazy for her, even if he was a little terrified to admit it, and that only made this so much more stress inducing. He wanted her so badly, and Chris knew he just couldn’t handle disappointing her. Although he knew Ashlee’s cheating wasn’t his fault, those feelings couldn’t help but haunt his mind a little bit. It gave him a lot of doubts in himself, and especially with his abilities in bed. Then, once he had a couple hookups after his divorced, and none had ever called back, it only added onto his doubts in himself. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it had been two years since he had a woman in this way and as bad as he wanted Ellie, he felt nothing but anxiousness at it all. 

Chris figured it must have shown too because Ellie stopped their kissing, pulling back as she just looked at him for a long moment, telling him, “Chris, we don’t need to do anything more.” 

He shook his head, whispering, “No, I-” 

“Seriously, Chris, that was amazing and I’m more than happy to stop,” she interrupted, a hand moving back and forth along his shoulder gently.

Chris was quiet for a moment before he admitted, “I want to… I'm just…” 

“I know baby, it’s okay,” she reassured him, leaning up and kissing him slowly before she pulled away and said,  “Let’s just get comfortable and relax, okay?” 

Chris’ brain reminded him that he had no clue how to do that, but Ellie seemed to read his mind, resting a hand on his bearded cheek before she leaned in to kiss him sweetly. She could feel the tension start to leave his shoulders as they kept kissing, and kissing… and kissing more. Ellie got her hands under his shirt, rubbing along his skin slowly before she finally got the shirt off of his body. 

He anxiously watched the look in her eyes as she looked him up and down, her hands coming out to rub along his firm chest, feeling his defined pecs underneath her touch that were covered in a few black tattoos and soft chest hair that only made him look even more manly to Ellie. She knew he was hot, that much was obvious, but actually getting to see what was underneath that shirt had her panties even wetter if that was possible. 

Ellie’s sole focus was helping Chris relax as she just kept kissing him slowly, no agenda while her hands ran along the muscular landscape of his body. She eventually helped him out of his jeans, still trying to go slow and give him plenty of opportunities to pull back but right when she was about to ask him how he was feeling and if he wanted to go any farther, those thick arms of his pulled her barely clothed frame on top of him, one of his hands running down her back and resting on one of her round cheeks, only half covered by her panties as he gave it a gentle squeeze. Suddenly she figured out that she didn’t need to ask him anymore if he wanted to go any farther. 

His kisses became passionate and needy as he kept kneading at her ass, his other hand coming up to tangle in her hair. She could feel his erection pressing against her through the confines of his boxers and just the feeling of how thick he was had her insides clenching. Eventually when she couldn’t breathe anymore, Ellie put her hands on his chest, pushing herself up so that she was straddling his waist. Chris was looking up at her through hooded lids, his lips swollen and parted as he breathed heavily, brown hair sticking up every which way and Ellie thought it was impossible for him to look any sexier than he did right now. His hands reached out to hold onto her hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles while she grabbed the bottom of her bralette, pulling it up and over her head, tossing it onto the floor. 

His eyes followed her movements, Chris feeling his boxers tighten as he swallowed and admitted, “If you’re trying to get me to relax, you’re not doing a very good job right now.” 

Ellie’s face scrunched with laughter, her head shaking. “I’m kind of glad,” she confessed with a shrug. 

“God, Ellie… you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his eyes dropping momentarily before they met her eyes again. 

She practically melted from his words, her heart feeling so full as Chris effortlessly flipped her over so she was laying on her back, his hands on either side of her to hover on top. Chris’ mouth started pressing little kisses along her soft skin, coming down to press a few along the tops of her soft breasts, his mouth coming to wrap around one of her nipples, his tongue flicking across it while one of his hands laid on top of the other, delicately kneading it in his hand as he got to feel her for the first time. Hearing the way she gasped at his movements, her hands coming to run through his hair gave him the confidence to keep going, doting all the attention on her chest before moving down lower. 

His fingers were hooked in the band of her floral panties, his eyes flickering up to her one more time but at her soft nod and sweet smile, he pulled them off those long legs. When Chris’ blue eyes looked her up and down, seeing her completely bare to him for the first time, he could hardly believe it. She was here, laying naked in his bed wanting him. She wanted him just for him. She loved him. And nothing could have felt more incredible to Chris than that. 

All of that anxiety and stress was still there but he knew he wanted her. He was terrified to dive in, but Ellie was worth every bit of anxiety and he decided to overcome his stress and slip out of his own boxers. But when he saw Ellie’s eyes grow wide as she looked at him and a shiver ran down her spine, that gave him the little bit of a confidence boost he needed to position himself between her legs. 

“You ready, honey?” He asked, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. 

She almost moaned out, her legs moving to wrap around his trim hips as she whimpered, “Yes, please baby, I need you so badly Chris.” 

“You got me, Elles,” he murmured, and Ellie’s eyes shut tight as he drug his tip along her soaking wet slit before he gently pushed in so slowly that both of them were crying out as they clung to each other. 

She couldn’t seem to find her breathe while her walls adjusted to his thick size, loving the way he filled her so well and just how damn good he felt. She was so thankful that they’d talked about things prior and agreed they’d forgo condoms since Ellie was on the pill - which was another way he showed his full trust to her, only showing her what big strides he was making in trusting her fully. But she still could only seem to focus on how perfectly he seemed to fit in her, just how glorious this feeling was and with the way he was letting out those soft sighs, she figured he must have been thinking the exact same thing. Chris eventually pulled back before pushing in again gently, beginning to find that slow perfect rhythm. 

Neither could breathe very well as Chris started rocking his hips slowly, letting her feel every inch of his thick cock with each thrust dragging against her smooth walls. Ellie reached up, rubbing her hands on his chest for a long moment before he hit her particularly deep, making her fingers dig into his shoulders as she let out such a loud moan it made him twitch inside her. 

Chris’ blue eyes flickered down, watching Ellie’s body bounce slightly with each thrust, her chest heaving as she alternated between moaning and breathing. Her eyelids were closed shut but eventually slowly flickered open, landing right on his. Chris could feel his heart pounding from the way she so softly smiled at him and grabbed the back of his neck to pull him down on top of her, their chests pressed together while her lips found his and Chris’ hips kept up their steady motion. 

His arms snaked between her body and the mattress, holding her impossibly close against him, every inch of them touching in some way or another. He had never felt anything like this, realizing in that moment that he had never felt sex this way before. In the past, it had been purely physical, little or no emotion behind it. But this… this was so different. This gorgeous kindhearted woman who was kissing him so deeply, loved him. And he knew that he had fallen in just as deep, the connection they shared being unlike anything he’d ever experienced or even thought possible. 

Their lips pulled apart as Chris picked up his pace, both of them panting as they each were getting closer. Chris moved his arms so he was braced on his elbows on either side of her, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck and kissing her a few times before he felt her hand slipping between their bodies. Knowing where she was going, he leaned his weight on one arm so he could use the other hand to gently push hers away, taking its place and starting up those methodical circles against her clit, making her arch her back, crying out his name and panting until she hit that beautiful peak. 

A low grunt escaped his lips when he felt her insides clenching him so perfectly, making it hard to keep thrusting, only getting three more before he held his hips inside her and came with a loud moan. His whole body felt weak from the exertion, beads of sweat along his forehead as they both tried to catch their breath. 

Her hand moved from clenching the muscle of his shoulder to the back of his head, running through the sweaty hair there. Chris tilted his head, pressing a few kisses to the skin there on Ellie’s neck as he basked in this feeling… for the first time ever. He was used to rolling off of each other, taking a shower alone, or just going to sleep immediately on opposite sides of the bed, but with Ellie’s hands holding him to her, he couldn’t help but indulge in this. 

They each relished in the afterglow until he gently pulled out and made his way into his bathroom, cleaning himself up before he came out with a washcloth and helped Ellie. Chris went back to toss the washcloth into the bathroom to be dealt with in the morning, sliding on a pair of sweatpants quickly before heading toward the bedroom door but before he could make it all the way out, a gentle voice stopped him. 

“Chris?” Ellie asked carefully, sitting up in bed as she gathered the comforter around her naked frame. “Aren’t you coming back to bed?” 

As he looked at her running a hand through her messy blonde hair, he couldn’t help but feel warm from her words. That simple question that showed him that she wanted to just be close to him was enough to cause his heart to melt right then and there. It reminded him that he wasn’t here with one of his relationships from the past, the connection after sex being nonexistent, he was here with Ellie. His girl. And she was nothing like he’d experienced before and everything he’d always wanted. 

Silently, Chris turned and opened up one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a navy pullover fire station sweatshirt and walked over to the bed to sit down next to Ellie. He grabbed the bottom of the sweatshirt, holding it out to her so that she could easily slip her arms and head into it, helping her pull it down around her naked frame to keep her warm. Chris then pulled the white comforter up farther before he leaned in to kiss her sweetly, causing Ellie to smile into the kiss. 

“Just going to get Dodger and turn out the lights, then I’ll be back,” he whispered, pecking her lips quickly again before he straightened up again and looked at her with a small smile. 

Chris hurried down the stairs, turning off the lights before finding Dodger roaming around in the kitchen. He scratched his head softly before telling him, “Alright bubba, it’s bedtime.” The sweet pooch followed behind Chris while he went over to fill up a glass of water, before going back up into the peacefulness of his bedroom. 

Ellie was already snuggled down into the bed and he was already internally deciding how he should ask her about Dodger. Ever since he got Dodger after his divorce, the sweet pup had slept in bed with him - even at the firehouse - but he wondered if she would even be alright with him sleeping in the bedroom. He was trying to figure out how to phrase the question but it got answered for him when Ellie sat up a little bit, patting the bed while she beamed, “Dodger! C’mere boy!” 

A smile crossed his face as he watched Dodger hop up, going straight to Ellie’s waiting arms and laying half on top of her as he licked her face, making her beautiful laugh echo in the room. He silently watched from the doorway as she doted all her attention on the pooch before turning her head, worried as she asked, “Sorry, I should have asked if it was alright if he got on your bed.” 

“Well considering he sleeps here every night, yeah, it’s okay,” Chris shrugged, crossing the room slowly and stepping over Hazel’s stray stuffed llama that was lying on the floor.

“Good because I think this poor guy would feel left out if he couldn’t sleep up here with us tonight,” Ellie laughed, jerking her arm away when Dodger tried to start licking it. 

“I brought you some water in case you were thirsty,” Chris told her quietly as he came over to Ellie’s side of the bed, bending down to put the water on the nightstand next to the bed as he watched the pair fondly. 

Her eyes were wide, a grin on her face as her eyes flickered from the glass of ice water back to his face, before moving to Dodger and back again. “You really are the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” she whispered.

Chris felt a blush spread across his cheeks, a sheepish look on his face while he shrugged and admitted, “I don’t think bringing water earns me that title.” 

“Well you’ve done quite a few other things that have bumped you up to that position,” Ellie trailed off, a single finger running over Dodger’s back. “My mother was right this evening when she said that you were a keeper.” 

Instantly a stronger blush filled Chris’ cheeks at the compliment, another thing he wasn’t used to, while he nervously scratched the back of his neck. Ellie just scooted over in the spacious bed, flipping back the covers to silently invite him in which he gladly accepted. He felt a little tentative at first, just laying on his back, unsure how Ellie would feel about his arms around her, recalling how little affection there was between him and Ashlee and how she always rejected his advances of such. 

But an unconscious smile slipped across his lips when Ellie immediately curled up against his side, laying her head on his shoulder while her arm wrapped around his firm middle and a leg lifted up to lay on top of his sweatpant covered thighs. Not feeling any reciprocation from him, she tilted her chin up, softly asking, “Is this okay?” 

Pulling him out of his internal thoughts, Chris looked down, bringing a hand to rest on her cheek as he assured her, “More than okay,” before he kissed her sweetly. It was quiet as they both relaxed into the bed, wrapped up in each other and happier than they knew possible. 

Ellie’s eyes opened slowly, taking a moment to come into focus, seeing a different room than she was used to seeing when she woke up in the mornings. Her eyes then shifted to look next to her, seeing the hunky sleeping firefighter right next to her. One of his hands was resting on his chest, the other resting up above his head, mouth hanging open as he soundly slept. She thought it seemed like a dream at first, not believing that last night could have been real, but as the memories started coming back to her, she remembered that it was. 

Dodger laid snoozing on the end of the bed as Ellie scooted a little closer to Chris, wanting the warmth his body was radiating but causing his eyelids to slowly flutter open at the movement. His blue eyes looked right at her, a closed mouth smile appearing on his handsome face before he reached out for her, pulling Ellie close before he closed his eyes again. 

His chin tucked on top of her head when Ellie rolled onto her side next to him, both of them taking the morning in slowly as he whispered to her, “Morning Elle Belle.” 

“Hi baby,” she quietly replied, a grin on her face as her fingers danced over his bare pecs. 

“Did you sleep well last night?” 

“So well,” she admitted, then frowned a bit. “I wish I didn’t have to go to work today so I could just sleep in.” 

“Hand me my phone, I’ll call Dottie and convince her to give you the day off,” Chris told her, Ellie glancing up to see a smirk on his face and his nose scrunched up.

“I know you could too, she adores you,” Ellie laughed along, but then sighed and frowned a little. “But I really need to go in. Dottie won’t be there today so I’m the manager. I still have an hour before I need to get ready though.” 

“Good,” Chris nodded. He reached for his phone, swiping through the notifications on it and told her,  “Looks like it snowed last night.” 

Ellie yawned loudly, relaxing against his firm body. “Yeah I think so.” 

“Can I drive you to work? I don’t want you to have to drive in fresh snow,” Chris asked her quietly, his hand moving down to rub her hip underneath the baggy fire station sweatshirt he’d given her. 

She smirked a little, shrugging and telling him, “You’re going to have to because my car is still at the bakery from yesterday.” 

“Oh my god, I totally forgot!” He laughed, his head leaning back against the fluffy pillow. “Was that only yesterday?” 

“Yeah, but a lot has happened since then,” Ellie shrugged playfully, rolling over a little so she was half on top of Chris and able to look him in the eyes easily.

“A lot of good stuff,” Chris agreed, his eyebrows raising as he pecked her lips quickly before she settled back onto his chest, a hand trailing along his chest. She took in the tattoos on his chest for the first time - seeing the long quote along his collarbone, a tattoo on his right rib cage, and one she immediately knew the meaning of stretched along his left pec - reading “Hazel” in delicate lettering. He stretched underneath her as his phone vibrated against the mattress, Chris reaching for it just as she began to trace his collarbone tattoo. 

“What time did you say you need to go in?” 

“I need to be there at nine,” she whispered, her finger moving over his skin and the smattering of hair there. 

“Okay, Ashlee is asking what time I’m coming to get Hazel so I’ll go get her after I drop you off.” 

“Chris…” Ellie trailed off, her brows furrowed deep in thought. “Does she know… about us?” 

“Not yet. When I brought her by the bakery I just introduced you as my friend,” Chris shrugged, his hand moving up and down along her back.

“No, not Hazel. Does Ashlee know about us?” 

She heard him open and close his mouth a few times, taking in a sharp intake of breath as he whispered,“Oh…” 

“Does she know?” Ellie repeated, turning her head up to look at him.

“She’s not really the easiest person to tell things to,” Chris whispered, a frown on his face. “I’m waiting to tell her until we’re both ready for you to meet Hazel as my girlfriend. Until then, it doesn’t really have anything to do with her. Ashlee can be… difficult so I’d rather wait until I have to.” 

Ellie nodded, her chin on his chest as her hand resumed its path along his tattoos. “I was just wondering.” 

“But I don’t want you to mistake that for not being serious about you, Elles,” he whispered, a small smile appearing when they met each other’s eyes. “I’m… really happy when I’m with you.” 

And Chris knew without a doubt how true those words of his were. He had never felt this way. Never felt this purely happy before except when he was with Hazel, and it was a feeling that he was ready to get used to. 

A/N: WE MELTED WRITING THIS CHAPTER. We really loved getting to write Chris and Ellie hanging out with her family for the first time and Chris getting redeemed in their eyes. Then, Ellie telling him those three words, and Chris knowing that they are truthful for the first time.... ever.... melts us! Oh and then the smut ;) We can't wait to hear your thoughts!

[ozarkthedog]

𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐲

summary: Stepdad!Steve cleanses your filthy mouth with his cock.

pairing: Stepdad!Steve x Stepdaughter!Reader

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. smut. Stepdad!Steve. rough oral sex (yes, again). heavy spit play. cum play. Daddy kink. swearing. fingering. female orgasm. infidelity. slight dubcon but all parties are willing.

word count: 1,834

author's note: first dip in the stepdad! pool and I'm thrilled with the nasty results 😬 beta: thank you forever, @cockslut-padalecki

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform.

Shuffling into the quaint sized kitchen you let out a big, hands above your head yawn, tired from working doubles at the restaurant. You notice your Stepfather, Steve peeking at you over his Monday morning paper as your crop top exposes the bottom curves of your naked breasts.

Ever since you moved back in with your Mom you noticed the stares and quick to look away glances. You knew it was wrong to lust after the man who married your Mother but the way he looks at you, you just can’t seem to care.

You hear him cough and shuffle in his seat before he says, “Good Morning.” He turns the page, taking a sip of his coffee as you grumble a tired reply.

“You got in pretty late last night. Did you go out after?” He scratches his coarse beard, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You can tell he’s fishing, wondering why you stumbled in after such a long shift. He was so bad at covering his jealousy.

As you pour the rich smelling liquid into a cup you turn towards the sink with a shrug, “A cute boy asked me out after my shift, so we ordered a few plates of fries and chatted.”

Your lips tug into a smirk as you tell the little white lie. You did, in fact, sit around eating fries, but it was with a girlfriend who swung by to drive you home after your shift.

But he didn’t need to know that.

When you hear his sigh of disapproval your heartbeat starts to race.

“You really should be careful going out with strange boys. They might take advantage.” His fatherly tone leaves a warm stickiness in the crotch of your panties.

“Yeah, well if I wasn’t stuck in this godforsaken hell you wouldn’t have to know what I was up to.”

You love rattling his pristine cage. You always wonder how far you can push him. Maybe today you’d finally find out.

He narrows his eyes at you, a booming voice shouting across the island “What did I say about swearing under my roof?”

You roll your eyes as you open the fridge door, bending over to see what’s on the bottom shelf. Making a show and perhaps escalating his already raging mood, you sway your hips to the imaginary beat in your head.

You can almost taste his anger when you finally meet his fiery gaze. He’s so irate; his stare pins you to the stainless-steel fridge door, just waiting for you to give him a reason to strike.

Pouting your bottom lip, you tilt your head down looking ready to submit before you unleash the feral beast that lives inside the older man.

“That it was unlady like,” your lips curl into a devious grin, “and a nasty fucking habit.”

You know what you’re doing by adding the swear to your response. This man had invaded your life and proceeded to clog your day dreams with his sculpted physique and dazzling smile. It was a shame your Mother got her claws in him first.

The only sounds you can hear is the coffee pot percolating and the steady thump of your heart as Steve calmly puts down his paper. You catch a blur of movement in the reflection of the spotless stainless-steel door when you close it before he’s on you.

Pain radiates up your spine as he rams you into the door of the fridge. He squeezes your arms with a rough hold, and it makes you wince. His skin turns a hazy shade of red as he stares down at you, thick veins bulge in his neck calling for you to sink your teeth into.

His upper lip twitches as he speaks, “I’m tired of hearing such profanity.” His eyes lock onto your trembling bottom lip. “’Bout time someone washes your mouth out.”

Thick newspaper stained fingers that stink of coffee shove between your lips and press on your tongue making you squeal in surprise. With a strong hand gripping under your chin, Steve guides you down to your knees and slots your head flush against the tempered door.

Your cautious eyes never leave his wicked ones. Like a stormy sea, blues and greys clash; you sense the rising tide.

Drool pools in your mouth and over his fingers as he keeps you from swallowing when his large fingers pry open your jaw.

“What a filthy mouth.”

A thick wad of spit hits the back of your throat and makes you lurch.

Did he just-

Eyes bulge in shock and your belly spins feeling his hot slick sear your tonsils. You mewl in disdain under his treatment but you can’t ignore the burning desire that stirs to life.

“A good cleansing should do the trick. Make those lips pure again.” He drags his teeth over his bottom lip, taking in the demure sight of you finally on your knees before him.

Slowly he pulls his hardening cock from the confines of his slacks, so thick and rigid. Your mouth instantly waters. A muffled mewl escapes your body at the sight of him, so desperate and ready for a taste.

Steve groans deep in his chest as he strokes his length. Circling his pulsing crown before he clenches the wide base with a tight fist.

“Gonna roughen up that pretty mouth, Sweetheart. It’ll be good for you.”

Your brows pinch together and your throbbing core releases a fresh wave of arousal when he taps his reddened crown against your slippery lips. You watch in awe as he spits onto his cock before pushing his length between the roof of your mouth and the backs of his fingers.

Your body heaves when he bottoms out.

His musk is so heady and strong, it consumes your senses. Your jaw already aches as you try to accommodate the massive intrusion of hard flesh. You grasp onto his pants with anxious fists as he withdraws, giving you a small respite before he’s pushing his way back in.

The back of your head hits the fridge door after a particularly rough shove causes you to gag and push against his powerful thighs.

His body stiffens under your palms. “If I feel those hands push one more time, I’m going to tie them up.” You choke around him as he thrusts over your tongue with a forceful purpose. “That’s my good girl.”

Steve keeps your head positioned against the silver door as he bucks his hips into your drooling warmth, grunting with every pass. Your lips feel swollen and used as fresh spittle rolls down your chin making you beam with pride.

His hips stop suddenly. “I’m going to remove my fingers,” his free hand lovingly caresses your cheek, “and I want you to open up wide for Daddy’s cock.”

Sinful flames burn your skin as you acquiesce and unhinge your jaw as he slides his sopping digits from your lips leaving nothing but a gaping hole for him.

Steve beams at your submission. His devious grin makes your toes curl; your panties destroyed long ago.

He places his cock at the swell of your mouth, laying his thickness on your tongue.

“Takin’ me so well, doin’ just as you're told. S’making me so fucking hard.”

He spits lewdly onto his girth again, watching as his saliva slips down his bulbous head and into your awaiting mouth.

“Always wondered what you’d look like with a mouth full of cock.” His confession finally solidifies that he’s had the same impure thoughts as you. “Now I finally know how much of a dirty slut you really are.”

You groan under his feral gaze as he tilts his hips home and meets the back of your throat with a hearty grunt. You shift slightly rubbing the intense heat nestled between your thighs against your leg as he fucks into your mouth. Fucking you as though he’s ridding you of your wickedness.

Sweat beads his brow as he nears the end. Heavy thwaps of his soaked sack smack against your chin adding to the stained mess of your skin.

“Don’t swallow,” he belts, his chest rising and falling as his orgasm takes over, a corrupt growl wracking his body. His cock throbs as he fills your mouth with his sticky seed, painting the walls of your cheeks white.

He holds your watery gaze as tears threaten to roll from not swallowing his salty spend.

Steve slips his length from your mouth and you clamp your lips shut, not letting a single drop escape. You stare up at him, wondering his next move when he’s dragging you onto your toes by the back of your neck.

A shocked ‘oof’ vibrates your throat as he barricades your body against the stiff metal door with his muscular frame. His breath is hot on your cheek as he shoves his hand into your thin sleep shorts and dances across your drenched folds.

“Knew you’d be soaked. Only a good girl gets wet having her Daddy’s cock in her mouth.”

Your jaw trembles, so badly wanting to mewl from the way his fingers flick your tiny, drenched bud. Your eyes slam shut and your core locks like a vice as he slides two wide fingers into your velvet channel.

“Don’t let it spill or there will be hell to pay,” he grunts before biting the soft curve of your neck. He pumps and twists his fingers so precisely you find yourself already at the precipice. Your hips buck into his palm greedily wanting to feel the immense pleasure crash around you.

His free hand grabs the base of your throat and softly massages when he feels your walls convulse. The action makes your eyes widen, unsure if you can keep from swallowing as the knot in your belly cinches ever tighter.

“Lookit’ you trying to hold it, not wanting to make Daddy upset.” His forehead presses against yours as he stares into your wanton features. “I think you’re finally learning.”

You shake your head in a pitiful attempt to dislodge the massaging hand around your throat, but all it does is spur him on. He faces twists in mockery when your body jolts as he drives a full on assault against your g-spot.

“You’re gonna come with that pretty little mouth full of my seed or you’re not coming at all.”

His calm threat pushes you over the edge, forcing your jaw to grind as you snap in two, instinctively swallowing his copious spend and calling out your pleasure into the small kitchen.

Your heart beats against your chest as you lick your briny lips, mewling at the taste. You could get used to punishments like these.

“I don’t want to hear another curse word leave these lips again.” Steve’s eyes soften as he takes in your disheveled form, swollen and stained. He almost feels bad. “Am I clear?”

You shyly smile at him before biting your bottom lip playfully, “Crystal fucking clear, Daddy.”

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