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roseglazedlens · 1 year ago

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⦑ a kiss away ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x afab!reader synopsis: you and leon were supposed to be just friends. until one night, an impromptu kiss changed the trajectory of your relationship. content: smut 18+ only mdni, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, mutual pining, oral (m receiving), p in v, degration, hair pulling READ THE PREQUEL HERE « words: 2.1k┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreicated! »

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss.

You can’t stop thinking about Leon’s calloused fingers grazing over the plump of your cheek, scorching your skin with hands so cold it reminded you of the rifles you handled during those gruelling winter missions. You can’t stop thinking about how his pupils flared, and you basked in the glazed cerulean of his irises, so clear you could see yourself through them.

Worst of it all, you can’t stop thinking about him.

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. Leon Kennedy is your friend, your best friend. Your first meeting was five years ago on the field, clicked instantly from sharing the same corny sense of humour, and since then, your dynamic with him has been strictly platonic. You told him about all your exes, your sex life in detail, who you dated and when you had your one night stands. Hell, you even told him about your revolting bad habits that you kept secret from your exes. There was no chance this man could fall in love with someone like you, right?

…Right?

Truth is, you valued your relationship with Leon so much that you’re unwilling to risk it. You two connected beyond the small stuff, sometimes you find your conversations take a philosophical turn. You two discussed about life, family, dreams for a better world – it’s not the kind of connection you can find again.

And now you two have shared a kiss.

You were startled by the sound of your ringtone chanting through the Bluetooth speakers of your car, piercing through your train of thought. Your brain assigned autopilot, navigating you home after a laborious mission in the middle of Texas for the past two weeks. Darting your eyes at the screen, you recognised the familiar name on your contact list.

Leon. Speak of the devil.

You clicked a button on the side of your wheel. The ringing stopped, and the line connected. Immediately, you were embraced by a glee in Leon’s voice, but only ever so subtly.

“Hey. Welcome back.”

“How’d you know I’m back?” You gripped the steering wheel, a tiny concern brewed in you, worried he would catch your unusual behaviour.

“Chris told me. He’s surprised you didn’t say anything.”

A deep sigh left your throat from your core. You couldn’t exactly tell Leon that you needed time, time to catch a breath, time to process your yearn for this man. No matter how understanding he could have been.

There was no use hiding – Chris would have told him about your whereabouts if you didn’t. Chris and Leon are close friends after all.

“Can’t get a moment of peace with you two around.”

“Next time, call me. I can pick you up.” Your pulse took a leap. In another time or situation, those words would not meant anything to you. It was just how Leon was, his instincts to help others extended into his personal life too.

“So you don’t fall asleep on the wheel, stupid. Your death will not be on my conscience.”

That earned a giggle in your books. You could tell Leon’s light teasing was an attempt to comfort you, to make you laugh, to hear the snorty chuckle between your lips.

“Don’t worry. If I pass, I’ll make sure to haunt you for the rest of your life. Regardless whose fault it is.” You quipped.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Despite his sarcasm, Leon’s voice warmed at the sound of your laugh. You couldn’t help but appreciate these moments like this with him, and you prayed what you had together would never go away.

“Anyway, get some rest. I’ll bring you some food to your place at eight.”

You appreciated how he remembered that you prefer to stay home directly after a mission. After difficult missions, the presence of people could be daunting and uneasy.

Leon’s the exception.

He always brought a peace offering – a chicken sandwich from your favourite deli, a viral dessert you saw in a store once, your usual frappuccino order with ten customisations… If you want it, he got it for you.

“See you soon.” He hung up and you drove home.

You’re thankful for internalised heating and electric blankets. They’ve became necessities for post mission self-care routine like this one. You scrubbed yourself down, cleansing the scent of blood, grease and dirt that clings deeply to your body. So when you finished, you feel rejuvenated. You napped, checked for new mail, checked for bad food in the fridge and took care of any errands you missed when you had to leave swiftly for the mission.

You waited and waited. It was almost eighty-fourty, with nothing but a brief text that penned “Running late” from Leon. You texted back, no follow-ups, no ‘seen’, no double checkmark. You wondered what was taking him so long, before the bell buzz at your door.

You opened the door, prepared to give him a lecture, just to find Leon with a familiar takeaway bag in his hands.

“No way… Is that…?”

“Yes. It’s from your favourite place.”

“Wait, the one that’s always has a long line…?”

Leon helped himself into your apartment. His hair soaked, it shimmered under the ceiling light of your apartment. He must have waited a whole hour in the rain.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you would be nice.”

You hurried to your cupboard, picked up a fresh towel and handed it to Leon for him to dry off.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

Leon nodded, a gentle grin at the corner of his lips knowing that you’re grateful of his gesture. And you genuinely did. No man, no ex, no friend you knew would do things for you to this extent. With your help, Leon removed his wet jacket and revealed his top also drenched underneath, clinging to every bump, every muscle on his torso. You swallowed deeply, slotting your eyes anywhere but his chest.

“I’ve got spare clothes in the car.”

You insisted on grabbing Leon’s clothes for him, thankful for the opportunity to take yourself away from the situation. You took the keys, and took in some fresh air. Anything to distract yourself from imagining your best friend naked on the top half. You opened the truck, retrieved his spare clothes in his gym bag and returned to your home.

When the door opened, you found Leon with his shirt already removed, revealing those sculpted muscles from the results of his vigorous training.

“Sorry. It gets uncomfortable when it’s sticky.”

You gawked, your eyes planted on the slopes of Leon’s tauted arms, pelvis line drawing a deep v into his crotch. He’s showing off. You know it. You struggled through the desire of staring knowing it will just rub his ego even further, but your eyes betrayed you. Leon observed you, a smug grin that made you hold back a punch.

“Like what you see?”

Leon strided towards you, taking his time. You had plenty of chances to walk away now, but your feet are planted to the floor, his dry clothes still in your hand. With a hand over your head, Leon closed the entrance door, and shifted close enough for you to catch his scent – the musky woodiness mixed with rain and his odour enveloped your nose – his signature cologne.

A hand reached to your waist, pulled you in his embrace.

“Do you want to see the rest?”

His breath tickled your ears as he whispered.

You forgot how attractive Leon could be. How others flock to his attention. Begged me to give them his number. With full confidence, you believed those charms didn’t work on you. Blissfully unaware that Leon chose to withdraw his charms in front of you, contrasting to the unadulterated need his body radiated right now.

Breath tightened, pulse sped, unable to keep up with your thoughts. You felt a sensation shot down your spinal cord, knees trembled slightly, a look of mischief clung to Leon’s face. Your body betrayed you, nodding incessantly.

“So honest.”

Leon feet guided you to the couch, sat you till your eyes level to the bulge in his jeans. The blond undid his first button, and your gaze followed the zipper downwards. Leon grabbed underneath his boxers, and his dick sprung free onto his abdomen. With a curled fist, Leon hovered it at the bridge of your nose and pumped it a few times in your direct line of sight.

“Wet it for me, baby.”

He teased, inching his cock closer to the pucker of your lips.

Saliva gathered at the back of your throat, your tongue desperate to feast on him. A droplet of precome leaked from his tip. You grazed your tongue on the tiny slit, circulating the drop all over your mouth until it blended in your saliva. The light hint of saltiness was there, and it was gone again.

Leon hitched a breath, his hands crawling down your head to pull your hair back loosely for easier moment. You hollowed your cheeks, and slide his girth between your lips. Light gasp turned to needy grunts, the hands groping your hair tightened, pushing you further inside.

You curled your tongue all over the head, coating it with your slick, indulging in the smell of sweat intertwined with his sex. Corner of your lips dribbled down your neck, eyes forced shut from the ache of the shape of his cock head engraved in the back of your throat. But you couldn’t get enough. You let a hand go from Leon’s thigh, and reached for your underwear instead.

“Look at you. Can’t even wait five minutes.”

Leon’s blue eyes glistened with cunningness. His hand tugged harshly at your hair, eliciting a pained groan that pulled you off his cock out with a pop. With one swift motion, Leon removed your top and pants, until you are bare in nothing but your underwear. He slid his hand underneath you, pushed your underwear aside, and felt the stickiness as a finger went inside you.

“God, you want this so much, huh?”

“S-Shut up and fuck me, Leon.”

Leon’s expression changed when you told him that. It triggered something carnal within, and shoved your back onto the couch, underwear pushed aside, cock teased your entrance. With one deep breath, Leon thrusted himself in you, ignoring your needy pleas. You shrieked in pleasure, your jaw drowned in the juncture between his neck and shoulders, nails clawing his back.

“You’re sucking me in, baby…”

Leon’s skin flushed red, his sculpted shoulders strained in delight at the impact.

Without further ado, Leon slammed into your swollen, needy cunt. Squelches and the slap of skin to skin hovered the air, and a stir developed in your body, threatened to release. Your eyes tried to brace shut, but Leon’s hand stroked your face when you did, demanding you to look at him. Until your thoughts were filled with him as you finished together. Leon followed, removed you quickly and landed the streams of come on your lower belly.

It was supposed to be a moment of euphoria, but Leon’s expression turned grim, parting from your embrace after his fingers dwelled lightly on your shoulder blades.

“You should have run when you had the chance.”

Leon sighed, regret forming at his tongue.

“You could have had a normal life, be with someone who doesn’t chase death like me. But now that I have you, it’s impossible to let you go. I can’t ignore wanting you anymore.”

You sensed years of agony and sorrow behind his cerulean eyes – you never noticed these emotions he kept so secretively in his heart. How much did he had to suffer when you told him of all your relationships in the past, and Leon supported you each and every time. No matter how terrible your exes treated you.

“That’s not the life I want.” You affirmed, two fingers brushed his lips and reached his jaw. “I don’t want an easy life, Leon. I don’t care how hard it is. I want to be by your side.”

Leon pulled you in tighter into his familiar embrace. He laid his lips against yours, and you are reminded of that intimate kiss you shared two weeks ago. The passion, minty sweetness of gum is so distinctly Leon.

It was his plea, begged you to notice how much Leon loved you. How far he will go to make you happy. It took you so long, but you could finally accept him. You returned the kiss, just as gentle, loving – a silent vow to Leon that you will make him happy as he lived.

“Come on, baby. Let’s eat. The pizza’s already cold.”

EDIT: I wrote a prequel to this! thanks for reading! come check out my other works. –��yours truly, rose.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil smut #leon kennedy smut #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil #fanfiction #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you

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darklydeliciousdesires · 10 months ago

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Wet Sheets - A John Shelby/Reader One Shot Story.

Because we all love a bit of smutty John of a Monday morning. Yes, we do!

Words - 1,079

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

He wasn’t very adept at it, back when you first met him. You wouldn’t exactly say lousy, but he needed a little tutelage. Of course, John being John, he didn’t take it all too well to begin with, either.

“What the bloody hell d’you mean? Ain’t had any complaints before. I find everything I’ve gotta find down there alright, don’t I?”

Oh yes. With his fingers, he needed absolutely no guidance. Push in, hook over, rake, and there he’d take you right on a clear trajectory to the stars. His tongue, though? Hm.

“What you’re seeking with your tongue, John... it’s about half an inch from where you think it is.”

He’d huffed. He’d pulled his undershirt and trousers on, muttering about going for a smoke. You’d wondered if he was coming back at all after he’d been gone for fifteen minutes, but he did eventually return, smelling of tobacco and whiskey, pulling himself out of his clothes. His face had been set in steely determination.

“Right. Fucking get your legs open and show me.”

You did, showing him exactly where and how to use his tongue against you, and goodness, how you reaped the rewards of him deciding to stuff his pride down, be a good boy and listen. Now, whenever John has his mouth between your legs, you are reluctant to let him surface. Now, he has your pouring for him like warm honey without fail. Every single time.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbles, his fingers taking over as he pauses from beating the tip of his tongue rapidly over your clit. “I need gills!”

You arch an eyebrow, snorting softly with laughter. “Are you seriously complaining?”

“Nah, bab. Ain’t complaining at all, just saying, like. Got a right fucking little sex puddle on me sheets already, you have.” His words are delivered with much triumph, pressing his tongue against the wet of you, flat, firm heat dragging over your bud again and again. Your hips judder, John smiling at your reactions, long licks continuing as his eyes close and his buries his mouth against you.

His lips bathe your clit in a soft suck, kissing it, moaning around you, hands gripped tight upon your thighs as your soft cries fill the space. Each lick gilds you golden, pleasure thrumming through you, the swell of it rolling tighter the faster his tongue begins to move. Your thighs lock tight against his head, wailing as it builds, the dawn of your undoing spilling over his horizon as the glimmers burst forth.

Yet, he doesn’t cease.

“John... I... oh!” You whimper, shaking from oversensitivity, hands fisting the sheets. “But I already...”

He snorts softly. “I know, but just cos’ you came, it don’t mean I’m done. I ain’t no Johnny fuckin’ half a job, sweetheart.”

His teeth gently graze your bud, and it sends sparks glimmering through you, tongue rolling over you again firmly, heat misting your spine. His licks are gently placed to begin with, little flickers chased to skittered heat once more, the hot wrap of pillowy heat from his lips encircling your clit, your body shivering in response.

He sucks a fever at you, tongue circling, hands gliding over your thighs, your cunt trickling onto his tongue as he opens his mouth to drag a firm lick through your folds. The fever of it rushes over you, winds tight, held in the orbit of his control as moonbeams shine through the darkest depths of you once more, coming apart again quickly.

Those little pin pricks of ecstasy are still tingling as he kisses his way back up your body, sating you with the thick intrusion of his cock, his mouth landing upon yours as he begins to fuck you slowly into the little puddle his tongue created.

“Like this big, hard cock, don’t ya, love?”

“Mmm,” you groan, your nails trailing the shortly shaven sides of his head. “You know I do.”

He gives you a few more long thrusts a little punt of his hips daggering him deep each time he pushes forth, head dipping to lay kisses over your clavicles. “Turn over, bab. I wanna watch your arse bounce as I fuck ya.”

He slips out, lust blown eyes watching as you arrange yourself accordingly to his wishes, John giving you a little spank on the bum before returning himself to you with a lust-soaked groan. Anticipation creeps over your muscles, feeling him push against you, the stretch of him sending tingles through your walls. He splits you wide, fills you deep, his hands gripping your waist as he fills and empties you with long, even strokes, and god, if you could see the smile on his face at how good you feel.

It rolls through you like a storm, your gangster lover not remaining contained for long before he’s pounding into you savagely, his abs trembling as his hands fist tight in your hair, pulling your head back. Mutual moans fill the room with the sexiest harmony of sin, your walls fluttering around him, heat creeping up through him like a vine ascending, taking hold of his senses in a swirling tempest.

White hot pleasure glints through you, tumbling down your spine like a shooting star, John reaching beneath you to rub circles at your clit as his cock punches you deep, splits you wide, remakes you around him. He grits, a groan like tumbling boulders echoing through his chest as he fucks a storm of nirvana through your body, your hips pushing back against him as you cry out.

Your voice breaks on his name, your waves flooding his shore as you come with a feral wail, his body rapidly driving against you until his cock jerks and he’s joining you, tight bliss come undone, his head resting upon your back.

“Fucking hell,” he pants, laying soft kisses against your spine, “that’s proper done me in, that has.”

You giggle softly, feeling him slide from you, pulling your spent body to rest against his in the messy tangle of bed linen. “Not so much that you won’t be able to do it all over again a bit later though, I hope?”

His grin is wide and devilish. “Like I said, bab. I ain’t no Johnny half a job.

Some of his god-given talents truly required no further instruction. The way he fucks you remains as beyond perfect as it ever was, ensuring the sheets beneath you never stay bone dry once he's done.

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby smut #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic

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seeingivy · 4 months ago

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so high school

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my gojo as taylor songs series

an: so sorry to the dream girl fans, had to expedite this one. taylor as gojo anon its your lucky day.

you were always under the impression that people like satoru gojo were perfect.

flawless even.

at times, you were even inclined to think that it was unfair; that some people were born with perfect looks, charming personalities, with intellect and intelligence to match. that they didn’t have to struggle.

though it seems at the current moment, you stood corrected. because the so-called rumors that you had heard about satoru – that he always participated in class, that the teachers loved him – they might have still stood true, but the underlying implication that was always insinuated, that he was naturally intelligent, wasn't.

it slightly cracked a sheen into the persona. you wondered if the girls in your english literature class would still giggle about him the way they did under their breaths if they knew. though knowing them, they probably would find some way to make his ineptness endearing.

“this is the quadratic formula. did you understand this one when we went over it in class?” you ask.

“yes.” satoru responds, seething.

“okay, so if that’s the case, can you solve this problem for me?” you ask.

you slide the paper over to satoru, eyes hopeful, as you watch a blank expression spread over his face. it’s something that he does often, or at least in this setting from what you can tell of the total of two hours that have passed.

the entire session seems to be a lot of talking into the air – with him opting to listen to you explain the question rather than try it on his own or admit where exactly it is that he needs help.

you’re not surprised that he has an ego about getting forced to do remedial tutoring.

“you know, listening to explain it over and over again won’t really help. you have to be able to struggle your way through the question on your own.” you respond.

satoru gives you a shrug, before taking the paper into his own hands.

“this is bullshit. and i get that i have to like know this shit because like…societies and shit before me knew it all but i don’t really understand the point. coach is just making me do this bullshit to keep me from playing more.

you pinch your lips into a line. the algebra teacher and basketball coach, masamichi yagi, had, in confidence, told you the exact opposite. that satoru was bright and talented – on the road to where he wanted to go – but his grades were going to hold him back if he didn’t try harder.

you can still hear his words in your head.

he can be tough to work with when he’s frustrated, but just try to get through to him. he’s smart enough to do this.

“i mean, the past societies and stuff learned it and emphasize passing it on because it’s actually really relevant to what you’re doing right now.” you respond.

“yeah, maybe for nerd shit that you do, but it’s not really relevant to where i want to go.” satoru responds.

you roll your eyes. he didn’t have to be irritating about it.

“and where’s that?” you ask.

and in a split second, you see satoru smile for the first time, this close. you weren’t a stranger to him at all – almost no one was with the way the basketball team's pictures were plastered all over the school in the yearbook – but you had never sat so close to him before, at least not in years.

he a dimple on the right side and three freckles on the left.

“i’m going to be a starting point guard on an nba basketball team.” satoru whispers.

“you want to go pro?” you ask.

“hell yeah. it’s all i’ve ever wanted since i was a kid.”

you smile. you had heard it before – that he was electric on the court – but you didn’t realize that it was serious enough to pursue a basketball career.

“i hate to break it to you, but the quadratic formula will be really useful to you in the future.” you respond.

satoru scoffs. you take the board from him, drawing out the trajectory of the line, as he explains.

“the reason that you use the quadratic formula is to find the solution of the equation. it can actually tell you more than you think – about where something needs to be in space, how fast it needs to move. if you’re standing all the way at the end of the basketball court, as far away from the net as possible, you’re not going to shoot right?” you ask.

“obviously not.” satoru responds, sarcastically.

“and you’re not going to try from right underneath the net?”

“not if i want to get my ass beat by coach.”

“so you know that you have to find the right spot to try from because it’ll give you your best possible shot at getting it into the basket. that’s how the equation works – figuring out the best possible spot to where your solution works.”

satoru rolls his eyes at you.

“so?”

“so. you should think about it like that. don’t make it so abstract because it’s honestly way too boring to try to do it that way. finding applications will help you get through how difficult it is. if you want to get scouted for division one basketball, you have to have good grades.”

satoru clicks his tongue in his cheek.

“do you want me to do the quadratic formula in my head every time i make a shot?”

you roll your eyes.

“obviously not. but you have to admit that something like that would be helpful. and it is helpful, for people who do engineering, fly planes, all of that type of stuff. the application will just make it more interesting or relevant for you.” you respond.

“how do you get through it?” he asks.

you pause.

“what?”

“your application or whatever. to make you do it without getting bored.”

you can feel your cheeks burn.

“i actually don’t have one. i was just making that up.”

satoru’s eyes widen.

“you gave me a whole inspirational lecture with shit you pulled out of your ass?” satoru asks, eyes incredulous.

you note that there’s a whisper of a smile on his face.

“part of the job is motivating students! and i don’t have one because what i want to do actually does have no application to this..” you respond.

satoru nods, before leaning forward on the desk, his cheek in the palm of his hand as he smiles.

“so what do you want to do?” he asks.

“what?”

“in the future. i’d love to hear whatever it is that doesn’t have a real life application to math, so i can use it as a backup plan if this whole basketball thing doesn’t work out.”

you glare at him.

“this is a tutoring session, not social hour.”

“oh come on. you’re no fun. i promise i’ll actually try if you tell me.” satoru responds.

you debate lying.

you debate lying because you know this is how he is, because you’ve seen him do this since the second he had his growth spurt in the sixth grade. tell different girls that they’re pretty, flatter them by asking them personal questions, and flirt like it was the air he breathed.

and it makes you mad – only because you were that girl in seventh grade. giggling to yourself about how he said your braids were pretty, asking about if you were going to the dance, and everything in between.

the only reason that the girls who whispered about him in your english literature class annoy you is because they remind you of yourself. though that stopped dead in his tracks when you realized that it was something that he did with everyone.

satoru’s eyes are expectant, waiting for an answer, and you convince yourself later that night that it’s why you gave in and told him what you’ve never told anyone before. not because he really was attractive and charming – but only because he told you his first.

“scout’s honor you won’t tell?” you ask.

satoru signals with the little cross over his heart, before giving you a nod.

“i want to be a singer.” you respond.

satoru’s eyes widen.

“you’d be great for that!”

“what?”

“oh, come on. you’ve been the lead of every musical since like freshman year. and i remember that song you wrote about cheerleaders or whatever in sixth grade, it was really good.”

you widen your eyes.

“you remember that?” you ask.

“what was it called? i just remember it was like cheer captain and bleachers or something like that. mei mei got really mad at the time because she thought you were talking about her.”

you laugh.

“it was called you belong with me. there was a lyric in it, she’s cheer captain and i’m on the bleachers. and she was right to be mad, because it was about her. i can’t even believe you remember that.” you respond.

satoru smirks.

“do you just think i’m some asshole? we’ve gone to the same school since preschool. i like to think we’re friends – that’s why i picked you to be my tutor.” satoru responds.

you didn’t know that part. you had figured that yaga had just reached out to you because you were one of the top students in the class.

“i don’t know. i didn’t realize you remembered all that! i kind of thought you didn’t even know my name.” you respond.

satoru smiles.

“your name is y/n. you used to wear pigtail braids in first grade with ribbons in them. you’re really smart and you always have been. you went to the dance in seventh grade with that robotics nerd nanami kento. and one time you picked me for heads up seven up in fourth grade.” satoru responds.

you feel your cheeks warm up.

at the heat of your infatuation with satoru, you had made your move in the only way that you knew how – by picking him in heads up seven up.

once in a while, you would get to play the game in class – when it was someone's birthday or you were waiting for an assembly to start. the teacher would pick seven students and the rest would put their heads down at their desks, with their thumbs up. the people who were selected got to pick anyone they wanted in the room and tap on their head. if the people who were tapped were able to guess who picked them correctly, they got to switch in.

you picked satoru. and he guessed correctly.

“kind of had a big fat crush on you after that, if i’m not going to lie.” satoru jokes.

“what? over the heads up seven up?”

satoru nods.

“you picked me out of a room of forty people. i was ready to propose marriage.” satoru jokes.

you snort.

“don’t say that. i totally would have said yes. i obviously picked you for a reason.”

satoru looks up at you, eyes wide in something you can’t really place, before he grins at you brightly.

“you bitch! we could have been childhood sweethearts at this point if you weren’t such a chicken.”

“me? you should have made a move. the ball was in your court after i tapped on you in heads up seven up.”

satoru sighs.

“oh ten year old satoru. dropping the ball as always.”

you roll your eyes, before sliding the worksheet back over to him. satoru groans, before sneaking the paper closer to him, and scratching his head as he looks at the paper. you lean over the tiniest bit of the desk, trying to make a mess of his scribbling, and making sure he’s on the right path.

“why’d you pick that one as c?” you ask.

“was i not supposed to?”

“i mean, no. i just wanted to figure out why so you don’t do it next time.”

it goes like that for the rest of the hour. he tends to make silly mistakes or get hopelessly lost in the middle, but answers one question correctly by the end of the session – which he takes as a win.

he says one thing that sticks in your mind before he leaves, with the same expectant eyes waiting for an answer as he hangs off of the door frame.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“when you become a big famous singer, will you invite me to your first show?” satoru asks.

you smile, before looking down at your hands and twisting the silver rings on your fingers.

“if that happens, sure. only if you invite me to the first game where you get to start.” you respond.

satoru grins brightly, his eyes crinkling in the smile.

“i'm betting on it. you and me.”

three months into tutoring – and a few ice cream cones and movies here and there – satoru invites you to go to a party with him.

“you know, i’m not really into the party scene, satoru.” you respond.

“but you’re into me, because i’m the love of your life, so you should come anyways.”

satoru does that often. flirt, make jokes about how the two of you are meant to be, and everything in between. troy and gabriella because you’re a brainiac and he’s an athlete. the best love story, since you’ve liked each other from the start.

but you know that he’s joking, because he does that with everyone. it doesn’t mean that it isn’t nice to pretend that it’s true sometimes.

“look, mei mei has a bunch of drinks that her dad bought for the party, so you should just come and let loose.”

you widen your eyes.

“you know mei mei hates me right?”

“it’s okay, being around her will give you more material to write for your songs. then you can sing it on your sold out world tour.” satoru jokes.

he also does that often. talk about your dream like it’s most certainly going to come true. talk about how he’s going to be front row, how you’re going to be the half-time show for his championship games, and how fans will adore your love story and humble backgrounds in tutoring.

“come on. i’ll pick you up at six, okay?”

at six pm, satoru honks the horn of his shitty honda civic for six minutes before you oblige and give in. and the party goes well – with satoru sticking by your side, introducing you to his best friend suguru, and making you do shots with cheap tequila.

it goes well until they start playing a mixed version of truth or dare and spin the bottle. you have two options when the bottle lands on you – kissing the person who span it or getting a truth or dare from them.

it’s not your idea of fun. because while you would have easily opted for just being asked truthful questions all night, you realize that the stuff that they ask and insinuate is no joke.

and after an hour, satoru kisses suguru – much to suguru’s dismay – and shoko gets dared to prank call her ex-girlfriend, utahime, which goes insanely horrible. it felt like intruding to listen to the two of them argue so openly on the phone.

when mei mei spins the bottle, it lands on you.

“please don’t try to kiss me.”

you pinch your lips in a line.

“i wasn’t planning on it. i’ll do truth.”

she breaths a dramatic sigh of relief. you shoot satoru a smile, who shakes it off as plain joking, before you swallow hard.

“fuck, marry, kill. satoru, suguru, and choso.”

you feel your eyes widen.

“was the game not kiss, marry, kill?” you respond.

“if we’re in the sixth grade.” mei mei responds.

you fidget with your fingers in your lap, all three of them expectantly looking at you, as you feel your voice shake.

“um. marry satoru. and then i guess…i’ll kill choso? and you know the last one.” you respond.

“and i thought we were friends.” choso responds, voice dripping with sarcasm as the group of them snicker.

“we can go do that right now, that’s not a problem. should we switch the game to seven minutes in heaven?” suguru responds, snickering over his shoulder with shoko who doesn’t entertain one second of his nonsense.

satoru is the only one who doesn’t say anything. and they move on just as fast, spinning the bottle over and over again, while you overthink what just happened – how awkward you were being, how satoru slightly shifted away from you on the hard carpet, and how you very desperately want to go home.

when you spin the bottle, you hope to god it doesn’t land on him. but it’s just your luck, because it points directly at suguru, who is now very smugly seated next to satoru.

“are you going to kiss me?” suguru asks.

you know that he’s joking. you know deep down that this is just something that makes them laugh, that deep down, you wouldn’t really have to if you didn’t want to, but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing to be cornered like this.

“no.” you respond.

suguru feigns hurt.

“why not?”

you look down at your hands.

“i’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“i can fix that.” suguru responds.

you shake your head. and in the split second that passes, you can feel satoru’s hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you down the stairs and out the door, and leading you down the street to where he parked his car.

he’s quiet as he rummages in his pockets for his key, angrily yanking on the door, as you stand on the pavement.

“come on. we’re going home.” he responds, leaning his hands on the open door as he gestures for you to move to the passengers side.

you shake your head, feeling hot burning tears in your eyes, as you look at him.

“are you mad at me or something?” you ask.

“what?”

“i don’t know! i didn’t know what to say when mei mei asked me that. i don’t ever want to offend you or hurt your feelings or anything. and i wasn’t going to kiss your friend, you didn’t have to drag me out of there like that because i wasn’t even going to consider it.”

satoru sighs, leaning his cheek against the window, as he gives you a halfhearted smile.

“i’m not mad at you. or what you said.”

“okay, because i thought that was the best option! marry is objectively the option you save for the best person in the options because that’s the person you have to kiss too. like when you marry someone you obviously have to kiss them and you’re not going to kill them, so you save it for the best.” you respond, rambling.

satoru grins.

“you think i’m the best option?”

you groan.

“shut up. i don’t even know choso. and suguru is…suguru. no.”

satoru smiles, walking away from the open door, before reaching for your wrists and squeezing hard.

“i’m not mad at you. i just got…annoyed back there for a second.” satoru murmurs.

“at?”

satoru tries to stifle his sigh.

“i didn’t want suguru to kiss you.” satoru responds.

“that makes two of us, genius.” you respond, earning you a laugh from him.

“i wanted it to land on me. i know it’s just a game, but really. i wanted it to be me.” satoru murmurs.

you laugh.

“okay, satoru. truth or dare. i can give you one right now.” you respond, giving him a peachy smile as you wait for him to respond.

but he doesn’t. because all you see in the dim lamplight of the street is satoru, frowning at you. his eyes are expectant, but not waiting for an answer this time – but for you to understand what he was trying to say.

that he wanted you to kiss him.

it takes you five seconds. five seconds of bright blue eyes to get it.

“oh.” you respond.

you pause.

“really?” you whisper.

satoru shrugs. almost like he’s embarrassed.

you lift your hands, gesturing for him to wait right there, as you duck into the car from the door that he opened, and reach over the seats for the water bottle that you left in there a few days ago.

“fuck, ow.” you whisper.

“are you okay?” satoru asks, leaning closer to peek his head through the door.

“yeah. yeah. just looking for something.”

you find it underneath the seat – a wrinkled mess of plastic from the heat and three sips of lukewarm water left. you push out of the car, holding up the little bottle in between the two of you, to which satoru gives you a confused look.

“i wouldn’t drink that.” satoru responds.

you shake your head, before crouching to the ground, and placing the bottle on the ground. you gesture for satoru to join you, the two of you hunching over with your heads pressed together. and you reach forward and spin the bottle, only for it to point towards the car.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you murmur.

you readjust the bottle, manually pointing it towards satoru, as you look back up at him and give him a smile.

“i don’t get it.” satoru responds.

“it landed on you.” you respond.

you watch satoru’s throat bob.

“what?” he whispers.

“i spun. it landed on you.” you respond.

you swear he’s blushing in the moonlight.

“y/n.”

“are you going to kiss me, satoru?” you whisper.

it’s a split second before satoru reaches forward, pulling you up by the wrists, and yanking you into the backseat of his car to do just that. you can taste the remnants of the cheap tequila on his lips, the feeling warm in your chest as he smiles – no, laughs – into the kiss.

in the seconds that pass, you lean your forehead against satoru’s, the two of you lightly panting as you catch your breaths – his hands warm on your waist and yours underneath his biceps.

“did you really pick me out of everyone to be your math tutor?” you whisper.

satoru laughs.

“i knew what i wanted. and i got her.” satoru whispers.

you get signed on to a record label a year later, two months before you graduate high school. it breaks your heart to leave him behind when the fall comes around.

four years later

“did the tour bus get stalled?” you ask.

yuki looks up from her clipboard, switching off the little knob on her earpiece, as she takes the open seat next to you.

“yeah. they’ve got it stuck inside the fencing outside the stadium, they’re just trying to push it through now.” yuki responds.

“can’t we just walk out to the car?” you ask.

yuki shakes her head again.

“fans go out the same way. if you want to avoid getting mobbed on the way out here, it’s best to wait.” yuki responds.

“if we have to wait, i’m just going to go lie down in the dressing room. come get me when it’s here?” you ask.

yuki gives you a nod as you walk off to the other side of the stadium, the heels of your feet aching from the high stiletto boots you were wearing breaking halfway through the performance, as you shake through the messy tresses of your hair.

“it was so nice to meet you, man. you said she was over this way?”

you feel your eyes widen as you turn your head to the left – to the voice that you can recognize anywhere – and feel a dry patch in your throat. at the sight of satoru, an obscenely tall version of satoru, standing three feet away from you, talking to one of the members of your crew.

you watch as satoru gives a polite smile and walks down the way towards your dressing room, already six whole paces in front of you from how long his legs are now, as you follow behind him, wiping away the darkness of smudged makeup under your eyes and brushing down the beads of your dress.

it can’t be him, can it? you desperately wished there was something else to wear besides the bedazzled bodysuit you were wearing currently.

you watch as satoru knocks on your door, expectantly waiting for a response at the door, as he wipes his hands against the sides of his pants. and you walk up right behind him, nervously clearing your throat, as he turns around and gives you a wide smile.

“ah. right, hi! i was just looking for you. my name is…”

“satoru.” you finish.

there was no way he thought you actually forgot him, did he?

satoru unclenches his shoulders, an immediate pang of relief spreading through his face, as he gives you a smile – a dimple on the right and three freckles on the left – as you feel a pang of hurt in your chest.

he looks good. he looks even better than you left him, his striking white hair longer than it was before and the smallest amount of wrinkles around his eyes.

“you remember.” satoru responds.

you bite on the inside of your cheek, to stop yourself from smiling at him fully.

“do you just think i’m some asshole? we’ve gone to the same school since preschool.” you respond.

satoru rolls his eyes at the words – the same ones he said years prior – as he crosses his hands over his chest. and you can’t help but contain your excitement and lean forward, a gesture he returns as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and squeeze hard.

“satoru, oh my fucking god. you should have told me you were coming.” you respond, leaning back as he reaches up to cup the side of your cheek and smile down at you.

“how could i?” he asks.

“you could text me. i have a phone.” you joke.

satoru gives you a smile.

“you know, when you change your number, that means i can’t text you.”

you groan, smacking your palm against your forehead.

“shit. i totally forgot. i was just so stressed out at the time because…”

“because someone leaked your phone number and people were calling you at every hour of the day. i know.”

you feel your chest pang, mainly at the fact that satoru was here – that he thought you forgot him and, in earnest, you really had forgotten him. that he was keeping tabs, that he knew everything that you were up to in the years since you separated – from your phone number getting leaked to the fact that you were performing tonight – and you couldn’t say the same.

you frown.

“right. i’m sorry, i meant to give it to you, i just…”

“were going through a lot at the time. first world tour, six grammy nominations, and some friends who weren’t the greatest, i gathered.”

you sigh.

“you don’t know the half of it.” you respond.

satoru shakes his head.

“i mean, i do. but i’d love to hear it from you, if…if you ever wanted to tell me?” satoru asks.

he has that same look in his eyes. timid, expectant eyes, shy and waiting for an answer.

“of course i would want to tell you.” you whisper.

satoru smiles.

“good. i’d love to hear it.” satoru responds.

it doesn’t feel real. it doesn’t feel real that four year ago satoru kissed you in the moonlight on a horribly paved street, that you had to leave him behind on that same cobblestone four years ago, and now he’s standing in front of you – the two of you the same as before, satoru the same, maybe even better, than the way you left him.

“what are you doing here, satoru?” you ask.

he smiles, before reaching into his pocket, and pulling out two little pieces of paper. he hands them over to you, as you read the fine print.

July 19th

San Francisco Golden State Warriors versus Los Angeles Lakers

“i’m the starting point guard for an nba basketball team. i promised you an invite to my first game.” he murmurs.

you press the tickets close to your chest, as you give him a nod.

“y/n. the tour bus is here!” yuki screams at the end of the hall, frantic hands waving you over, as you turn back to satoru with a pinched look.

he smiles in response.

“don’t worry. i’ll see you in a week.” he responds.

the week that follows is agonizing.

you scavenge every corner of the internet to find out everything about him known to the public. where he lives, what he’s been up to, what team he plays for.

he’s the starting point guard for the lakers, his hometown team for where he’s lived for the past four years. it seems that he had made his escape from the suburbs around the same time that you had, by playing division one basketball at the university of southern california, before getting a straight bid into the nba.

he’s the youngest starting point guard in history. he’s broken his own all time record multiple times and was one of the youngest people to get signed on with the league.

he likes to cook. suguru made his way onto the team with him. the two of them are a dynamic duo – famous for their hilarious interviews. he’s a father. he adopted two kids that lived in his neighborhood after their dad tragically passed away – megumi and tsumiki.

and most of all, he’s the same as you left him. because in every interview you watch, you hear the same thing.

“satoru, which artist is on your pregame playlist?”

“if you could go to any concert, which would it be?”

“who do you dream to collaborate with in the future?”

it’s the same answer every time.

y/n l/n, of course.

you can hear his voice in your head already.

i knew what i wanted. and i got her.

the stadium is an overstimulating amount of loud – something exacerbated by how nervous you are – as you walk down the steps to the court, stomach erupting into a nervous mess of butterflies.

satoru gifted you courtside seats to the opening game. and if he was going to follow suit like he always did, his kids would be sitting right next to you, dead center to watch him play.

you catch sight of his white tufts of hair at the center of the court, fans in the stands excitedly pointing at him practicing free throws with his teammates, and snapping pictures. you see a group of girls in his jersey giggling at the side, zooming in to take photos and loudly talking about how hot he looked when he pushed his hair back with a headband during the game.

girls on twitter loved the headband. it seemed that among most things, one thing never changed – how much people adored satoru.

as you get closer to the lights, you can tell that people notice your attendance, hushed whispers and pointed fingers at you as you make your way down to the waxed court, your shoes clicking on the wood, as you walk over to your seat.

you hope satoru doesn’t think it’s too forward that you decided to wear his jersey – with his last name spelled out on the back – as you take a seat.

you wipe your sweaty hands on the pleats of your white tennis skirt, fiddling with the beaded bracelet on your hands, as one of satoru’s teammates eyes widen at the sight of you, before they all but run over to smack him across the shoulder.

satoru looks over at you, giving you a soft smile, as he drops the ball and starts making strides over to where you’re sitting. you can feel your cheeks burning as you stand up, waiting for him to fully approach and he does the same thing he used to – wrapping his hands around your wrists as he leans forward, the smallest sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“i’d hug you, but i’m a little gross right now, brainiac.” he murmurs.

you shake your head.

“no problem. these are nice seats.”

he smiles.

“i’d let you bring a friend, but i had to save –”

“the other two tickets for your kids. megumi and tsumiki. they’re your neighbor's kids, who you adopted after their dad passed away.” you finish.

satoru widens his eyes, before poking his tongue in the side of his cheek, and giving you a grin.

“did your research, did you?”

you shrug.

“i did. but i’d love to hear about it, if you’ll tell me...” you respond.

satoru laughs.

“tsumiki is a really big fan. megumi doesn’t believe me when i said that you and i used to date, but he doesn’t believe anything i say anyways. they’re my favorite people in the world. and i love to make dad jokes.” satoru responds.

you smile. of course he does.

“i’m excited to meet them. i’ll give tsumiki a whole personal concert. signed cds or vinyls, whatever you want.” you state.

“i’d withhold that for now. i think she’s going to have a heart attack from excitement all at once when she realizes daddy is dating her idol.”

you feel like you’re in high school. you feel like it’s thursday after lunch and satoru’s walking you to class, making jokes about how the two of you are going to end up together. saying you’re troy and gabriella, about how no one will understand each other like you, about how you’re going to be at the halftime show performance at his championship game.

“one last thing.” satoru states.

“what’s that?”

he reaches into the pocket of his shorts, procuring a set of blue earplugs and placing them in the palm of your hand.

“i remember you hate how loud it can get. and this is going to be ten times worse than our shitty school gym, so wear these.” satoru states.

you can’t help but frown at the thoughtfulness, looking back up at the bright smile he’s giving you, before squeezing his hand. satoru leans forward and pinches the softness of your cheek, before running back to the center of the court and practicing with the team.

you can tell that some of them are jeering at him – giggling behind him as he shoots from different parts of the court, and you memorize the permanent smile that seems to be etched on to his face. suguru gives you a wave, before blowing you a kiss, which earns him a hard shove from satoru on the court.

two months later, the two of you follow the same routine. satoru travels around the country for his games. you do the same for your tours – and whenever the cities overlap, which coincidentally every week they almost do – the two of you get dinner, eat breakfast. he insists on sleeping on his couch so you can take his bed, but you convince him to stay and just share.

satoru says the overlap is fate. you tell him that he’s ridiculous. he says that it has to be fate – that you have to be meant to be, because you get back into it just as quickly as the two of you fell into it.

satoru tells you that he’s proud of you. your fans post videos of him at your shows – bright smiles on his face as he sings along to all of the words of your songs. you decide to surprise him at the third show he comes to, by singing his favorite song – you belong with me. you both joke about how mei mei is pissed wherever she is.

you tell satoru that you’re proud of him too. you watch every game courtside and really, are just in awe of him as you are when you were seventeen, blue paint splattered on your cheeks as you cheer him on – the muffled sounds of the crowd in your ears. you always carry three pairs of ear plugs, the extra two for megumi and tsumiki.

you think you love him. you think you always will. you realize that no one was ever going to have your heart like he did.

satoru has a home game in los angeles in late august. and his manager invites you to the afterparty two minutes away from the stadium, your transportation arranged with megumi and tsumiki.

you think they’re adorable. you think satoru is the best dad.

at a whopping seven years old, tsumiki reminds you of satoru. full of energy and light, she talks a hundred words per minute. the second you walk into the afterparty, you watch as she beelines to the big group of people, suguru quickly picking her up as she starts chattering loudly.

megumi’s the opposite. a little shy for his age, you swear that he squeezes your hand harder as you stand at the doorway of the crowded room. and true to satoru’s words – he really didn’t believe that you and satoru used to be friends, let alone date, but states that it must be because satoru did some black magic on you.

he makes jokes like that all the time.

“you okay?” you ask.

“yeah. have you seen my dad?” he asks.

you frown.

“no.”

megumi gives you a halfhearted sigh.

“okay.”

megumi gets nervous. the only people he feels comfortable around are satoru and tsumiki.

“you know, your dad never changes. he used to do this to me all the time too.” you state.

“do what?”

“drag me to parties. it’s not really my scene.”

megumi smiles.

“really?”

you nod.

“i wouldn’t even know most of the people there. one time he took me to the birthday party of a girl who literally hated me.”

megumi laughs.

“of course he did. some romantic he makes himself out to be. but really, i don’t care. i just hate waiting for tsumiki to come back.” megumi states.

you smile in response.

“well, how about we wait in the kitchen? there’ll be less people there.”

you tug megumi along to the kitchen, quickly lifting him to sit on the counter, as you rummage through the fridge – trying to catch your breath from whatever alternate universe you’re living in.

you’re in satoru’s house, with all of his friends. his kids seem to like you. he scored the most points out of the game, including the winning shot with six seconds left on the scoreboard. you have no idea where he is or what you’re doing right now or –

“hi.”

you slam the door shut, only to find suguru getou towering over you, with a smile on his face.

“hi.” you respond, reaching up to tuck the hair behind your ears as you take a step back.

“it’s been a long time, girl scout.”

you try to stifle your sigh.

“sure has been.” you respond.

“satoru’s really keen on hiding you away.”

you awkwardly nod, twisting the silver rings on your hands, as you give him a smile.

“we’re just getting to know each other, that's all.” you respond.

suguru widens his eyes.

“what is there to find out? you’ve known each other since you were toddlers.” suguru responds.

you shrug.

“i don’t know. a lot of time has passed.” you murmur.

suguru pinches his eyes shut, in frustration.

“you’d think that would make the two of you more eager.” he responds.

“what do you mean?”

“if it were me, if i felt the way the two of you obviously do, then i’d get a move on. i’d be unable to contain it.”

you glare.

“you don’t know how we feel. and there’s a lot on the line here.”

suguru crosses his arms over his chest.

“do you like him?” suguru asks.

“what?”

“because he loves you. basketball has always been his dream, but even more so when he realized that it would be a reason to talk to you again. he’s listened to all of your albums the second they came out, seen you perform every time you came around these parts, and cursed the hell out of every movie star asshole who has talked shit about you publicly or hurt your feelings.” suguru responds.

you sigh.

“i’ll ask you again. do you like him? because he. loves. you. you make him so nervous that he won’t make the first move, just like he wouldn’t when you were sixteen.”

“of course i do. i –”

“do i need to threaten to kiss you again?” suguru asks.

it’s right at that second that satoru parades into the kitchen and you can tell from the way that he yanks suguru back by the year that he only heard the very end of the conversation.

“that joke doesn’t get any funnier the fifth time you say it.” satoru seethes.

“get a move on before i do, dumbass.” suguru responds, giving satoru one last shove before walking off.

you don’t have time to think about his words, but one thought crosses your mind – that suguru might have been so insistent at that party all of those years ago, because he knew it would push something forward between the two of you.

he sure had a strange way of being a wingman.

at the sight of satoru, megumi’s holding his little hands out – something satoru obliges to as he picks him up – before turning over to face you.

“do you want me to kill him?” he asks.

you smile.

“i know he’s just kidding.” you respond.

satoru rolls his eyes.

“i was kind of hoping you would say yes.”

“did you used to date suguru too?” megumi asks.

you widen your eyes.

“absolutely not. just your dad, no one else.” you respond.

“god megumi, that’s not just something that you can ask someone.” tsumiki murmurs, padding into the kitchen with pink cheeks, as she wraps her arm around your leg.

you return the affection, reaching down to push her bangs away from her forehead, as you look back at satoru. he stares a little too long, before looking over at megumi and whispering.

“can you and tsumiki take a walk real quick?”

megumi gives him a nod as satoru sets him down, the two of them walking away hand in hand to the other side of the room, as satoru turns back to you, reaching forward to wrap his hands around your wrists.

“hey.” he whispers.

“hi.” you whisper back.

he leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.

“did you enjoy the game?”

“sure did. tsumiki and i shared rainbow airheads. and megumi gave me a really big hug after you won, which almost made me cry.” you respond.

“i’ll say. i almost cried when i saw all three of you hugging on the jumbotron.”

you lean forward, pressing yourself against his chest, as you link your arms together behind his back. you can hear suguru’s words racing through your mind – if it were me i wouldn’t be able to contain it, do you like him? because he loves you – and it makes your skin burn.

“hey. you okay?” satoru asks.

you say the only thing that you can think of.

“yeah. i’m just…really happy..” you whisper.

satoru pinches your cheek.

“me too.” he responds.

“ever since i left, my life has changed, so drastically, so quickly. i went from being a girl from a small suburb in new york to being someone that…that a lot of people knew about. wanted to know about. sometimes this stuff makes me feel like i’m not really that person anymore.”

you pause.

“but every time you look at me i can…i do feel like that again. like someone who was in high school, who hated school dances, and did the morning announcements. someone who loved you. who was with you.”

you sigh.

“no one’s ever had me like you. i don’t know if you’re joking when you say it, but it really is fate. you really are….are my soulmate or my invisible string or whatever. you…you’re it for me.”

satoru lets go of your wrists, before reaching for the closest cupboard and reaching for a bottle, and placing it flat on the floor. he’s crouching on his knees, your chest so full of love you can barely stomach it, as he gestures for you to crouch on the floor close to him, his cheeks pink in the light.

you watch as he spins the bottle, only for it to miss and land on the fridge.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” satoru responds.

he reaches forward, twisting the bottle so it faces you, before looking at you expectantly. the same way he looked every other time – waiting for you to tell him what your dream job was, waiting for you to kiss him, and now waiting for you to confess for a second time.

“are you going to kiss me, y/n?”

you whisper it against his lips.

“guess what?”

“what?”

“i knew what i wanted. and i got him.”

an: our very first ttpd gojo as taylor <3 this post was sponsored by @yuutito, @neptuneblue, and @um-no-ok through my participation in fics for gaza! thank you so much for donating - I hope you liked the piece!!! i went a little bit over the promised wordcount as I started writing, but left it as is to be posted since we met the goal. a reminder that i'm still taking submissions for my wips (i'll be putting a new one up) and for requests!

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taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @torureadz @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga

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cuubism · 1 year ago

Text

a very silly story for you. johanna, dreamling's weird baby, and an accidental kidnapping (and subsequent rescue)

Johanna’s seen a lot of weird shit in her time. It comes with the territory. Magical shit also tends to be horrible shit which also tends to be weird shit. But even she is finding herself flummoxed by this one.

She’d broken into this flat prepared to perform an exorcism. Amateur occultist, planning to summon a demon? That’s what she’d heard, and yeah, that wasn’t going to go well. And it hadn’t—the guy was on fire when she arrived, so on fire that there was no way she could put it out or help him, though she had throne a blanket over him in a meager attempt. It was too late, though. He was charcoal in seconds.

That, while horrible, wasn’t even the weird part. The weird part was that there wasn’t even a demon, but there was a baby.

Sitting in the middle of the room, in a bird cage.

Johanna stares at it now, barely noticing the acrid smoke she’s still breathing in. Why the actual fuck is there a baby in a birdcage?

It doesn’t seem to be hurt at all. It’s just sitting there on a blanket at the bottom of the cage, clutching a little cat stuffed toy in its chubby fingers. But it’s in a birdcage. A bird cage.

Johanna goes to open the cage, of course she does—

And the moment she touches the latch she jumps back, shaking out her hand from the spark. Holy hell, that thing is warded to high heaven. That cage could probably keep a demon contained. Why is a baby warded like that? It’s just a human—

It.

It looks like a human baby.

Johanna circles the cage, more wary now. She should know better, should know that an occultist like that wouldn’t be carrying around a regular baby in a cage. Even if you’re a real sicko, you don’t need a cage to keep hold of a baby. It can’t even walk.

So it’s not a regular baby. Sure looks like one, though. Makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, that does.

As Johanna looks more closely at the wards, the baby watches her with wide eyes, sucking on its thumb. It’s actually pretty cute. It’s even wearing a star-print onesie. The wards are hardcore, though. Nothing’s getting in, and certainly nothing is getting out.

“Either you’re some fucked up thing disguised as a baby,” she muses out loud, “or you’re an actual little baby fucked up thing, which means your fucked up nightmare mummy is going to come looking for you.”

The baby blurbles in agreement.

Either way, she can’t exactly take it to the authorities. Which means she’s going to have to take the baby home, at least for now.

“Fuck me,” Johanna says, and picks up the cage.

The baby is silent on the drive home—buckled awkwardly into the back seat of the car—and remains so as Johanna puts the cage down on the floor of her living room. It watches her with big eyes, sucking its thumb. It doesn’t seem particularly afraid, though Johanna can’t imagine being in a cage is very pleasant, even for a baby that probably doesn’t understand what’s going on anyway.

Or who knows, maybe it does. Jo doesn’t really know much about babies’ development trajectories.

“Right,” she says, looking at it with hands on her hips. “I’m not really looking to become a mum, so we’ll have to get you out of there and back where you belong. Fuck if I know where that is.”

The baby makes a gurgling sound that could be agreement or just gassiness.

Johanna gets out some chalk and starts to draw a containment array around the cage. “Sorry about this, little chap,” she says, “but I still don’t know what you are. Better safe than sorry, eh?”

The baby is silent, watching her.

Johanna finishes the containment circle, binding it off with a final rune. It’s not so mean of a ward as the cage had. Just enough to keep the baby from exploding with power once she does break the cage open. If that’s something it can even do.

She studies the ward. “Think I can pick this lock,” she says to herself. “Take me a sec, though. Don’t suppose you want a beer while you wait?” This to the baby. “I haven’t got any formula. Or are you old enough for baby food?”

The baby just sucks on its thumb. It really does seem quite sweet. Shame about secretly being a monstrosity in a cage, and all.

Johanna works on the ward, occasionally chatting out loud to the baby. It doesn’t reply, obviously, but it listens. Johanna is feeling more invested in getting it back to its parents the longer she sits with it. Even if it is some gross creature, it doesn’t deserve to be in a birdcage. It’s just a baby.

“Good trick we met each other, my friend,” she says as she finally unravels the last bit of the warding. “Doubt that guy had good plans for his captured baby.”

She clicks open the ward.

As soon as she does, the formerly placid baby starts screaming. And Johanna realizes that part of the ward’s function had been to stop it from crying for help.

“Mama!” the baby wails, tears pooling in its eyes, little fists scrunched tight around its plushy’s legs. “MammaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

Its voice warbles outside the normal sound range and straight into her brain, ringing like a bell. She covers her ears, but it doesn’t help. Great, now the thing’s mother is going to show up and eat her. This is what she gets for trying not to be a total asshole for once. Should’ve opened the cage in the street and fled.

“Shhhhhh,” she tries to soothe the baby, “it’s okay—” But it’s too late. And Johanna isn’t a very soothing person anyway. It probably wouldn’t have worked, even if the room hadn’t been plunged into sudden darkness.

Johanna stumbles back, though she can see nothing. Thunder and static ripple through the air, cold wind tangles her hair. Jo claps her hands over her ears as the air pressure increases and increases and—

The baby squeals, and it sounds happy now, rather than afraid. “Mama!!”

A voice scraped from the utter depths of mental torment booms through her flat.

C O N S T A N T I N E

Ah, fuck.

“Morpheus,” she tries, because she does recognize that voice, unfortunately, “listen—”

A wall of sand knocks her backwards.

As it does, some light returns to the flat, and she can see Morpheus, looking markedly less pathetic than when she’d last encountered him, standing in the center of the living room, looking down at the baby. His eyes flash with otherworldly light. His sand rushes around him, scrapes through the binding circle she’d drawn like it’s nothing but chalk, dissolves the birdcage to nothing, plays with the baby’s curls and pools in the crevices of its onesie. Meanwhile, it flattens Johanna against the wall, wraps in winding strands of wind around her chest and squeezes.

The baby reaches for Morpheus, who kneels and picks it up. He says something to the baby, the words low and solemn but inaudible over the rushing sand, then holds it close to his chest.

Then his gaze turns to Johanna.He looks murderous. Johanna had thought he’d been pissed off about his sand. She hadn’t seen even a tenth of it.

“I guess you’re mama?” she says, past the sand squeezing around her chest. This really is just the kind of stupid thing that would happen to her.

Morpheus’s eyes are like black holes in his pale face. “Constantine,” he growls, with much of the same danger as before, though at lower volume. “I thought we had parted on neutral terms. More fool I. What grudge do you still hold against me?” The sand squeezes her tighter. “Speak quickly, for your time is limited.”

“There’s no grudge, I have nothing to—”

“Ransom, then?” says Morpheus, seeming, if possible, more angry. “You would compel favors from me by threatening a child?” He clutches the baby to his chest. It’s started chewing on the lapel of his coat. The whole picture would be kind of hilariously adorable if she weren’t on the verge of being torn apart by nightmares.

“I’m not responsible for this!” Johanna insists. “Consult your stalker encyclopedia of all minds if you have to. You really think I’m going around kidnapping infants?”

“I think,” says Morpheus, each syllable a new threat, “that you must explain why you had my daughter in a cage. NOW. And count yourself fortunate I have granted you the mercy of an explanation.”

“I literally just found her!” Johanna says. Doesn’t she deserve even a little bit of good faith? She did help with the sand and all. Morpheus’s eyes narrow as if he does not believe her. “Look. Caught wind of this amateur guy messing around with occult stuff. Thought he’d summoned a demon so I went to exorcise it. Found this baby instead.”

“And what of this man?” says Morpheus in a tone that suggests exactly what will soon become of him.

“He was practically dead by the time I got there. Burned alive.” She shudders. She still hasn’t figured out exactly what was going on there, if he’d meant to summon Morpheus’s baby in the first place—ill-advised choice, that—or if it was a spell gone wrong. “‘Fraid you’re too late to torment him.”

“Hmm,” rumbles Morpheus, with evident displeasure, but the sand finally releases Johanna and she sways, standing on her own feet again. Morpheus doesn’t apologize for throwing her against the wall. “You will show me where you found her.”

“Sure, mate,” Johanna says, sucking in a wheezing breath. “Might want to get your baby home first, though.”

Morpheus doesn’t get a chance to respond. Behind Johanna, the front door bursts open— bursts off its fucking hinges, goddammit, now she’ll have to get that fixed— and a man runs through. A very ordinary man, except that he’s carrying a sword. An actual, medieval-looking sword. And in a way that suggests he knows how to use it, too.

He looks almost as murderous as Morpheus, except that no one can quite match Morpheus’s shadows-and-cataclysm level of murder. Evidently, Johanna found the most radioactive baby in all the occult world. But at least it has people that care about it. That’s nice, she supposes.

As soon as he sees Morpheus with the baby across the room, he relaxes, sheathing the sword in a scabbard strapped to his back. “Ah, love. You found her.”

“Dadaaaaaa!!!!” yells the baby with its piercing voice, reaching for him. And the man smiles, striding past Johanna and taking the baby from Morpheus, leaning in to kiss Morpheus on the cheek as he does.

“Hob,” says Morpheus, with a little smile that finally breaks his stormy countenance. “Yes. She called for me when she was able.”

“Good lass,” says Hob, kissing the baby on the forehead, then looks warily at Johanna.

“Ms. Constantine is not responsible,” says Morpheus, and ‘Hob’—his partner? Coparent? Johanna’s not sure she even wants to know—relaxes further.

“Great. Glad we’ve established that. How the hell did you find my flat.” This she demands of Hob.

Hob reaches into the back of the baby’s onesie and plucks a small disc off the collar; he shows it to her with a little wave, then slips it in his pocket.

“Is that an AirTag?”

“We aren’t all plugged into the whole collective unconscious.” He taps the baby on the nose fondly, and she giggles, grabbing at his finger. “And you’re Dada’s little flight risk, aren’t you?”

Johanna sighs, finally flopping down on the couch now that it seems she’s unlikely to get swept away to nightmare-land. She definitely needs a beer after this. “You have a baby?” she says to Morpheus.

“Evidently,” he says flatly. So much for getting answers on that.

“Have we gone after the person who was responsible?” asks Hob. Johanna thinks he means it to come out mildly but it doesn’t, really.

“Already got set on fire, mate,” Jo tells him. “Found him like that.”

“Set on fire?” says Hob with a frown. “Was the rest of the room on fire?”

As a matter of fact, it wasn’t. Which is strange.

Silently, she shakes her head, and Hob turns back to the baby. Now he’s grinning. “Did the bad man wish for power?” he says, in a baby-talk voice, bouncing the baby in his arms. “Did he? And did my little Sparkle take that literally and turn him into a lightbulb?” As a conspiratorial aside to Johanna, he says, “She loves electricity.”

“Sparkle?” she says. “She’s a baby, not a My Little Pony.”

“That is a nickname,” says Morpheus, with a sideways glance at Hob that suggests he finds it questionable at best. “She is Wish.” He says this in the same way he might say I am Dream, rather than my name is Dream.

A moment later, Johanna learns where the nickname came from, as Wish giggles and taps at Hob’s face, sparks dancing around her fingertips. Sparkle. Jesus.

“She does not yet have a firm grasp on her abilities,” says Morpheus.

Wish. Half-Endless baby. Kidnapper set on fire. Jo thinks she gets it now. She shivers.

“You have sworn to show me where you found her,” Morpheus reminds her. Sworn. Does he have to be so dramatic?

Jo sighs, but heaves herself up from the couch. “Yep. Alright. So long as you promise to keep better track of that monkey’s paw baby of yours.”

Morpheus bristles, but Hob just chuckles. “This is the easy part. Wait ’til she gets better at flying.”

He doesn’t appear to be joking. “Don’t envy you,” Johanna says. Then grudgingly admits, “She is cute, though.”

Hob beams.

Morpheus is still fixated on her. Johanna can read the demand without him having to voice it. “What, you’re gonna bring the baby along on the revenge mission?” she asks.

They both just look at her. Neither moves to take Wish home.

“Figures,” Johanna says, with a sigh. This is what she gets for not choosing a more normal profession. She opens the front door and gestures them on. “Fine, then. Let’s go.”

#a silly nano project #my writing #the sandman #johanna constantine #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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chestharrington · 6 months ago

Text

Infatuation || Gator Tillman x Reader

Part One: Fixation

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: SMUT (f!masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v), mild/implied stalking, abuse of power, brief non-sexual choking, harassment, slut shaming, misogyny, unplanned pregnancy, implied/referenced abortion, unhappy/ambiguous ending

Summary: As you face the consequences of your unsatisfying encounter with Gator, he finds new ways to worm his way into your life, for better or worse.

A/N: Here is the highly requested part two :) Thanks for all the love, and I hope you enjoy! This can be read as a finale of sorts to this story, but if there is interest I can write a "wrap up" epilogue :) Anyways, enjoy!

As it turns out, Gator Tillman beating the guy you were dancing on within an inch of his life wasn’t exactly good for your career. And the fact that you had technically stolen that guy’s money was the shit icing on the shit cake.

The club was crowded, maybe more so than you were used to, but you couldn’t find a single patron who wanted you for a dance, or a private dance, or even a second of eye contact.

And, really, you should have seen it coming just based on the general trajectory of your life, but by the end of the night, you were fired. Apparently, that stint with the realtor and Gator had harmed the stellar reputation of the business. That was bullshit anyway. Like, four people had OD’d in the bathrooms, and plenty of old guys had heart attacks on the floor.

The problem wasn’t that the realtor got the shit beat out of him. No, plenty of guys came in, got drunk, and wanted to prove how tough they were. The problem was Gator, but, more than that, it was a fear of the Tillman’s getting too close.

You left the club with maybe thirty dollars in tips and a box full of your shit, which you unceremoniously dumped into the trunk of your car. It was past five in the morning, which meant the sun would start creeping over the horizon soon enough.

As you drove back into town, you couldn’t help but pull over at the twenty-four-hour diner. The homey interior glowed through the windows like a siren song to weary travelers. It always smelled like coffee and grease, and there were always oldies playing on the jukebox. You sat down in a booth and practically melted into the seat.

The older woman taking your order seemed nice enough, though there wasn’t anything about working at the asscrack of dawn that brought a smile to anyone’s face.

“Does Sarah still work here?” You asked, glancing back behind the counter.

“Quit.”

Well, there was that. Your ex-husband’s skanky mistress wouldn’t be showing her face to ruin your night (or, technically, your day) even further.

There was a sign on the counter— Now Hiring! Probably in Sarah’s position, if you had to wager a guess. You chewed on the inside of your lip. It wouldn’t be glamorous, but it would be a hell of a lot better than it had been at the club.

“You’re really hiring?” You eventually asked the older waitress as you nursed a cup of hot chocolate. When she brought out your meal— a big stack of pancakes and the greasiest pile of hash browns the world had ever seen— she placed an application and pen down right beside it.

They really must’ve been desperate, because you got the call the following afternoon that they’d like to interview, and even that wasn’t formal. You walked in, got a three-page employee “manual”, and that was that.

Things seemed to be getting better… at first. A new job that had significantly fewer creeps, and free food once a shift. You got to wear flat shoes and real clothes, which was also a plus. A little less money in your pocket, but it was more stable.

Occasionally, you’d get a tipper who thought it was cute to leave a fake $100 bill with a bible verse on the other side, or an old man grabbing at your tits and ass “accidentally.” Spills and messes were more frequent than you expected— and usually wound up on your apron or soaking through your shoes.

The good with the bad. You had to keep reminding yourself to take the good with the bad.

It was a few weeks of getting on your feet before Stark County’s finest walked through the doors, boisterous and loud. You hadn’t noticed, hadn’t even thought to consider that Gator might visit the town’s best source for greasy comfort food.

When you came out from the back of the diner, your eyes caught him immediately, sitting in your section. You swallowed, grabbed your order pad and a pen, and approached.

“Good mornin’, officers.” He looked up at the sound of your voice, a sly grin spreading across his features. “Do y’all know what you want, or can I run through the menu for you?”

One of the other men just snapped his fingers at you. “Coffee all around.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll get that right out.”

You heard them snickering as you left, accompanied by loud whispers of don’t you know who that is?

Gator was staring at you, maybe he had been the entire time and you just hadn’t let yourself look. “We’ve missed you at the club, sweetheart. Wanna give us a twirl for old time’s sake?” His grin was smarmy as he looked you up and down, reaching over the table to place down the mugs of coffee. Your blouse gaped open, giving him a glimpse of your cleavage and a remarkably unsexy comfy bra.

As you reached to place the last mug down, Gator slapped your ass hard, making you spill the hot coffee across the table. His little friends laughed as your face burned hot. You did your best to mop up the mess of coffee, but it wasn’t enough and the table was left sticky and gross.

“You’re not gonna get a good tip if you’re so clumsy,” one of them said with a grin, holding up a dollar bill. It felt slimy, like you were back in the club entertaining them for singles.

An hour later, you had coffee and grits spilled on you, as well as a plate accidentally knocked off the table to shatter on the floor. They laughed at you on your hands and knees, picking up pieces of the china from the black and white tiled floor. And at the end of it all, unsurprisingly, there was no tip, no thank you, no anything.

You wish you would’ve spit in their food, but there was always next time. And you knew there was gonna be a next time.

But Gator didn’t like sharing, especially not his playthings. One morning of watching his friends make your life hell had been enough, you supposed. The next time they came in, they were nothing but respectful. All yes ma’am, no ma’am, thank you ma’am. The message was clear enough. He wanted you all to himself.

After a day on your feet, all you wanted to do was watch a shitty reality show on the couch you’d stolen from your ex-husband. You smelled like the deep fryer, which made you nauseous, but you knew if you took a shower, you’d pass out shortly after.

There was a loud knock on your door that nearly made you jump out of your skin. You stood, wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, and opened the door just a crack.

“We got a tip that you might be harboring illegal contraband on the premises.” Gator was leaning against your doorframe like he owned the place, his foot carefully wedged between the door so you couldn’t slam it closed.

You grit your teeth. What bullshit. “You don’t have a search warrant, asshole.”

He gave a careless shrug. “Eh, maybe I don’t, but who fuckin’ cares about that?”

You stood firm, holding the door in place as best as you could while he pushed against it. “Gator, no. Whatever game this is, I don’t wanna play. I have a headache, and I’m exhausted, so—” He gave a firm push on the door, and your strength failed you. You fell to the side as he barreled his way in, making a beeline towards your bedroom.

The door slammed shut, followed by the click of the lock turning. With a groan, you went for the coat closet and retrieved a wire hanger that you could finagle the lock with. After a moment, the lock clicked again and you pushed your way into the room.

What the fuck? He was rifling through your dresser drawers, tossing things onto the ground at random. You doubted he was even really looking for anything in particular. Gator’s priority, above all, was to be a creepy nuisance.

“Gotta be thorough,” he said with a smarmy grin, finally recognizing your presence. “Interfere, and I’m bringing you in for obstruction.” Like the perv he was, he was digging through your panties, grabbing handfuls of lace and cotton. He continued on, throwing things onto the floor just to piss you off. After he’d successfully wrecked one dresser, he moved to the nightstand.

He smiled victoriously and dumped the contents of the drawer onto your bed. Your cheeks flamed with embarrassment at the sight of your modest collection of sex toys, right there for him to see.

“There we are. This goes against the city ordinance prohibiting the ownership of more than two personal pleasure devices,” he said matter-of-factly.

“That’s not a thing,” you argued with a scoff.

He grinned. “Oh, it is. My dad worked to codify an ordinance to fight obscenity. And Jesus Christ, sweetheart, this is obscene.” He surveyed the pile picking up the devices with amusement and a hint of disgust. “Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ fiend by the looks of it. What’s this even do?”

You grabbed at the vibrator in his hand, but he held it up above your head with a grin. “You’re a fuckin’ pervert,” You hissed.

He pressed a button and it buzzed to life, which only made his amusement grow. “You know, if you found yourself a man, you wouldn’t need any of this shit.”

You rolled your eyes at the notion. Half that stuff was collected during your marriage, not that it mattered. Jack was worse in bed than he was at being faithful. You grew to relish in the nights when he was in some other woman’s arms and you could finally find some release.

And you especially relished an opportunity to relax and relieve stress when Gator was hellbent on ruining your fucking life, which was all the time.

You crossed your arms and glared up at him. “That’s a crazy thing for you to say considering you didn’t even bother to get me off.”

He wrinkled his face in annoyance, dropping the vibrator back onto the bed. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? You came probably, like, three times.”

You could have laughed. “Whatever. Just write the goddamn citation and leave me alone.”

“Maybe I’m concerned about you,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, if you’ve got this many sex toys, that’s some kind of perversion or somethin’. You’re sick in the head. What kind of officer would I be if I punished you for that?”

He grabbed another one off your bed, a rabbit vibrator this time, which only seemed to confuse him more. “Besides, I don’t think you can really afford the fine for breaking this law. I mean, with what you’ve got here, you’re looking at thousands.”

Anger flooded your veins. “Bullshit,” You snapped. “You’re lying.”

“I mean, you can find out tomorrow,” he replied with another stupid fucking shrug. “Or I can forget I ever saw ‘em. Up to you.”

You swallowed hard, already getting a warm, overbearing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like your body wasn't sure if it wanted to jump his bones or kill him. “And what exactly would make you do that?”

He smiled, showing off his canines. “I mean… now I’m a little curious. Tell me how you use some of ‘em.” He waved the rabbit in his hand. “This one especially. Looks like some kind of fucked up torture device.”

You huffed with annoyance and reached up, grabbing it from his hands. “This one, I mean… this part goes in, and this part stays out.” You explained with vague gestures toward the toy. You grabbed another off the bed. “And this one is, like, just a standard, like, you know. It buzzes. And that one like, kind of thrusts a little bit. I—I don’t know what the fuck else to tell you.” Just seeing him standing there beside the toys made your brain go a little fuzzy with desire and mortification.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between the two of you. “I think I’m more of a visual learner, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low. He reached up, brushing a lock of your hair from your face, and you did your best not to lean into his touch. Why did you want that? “So why dontcha take off your clothes, lay back, and do a little show and tell, huh?”

The moment of hesitation in your brain dissolved in an instant. You wrinkled your face in disgust and shoved him back. “Ugh. Fuck that, and fuck you.”

Anger flashed across his face, only for a moment, before he masked it with his usual shithead attitude. “Oh… I get it,” he said, looking down at you. “Probably on your period with all the attitude you’re givin’ me. Forget it, I don’t even wanna see that nasty shit.”

You narrowly avoided him as he shoved past you, heading back towards the door. The scales of kiss versus kill had firmly tilted towards the latter at his last comment. Anger unlike anything you’d ever felt flooded your veins.

Without thinking, you grabbed a book off of the coffee table in the living room and threw it at him as hard as you could. It collided with the back of his head and he swore loudly.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!” His hand went to the crown of his head and came back covered in blood. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid bitch?” You grabbed another book and raised a brow in challenge. “Whatever, you’re not even worth it anyway.”

He slammed the door on his way out. The squeal of his tires as he peeled out was music to your ears.

Later, you sighed as you collapsed atop your bed, exhausted from the long process of cleaning up the disaster he’d left in your room. But despite how tired you felt physically, your mind was still racing with thoughts of Gator.

The worst person you’d ever met, who somehow still managed to light every single one of your cells aflame with need. You didn’t want to be with him, obviously. He reminded you of all the worst parts of your ex-husband. And yet… you were staring at the ceiling thinking about the next time you’d see him and all the bitchy things you could get away with saying to him.

With a huff, you reached into your bedside table and grabbed the first vibrator you could get your hands on— simple, without any bells and whistles. Whatever. You were pissed at yourself as you stripped off your pajamas, then your bra… and then your panties.

Stupid fuckin’ man. Your head fell back against your pillows as soon as the vibrator touched your clit, and you couldn’t help the whiny moan that escaped your lips. Your free hand rested on your breast, kneading softly until it wasn’t enough anymore.

Your legs spread wider, hips canting up to seek out more as you began pinching and tugging at your nipples. The plain vibe wasn’t close cutting it, even at its highest setting. All it was good for was working you up to the point of dripping with arousal and needing more.

You clicked it off and sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. Maybe he was right. Maybe you were a little sick in the head. Why else would you be thinking about him right then?

You reached back into the drawer, fumbling blindly until you retrieved the rabbit. It slid in without any resistance with how worked up you were, and you let out a contented sigh at the full feeling.

The second you turned it on, it felt like liquid electricity was dancing through your veins. The external vibrator was positioned just right, so intense that your thighs were trembling.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, back arching slightly. Maybe you could’ve let him watch you. It would’ve taught the asshole what it actually looks like when a woman cums.

You could almost imagine what he’d say too— encouragements veiled with insults. Takin’ it like a fuckin’ slut, aren’t ya? Look right at home on your back like that, spread out all nice and pretty.

You thrust the toy shallowly, eyes rolling back as it brushed against your sweet spot. You could’ve really drawn it out and made an evening of it, but fuck it. You wanted to get off and go to sleep.

You held it just right, so the vibration was focused on your g-spot and clit simultaneously. It was so intense that your moans were pitchy and whiny, hips canting as you got closer and closer.

With a moan more like a sob, you came, the pleasure so intense you had to pull out the toy altogether. As soon as it was out, wetness sprayed from you, making a breathless moan slip past your lips.

Your fingers rubbed at your clit, prolonging the orgasm and making your cunt gush and leave a puddle beneath you on the sheets. When you finally came down, it was with shaky breaths as your body trembled with aftershocks.

You laughed weakly at the ridiculousness of the entire night up until that point, unable to move for a solid few minutes until the fog cleared from your mind and you reached over to turn off the toy. Your legs wobbled as you stood to clean yourself up and change the sheets.

Well, at least if you were going to get arrested for possession of obscene materials, you got the best orgasm of your life out of it. If only you hadn’t been thinking of him the entire time.

——

By noon the following day, you hadn’t received any citation, or been walked out of the diner in handcuffs for your depravity. A quick Google search proved your suspicions that the obscenity ordinance was complete bullshit. Which, you know, made sense considering the sex shop and strip clubs within county lines.

When Gator showed up in his regular booth towards the end of your shift, you did your best to ignore him. One of your coworkers brought him out his artery-clogging usual order, and you were mostly convinced that you might be able to slip out the back without even having to utter a word.

And yet… Outside, Gator was leaning on your car, fucking around with your radio antenna absentmindedly.

“Can I help you, Deputy?” You asked, arms crossed as you squinted against the sun. Your entire body was achy and you just wanted to get home.

He made a vague gesture towards the front bumper. “Headlight’s out.”

You glanced at the front of your car, which was mostly held together by zebra print duct tape and sheer force of will. “Yeah, well, some fuckin’ pervert told me I should save my money to pay for some citation he’s writing up for me.”

Gator grinned. “Oh yeah… I decided to let you off with a warning. For the assault too. My head fuckin’ hurts, you know.” You rolled your eyes, pushing him lightly so you could open your door. “Y’know, you’re being ungrateful. Why don’t you be a good girl and say, ‘Thank you, Gator.’”

You hated the way your heart raced just hearing those words coming from his mouth, but you pushed it down and pulled open the door. “Go fuck yourself, asshole.”

A smug smile spread across his lips. ��That’s an interesting choice of words, isn’t it? Bet you had a real good night after I left, didn’t ya?”

He was looking at you like he knew, which he couldn’t have, but he also definitely did. You made a face as you slammed the door shut and flipped him off through the cracked and peeling window tint.

There was one bar in town that was a certified Gator-free zone. Apparently, he’d gotten into a nasty fight there, slammed a guy’s head into a pool table a few times, sent him to the ICU for a week. Most people don’t realize that the actual table part is made of a giant slab of slate, but a lot was learned that day.

You sat at the bar, eyes trained on the photo of Gator on the Do Not Serve bulletin board. He could be kind of handsome when he wanted to. In that picture he looked a little younger, a little more serious. Maybe a little softer if you really wanted to believe it (which you did).

Maybe it was the fact that you had conned the guy beside you into buying you all your drinks (of which there had been plenty) or maybe it was the weird mood you’d been in for the past month, but you really wanted to just wash all of that gel out of his hair and wash his face and maybe buy him a pair of pants with the normal amount of pockets.

“Did you hear what I said?” The guy sitting beside you— Noah? Nathan?— asked.

You tore your gaze from the photo and turned to him, batting your eyes a few times for good measure. “Sorry, I think I’m just a little buzzed.” You smiled flirtatiously and nudged his arm with your own. “You were talking about… a trip to New York, right? Some sort of walking tour?”

He smiled, nodding enthusiastically before continuing, going on and on about things you were mostly half-listening to. He was smarter than most people you talked to, not surprising after you clocked the giant gold college ring on his hand. Mid-conversation, you grabbed his hand in yours and marveled at it, playing up how impressed you were just to make him feel important.

His family is from around here, but he lived in Minneapolis. He was in town visiting while his mom was recovering from surgery. He showed you pictures of the cows on his mom’s land, of the view from his apartment, and of the dog that was waiting for him back at his mom’s place. He was sweet, which made you feel guilty for using him to forget all about Gator.

“Do you want to maybe come back to mine?” You asked, playing at bashfulness. He nodded enthusiastically, looking like you’d just offered him a winning lottery ticket.

In bed, he was generous and eager to please, making sure your needs had been taken care of before his pants were even off. You were so worked up and sensitive that you came twice from his mouth alone, not that he was even particularly that great with it. And then he was inside of you, and you came again, which probably gave him quite the ego.

It had to be some kind of fluke. He was a sweet guy, but he wasn’t exactly a sex god.

But there you were, boneless and panting and flushed and sweaty as you both came down. He was red in the face, fumbling for his glasses so he could really see you.

He wanted to talk and stay up the rest of the night with you, which should’ve been nice. Really, you wanted to be excited. He even tried to ease you into his arms, hold you against him all nice and cozy.

You couldn’t fucking do it.

“I’m just gonna grab some water, alright?” You said before hopping out of bed. Your robe was slung over the back of a papasan chair in the corner. You tied it loosely and made your way out of the bedroom. Needing space, and distance, and god, you didn’t even know.

A sane person would have turned back around, spent time with him, and gotten to know him better. Maybe even wake him up in the morning with coffee and pancakes, or a second round in the shower. But you just wanted to be alone.

The knock on your door shouldn’t have been surprising. You had been pretty loud, even louder than the previous night alone. You tied the robe a little tighter and went for the front door, opening it a crack.

“Look, I’m sorry, I know we were l—“ You trailed off when you caught a glimpse of who was outside. “You’re kidding me.”

Gator stood on the porch, arms crossed and looking irritable. “Got a noise complaint,” he said, glancing between you and the house behind you. “You alone?”

“No,” you replied, crossing your arm. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

He scowled at that, and you recognized the way he was feeling almost immediately. Oh, he was jealous. A tiny laugh escaped you, which only served to piss him off more.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny, huh?”

“Nothin’,” you replied with a shrug. “Is that all, deputy?”

He puffed on his vape and the sickeningly sweet smell of watermelon or cotton candy or whatever the fuck made your stomach turn. You gagged, mouth turning into a frown. “Do you have to blow that shit right in my face?”

“Nope,” he said while repeating the same action. The smell was overwhelming. You could almost feel alarm bells going off inside. “Whatever. Better go on and send your fuck buddy back to whatever hole he crawled out of.”

In the back of your mind, you could hear Gator going on and on, talking about how he bet Noah (how did he know his name?) didn’t even make you cum, and that his dick was small, and he’s probably just some big city loser who comes out here for an easy fuck. But that was in the back of your mind. All you were focused on was the overwhelming smell of sugar as he fucking huffed his vape, and the sinking feeling in your gut.

Nausea clawed up your throat, and a familiar feeling of panic settled over you. You clapped your hand over your mouth, but it was no use. The contents of your stomach spilled onto the floor as you vomited right onto Gator’s boots.

He swore loudly and colorfully, stepping out of the puddle at his feet. You wiped at your mouth weakly, and you would’ve said something like I fucking told you so, but you just felt awful.

“That’s so gross,” was all you could offer. “‘M sorry, Gator.”

And then you were crying your eyes out, and he was walking you inside so you could sit down, and that made you cry more.

“Jesus, you’re moody, huh?” He asked, but the bite in his voice was nearly gone. “Stay here, alright? Before you make an even bigger mess.”

You sniffled and nodded. You saw Noah stepping into the living room, wearing his actual clothes again, which was a relief. You didn’t really want Gator seeing him naked.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, taking a few steps forward.

“I’m fine, I’m just embarrassed,” you said, voice croaky with tears. “I just got sick from the drinking, I think.”

There was a noise from the kitchen and Noah furrowed his brows. “You have a roommate?”

“No, he’s—“ you trailed off, unsure of what to say. “He was here to handle a noise complaint, and I kind of puked on his shoes.”

Gator walked into the room, then paused at the sight of Noah. His face furrowed in blatant judgment. He handed you a sprite, then went straight back to staring at Noah.

“Who’re you?” Gator asked, his arms crossed like a club bouncer.

“I’m Nick.” Oh. Well, at least you were close.

“You should head out, dick,” he said, standing taller, trying to appear more imposing than he really was.

Noah glanced at you and hesitated until you gave a tiny nod. “I had a good time,” you offered. “Sorry about… all of this.”

He scribbled his phone number onto your grocery list by the door, offered a wave, and then headed out, leaving you and Gator alone. For better or worse.

It was quiet as you sipped your sprite, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Are you pregnant?” He asked suddenly. “And don’t fuckin’ lie.”

“What?”

“You’re acting all bipolar, and you're puking over my vape, and your tits look bigger.” You glanced down at your boobs with a frown. They did?

“I’m not pregnant,” you replied defensively. “I got my period, like, right after we fucked.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. You wanna know what I do believe?” You didn’t, but he was going to tell you. “That you pocketed the money for the Plan B, ‘cause you want to get pregnant and blackmail my family.”

You scoffed. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

His jaw ticked with annoyance as he looked down at you. “Take a test.”

“Whatever,” you said with a shrug. “I’ll buy one after my shift tomorrow if you’re so fuckin’ worried about it.”

He shook his head. “Fuck that,” he said while tapping away on his phone. “You’ll just lie about it. I’m doordashing this shit.”

You would’ve protested, but what was the point in that? You had nothing to hide— certainly not blackmail. The idea of purposely letting yourself get knocked up by Gator Tillman almost made you want to puke again.

You had finished your Sprite by the time the poor kid arrived, probably seventeen, with his face burning red as he handed Gator a bag from the twenty-four-hour convenience store. Gator slammed the door and dumped the contents of the bag on the coffee table.

Two boxes of pregnancy tests, a monster energy drink, and a pack of cheese bugles.

You grabbed the boxes and trudged towards the bathroom attached to your room while Gator followed close behind. You went to shut the door, but he held it open.

“No fuckin’ way,” he said firmly. “If I leave you’ll just fake it.”

You rolled your eyes, the irritability you felt close to reaching a boiling point. “I’m not pregnant! I don’t want to be pregnant, least of all with your fuckin’ kid!”

When he didn’t move, and, to his credit, stayed completely stoic. You huffed and turned. “If you’re not gonna leave, you can be useful. Hand me one of the little cups beneath the sink. Next to the mouthwash.” He furrowed his brows, but obeyed. “I’m not pissing in front of you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen worse.” You closed your eyes, doing your best to ignore him and just pee into the fucking cup. The whole situation was so infuriating that you just wanted to scream. Once your shy bladder got over itself, it was easy enough. Dip the tests in the cup, cap them again, lay them out and try to forget they’re there.

You’d taken plenty over the course of your marriage— and you hoped for the same result then that you did before.

“What’d it say?” Gator asked as you washed your hands. He was squinting down at the tests, trying to discern what was happening.

“It’s not instant. You’ve gotta wait three minutes,” you said. After drying your hands, you looked at him again.

Really looked. He was all fidgety, a little pale. His lip was bleeding where he’d been biting at it. He was just as anxious as you were, but you doubted it was for the reason he was saying.

“You kind of want one, don’t you?” You asked, meeting his gaze.

He scoffed. “No. I hate kids,” the words came out quickly, defensively. He was lying, and he was just as bad at it then as he was every time before. “Besides, what the fuck would I tell my dad if I knocked up a stripper?”

His words should’ve had some bite to them, but he just reminded you of a skittish animal lashing out at anything near it. You leaned against the doorframe and sighed. “You’re pushing thirty, Gator. Who fuckin’ cares what your dad thinks about you?” Gator rolled his eyes, because you just didn’t get it, or whatever. But you knew plenty about outrunning parents and the weight of expectations. About outrunning the weight of not being what they wanted.

You looked at him again, narrowing your eyes. “What do you really want, huh? Outside of making my life hell, terrorizing the town, and making your daddy proud?” You paused, but were met with silence. “If you’d just try to be a decent human being for once, you might find a nice girl who wants to be with you.”

“And that asshole you brought back here and fucked was decent, huh?”

“I think so, yeah,” you replied.

“And you’re gonna see him again? ‘Cause he’s so nice?”

“No, Gator, I’m not gonna see him again,” you said sharply. “I’m not, because he deserves better than a second night with someone who didn’t want to be around him.”

Before he could respond, the timer on your phone went off, louder in the tiled bathroom. Your hands fumbled as you turned it off, heart pounding with nerves.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, just look,” Gator said, clearly annoyed by your hesitance. You watched him flip them over, one by one, all reading the same result.

Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive.

Gator squinted at the lines, then at the back of the box, a few times until it settled in.

“Goddamn it!” He shouted, slamming a hand against the counter. You flinched, but couldn’t bring yourself to react further than that. “I told you to take a fucking Plan B, didn’t I?”

You swallowed hard, doing your best to remain calm. “You did, and I did. Maybe, if you didn’t want to knock me up, you should’ve pulled out like I told you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know, it probably isn’t even mine,” he said, glaring in your direction. “You let that asshole from the bar cum in you tonight?”

Your cheeks burned hot. “You’re disgusting,” you sneered. “And, no. I don’t make a habit of letting guys fuck me raw.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, but you were so willing to give it up for me, huh?” He grabbed your arm, hard for the briefest second before his grip softened. “See, this is why I know you’re tryin’ to fuck my family over.”

You gave an exasperated groan and yanked your arm out of his grasp. “One, you didn’t pull out. Two, how exactly am I gonna blackmail your family if there’s no baby, you fucking idiot?”

His expression softened slightly as he considered your words. His brows furrowed in confusion, as he looked back at the tests. “Those are all positive, that means you’re pregnant.”

You gave a long exhale and met his gaze. “And it’s early enough that I can still have it taken care of. Maybe not in this fuckin’ state, but my car can still make a trip to Minnesota. Probably.”

He processed the words and the implications before shaking his head. “No.”

You raised a brow, taken off-guard by that single word. “I’m sorry?”

He shook his head. “I said no. You’re not doin’ it.”

You scoffed incredulously, blinking away your confusion. “Five seconds ago you wanted to punch through my drywall because you thought you were being blackmailed. Now you suddenly care about the sanctity of life? Give me a break. You nearly beat that guy to death in front of me at the club, and from what I’ve heard, you’ve done worse than that.”

”It’s different,” he argued, annoyed that you called out his hypocrisy. “It’s mine, so I should have some sort of say.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the curtains near the window so you could avoid his eyes. “Exactly. It’s yours. I don’t want to have your baby, Gator. I don’t want to bring another goddamn Tillman into the world.”

He had you pressed against the wall before you even had a second to realize he was moving. Your head knocked against the drywall, making you yelp. One hand was wrapped around your throat, keeping you pinned to the wall with a light amount of force. “I could stop you,” he finally said. “I mean… really stop you. Make it so you can’t leave. Could keep you at the ranch, make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because that would mean involving his father. Knocking up a stripper doesn’t exactly give men like his father warm and fuzzy feelings.

When you swallowed, your throat bobbed against the palm of his hand. Your eyes trailed up, landing on his as your breathing came out in pants.

His mouth was on yours suddenly, claiming you with a searing kiss. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, making you moan.

He’d never kissed you before, not once. You hadn’t even thought he’d want to. But there he was, groaning into your mouth as he made out with you.

“Gator—“ you gasped as he ground against you, already rock hard without any real coaxing. He shut you up with another kiss, hungry and messy.

You got the message— no more talking about that. He pulled the tie of the robe you wore and it fell onto the ground in a pile, leaving you completely bare.

He pulled back from the kiss, eyes raking over your body hungrily. Big hands traced over your skin, making you shiver. A gasp escaped you as he squeezed your tits.

“They really are bigger,” he said with a wry laugh.

“Shut up,” you snapped, head knocking against the wall as you tossed it back.

“You’ve got a bad fuckin’ attitude. But I can fix that.” One of his hands moved down your body, cupping your cunt, fingers dipping into the pool of your arousal. “You get this soaked for that asshole?”

You whimpered as his fingertips teased your entrance, just shy of everywhere you needed him. Just shy of slipping inside, purposely avoiding your clit. He locked eyes with you, his gaze intense.

“Don’t be shy, you can tell the truth,” he said, continuing to tease with featherlight touches. You could feel just how wet you were getting— dripping embarrassingly down your thighs.

“Only ‘cause I thought about you,” you admitted. A sly grin spread across your face. You’d never let him have an easy win. “You’d probably be one of the best fucks I ever had if you bothered to make me cum.”

“Don’t fuckin’ piss me off,” he said with an eye roll. He thrust his middle finger inside of you, and you moaned softly. “Such a goddamn liar.”

He was a little more gentle with you, despite, well, everything. Warming you up with one finger before adding a second. Moans fell from your lips as he curled them just right, the cocky expression he wore told you he was dead set on proving that he really was top-ten material.

His thumb brushed against your clit, making your legs tremble. You couldn’t help but clench around his fingers, your entire body overwhelmed with need. Maybe it was hormones, or maybe it was all the tension between you, but your entire body was aching for him.

“Close,” you gasped out. Your open, panting mouth was like an invitation. He kissed you deeply, his tongue licking into your mouth as he continued fucking you with his fingers. When he pulled back, his eyes locked with yours.

“That’s it,” he practically cooed. “C’mon, give it to me.” You moaned, walls clenching around his fingers as you grew closer and closer to the edge. He tried to pull his hand from between your thighs, but you grabbed his wrist and shook your head.

“Gator, don’t fuckin’ stop until I tell you to.” His cheeks went pink, eyes flashing with something unfamiliar.

Your moans grew pitchy as you got closer, hips canting against his fingers, shoulders digging into the wall as your back arched off of it.

You barely had time to gasp out a feeble, “‘m cumming!” Before your climax hit.

Broken moans escaped you as pleasure radiated through you. His fingers kept their pace, and every brush of his thumb on your clit made spots dance across your vision. When you were finally spent, you had to tap his wrist weakly. “Okay, that’s enough,” you managed.

He was coated down to his wrist with sticky arousal, which made you look away with heat burning in your cheeks, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

He grabbed your jaw and turned your face back to look at him, wearing a smug expression. “Don’t act all shy now. Tell me you want more.” Bold of him to assume he could make you cum again. But you nodded anyway. You’d like to see him try, at least.

“I want more,” you said, even though it killed you to just give in so easily. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, before he pressed a little more and breached the pouty seal of your lips.

“Yeah? Your friend didn’t wear you out before this?” He asked, his voice dripping with a false sense of concern. He pushed his thumb a little deeper, pressing down on your tongue while you sucked on it. You had a pretty good sense of what he was getting at, but a hot need was bubbling up in your stomach and you couldn’t deny yourself any longer. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. Takin’ two cocks in one night is… well, it’s pretty fuckin’ slutty.”

At his words, you bit down on his thumb until he withdrew it with an annoyed huff. “You wanna leave?” You asked, raising a brow. He shook his head. You stepped around him, settling in the middle of the bed. “Take your clothes off then.”

He was quick to undress, clumsy in his haste. His vest knocked against the wall and sent a picture frame tumbling off its hook. He stripped off piece after piece in a sort of never-ending Russian doll until he was finally naked and standing there waiting for you to compliment him, or something.

You took in the sight of him hungrily, and the hormonal neediness of it all made you want him more than you had before. “You’ll do,” was all you said, smirking as he pinned you down against the mattress.

“You’re such a bitch,” he said, but there wasn’t any real malice in his tone. Actually, you were pretty sure he liked it about you. You spread your legs to accommodate him, shivering as he rocked his hips just so and let the head of his cock brush against your folds. “But you want me so bad, huh? Just need me to fuck that attitude out of you, don’t you?”

You whimpered when he pressed himself against your center, only letting the tip slip inside briefly before pulling back out. He raised a brow, wanting to hear you beg.

”Gator, if you don’t get inside me, I’ll call Nick to finish the job.”

You would have laughed at how quickly he buried himself within you after that if the force of it hadn’t punched the air from your lungs. His pace was brutal, and the sound of his hips slapping against the plush of your thighs with each rough thrust made sheepishness settle warm in your chest.

“You act like— fuck— like you don’t want me, but I don’t think this pussy got that memo.” A smirk played at his lips as he railed into you, soft grunts punctuating each thrust in. You wrapped your legs around him, pressing with your heels to encourage him deeper.

He was such a self-assured asshole, but, fuck, if that didn’t turn you on. He had one of your hands pinned to the bed, fingers tangled with yours.

“Go ahead and touch yourself,” Gator instructed.

He didn’t have to tell you twice. As soon as the words passed his lips, you moved your free hand between your thighs to circle your clit. The feeling was damn near euphoric. Breathy moans fell from your lips as your head fell back against the pillows.

And Gator was fucking eating it up.

“That feel good, huh?” His voice was breathy; his words were punctuated with moans and fucked-out pants. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart. You’re really lovin’ this, huh? Bet you wanna be stuffed full of this cock every day. Coulda had this again a lot sooner if ya weren’t such a bitch all of the time.”

You could feel yourself reaching your finish, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him. Each moan slipping past your lips was even more debauched than the last as he buried himself inside your needy cunt.

“It’s too much, huh?” He asked, fucking you with a relentless need to cum. With each thrust his cock kissed your cervix. “You can take it, can’t you? Made just to take this cock inside your needy little pussy.”

Your eyes rolled back as your walls clamped around him, your finish so close you could have sobbed with relief. You came with a cry of his name, which would have been mortifying, had you been in a mindset to retain your pride.

“F-Fuck—“ He cried out, his hips stuttering. “Holy fuckin’ shit— gonna cum— fuck—“ He buried himself in you with one final, rough thrust before he went still, collapsing atop you with his full body weight.

He laid there, panting hot breath against your neck until he came back to his senses. He gave one final wet kiss to your throat before rolling over with a pleased sigh.

“You finally know what it feels like,” you mused, staring up at the ceiling.

Gator furrowed his brows as he turned to look at you. “I’ve fucked you before, it’s nothin’ special this time.”

Gee, thanks. “I meant you finally know what it feels like for a girl to cum while you’re inside her.” You grinned as you watched annoyance twist his features. He rolled his eyes with a huff, but didn’t seem too pissed off at your jab.

It was contentedly quiet until you remembered the pregnancy tests sitting on the counter just one room over. Your stomach twisted with guilt as you looked over at him, his hair a little messy, cheeks flushed from exertion.

It would’ve been nice if things were different.

“I’m moving,” you said finally. “Back to Texas, I think. Maybe even somewhere new. As soon as I’ve saved enough for a down payment.”

Gator turned quickly, anger making his brows furrow. “Leaving?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m getting out of Lehigh, and I think you should too. This place is poison. You know that.”

You watched him swallow, jaw ticking as he stayed quiet. You let the quiet linger in the air, nearly choking on it before he finally spoke. “This is where I belong.”

You nodded and said nothing else. When you woke up in the morning, his arms were around you, and he was drooling into the junction of your shoulder. His hand, flat on your tummy, almost made you yearn for that picture-perfect Tillman family, the one he thought he wanted so badly.

You couldn’t bring yourself to wake him up. When he left, he didn’t say a thing. It felt definite.

#hiiiiiii <3 #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman smut #okay that's all enjoy <3

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bless-my-demons · 1 year ago

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Four

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, cuss words, and… angst

Notes: I fell asleep after I decided to add a Jasper dialogue last night… I’m sorry it’s later than normal lol remember, I told yall Jasper has to make up for his being gone😌��

Word Count: 2373

Series Masterlist

• March 20th, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

The weekend passed by in a blur, I spent it wishing I got more time with Jasper, but he desperately needed to hunt. So that left me with Quil, if he noticed my far-away mind, he didn’t comment, the new video game he picked up Friday occupied most of his attention.

Friday. I jumped off a cliff with Bella, was rescued by Quil’s ex-best friend, and then the object of my every waking thought showed up at my doorstep.

Friday was a long day, to say the least.

Which brings us to today - Monday. I have to go to school as if it were a normal fucking day, like my weekend hadn’t changed the trajectory of my life. Like my other best friend isn’t in Italy right now fighting to save the man she loves.

Slamming the door shut to my locker, I turn towards the direction of second period when a hulking mass at the other end of the hallway stops me short.

The blonde next to him grins, gracefully walking in my direction as if no more than the weekend had passed since I last saw them.

“Life has been rather dull without you.” Rosalie brings me into a delicate hug, the smile on her face growing.

“I missed you too.” The words aren’t much more than a whisper and my heart twists in my chest, they’re really back.

My eyes haven’t left his and they’re so full of sadness. The hallway empties out, but neither of us has managed to move an inch or look away.

Rose nudges me, “Go.”

A simple word, but the command moves my feet. It started off as one step and then two, but then I’m halfway down the hallway in a full sprint. Emmett takes one large step and then another before I fling myself into his arms, wrapping my own tightly around his neck.

“I hate you.” The words aren’t true, but this ache in my chest can’t be described any other way.

“I know.” His words are muffled as he lifts me.

“I missed you every day.” Tears well in my eyes, making it hard to see the grin splitting Rosalie’s face.

“I missed you more.” He argues back.

Safety, that’s Emmett McCarty Cullen. He’s strength and power and softness that only a man his size with his heart could exude. He is the definition of protector - someone that would go to any lengths to safeguard those closest to him. And just his hugs alone could cure anything, the hug of a brother who cares immensely.

“You left me.” The tremble in my voice gives my hurting heart away.

He clears his throat, “And I put him through hell every day for it.”

“He really has.” Rose confirms, full on smiling at me.

Emmett sets me back down on my own two feet, holding my shoulders in his massive hands, “Never again, I can promise you that.”

“Emmett-” I start, but he isn’t having it.

“Nope, we’re already late for class and I have some catching up to do.” Winking, he offers me one arm and his mate the other, leading us in the direction of next period.

• March 21st, 2006 • Home •

Reader

“Hey, you got a sec?” Knocking on the door frame to my mother’s bedroom, I watch as she turns off her tv.

“For you? Always honey, c’mere.” She pats the bed in front of her, her full attention making me a little nervous.

I sit and work up the courage for a few beats. “He’s back.”

“I know, I saw Doctor Cullen at work yesterday.” Her calm answer surprises me.

“I’m not sure what to do, momma.” I pull at her old bed spread, hoping for some words of wisdom.

“Well, you have options.” Her warm hands cover mine and encourage me to meet her eyes. “You can kick him to the curb since he dropped off the face of the earth for six months.”

“Or?” I ask, provoking her to complete her unfinished advice.

“Or, you can give him another chance.” A beat of silence while I weighed her answer. “You don’t have to do it right away either, you can ask for space to think about it. You can make him talk it out too.”

I process the possibility of cutting him out of my life for all of half a second before my heart tells me it’s impossible.

“Talk to him, I know you need to.” My mother has always been able to read me like a book, it’s why it’s so easy to get along with her.

“Why give me options? Why not forbid me to see him?”

Her knowing smile grows, “Because you’ll do what you want anyways. And no matter how much I want to protect my baby,” she lovingly strokes my cheek, “you have to navigate this in a way that heals that pretty heart of yours. I’d be failing you as a parent to not allow you to figure this out.”

“Mom-” tears threaten the corners of my eyes.

“Don’t think that means I’ll cut him some slack.” She jokes, but her tone includes some seriousness. “He hurt my baby.”

“I love you, you know that?”

“Always sweet pea, I love you too.” She delivers a sloppy kiss to my cheek before reclining back to her previous tv-watching position.

Rising from her bed with a lighter heart in my chest, she stops me at her doorway, “I got your back kid, whatever you decide.”

I turn and give her a genuine smile, “I know, thanks mom.”

• March 22nd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Setting my tray down at the dubbed “Cullen table” I make direct eye contact with Edward as I stand before the siblings.

Don’t fucking do that again.

His face splits with a grin. “To which are you referring?”

Leaving her, leaving your family, going to Volterre with a death wish, you fucking idiot.

He actually laughs at my angry directive thoughts, the bastard.

You have people that care about you, you know. My eyes soften as his meet mine seriously. Including me. I’m glad you’re safe. And home.

He nods, unable to meet my eyes now.

“I’d hug you if you weren’t so adverse to physical affection.” Before I finish my statement, he rises from his chair to round the table towards me.

Shock roots me to the spot as his arms envelop lightly around my frame, my arms hesitantly wrapping around the tall Cullen after a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s whispered low enough for just me to hear and he’s returning to his seat.

Emmett’s jaw practically hits the floor, “You’ve never given me a hug-”

“Because your hugs are rather violent in their intensity.” Edward notates.

“But-” Emmett whines.

“No ‘buts’, I’m his favorite.” Sticking out my tongue at Emmett as I take my seat next to Jasper, the jealous vampire launches into a deep explanation of why he must be the family favorite.

“Thank you for starting something I will never hear the end of.” Jasper leans over to whisper in my ear as I grin at Edward who rolls his eyes.

“Glad to be of service.”

Reader

That afternoon I rode with Alice to the Cullen’s after school, something about an intervention with Bella and their family. And naturally, the curious part of me agreed to tag along.

The moment her car comes to a stop in their driveway, Jasper is opening my door and offering me a steadying hand.

“Do you know what this is about?” I ask, watching as Alice skips ahead of us.

“Not a clue, sweet girl.” He answers, leading me inside his family home.

His cool hand enveloping mine sends a pang through my chest, it’s like none of this is real - I’m just in some heavy dream. I’ve wished and hoped for their return with every fucking cell in my body, but now that they’re back? It’s surreal and I’m on edge - I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Standing loosely in a circle in the living room, our attention turns to Bella on the stairs, Edward looming behind her.

“You all know what I want. And I know how much I’m asking for. The only thing I can think of, for it to be fair, is to just vote.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Shut up.” Bella shushes Edward from his grumbling.

Bella is asking them to vote on her becoming a vampire? A slight tremble begins in my hands, this isn’t exactly a debate I’d wished to be a part of. I mean, what would this mean for me? Would we eventually have one of these for me?

“Alice?” Bella asks, opting for starting with the one securely in her corner.

“I already consider you my sister.” She surges forward to wrap her in a hug. “Yes.”

One vote yes.

“Thank you.”

“I vote yes.” The rumble of Jasper’s chest under the hand I have placed there stops my breathing. “It would be nice to not want to kill you all the time.”

It would be nice to not want to kill you all the time. The words ring in my ears and burn my chest, repeating.

Two votes yes.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry to both of you for how I’ve acted. And I’m really grateful that you were brave enough to go and save my brother.” Rosalie’s next sentence a quiet confession within her answer, “But this isn’t a life I would’ve chosen for myself. And I wish there had been someone there to vote no for me. So, no.”

A breath, one vote no.

“I vote hell yeah.” Em spins her around in his excitement, “We can pick a fight with these Volturi some other day.”

Three votes yes, one vote no.

“I already consider you a part of the family, yes.” Esme happily gives her blessing as Carlisle steps forward to look at Edward.

Four votes yes, it’s almost unanimous.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He asks his adoptive father. “You know what this means.”

“You’ve chosen not to live without her, which leaves me no choice. I won’t lose my son.”

Carlisle’s answer is like a gavel being slammed down, sealing her fate, confirming what she wants.

Bella meets my eyes, even I can tell relief floods them as I’m sure anxiety fills mine. She’s going to turn into one of them - a vampire.

Jasper

After a few heavy minutes following the votes of my family, I turn to Y/n.

“Would you like to go home? It’s getting late.” I ask her, but her eyes are distant.

Immediately I gently probe at her emotions, but I can feel her trying to suppress them. I furrow my brow as I look down at her, why is she hiding from me?

I tilt her chin back and she removes herself entirely. Ice, I know as a vampire my core temperature is already low from the absence of blood in my system, but with her physical departure - it feels as though every ounce of warmth has been zapped from my very soul.

“I need time.” Her request is hardly a whisper and her eyes still refuse to meet mine.

Shock roots me to the floor, time? She’s asking for time from me. Not with, from. Away. Without.

And I must grant it to her. I’d give her anything in this world she would ask for.

I remove myself a step back from her even though my chest wishes to tug me forward.

“Emmett?” I ask aloud, not taking my eyes from her, he immediately answers by way of flashing to my side. “Take her home?”

“Of course, but-?” Curiosity tinged with sadness finishes what he fails to ask.

“Just get her home safe, please.” I step aside, forcing my eyes to my shoes as I clear the path to the front door for them.

Emmett escorts her outside and I swear, every bit of strength leaves and threatens to buckle me. I watch as the Jeep’s tail lights disappear down the driveway from the front windows.

“It’s the right thing to do.” Esme lays a hand on my shoulder as she watches with me, I hate the truth in her words. “She needs to process everything, we haven’t given her the chance and now this with Isabella, it’s a lot.”

“I know.”

Love. “Come here.”

I turn into her waiting arms, the overwhelming urge to cry hits me like a fucking freight train when her arms pull me close.

“She will be back, just be patient with her.”

“What if she realizes-”

“Nonsense, she’s hopelessly in love with you.”

I pull back to inspect her face, “What?”

She smiles at me in only the way a mother really can, “My son, trust me. Give her a few days, but she needs to know that love is returned.”

“How do you-”

“I’ve known since the day you first brought her home. I knew then she was yours before you ever figured out she was your singer, I’m a mom like that.” Winking at me, she pats my shoulder. “She makes you happier, lighter. It makes me happy to finally see that in you.”

Venomous tears make my vision swim, more often than not I take the fact that Esme mothers us in ways unique to every single one of us for granted.

Glancing down, I clear my throat like a typical male trying to avoid being emotional, “Thank you, Esme.”

“Dear, you never have to thank me, I love you more than you know.”

“I love you too.” I kiss her on the cheek, our talk having smoothed out my frayed nerves.

Time. I can give her time to think, to process everything that’s happened in the last week. But then she’s mine - she has to know how I feel about her. And if she wants nothing to do with me after that?

Well, I guess I’d give her that too.

But not until after I fight for her, because fighting for her is in my bones. Fighting is all I’ve ever known and it’s time I put it to good use.

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#jasper hale x reader #redamancy series #bless-my-demons #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #jasper hale #female reader insert

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k-hotchoisan · 1 year ago

Note

In honour of you getting 500 followers(congratulations🥳🥳🥳🥳),

Can you no.20 from your masterlist, pretty please?

20. Send dirty videos to Yeosang or Receive audio porn from Mingi?

You KNOW I have a voice thing, let alone for mf SONG mINGI. Just thinking about what kind of sounds he makes…. hMMMM OKAY. 😔✊🏻

Where you’re wondering why your bestie is replying you at erratic intervals, until a voice message pops up that pretty much changes the trajectory of the night.

Genre/Content warnings: smut, audio porn mingi, masturbation, orgasms, dirty talk, mingi that’s enough moans mingi please

Tag list: @bro-atz, @diamond-3

You don’t know why Mingi has this whack ass habit of spamming you messages and replying at once and then, suddenly he just stops.

And then his replies just becomes erratic, sometimes it’s just full of typos, as if he’s in a rush. You could never figure it out. But you never bothered to dig deeper into it, deciding to leave it as it is.

That is, until that one audio message he sends you that one night when you and your friend group were on vacation. The worst part is that he never even addressed it after that.

That night when he was back with his strange texting habits again even though your rooms weren’t even far apart in the vacay house, you were about to just ignore his message and head to sleep, until the status under his contact name changes to “…is recording a voice message”. You furrow your eyebrows, maybe he was tired of filling his texts with funny typos.

The only problem was that the audio message took a little over seven minutes to record and you’re wondering what the hell does he have to say that’s seven minutes long.

Then it sends.

You absentmindedly tap play.

The audio starts off silent, then a few seconds later, you hear what it sounds like is squelching. You lower the volume slightly, and fit the speaker at your ear to try to get what’s even going on.

“Fuck. Oh god. Oh my fucking god”.

It doesn’t take more than a second for you to realise what it was.

And then he fucking moans. One that sounds so desperate and then jumps up in octave, accompanied by more wet sounds.

“God, fuck”, he whines. “Ugnf- god I wanna fuck your fucking pussy so bad, y/n.”

You blink. Wait, what?

“A-ah…” and it sounds like he fucked his hand to a sensitive sensation. Then another whine. “Ughh… so good. Fuck me.”

You feel your face flush. It’s as if he’s right at your fucking ear, in a moaning mess just fucking his hand as his cock leaks more precum to lube up his dick.

It goes on for another couple of minutes, a ton of pussy leaking sounding moans, as he tries to reach his orgasm, and a lot of your name being moaned in between.

“Y/n, fuck. Let me beg for your pussy. Ngh, please. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“I wanna fit my whole cock into her pussy so fucking bad. Wanna make sure she feels just as good as I do, oh fuck.”

He gasps when he feels the knot tightening in his stomach, and you hear it loud and clear.

“Feels amazing. Shit, I think I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum so much…”

“Fuck! I’m cumming. fuckkkkkkkk!”

And his cries as his orgasm drags on, and you never would have thought he sounded so fucking sexy when he cries. His cock only sounds even wetter and wetter. You’re imagining it now being just full of his cum—thick and all lubed up.

“Oh my god, fuck it’s so much. So much cum. Fuck, imagine it’s all in you”, he whimpers.

You rise from your bed, doing your best to ignore how fucking soaked your cunt and underwear was. You storm over to his room, rapping on the door. It takes him a couple of seconds to answer, and when he does, he’s shirtless, and only in his underwear.

You don’t even greet him, pulling up your phone and point to the audio message he sends you. Mingi raises his eyebrows like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

Until you play the audio recording and his eyes blow wide open, and he snatches your phone from your hands. You still have your arms crossed.

“Shit, it got recorded?!” Mingi exclaims even though he’s staring right at the recording he sent. Damn, looks like his little crush on you has been exposed in the wildest way he could ever imagine.

“Fucking take responsibility”, you mumble, pushing him further into his room before shutting the door behind you.

And now, Mingi’s eyes are staring at you in awe when you push him onto his bed and straddle his lap. That night, Mingi’s voice isn’t the only thing that bounces off the walls.

Well at least now you know why he can’t seem to type for shit.

#k’s500thisorthat🌶️#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #mingi #song mingi #song mingi smut #ateez mingi

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theafterglow83 · 7 months ago

Text

Stray thoughts from an unhinged mind caused by a song called Robin

Since my teens, I have always been a Karlie Kloss fan. No amount of vitriol from the Swifty’s has ever strayed or strained my conviction that Karlie is on many levels, and aside from being absolutely gorgeous, a better human being than Taylor Swift.

By that I mean she seems to project a warmth and a level of kindness and humanity out into the world that is so pure and honest, when compared to Taylors, sometimes vengeful and darker persona ~as well as her being Queen Mother to one of the worlds most vindictive and exhausting cults who would gladly fillet anyone at “Mother’s “ request. Taylor (the brand) has made a career and a fortune from feeding her tales of romantic misfortune and presumed ex lovers to her hungry mob with merchandise to match.

Karlie on the other hand has a nurturing and supportive side to her and don’t let her beautiful and seductive exterior fool you for below that sultry surface she gives off a warm and fuzzy golden vibe- like a puppy. She’s sophisticated, highly intelligent, NYC chic and street smart , often silly and maturing like fine wine while somehow becoming more beautiful as she ages. She also appears to be one Hell of a good mother to those babies.

All that being said about their personalities is exactly why I believe Karlie’s sunshine is the perfect match for Taylor and her moody, broken, impulsive ,often over indulgent, midnight rain personality. Not only are they equal in status - they have a Yin Yang balance to them - Only that sunshine can dry up the rain in Taylor .

I’ll continue.

While listening to songs off of the TTPD I was stopped dead in my tracks when I came to the song, Robin. I listened three times and found a tear rolling down my right cheek. I was choked up and the tiny hairs on my arms stood up . To say I was moved would be an understatement. There was something so raw, so pure and so loving in those lyrics. I had to sit with my thoughts for a while but I feel the need to share them now among those who i consider “my people”.

The Kaylors.

Sidebar confession: Yes, I’m a Kaylor.

I firmly believe Taylor Swift, and Karlie Kloss had a long running romantic relationship. They were more than friends. They were lovers too. The level of denial it takes to doubt that is astonishing. It wasn’t just Kissgate that sealed the deal. It’s the way those two looked at each other and communicated in a secret language all their own. They were deeply in love.

I believe it all started prior to the public meet up at the VS Fashion Show and even long before the “your kitchen or mine cookie “tweet.

I believe Taylor and Karlie first met when Taylor was showing up at fashion shows that Karlie was walking in as far back as 2009. Where they had a relationship then? Probably not because they were both involved with others but the sparks were flying. Thats when the foundation was laid. The attraction was there. The seeds planted. Destiny and the Universe did the rest.

Think Love Story lyrics

“We were both young when I first saw you” which I believe Taylor wrote about Karlie and which also happens to be Karlies favorite song. I believe they had an ongoing relationship that continued on until late 2017-early 2018 and then I believe something happened and they broke up, as many long-term relationships often do. My guts tell me it was cheating and it was on Taylor’s part and the regret from that will haunt Taylor for her entire life because it caused the trajectory of their path to change.

Karlie married in 2018 yet many speculate they were still together and the unofficial story is the real trouble actually came in mid 2019.

Taylor was furious over the masters, fingers were pointing everywhere, cheating rumors flew. This entire story certainly has all the drama of a Netflix series that could easily do 8 seasons

There’s so much more to this Masters incident than the public is aware of. Also the fact that Josh’s families company ~ the Carlisle Group provided the funding to Scooter is an often overlooked storyline.

Was Taylor angry at Karlie for that but how could Karlie control that if she was even in that loop of that drama. Or~ was there more -because in any good mystery - there’s always several layers more .

What did Scooter have to leverage getting that kind of money from them to buy the masters? Being Karlie’s manager at the time perhaps he has something on her or Taylor or both of them and used it as that leverage . It’s a whole other rabbit hole that I don’t have time to visit right now but regardless Taylor is still angry about to this very day which tells me it goes way deeper and my gut feeling is that Taylor’s dad was the one involved with knowing things and not Karlie Kloss who got fed to the sharks over the situation.

So I’m going on record here saying I never believed Karlie had anything to do with Masters Heist. I believe that story was used as an explanation to explain their separation. I know there’s a whole other level of messy lore involving this and a love blackout and Trumps election and Karlie’s association with the Kushner’s but I’m going to skip over that season and move on -except to say that it was absolutely shameful the level of hate Karlie was forced to endure because of that and still her sun shinned while she was being made the villain online and much of it still continues to this day. At any point during that scandal Karlie could have spoken out but she didn’t. She quietly took one for the team.

I’m not going to pretend that I know what happened during that murky period or what is happening now - because honestly -I do not…but there have been a strange set clues and way too many “koincidences to simply chalk up to being coincidences.

It’s just a gut feeling but I also don’t believe their connection went fully went away or ever will for that matter. They are and will forever be tied together even in the times they are apart but I kinda think they reunited ( again) in early to mid 2020.

I’ve read all the theories. I’ve heard all the rumors ,I’ve been to the rabbit hole, I’ve climbed out, I’ve fallen back in, and most days now you’ll find me sitting on the edge dangling my feet still and kinda wondering. I live my life ~ they live theirs.

So am I a LSK?

No, not really, but some days …ok, maybe. You see for as much as I try to say no…there’s just this tiny string I can’t help but see so I keep my feet planted on the ground but my mind open.

By open I mean open to the possibility that Taylor and Karlie are in one of those kind of “relationships” where as hard as they try ~they just can’t seem to quit each other and they go through periods of on and off times. “pauses” is what I like to call the brakes or bumps along the way. You know that couple that’s over but they’re never really over ?

Where are they now? I have no idea.

Taylor has another year of touring and promoting and probably Travis. My money says Taylor Swift will be the halftime show at next years Super Bowl.

Karlie, along with her modeling contacts ( Carolina Herrera, Estée Lauder, Donna Karen etc ) is venturing into the business world. Along with running Kode with Klossy, she’s CEO of her newly formed media company. She bought I-D magazine and also Life magazine, which Josh also invested in , this year. She’s got a lot on her plate

Yes, Karlie is married but is she really married in the traditional sense of what we all consider marriage to be? On the surface, yes… but once again- the layers and the lore here is incredible.

What a character she’d be on that Netflix show I imagine in my head . Just give her an Emmy already.

Does she love Josh? I’m absolutely sure she does- but the real question is…is she IN love with Josh? You know- romantic love -which, I as an observer ~don’t believe she is or ever has been. You can just kinda tell and no matter how many pictures she posts the connection just isn’t there and whenever I see her with her beautiful babies (even if he’s in the photo) she gives off that “ single mother vibe “

That level of chemistry, no matter how the pictures are posed~ or the hand in hand walks are staged -the passion ~ the look in their eyes - it just isn’t there and honestly it never was.

They have always given off that bff energy and frankly ~ Karlie’s friendship with her “big brother “ Derek actually feels more real, relaxed and genuine.Then there are the gay rumors ( past and present) surrounding their entire little multiverse ~but we won’t go into them right now either. We’d be here all night.

And yes, Taylor has had her share of public relationships but have they been real? Have they had their moments? probably. Did some become more than PR for a brief period of time. Possibly She’s been linked to everyone she even walks by or talks to but somehow it all pales and fades in time. I’m sure there have been flings along the way but flings don’t fly and usually run their course in that 9 1/2 week period that flings seem to take.

If I’m being honest, as I observe from the treetops all of Taylor’s relationships and Karlies relationship with Josh, they never reach the level of the real connection and happiness that I saw between Taylor and Karlie. That’s something you just can’t fake or reproduce with another .

Whatever is going on with Travis is so cringey and sadly embarrassing.I tend to think it’s PR but if it’s real then he truly is her obnoxious karma and karma isn’t usually a good thing. But hey the moneys good. Maybe they’ll even get lavender married so she can stay in her closet and continue to throw red meat to the $wifties.

The future is yet unwritten.

All that being said, I’ll get back to my original point of this ramble and that’s a song called Robin.

So yes, I’ve heard the rumors, I’ve read the theories, I’ve seen photographs of visual evidence. Karlie Kloss was in Los Angeles during the pandemic, the same place where Taylor was in fort part of 2020. When she returned to NYC if you count the months - she was pregnant even if she didn’t look it. I also believe Karlie was there in the shadows during the Long Pond Studio recordings in Upstate NY. Jack kind of gave it away when he referenced “Joe the dog” as being who he thought Taylor was talking about when she said “ Joe and I wrote a song”

I’ve also heard the rumor that there was a ceremony between them that they tried to pass off as a ceremony between Taylor and Joe which Tree later denied that there was ever a ceremony of “any type”.

Ok buckle up because here it comes

I’ve seen the “turkey baster”( IVF ) post that Karlie made. Like who uses a turkey baster in May? What an odd thing to do unless you were signaling an IVF pregnancy situation. Regardless ~ she was extremely happy that day.

I’ve seen the cinnamon buns post ( think the expression “buns in the oven ) that Taylor made a few days later back in May 2020. She was “proud” of her cinnamon buns.

Happy & proud …hum

Is that a crazy set of coincidences? Hand on whatever holy book you set before me ~ I’d have to say “yes”

And it’s Absolutely crazy considering the fact that Levi was born a little over nine months later.

Add in the fact of how emotional Taylor got accepting her Grammy for Folklore when Arron thanked his “ wife and kids “during the acceptance speech.

For a few moments there you could feel the raw emotion in her as she nearly burst into tears andJack tried to console her. Blonde was gutted. It cut deep.

Sidebar:

Yes Aaron has a son named Robin but he’s 9 years old and other than the name cleverly used for gentle cover of the truth in case damage control is ever needed~ there is no connection to that child or a secret, no showmanship to cover it up or anything that would make Taylor react as she did. Other than his name there is no connection to the words in the song

But the fact that Levi’s birth was announced during the Grammys absolutely does connect.

So I’ll just put a pin in that and move on.

Listening to that ballad yesterday rocked my entire world . It was so soft, gentle and living. So heart wrenching that I just let my emotions flow through me as my mind wandered back gathering and processing all the previous rumors and lore I had heard along the way. It left me rattled as it tumbled through memories. Could it all have been true?

So now I’m just gonna say it out loud running the risk of being attacked and also sounding like a supermarket tabloid…here goes “could Levi be Karlie’s and Taylor’s child?”

I know it sounds crazy…secret love child but …

I’m not trying to out anyone and I want to respect the fact that a child is involved here. Honestly I had second and third thoughts about posting this but if I’m being real ~ it’s also a collective of things that have been shared openly about Taylor and Karlie here for years. Somehow the song was like a puzzle piece that snapped into place.

…those loving words ,the emotion in Taylor‘s voice as she sings about her strong heartfelt attachment to a young toddler, as she encourages him in being wild and free in his wonder years, playing with abandon and roaring at the dinosaurs~

There was real love in those words

Looking out his window over his kingdom (NYC) and speaking gibberish

She also advocates for him keeping his innocence for as long as possible and then speaks of a secret that a inner circle of people have chosen to keep from him” in sweetness” to protect him and the “showmanship” to cover up that secret that he has no idea of.

And as she watches his unabashed play in his toddler purity she prophesies there will come a time in the future when the world he faces will have harsh words for him and she reminds him that he will bounce back like he now does on his trampoline.

“ and you have no idea

Buried down deep and out of your reach

the secret we all vowed

to keep it from you in sweetness

strings tied to levers

slowed down clocks tethers

all the showman ship

to keep it from you in sweetness

way to go, tiger

I’m not crying , you are and Levi looks just like his mommy 🤍

Let’s keep this in the family ✌️🤍🏳️‍🌈

God I love this show .

Stay tuned for next season

#karlie kloss #taylor swift #kaylor

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katsu28 · 1 year ago

Note

☕️ bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw and "you know we need to talk." "about?" "i don't know...last night, maybe?"

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x mitchell!reader, mentions of vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, 1.9k

You shouldn’t have been here at Rooster’s place at this time of night. You should’ve been asleep, in bed, but instead you were here, knocking on his door in the middle of the night, all because you’d just discovered something not even two hours ago that would change the trajectory of not only your life, but probably Rooster’s too.

It took a while, but he finally pulled open the door after your incessant knocking, rubbing his eye furiously as he peered out at who the hell was knocking on his door at three in the morning.

His hair was a riot, brown curls sticking out every which way, eyes bleary. He’d been asleep—of course he was. Anyone in their right mind would be. Except you weren’t really in your right mind right now. You were damn near close to losing it, trying your hardest not to spiral.

“Y/N? What are you—why are you awake? What’re you doing here?” He yawned, scratching his chest groggily. When you didn’t answer, just stared at him like something was wrong, he gave his head a quick shake to wake himself up a bit. “Are you okay? What—come in, come inside, please.”

You obliged, stepping past him and over the threshold into his apartment wordlessly.

“Can I make you some coffee—no, coffee would probably be bad right now. Tea? Water?” He offered, gesturing you towards the kitchen. You settled at one of the barstools in front of the counter, leaning on your elbows, folding your hands. “Not really sure what this situation calls for. Seriously, are you okay? You look…not okay.”

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted. Well, there went easing into the conversation. Bradley’s eyebrows flew sky high. But wait, there was more! “And I’m pretty sure you’re the father.”

He blinked at you owlishly, utterly and completely dumbfounded. “Pretty sure? How sure is pretty sure?”

“Entirely sure, actually. You’re the only guy I’ve been with in a really long time, so either it was a ghost, or it was you.”

That was something you’d been wracking your brain for since the second you saw the three lines on the test. One night, four or five weeks ago, after some sort of celebration at the Hard Deck that you couldn’t even remember now.

You remembered leaving the bar with Rooster, taking him home with you, kissing him a lot. It was entirely consensual, that much you could recall. But anything after that up until when you’d first started to feel icky was a blank.

You honestly didn’t even consider the possibility that you were in fact pregnant until your friend suggested it yesterday. Which is why you took the test. Never did you once think it would turn out positive.

It wasn’t that you didn’t think Rooster would be a good father. In fact, out of everyone you’d hooked up with over the years, he was probably the best option. Not that you really had any option, at this point. It was simple, plain as day. You were pregnant, and Rooster was the father.

Rooster made a face. “Okay, gross. But you took a test? And it was positive?”

“No, it came to me in a dream.” You snapped, glaring at him. “Yes, I took a test! I took three—all positive!”

“Alright! Okay, that’s—wow, okay. That’s definitely…something to take in.”

“I don’t know what to do.” You said quietly, staring hard at the marble countertop.

“Look, it’s late, we’re both tired. We don’t have to do anything right now, we don’t need to make any decisions right now. We have time.” He replied, shaking his head. We. He kept saying we, like he was planning on sticking around. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. “Why don’t you stay the night here and we can talk about this more in the morning?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I can’t, I have to be home to set up for the party—oh my god, the party! My dad.”

“Your dad? What—Y/N, I’m pretty sure he’ll understand. Mav’s more modern than you give him credit for.”

“Understand? Understand what?” You asked incredulously. Then you got what he was trying to say, and you let out a humorless laugh. “Rooster, we’re not telling him. We can’t tell him!”

Your dad’s birthday party was tomorrow, and there were so many things you had to set up and do, this was probably the worst time for you to deal with everything going on right now. It wasn’t every day Pete “Maverick” Mitchell turned sixty. You needed everything to be perfect, and this brand new unexpected news was definitely not that.

Rooster could tell you were starting to panic a little from the weight of everything, so he just went along with what you said, reaching over the counter to cover your hand with his. “Everything is gonna be fine, okay? Just get some rest. Please. Tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day, and you need to sleep.”

You nodded distractedly, barely registering him guiding you towards the guest bedroom and settling you into bed. And maybe you were more tired than you thought, because your eyes fell shut on their own accord, and you were out like a light before Rooster even had the chance to close the door behind him.

-------

The party was going great so far. There was food, music, all your dad’s Navy buddies. Everything was running smoothly, and you definitely weren’t thinking about your conversation with Rooster last night, or the fact that you left his house before the sun even rose to avoid talking about the situation even more.

That was a lie. You couldn’t stop thinking of it, even as you smiled at every one of your dad’s friends jostling him about how old he’d gotten to be completely unaware of the surprise party his daughter planned for him.

With every conversation about what you’d been up to in life lately, you thought about Rooster. The look on his face when you broke the news to him. The way he must’ve felt when he woke up and you were gone. He was probably mad at you, and you honestly couldn’t blame him.

Like he knew it was him on your mind, Rooster materialized next to you, busying himself with browsing the drinks in the cooler to make it look like everything was normal. “Y/N.”

“Enjoying the party?” You asked casually, crossing your arms over your chest. Rooster scoffed softly.

“You know we need to talk.”

Your smile wavered for a split second before returning in full force. You glanced over at him briefly, flicking from his very serious face then back to the party. “About?”

“I don’t know…last night, maybe? You left before I woke up.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nothing happened last night, Rooster.”

“So you’re telling me you’re not pregnant right now.”

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed. Rooster shot a pointed look at you and you caved, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him towards a more secluded area of the backyard. “You wanna talk? Fine. Talk.”

“You said the baby was mine. That’s not just something I can forget, Y/N.”

“And I’m not asking you to forget, I’m asking you to leave it alone for now. It’s my dad’s birthday, Bradshaw. Can’t we just let him have the day before we blow up his entire world?”

“Okay. Yeah, that’s fine. Dropping it for now.” Rooster conceded, holding his hands up in surrender. In reality, all he wanted to do was figure things out, but he could admit that this wasn’t quite the best place nor time to do it. “What can I do to help you right now?”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Whoa, hey, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to stress you out any more, I just—”

“No, Rooster, I’m—” You felt the bile rising in your throat alarmingly quick, and before you could even your sentence, you scrambled for the nearest bush to throw up.

“Oh shit!” Rooster lunged forward, gathering your hair out of your face back towards the nape of your neck as you let it all out. You felt the warmth of his hand on your back, rubbing smooth circles along your spine.

“Fuck.” You groaned, bracing your hands on your knees. “Please tell me no one saw that.”

“Uh…” Rooster’s voice was hesitant and you turned your head, only to be met with the one person you didn’t want seeing you like this. Just your luck that even up there in age, that Navy instilled situational awareness never faded.

“Honey? You alright?” Your dad looked beyond worried, and before you knew it, you were sat down on the living room couch with your father fussing over you, fluffing your pillows, covering you with a blanket, the works. Rooster was hovering over in the corner.

“Dad, I’m fine! I probably had some bad oysters or something at girls’ night yesterday.” You sighed, ducking away from his attempt at feeling your forehead. As much as you didn’t enjoy lying straight to his face, telling him it was most likely a pregnancy symptom was definitely out of the question. “Go back, enjoy your party, please.”

“I should really stay, what if—”

“I’m in good hands, Dad. Rooster’s got me covered.”

“I’ll take the best care of her, Mav, don’t you worry.”

“No doubt in my mind you will.” He clapped Rooster on the shoulder, giving him a sharp nod. He turned to you. “Drink something. Eat something. I’ll check back in later. Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

After waving everybody back to the festivities with assurances that you just needed to lay down for a bit and would be just fine, Rooster reappeared in the doorway a little while later, this time bearing gifts.

“Crackers and ginger ale. Eat them, they’ll help.” He insisted, letting you take the plastic cup from him. “Stole them from the cooler and snack table. Who knew an old man’s birthday party would have just what I was looking for?”

You managed a meager smile, but when you took a tiny sip of the soda, you found that it actually did help a bit. “How’d you know what I needed?”

Rooster rubbed the back of his neck, pressing his lips together with a haphazard shrug. “My mom. When she got sick, they always seemed to help with the nausea. Made sure we were always stocked and ready for whenever she needed it.”

“I wanna keep the baby, Rooster.” You blurted. Rooster nearly choked on his own saliva in surprise.

“You—you do?”

“And I want you to be there every step of the way.” You continued, fidgeting with the stray thread at the edge of your blanket. He took a seat next to you on the couch, rubbing his hands over his legs nervously. “Only if that’s what you want, though. I’m not trying to force your hand or baby trap or anything like that. It’s your choice, completely. But…I’d like it if our kid knew their father. In whatever capacity you’re comfortable with.”

“So, like co-parents? Or…more?” Rooster said slowly, gauging your reaction with wide, almost nervous eyes.

“I’m open to more.” You replied. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but he seemed to look very pleased with that. “I don’t know what this is gonna be like, for either of us, but I like to think we’ll get through it all. Together.”

He nodded, sliding his hand into yours and squeezing. “Together.” What that together entailed, you weren’t all too sure. And although you were nervous as hell about what laid ahead, you were looking forward to finding out.

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hunny-bean · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, I have a Matt x reader x Frank castle smut request. Frank tells Matt what he does with you after his patrol, how tight you are and how good your pussy tastes. Frank takes Matt to his apartment and the two have a lot of fun with the reader. They use the reader like a sex doll. Despite the years with Frank, the reader is too tight and Matt is too big.

In High Demand

Pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt's been overworking himself. Frank knows someone who can help him relax.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit Sexual Content, Threesome, Oral Sex (M and F Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Praise and Degradation, An Obscene Amount of Dialogue, The Reader is Very Slutty (I'm Sorry. . . No I'm Not).

A/N: Well, I'm officially out of the frying pan and into the fire. Of course, by fire, I mean threesome. I'm sorry this took so long for me to finish. I'm a bit of a slow editor. If you have any constructive criticism, I will absorb ALL of it happily. I'm trying to improve my writing skills as much as I can. Also, I'm always taking requests! XOXO.

Read on AO3

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"I really appreciate you helping me out with this, Frank."

Frank looked up from where he was sitting with his back against the brick barrier. "Yeah, well, I owed you one," he replied, "and I'm not a huge fan of being in debt."

The two vigilantes were resting on a vacant rooftop, listening closely for any signs of danger. Hearing nothing, Matt figured the "Devil of Hell's Kitchen" had driven everyone with something to fear from him back inside. He declared his nightly patrol a success. As soon as he switched off attack mode, he felt the exhaustion hit him, and he slumped down on the wall next to Frank.

"So, you're saying you did all this to balance the scales?" Matt asked incredulously.

"Just about," Frank muttered, scratching a little blood stain off the knife Matt let him borrow. "And I only beat up one guy, so it's not like I actually had to work for it."

"I'd say you worked hard enough. I mean, you did make it all night without killing anyone."

"There you go again with that self-righteous bullshit," Frank groaned. "What I don't get is why you would ask someone you constantly feel the need to babysit for help."

Taking a deep breath in, Matt forced himself to stand, getting ready for the walk back to his apartment.

"You were convenient," he explained. "I knew your skills and I knew where to find you. Also, you're not nearly as lethal without all your guns."

"Well, fuck you too," Frank grumbled. He waited for Matt to take a few steps towards the ladder before chucking the knife he was holding directly at the back of his head. He watched it spiral through the air, perfectly on course, only to land gingerly in Matt's hand. It was almost like the knife changed its trajectory at the last second, but Frank knew that wasn't the case. Besides, it's not like he actually wanted to hit him. He didn't even think that was possible.

Matt turned back in his direction. Even through the mask, Frank could feel the raised eyebrow. He ignored it. Hopping up, he made his way over so the two of them could walk together.

"Okay, but why ask for help at all?" Frank pressured. "It's obvious you can handle yourself, and you've never asked before."

"You know as well as anyone how unpredictable these streets can be," Matt began. "You're right, most nights I can handle myself, but. . . I wasn't so sure about tonight. I wanted someone there, just in case."

He was about to start climbing down the ladder, but Frank's voice stopped him before he could.

"Something tells me you're not gonna be so sure about tomorrow, either."

"What?"

"Come on, Red. Look at yourself. You're practically dead on your feet," Frank pointed out. "It's three in the goddamn morning, you just fought like fourteen people, and now, what? You're going home to get your two hours of sleep before work?"

"Four."

"That's still not enough, and you know it."

"I'll be fine," Matt asserted.

"No one can do that every night and be fine."

"Why do you care?"

"Because unlike some people, I actually respect what you do around here, and I don't wanna find out what this shithole would look like without you," Frank raved. There was a long silence after that, both men startled by the declaration.

"You won't."

Matt began his descent, ready to end their conversation. Frank, it seemed, had other plans.

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be taking the ladder," he called down after him.

Matt paused, resting his head against the metal rung in front of him. He was really starting to get aggravated by Frank's incessant concerns. The most annoying part was that he was right. Matt would usually make it home from patrol in two minutes flat, his feet touching nothing but rooftops. He picked a shorter building with a ladder tonight because he feared his body was too sore to make the jumps. To say it had been a rough week would be an understatement.

'You have nothing to prove,' he repeated in his head like a mantra. It worked at first; he made it another three steps down, but then he heard Frank's stupid voice again.

"Why won't you just admit that you're burnt out?"

Matt gritted his teeth, unable to hide his frustration any longer. He gave up on avoiding conflict and began climbing back up to the roof to be on the same level as Frank.

"I am not burnt out," he growled.

There was an awkward pause as Frank looked Matt up and down, thinking. He carefully considered his slumped posture and his shoulders racked with tension. Matt couldn't see him, but he could feel Frank's eyes examining him, and it made him uncomfortable. He was about to say something, but Frank broke the silence before he could.

"When's the last time you got laid?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I'm sorry-"

"You're not a virgin, are you?"

"What? No!"

"So how long's it been?"

Matt wasn't sure how to feel about the sudden shift in the argument. he kinda felt like he was in a train headed towards a cliff that suddenly veered off course. He was safe from the fall, but who knew what lay ahead of him now?

"Why the hell would you want to know that?" he asked.

"Just answer the question."

"Uhh, a few months? I don't kn-"

He was interrupted again by Frank letting out a low, impressed whistle.

"That's even worse than I thought," Frank said.

"You've thought about this?" Matt asked, horrified.

"No, jesus christ, man, it's obvious. You're all tense 'n shit. You look like you haven't relaxed in a while, that's all."

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask. "I think we should go," he mumbled.

"I think you should get some."

"Ok, well it's not like you've got someone waiting for you at home either," Matt snapped.

Frank looked at Matt quizzically, letting out a surprised chuckle.

"What?" Matt asked, exasperated.

"Nothing," Frank responded. "It's just that you really are off your game."

"What are you talking about?"

"There is someone waiting for me at home right now."

"Bullshit."

"I thought you could, like, smell it on me or something," Frank speculated.

Now that he mentioned it, Matt did notice something different about Frank's unique smell. There was a slightly sweeter scent intertwined with his typical smoke and rosewood. He knew Frank wasn't lying, but for some reason he didn't want to believe it.

"I didn't hear anyone else inside when I came to get you," he added.

"She was out with some friends. She should be home by now."

"You realize how made up that sounds, right?"

"Cut the crap. You know it's true."

"Yeah, I know," Matt conceded. "She your girlfriend?"

"Yeah. . . At least, I think she is."

"Do you go out on dates often?" Matt supplied. He made a 'come on' gesture to encourage Frank to follow as he started down the ladder once more.

"I don't exactly know what counts as a date in your world, but I think we do." Frank inhaled sharply as he almost lost his footing on a loose bar.

"Wait, does she know who you are? The terms of your agreement-"

"I remember all the terms, thanks," Frank muttered. "I didn't tell her. She figured it out pretty quick though. Maybe I should grow a beard or somethin'."

"Do you love her?" Matt asked when they reached the bottom. The two of them started off in the same direction for their homes, taking only the deserted back alleys they were all too familiar with.

"Well I've only known her for three months," Frank answered, dusting little flakes of rust off his black jacket, "but I think I'm really starting to. She might just be the prettiest, sweetest girl I've ever known."

"That's a good sign. Okay, one last thing: Does she sleep with other people?"

Frank suddenly looked like he was remembering something funny. "Only if I ask her to," he smirked.

Matt was pretty sure his brain short-circuited, and he stopped dead in his tracks. "The correct answer would have been no," he deadpanned. "Why the hell would you ask someone to do that?"

"Well, Red, there's this thing you should know about my girl. I know she seems all cute and innocent at first, but she's actually the biggest slut I've ever met."

"Okay, TMI," Matt complained. Naturally, Frank ignored him. They began walking again, talking more about Frank's secret girlfriend.

"I'm telling you, man, she's perfect," he bragged. The night we met, I found her blowing some guy behind a bar."

Matt had to admit, that was a little amusing. "And what?" he asked, "you just went up to them and started hitting on her?"

"Not exactly," Frank laughed. "I was just walking home, and the guy she was with thought I said somethin' to him or some shit, 'cause he came over to me and started tryin' to pick a fight, right? Well, anyway, I knocked him out cold. Save the lecture, he was a dick wad and he wasn't even that drunk. But this girl, she thought it was hot, can you believe that? So, she starts hitting on me, saying I look strong and dangerous, 'cause apparently she's into that. She kept asking me to take her back to my place, and she was obviously hammered, so I did, just to keep her safe, you know? Almost immediately, she passes out on my bed, too tired to even try to fuck me anymore. Luckily, when she woke up, she remembered everything that happened, and I gave her my number in case she ever needed me to punch somebody else for her."

"And did she?" Matt prompted. He didn't actually care that much, but it was a decent story and it was definitely helping him keep his mind off his injuries.

"Yeah, two days later," Frank grinned. "She wasn't calling for a bodyguard, though. When I picked up, she told me she hadn't been able to stop thinking about me and was wondering if we could talk for a while so she could 'satisfy her curiosity'."

"She sounds very forward."

"You've got no idea. She's absolutely shameless, especially when she's drunk. You know, when she called me, she spent the whole conversation trying to pretend like she wasn't getting herself off."

"Wait, what?!"

"So, I had to sit there for an hour and listen to her try not to moan, and she's usually pretty good at staying quiet, but sometimes she gets so fuckin' wet that she just can't."

"That's disturbing," Matt lied, and was once again ignored.

"It's real easy for her to cover up the noises coming from her mouth, right? But the other ones. . . not so much. So, the whole time, I was just on my couch talking to her, and I was going absolutely insane 'cause I could hear what she was doing. After a little while, I just snapped and I told her if she wanted to hear my voice that badly, she could come over and I'd help her out."

"And?. . ."

"And she did."

"You slept with her the second time you met?"

"Yep. And the third, and the forth. . . probably the first eight times we got together. I mean, we were just goin' at it like every single night. It was amazing. She's so fuckin' tight, like tighter than most virgins. And she's damn good with her mouth. Like, the first time she sucked me off I almost saw your God. I don't think there's a single thing she can't do. Not much she won't do either."

"Really, dude. Stop."

"Whatever, man. I realized I actually liked her when she spent a full weekend at my place. We went out for lunch and played cards and watched a movie. She was just so smart and funny and I couldn't stand the thought of her leaving," Frank reminisced.

"So, is that when you asked her out?"

"No, that was when I asked her to move in with me."

Matt didn't even know where to start unpacking that. Before he could say anything, Frank stopped walking in front of a tall staircase behind a brick building.

"This is me," he announced.

"Hold on, you still haven't answered my question," Matt reminded him. "Why did you ask her to sleep with someone else?"

"Oh, yeah," Frank mused. "About a month ago, I went out for drinks with this old friend of mine, and was going on and on about how he hadn't gotten laid since his divorce. He seemed about her type, so I took him back to our place and had her take care of him for me."

"And she did it, just like that?"

"I told you she was great, didn't I?" Frank beamed.

"And neither of you cared?" That was something Matt was having trouble comprehending. He'd always been pretty possessive in his relationships, and the thought of sharing his partner was completely foreign to him.

"I am not a selfish man, Red. Anyone who dies without experiencing that pussy has never truly lived."

"Good to know."

Frank leaned casually against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, uh. . . you interested?"

It look Matt a moment to process what he was being asked, and when he did, he didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, he didn't want to take any more help from Frank, especially not for something like this. He didn't want to come between a happy couple, either, even by invite. On the other hand, it had been a while, and the girl that had been described to him sounded remarkably satisfying. He began to realize that Frank was right: He seriously needed to get laid.

Frank decided Matt had been thinking a little too long.

"Do you like eating pussy?"

Matt was startled out of his inner turmoil. "You can't just fucking ask someone that," he hissed.

"Why not? You seem like you would," Frank stated nonchalantly.

"Fine. Yes, I do."

"Good. I'm tellin' you right now, there ain't a woman in all of New York that tastes sweeter than my baby. You get between her legs, you come out knowing things you didn't think were possible, swear to God."

"I find that hard to believe," Matt scoffed.

"I mean it. I could spend hours down there. I did once, actually, 'till we both passed out. . . But I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself, won't you? Come on, man. You really need this."

"I don't know, it just doesn't sound like such a good idea."

Frank rolled his eyes. "We're all adults, we can have a little fun. If you want, you can come up to get your dick sucked and then head home. It doesn't have to be a big thing."

"You seem very adamant about this," Matt noted.

"Well, I do aim to please," Frank quipped. "I'm talking about you and her. I think my girl would have a lot of fun with you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're pretty easy on the eyes, you know. Also, she seems to have a thing for jaded middle-aged vigilantes. So, what do you say? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Murdock."

Matt sighed, and reached up to rub the back of his neck. For the life of him, he couldn't seem to remember any of his reasons for saying no.

"Alright," he decided.

Frank's face broke into a wolfish grin, and he began ascending the staircase towards the window at the very top of the building. Matt followed close behind him, wincing at the pain in his sides as he climbed. When the two men got to the top, Frank knocked four times at the glass.

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You had just finished changing into one of Frank's old t-shirts when you heard the familiar rattling of the window pane. You dried your hands on the bathroom towel and smiled as you went to let your boyfriend back inside.

Using that word was strange to you, but still it made you giddy with excitement. You never thought you would meet someone wonderful enough to settle down with, but finally you had. Frank was the most perfect man you'd ever known. He understood you in ways no one else could, and with him, you were satisfied. That was a miracle in and of itself.

You slid open the creaky window with a hard push, and watched as Frank hopped through it with a gracefulness that contrasted sharply with his bulky exterior. He seemed completely unharmed, as per usual, but you had still been worried about him. There was always that small chance he would come home covered in his own blood and full of broken bones. You were about to tear into him for not leaving a note when you noticed the red figure slipping in behind him.

"Hey, sweetheart, you remember me telling you about Matt, don't you?" Frank asked, cradling your face in his hands and giving you a sweet hello kiss.

"Is this him?" you responded, giving the new arrival a once-over.

"Yeah, this is him. Hey, Red, why don't you introduce yourself."

Matt stepped up to you and offered his hand for you to shake.

"Hi, I'm Matt. Frank's already told me all about you," he said cheerfully, almost like he knew something you didn't.

Frank stepped up behind you, resting his hand on your lower back and leaning in to tell you something.

"If you're up for it, I'm gonna need you to do me a favor, alright?" he mumbled. You could tell Matt heard everything. You remembered what Frank had told you about him and his unique talents.

You turned towards Frank, sliding your hands under his jacket and leaning in close.

"By that, do you mean you're gonna need me to do him a favor?" you wondered. Frank tucked your hair behind your ear and twirled it idly around his fingers.

"He's pretty high strung right now. I figured he might need a little somethin' special to relax."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting laid on my own, Frank," Matt butted in. Frank ignored him.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today?"

You laughed. "Yes, about twelve times this morning. You don't need to flatter me, I'll do it."

"You're amazing," Frank marveled, giving you another chaste kiss before turning to address Matt.

"How about you start by taking that stupid helmet off. Let my baby see what she's working with."

A small thrill ran through you when you heard Frank address you as his. You watched as Matt pulled his mask off, revealing the rest of his face. He looked a little nervous but you couldn't see why. He was absolutely gorgeous. His messy hair from the suit only added to the effects of his boyish charm. You noticed he did look rather tired, but that did nothing to dull his handsome features. You could tell you were gonna have a lot of fun with this one.

"He's even prettier than you," you joked.

Frank swatted you lightly on the ass and pushed you in Matt's direction. "Watch it," he growled playfully.

You stalked over to Matt and kissed him lightly on the cheek before pulling him over to the couch.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" you asked gently.

Matt swallowed thickly, trying to adjust to his situation. "Yeah, I'm okay," he responded. You hoped he'd settle in soon. There was something about him that told you he could be a lot of fun when he warmed up. Then again, that was what you were there for.

"What do you want?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Really, I can just go if-"

"No!" you interrupted. "I don't want you to go, I want to make you feel better. I'm okay with whatever you want, promise."

Matt seemed to be struggling to come up with what to say. Honestly, you were feeling a little nervous too, even though there was no reason to be. Suddenly, you realized what the issue was.

"Hey, Frank?" you called out. He came over to the two of you holding a couple of beers in one hand. He passed one to Matt, who accepted it gratefully.

You waited until he was next to you before admitting your problem to him. "I think we feel a little weird because we don't have any rules. Could you maybe. . . tell us what to do?" you asked.

Frank nodded, sitting down in the ratty old armchair next to the couch.

"Why don't you ask me what you wanna do with him, and I'll give you the go-ahead. Sound good, baby?"

You looked over at Matt who seemed to have relaxed some. You definitely found the source of the problem. All you needed was permission.

"Can I kiss him?" you asked.

Frank's eyes were sparkling with his newfound control. "You can kiss him all you want, sugar."

You slid closer to Matt, turning his head towards yours. "Stop me if you get uncomfortable," you whispered, and then leaned in to press your lips to his. Matt groaned and immediately deepened the kiss, eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue. It was obvious now how much he needed this.

He tasted good in a way you couldn't explain, and you didn't want to pull away until you'd figured out what it was. You could feel the throbbing in your core picking up with every passing moment. Your breath caught when you felt Matt reach up to run his fingers through your hair. Wanting to move things along, you climbed into his lap so you could be pressed against him, chest-to-chest.

"Pull her hair. She likes that," Frank suggested.

Matt complied, tugging gently, then harder when he felt you shiver against him. Leave it to Frank to know exactly what you want and when you want it. You pulled back from the kiss to look at your moderator, rolling your hips hesitantly to gauge his reaction. He nodded, and you watched him palm himself roughly through his pants. That was all the encouragement you needed.

Returning to the kiss, you began grinding down hard against him, hoping that he could feel your movements through his thick suit. Matt reacted in a way that showed you he certainly could, gasping and grabbing onto your hips to push up against you. You moaned when one particularly hard thrust allowed you to feel the outline of his cock through your clothes.

"Oh, what the fuck," you breathed, pulling away from the kiss in shock. There was no way in hell he was that big. You settled your weight fully on his lap, gently rocking back in forth to feel more of him. You had to make sure that you weren't just imagining things. You weren't. He was absolutely fucking huge. You weren't sure how he was supposed to fit inside you, but dammit if you weren't excited to find out.

Matt seemed amused by your reaction to your recent discovery. He could smell the sudden increase in your arousal that accompanied the feeling of you getting wetter. You felt his hands tighten on your hips, holding you still as he grinded up against you. Every thrust was deep and dirty, inciting the growing heartbeat between your legs. It felt like he was showing off, or using his knowledge of a secret you had to tease you.

"Feel something you like, baby?" Frank asked from the sidelines.

"Uh-huh," You responded inattentively. You were too focused on the feeling of Matt's bulge rubbing against you to say much more than that.

"Why don't you head on down to the bedroom, alright sweetheart? We'll meet you there in a minute," Frank urged.

Reluctantly, Matt released you and you wandered down the hall to wait for the two men to come join you.

Frank waited for you to be out of earshot before moving to the couch next to Matt. They sat for a second, sipping at their drinks before Frank spoke.

"I know you have a fuck ton of ideas about how you should treat a woman, but I'm gonna need you to forget that shit before I take you back there, okay? I'm doing this for you, but if you don't make this good for her, I will kick you out, got it? She's not interested in your kindness tonight. She wants you to treat her like an object. Like a dumb whore you're just using to get off. I know you've got a dark side in there somewhere, Red. I need you to tell me right now if you think you can use it."

Matt never expected that to be something that would intrigue him. It had always seemed so cruel and taboo. . . but if it was what you wanted. . .

"I can."

"Good." Frank stood up and began walking towards the bedroom. After a few steps, he remembered something and turned back around. "Also, what the hell, man? I'm not letting you fuck her without stretching her out first. I know I said you could hurt her, but I don't want you to make her bleed."

When they made it to the bedroom, they found you laying back against the pillows, gently teasing your clit through your panties. When they came through the doorway, you pulled your hand away, looking up at Frank shyly. He raised an eyebrow at you, scoffing at your innocent expression.

"You couldn't wait two minutes?" He sighed. "I'm not gonna embarrass you in front of our guest, baby, but next time you might not be so lucky."

"I'm sorry," you whined.

"No you're not." Frank came around the bed to sit next to you and directed Matt to sit down on your other side. "I think it's about time to take this off, what do you think?" Frank asked, tugging on the hem of your (his) shirt. You nodded, and he pulled it over your head, leaving you completely naked save for your soft cotton panties.

"What do you want right now, baby? His mouth or his fingers?" Frank offered, turning your head towards him. You were a little confused that those were your only options. Weren't you supposed to be making Matt feel good? Confusion aside, you still couldn't choose. They both sounded very appealing.

"Damn, Red. You must've done a good job back there. She's already having trouble thinking," he teased, flicking you gently on the forehead. "Why don't you use both?" he suggested.

Matt smiled, beginning to understand how Frank expected him to treat you. "If she's all fuzzy from a little kiss, are you sure she'd be able to handle both?"

"I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

You weren't sure what it was, but when Frank talked about you like you weren't there, a combination of arousal and safety washed over you. It always seemed to put you in a different headspace.

Matt climbed on top of you, finding your lips again as he slid your underwear down past your knees for you to kick off. He pulled your legs apart and began tracing your folds gently with his fingertips. Every touch was a completely new sensation. Matt was experimenting, figuring out where you were most sensitive, which motions you preferred and how hard he had to rub your clit to make you whimper.

He circled his fingers around your entrance, dipping into you just enough to feel you pulse and tighten around him, trying to pull him deeper. Right before you started begging, he pushed two of his fingers all the way in, curling them to explore your soft walls. It didn't take long for you to gasp and melt into the pillows as he brushed against your sweet spot. You hid your face in his neck, whining as he assaulted it over and over while bringing his thumb up to massage your clit.

Frank shushed you gently from his spot on the bed, reaching over to stroke your hair as you shook from the intense stimulation. You felt yourself dripping down Matt's fingers, and you could hear the wet sounds you were making as he fucked them in and out of your tight heat.

He pulled you right up to the edge before you heard Frank tell him to stop.

"Not yet," he muttered. "She'll get worn out after the third one, so you should probably make 'em count."

You huffed as Matt pulled his fingers out, earning you a proud and dangerous smirk. He gave you another sweet kiss as an apology.

"Sorry, angel. I don't make the rules," he reminded you.

Any disappointment you felt was soon replaced by the image of Matt sliding down the bed to get between your legs and pull them over his shoulders. Almost as an afterthought, he brought his hand up to his mouth to taste the palm you had drenched. As soon as his tongue touched his skin, you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened to look almost predatory, and he tightened his grip on your thighs. He glanced in Frank's direction, silently begging for his permission to proceed.

You didn't see Frank's approval, but you knew exactly when Matt got it because he dove into your cunt like it was a fucking desert oasis. In a lot of ways, it was. He wasted no time with teasing, instead shoving his tongue inside of you as deep as he could get it. Your vision went blurry as your eyes rolled back in your head. Grasping desperately at his hair, you pulled him harder against you until you were worried you would hurt him, but he barely seemed to notice.

He drew his tongue out to give your soaked pussy a few hungry licks, drinking up everything that dripped out of you. The wet noises he created with every suck or swipe of his tongue were enough to have your face flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

Feeling ignored, Frank grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a fervent kiss. He dislodged one of your hands from Matt's hair, guiding it over to rub at his clothed erection. You squeezed him through his pants, humming happily when you felt him twitch and grind up into your palm. Deftly, you undid his button and zipper, tugging his pants down just enough to slip your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. You didn't do anything else until he said it was okay.

"You want it, baby?" he murmured against your lips. You nodded, pushing your hand farther in, but you just barely managed to brush against it before he grabbed your wrist. He broke the kiss to look you in the eye, moving his hand from your jaw to gently hold your neck.

"You gotta use your words, sweetheart. You know that," he crooned.

"Please, can I touch it?" you sighed, moaning when Matt started stroking your clit again. Frank used his grip on your wrist to pull your hand deeper in until you could firmly grab his aching cock. You began tugging it slowly as it pulsed and hardened further in your grasp. You swiped the pad of your thumb over his slit and felt him drip onto your fingers, easing the glide of your palm.

You felt yourself getting close again when Matt stuffed his fingers back inside you and sucked hard at your clit. This time, no one stopped you from falling over the edge. You sobbed as your release rushed through you, tightening your thighs around Matt's head and your hand around Frank's cock. Matt groaned against you, savoring the scent and the taste of your satisfaction. Frank hissed at the added pressure, thrusting up into your fist which was slick with his precum.

The two men reluctantly pulled away from you as you came down from your high, giving you time to catch your breath. They returned to their positions on either side of you, stroking your hair or your shoulders as you refocused on reality.

"You were right," Matt announced, breathing almost as heavily as you were.

Frank smirked, looking over you to assess Matt's disheveled state. "Yeah? 'Bout what, exactly?" he asked.

"Everything," He admitted dreamily. To anyone who didn't know the effect you had on fortunate men, he might seem drunk or high. You supposed he kinda was.

"You were talking about me?" you whispered, hiding your face in Frank's neck. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"I was just braggin' about how good you are, baby," he promised.

Matt laughed quietly at Frank's statement like it was an inside joke no one else would understand.

"He said a lot more than that," Matt disclosed to you. "He said you were the biggest slut he'd ever met. Honestly, he would not shut up about how tight you were, or how good you tasted. I thought he was exaggerating, but I think you just proved me wrong."

You smiled into Frank's shoulder, enjoying the attention. He tapped you lightly on the hip to get you to focus on him.

"I believe you were just given a compliment," he signaled.

Taking the hint, you rolled over to face Matt, angling his face towards you to give him a soft kiss as a thank you.

You looked down to where he was straining against the fabric of his suit. A small wet spot was becoming more visible at the tip of his swollen bulge. You caught yourself before you stared for too long, worried you might start salivating if you let your mind wander far enough.

"That looks uncomfortable," you pointed out. "You should probably take it off before it starts hurting you."

Matt agreed, standing up beside the bed to start stripping off his clothes. If he were dressed normally, you would offer to help, but you didn't even know where to begin with that thing.

"I'm sure she wants to return the favor," Frank advised Matt. "I'll go ahead get her stretched out while you use her mouth, alright?"

When Matt was in just his boxers, you tugged him back down to take your spot in the middle and climbed on top of him. Frank had stood up to finish taking off his own clothes, and when he was done, he kneeled behind you on the bed to get you in the right position.

You found yourself face-to-face with Matt's thinly veiled hard-on and your ass up high for Frank to take you from behind. He slid three of his fingers inside you, pumping them in and out a few times to see how relaxed you already were. As soon as you had freed Matt from his final barricade, Frank pulled his fingers out and shoved his cock inside you in one smooth thrust. You moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, wincing at the stretch but enjoying it nonetheless. Frank gave you a moment to gather your bearings before he began to move.

"Focus on him, baby. He's the one you're supposed to be paying attention to," Frank directed. That was easier said than done when you were being relentlessly fucked from behind, but you had been wanting to get your mouth on him for a while now, and you weren't gonna pass up the opportunity.

Now that you were seeing him in person, Matt's size was almost intimidating. You were glad Frank took it upon himself to stretch you out first, because you were sure you'd be feeling it in your stomach when it was time to switch. His head looked tight and angry, and you watched as a small bead of clear fluid welled out of the tip and ran down the side. You leaned in to catch it with your tongue, whining softly at the taste.

"There you go, sweetheart," Frank praised.

You licked a long stripe up the underside, stopping when you got to the top to suckle gently at the head. You wrapped your hand around the base to stroke him firmly as you focused on taking the first few inches comfortably. It was already stretching your mouth quite a bit and your jaw was aching from trying to force yourself down on it. Before long, your spit was dripping onto your fingers and sliding down to settle at the base, creating slick sounds as you tugged at his length.

You moaned around him when Frank gave a particularly pointed thrust, nailing your spot dead-on. Provoked by your reaction, he repeated the same motion until your eyes rolled back in your head and you could no longer focus on the task at hand.

"Come on, pretty girl. You can take more than that," Frank fussed. "If you want his help, you can ask for it. Don't be shy, baby."

You were reluctant to ask because you wanted to prove yourself to Matt, but you didn't think you would be able to take more on your own. Usually, you were pretty good relaxing your throat, but there was no way you could swallow even half of him without choking. If you wanted to make him feel good, you would need him to take over and force you to blow as much of him as he wanted.

You pulled off of his cock teasingly, hollowing out your cheeks on the way up and swirling your tongue around the tip. You gave it one more little kiss before resuming your strokes, looking up at him to see which motions garnered the best reactions.

"Please," you whined, using your other hand to guide his to your hair.

"Please what, sweet girl?" Matt asked, petting you gently where you placed his hand. You swallowed your pride, giving in completely to both of them. You no longer had anything to prove. You were ready to be used however they saw fit, not caring about anything except making them feel good.

"Please, fuck my mouth."

"Aww, is it too big for you?" Matt consoled, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Do you need my help, angel? You're already being fucked on one end, is that not enough?" he mocked, tightening his grip on your hair.

He knocked your hand away from his cock, replacing it with his own so he could rub it across your lips. You opened your mouth for him, and he slowly pulled your head down, forcing you to take him in until you choked. He held you there for a moment, groaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of your mouth before letting you take a breath. He continued like that for a while, guiding your head up and down, forcing you to go deeper each time until you couldn't take anymore.

Behind you, Frank wedged a finger in beside his cock, grunting at the added friction. You gasped at the new stretch, your release slamming into you unexpectedly. You arched your back and pushed into the feeling as he deftly attacked your sweet spot. Frank grinned at your reaction, smacking your ass once to watch you jump and hear your muffled yelp.

"I'm just tryin' to get you loosened up. I didn't mean for you to like it that much, you slut," he teased affectionately. He slipped in another finger, curling them to tug gently at your entrance until he felt that you were ready.

He took his fingers away, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he slid his cock out too, leaving you completely empty. He left a sweet kiss at the base of your spine, letting you know you had done a good job, and moved around you to talk to Matt.

"She's ready for you, if you're interested," Frank informed cockily. He watched how Matt was thoroughly fucking your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust, pulling you down to meet him half-way. You were doing much better than Frank had expected you to. It looked like your mind was somewhere far away, and you were just letting Matt use your mouth as a cocksleeve.

He started slowing down his movements, letting you up further and further, until you were back to just sucking at his head while he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. Finally, he pulled you off of him with a soft, wet pop, edging out from under you so he could switch places with Frank. You whined at your sudden emptiness, burying your face in Frank's stomach as he took Matt's vacant spot.

"Is she always this desperate?" Matt asked, replacing Frank behind you. Frank laughed, caressing your head softly as you began mouthing and licking at his abs.

"Pretty much. Actually, she's doing better than she usually is. I think she's just upset that she didn't get you to finish."

"Really? She likes that part?"

"Oh, she loves it. Some days, she even asks me to pull out so I can come in her mouth. Ain't that right, baby?"

You nodded into his hip, sucking a dark bruise into his v-line.

"Why don't you go ahead and finish me off," Frank suggested to you. "I'm sure it'll make you feel better."

He grabbed himself around the base, enticingly pressing the wet head against the seam of your lips. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth and swallowed him all the way down. You moaned lowly, purring at the feeling of being able to take him comfortably down your throat. He wasn't small by any means, but he was more familiar and significantly less jaw-breaking that Matt.

"Fuck, baby," Frank groaned, tugging at your hair. You were content just to stay like that for a while, holding his heavy length on your tongue and feeling him subtly grind his tip against the back of your throat. With your head still, you could feel every little twitch and taste yourself in every drop that leaked down your throat.

"You wanna move at all?" Frank asked, his muscles tight with restraint. In response, you nuzzled your nose against his skin, swallowing around him in the hopes that he'd let you stay there.

"No? You just like having your sweet little holes filled, huh? That's fine, sugar. You don't have to move an inch, but I'm gonna need more than that if you wanna make me come. Do you wanna make me come, baby?"

You hummed your assent, the vibrations sending a shiver up Frank's spine.

"Then suck," he commanded, and you obeyed. You used as much suction as you could manage, creating a satisfying friction without all the typical motions. You teased the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue, listening to his quiet grunts as you drew him closer to the edge.

Behind you, Matt was listening to the sound of your wet cunt dripping onto the bedsheets. He kneaded your ass and thighs in his hands, ensuring that you were fully relaxed before trying to fuck you. Soon, he was nestling his cock between your soaked folds, lining himself up with your tight entrance.

He rubbed the small of your back as he began pushing himself in. He was met with an alarming amount of resistance, and he didn't even get the first inch in before you were clenching down around him and letting out a pained whimper. He pulled back, afraid he would tear something if he carried on.

"Frank, it's not gonna fit," Matt told him. Frank huffed, too busy chasing his own pleasure to think about problem-solving.

"It'll fit, just keep going," he reassured. "She likes the stretch. Hurry up and fuck her already."

"If I tried, I would break her," Matt warned. "Why don't we test out a different position?"

"Fine. Hang on for just a second."

Frank tightened his grip on your hair, whispering a quick apology before pulling you halfway off of him. He gave you no warning before he was slamming back in, forcing a surprised squeak out of your chest as he ruthlessly fucked your mouth. Barely a minute passed before Frank's thrusts grew sloppy and more desperate. His cock pulsed wildly against your tongue, and he let out a guttural groan as he came hard down your throat. You eagerly swallowed every drop that spilled out of him, waiting for him to soften a bit before releasing him from your mouth. Laving sweetly at the sides, you cleaned him up as best you could before he pushed your head away from oversensitivity.

"Alright," Frank mumbled, scooting over so you could take his spot in the middle. "On your back, baby."

You flipped over to face Matt, opening your legs so he could settle in between them.

"Pretty slut," he commended, leaning in to kiss you as he lined up with your needy hole once more. "We're gonna make it fit, alright? Don't you worry your cute little head about it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he began pushing his hips towards yours, his thick cockhead stretching you out obscenely. You winced at the pain, trying to force yourself to relax, but it wasn't working. Matt grunted at the vice grip you had on him, but he didn't advance further until he felt you could handle more.

From beside you, Frank played with your hair and kissed your neck in all your favorite spots until he had taken your mind off the pain. When Matt felt you unclench, he gave you another inch, once again stopping to allow you time to adjust. He continued on like that for a while, feeding his cock into your pussy in small increments until he was completely buried inside you.

As soon as the pain subsided, feeling something that deep was absolutely incredible. You felt yourself get wetter when you realized you could just barely make out the outline of his length poking through your tummy. It was evident to both of you from the very start that this wasn't gonna last long.

"Holy shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Matt groaned, starting a series of very shallow thrusts to get you used to the feeling. "This is what you were made for, sweetheart. You feel so fuckin' good," he praised. Slowly, he began picking up speed, fucking you harder and deeper like he couldn't control it anymore. You felt so full, you figured it was a miracle that he was even able to get half-way in. You couldn't stop the noises that Matt punched out of you with every heightened thrust. Because of his immense size, there was never a moment when he wasn't rubbing directly against your most sensitive areas.

Matt could sense that you were getting close, and he knew he wouldn't be far behind you. He started snapping his hips into yours impossibly harder, spurred on by the prospect of your impending release.

"You gonna come on my cock, angel? It's okay, you can come," Matt encouraged. He heard you cry out and smelled the sudden spike in your arousal. He knew he had you right on the edge. "Come for me sweetheart," he breathed.

You almost screamed as you came, your body arching up off the bed, every muscle tightening and trembling as your pleasure coursed through them. Matt cursed at the feeling of your walls clenching and fluttering around him. He let out a subdued moan as he fucked into you three more times before coming deep inside you. You felt the comforting warmth dripping down your thighs when he slipped out and collapsed on the bed beside you.

When you came down from your high, the night's exertion finally caught up with you. You cuddled into Frank's chest, and he pulled you closer, murmuring to you about how good you were for them. Matt slotted his body into place behind yours, leaving kisses on the back of your neck and stroking your side gently.

"Thank you," he whispered, and before you could respond, he was already asleep. You were about to follow suit, but a thought popped into your head, keeping you awake.

"Is this gonna be a one-time-thing?" you asked Frank, opening your eyes to see his face. He didn't seem surprised by your question. Honestly, he seemed like he'd been expecting it.

"It doesn't have to be," he responded. "If he's ever up for it again, I'd be fine with it."

You nodded, closing your eyes again and starting to drift off to sleep. You passed out in less than a minute, but not before you heard Frank say something that, in the morning, you thought must have been a dream. Nevertheless, it was nice to pretend it was real.

"I love you, baby."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#frank castle fanfiction #punisher #frank castle smut #frank castle #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal smut #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock smut #charlie cox #frank castle x matt murdock x reader

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novantinuum · 6 months ago

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Pink Onyx AU- An Analysis and Theory Post, Part 1

[Part 1- You are here!] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5]

Howdy! Those of you who have followed me for a while have probably been seeing my reblogs of the @pink-onyx-au comic made by @ceephorsshitshow. Well, today I wanna share with you something a little different than my usual SU meta… because today I’m gonna analyze this really cool fan work with the same level of seriousness as I do canon. (Like. Seriously. This first post alone is really, really long. I put most of it under a cut.)

This particular comic is a very special one for me to watch unfold, because it’s evident that a lot of deep care and attention to detail has been poured into its creation. There’s fascinating bits of expanded character development to chew into here, as well as plenty of mysteries and lingering questions for us readers to muse and theorize over. If you follow me for Steven Universe and haven’t read this AU yet I highly recommend you check it out. The most basic pitch is that it explores what a fusion between Steven and Jasper might look like, and does a LOT of deep-diving into the similarities and differences of both of those characters’ psyches.

Here’s the episode masterpost on tumblr.

And you can find it on Tapas, too!

(Note: For the purposes of these posts, I was given permission by the comic artist to post screenshots of various pages where relevant in this discussion. For each frame used I will list the episode and page number for easy reference. Additionally, this post and all future ones on the topic will contain full spoilers for the comic thus far.)

Now with all that introductory stuff out of the way, here we go!

So, on the final page of the most recent update, we get one hell of a visual plot bomb for Steven as ol’ Onyx unfuses:

(Episode 9: Page 22)

He’s now visually expressing remnants of his corruption, where before he was not.

And it’s this mysterious plot point in particular that got me wanting to analyze this comic more deeply in the first place. This is completely new for him in this story. Thus far, he’s never expressed any of these remnants when he’s just himself- not in the way Jasper does. So it made me wonder… how might this shift in his appearance play into the ultimate trajectory of the plot? How does Steven suddenly showcasing corruption scars integrate into the larger story that is being spun here about him and Jasper and how they relate to each other?

Well, there’s a lot of comic details and story lore we need to unpack first before I can take my best theorizer’s stab at this. Let’s dig right in.

Prelude: The analyst’s treasure is in the speech bubbles

Anyone who’s been a fan of this comic for a while has probably noticed these fun visual details already, but I’m going to take a moment to break down what I believe each speech bubble style signifies for folks who may not have context. It’ll make some of my analysis later a bit easier, too, ahah.

So. Speech bubbles. What kinds do we have here?

(Episode 1: Page 6)

Style number one: Solid with black text

This style is standard for non-fused characters, and is also utilized when a fused character is speaking whilst in a state of internal harmony.

Steven is pink and Jasper is orange, of course. Onyx’s speech bubbles are a distinct darker pink, and the main three Crystal Gems get their own colors as well. More minor characters get white bubbles.

(Episode 1: Page 10)

Style number two: Scribbly pink lettering overlaying black text

Whenever you see this type of speech bubble, it’s a sign that there is some level of internal discord going on within Steven or Onyx that is related to their diamond side. It usually shows up when one of the two is in pink mode, but from what I can tell this is not a solid rule.

(Episode 2: Page 12)

Style number three: Pink/orange mixed bubbles

This is how we see Onyx talking for a good portion of the early comic. Their speech bubbles are a clean mix of Steven’s pink and Jasper’s orange. And most vitally, the color on the top and the tail signifies which of them is “fronting” at that moment.

(Episode 3: Page 11)

Style number four: White bubble with solid pink text

So far, this style has only been used to represent dialogue that is being spoken by Steven’s gem half exclusively. Which makes things very interesting, as in Steven’s own remembrances of shattering Jasper on the very first page of the comic, the line “I have been holding back!” is shown in this specific style, instead of the scribbly pink lettering that signifies internal discord.

There is one additional sub-style here- and this is the one moment where we get Onyx’s mixed bubble but WITH the solid pink text.

(Episode 3: Page 11)

I believe these two styles pretty much mean the same thing… only, the white/pink text is either viewed within memory or a metaphoric fusion mindscape where we the viewer are actually “seeing” Steven’s instability, and thus can “see” his gem half as a separate entity there. While, in reality, this is an argument Onyx is having with the disparate pieces of themself.

(Episode 4: Page 9)

Style number five: Pink/orange tye-dye mixed bubbles

When you see that darker shade of pink start dappling into the standard mixed bubbles, this indicates that there are small whispers of Onyx’s true personality beginning to surface, instead of them constantly being wrested back and forth between Steven and Jasper’s conscious control.

(Episode 4: Page 16)

Style number six: Pink/orange mixed bubbles, but with a darker pink tail

From this page onwards, Onyx’s speech bubbles always have their darker pink shading the tail no matter who is fronting. Sometimes there are little lines of another color etched out of it, and sometimes the tail is solid dark pink. I like to believe that when it’s solid, it means that Onyx is just a little closer to reaching a fully harmonious state than when it’s not.

(Episode 9: Page 6)

Style number seven: Onyx speech/thought bubbles with a hint of pink/orange underlying

This style seems to signify moments where it’s still Onyx fully in control of themself and their actions/words/thoughts, but they’re taking subtle influence from their components or accessing their memory a bit.

These are all of the distinct styles I have caught so far, but quite honestly, it would not surprise me if I am missing something. All of this to say… pay close attention to the speech bubbles. They can tell you a lot about Onyx’s state of mind throughout the story.

Now with all this established, I’d like to finish off this first post with my first big discussion point.

Question One: What does Jasper actually know about Steven’s “meltdown,” if anything?

The AU author recently solidified this comic’s placement in the SUF timeline in an ask response, saying that the first episode takes place just a week after Steven’s corruption event.

I’m glad this point was clarified, because it was super vital information which deeply influenced the way I analyzed Steven’s actions and responses in my recent re-read… it means this experience is still super raw for him. This is VERY important and we’ll get back to this in more depth later in future posts. But first, let’s explore what Jasper knows of this event.

The full extent of her knowledge is unclear-

(Episode 1: Page 6)

In Episode 1, Steven briefly alludes to his corruption as seen above… referring to it as “[his] meltdown.” Notably, Jasper does not seem to ask any questions about this stray comment. This COULD suggest that she knows what happened to him a week prior via hearsay, but given the context of the rest of the scene and the fact that she’s as isolated as she is out here I genuinely wonder if she thinks Steven’s so-described “meltdown” is his shattering of her.

This idea would make a good deal of sense, as she doesn’t start to make any commentary on the topic of corruption at all until they’re actually fused- with Steven bringing it up first.

(Episode 2: Page 14)

On this page, Steven takes note of Onyx’s very visible spikes (which are Overtly in the same placement as his own when he was corrupted), and initiates the musing upon his own corruption himself.

With the way Jasper phrases her response, the vibe I get is that she somehow gleans a bit of ambient shared knowledge about what happened to him through their fusion.

(Episode 2: Page 15)

“That human form you wear must have been hiding your markings.” This quote is SUPER vital. We’ll come back to this later on in this post series, too.

(Episode 2: Page 15)

It’s clear that Jasper doesn’t REALLY understand what he went through or what caused it, since she then outright mistakes the casual woes and body pains of organic life as corruption. (As seen above.)

(Episode 8: Page 4)

But later on, she outright relates to him over their shared experience of past corruption, so she must at least know enough from mere ambient thought-sharing by this point to recognize it happened.

It’s obvious that she’s barely scratched the surface on fully understanding her fusion partner, though. Neither of them have. It’s gonna take a lot of fusion, comedic mishaps, and genuine conversation to get there. All in good time, I’m sure.

Please do join me tomorrow at 7am PST for the next post in this series! This has been a blast to write up and muse upon.

#su #su future #steven universe #jasper #pink onyx #su meta #pink onyx au #my post stuff

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wildestdreamsblog · 1 year ago

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Latibule VI

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: never tell me I don’t love my readers when I’m here writing when I just got my heart broken hehehehe

Masterlist, Latibule V

You turned around when you heard a dull thump of mug hitting the wooden table, distracting you from looking at the stars. Suga was standing behind you with his own steaming cup of coffee, looking tiredly at you before taking a seat.

“Finally got him to sleep?”

He sighed before taking a sip from his coffee. He brushed his hair away from his face as he looked up at the stars. “Seriously, who needs bedtime stories in order to sleep?” He scoffed, remembering how Jackson insisted that he read him stories because, and he quoted, ‘Ahjussi has a deep, nice voice perfect for princes and monsters’.

See, he didn’t even know why he digressed, but that little child looked up at him expectantly that he found himself doing voices that made the child laughed. It was so out of character for him, the big, bad mafia. If his men saw him like that, they would surely thought he hit his head or something. Even he thought that he hit his head. Otherwise, why would he do all those things?

“Children, Suga,” you chuckled at his exhausted face before returning your gaze at the stars, of how they twinkled back at you, of how tragically beautiful they were. You never tired of looking at them night after night, committing them to memory, admiring them from afar. “Didn’t your parents read to you when you were a child?”

He chuckled tonelessly. His family wasn’t exactly…conventional. Hell, if he was raised with normal childhood where parents loved their kids, would he have turned out fine and not the fucked up man he was? The one who was incapable of love?

You looked at him as he looked up at the stars, his hands resting behind him, supporting his weight. The night was quiet, peaceful even. He looked so stoic, so tranquil that you thought he would never answered. After all, you practically knew nothing about him. For heaven’s sake, you had to name him because he refused to give you his name. Despite him existing in your life for months, you didn’t know any truth about him. He was always quick to dodge your questions, asking you questions of his own instead of answering. You didn’t expect him to tell you any of his truths.

This was also the reason why you convinced yourself not to look too much into what you felt, or how your heart seemed to calm when he was near…or how you felt like you were no longer alone for the first time since that tragedy that changed the trajectory of your life. This was all temporary, you kept telling yourself.

One day, he would leave and you would be alone again.

However much to your surprise, he finally answered. “My mother…used to sing lullabies to me every night,” his deep voice divulged, his eyes still trained to the stars you loved to look up to every night. This was the first time he talked about her, the first time he looked back on the nightmare that was his childhood. “She loved singing those French love songs,” he chuckled humorlessly, remembering how her voice calmed the young Yoongi.

“She’s probably worried about you right now…” you mused, thinking of how he had been gone from his normal life for months now. What parent would have not been worried, you thought.

He smirked before looking at you with emotionless eyes. “Why? She’s dead. And even if she’s alive, I don’t think she’s the kind to be worried.”

You frowned, surely that wasn’t the truth, you thought. “Suga-“

He leaned in, looking intensely at you, taking your space as though it was his. He placed his fingers under your chin, tilting your face to his liking. “She gave me this scar,” he whispered, his tone light like he was merely talking about the weather. “Daddy dearest made her choose. Her face-“ he tucked your stray hair behind your ear, his fingers touching your softly as though he wasn’t telling you his tragic childhood. “-or my eye. Guess which one she chose?”

Your lips trembled at what he said. You struggled to look at his eyes, your eyes shifting. What kind of twisted parents would hurt their child? What kind of demon would scar a helpless child? This close and you could see how deep the scar was and it pained you to think of the young Suga bleeding and crying as he clutched his eye.

“And now, I’m hideous,” he sneered, taking your silence as rejection, as disgust, as loathing. He was about to step back when you reached out and slowly, oh so slowly, traced his scar.

“Who told you that?” You asked softly, looking at his eyes with sincerity that it terrified him because no one had ever looked at him like that. You smiled at him, “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, Suga.”

He looked at you with wonder, his expression slowly relaxing. How could an angel such as you thought of him as beautiful? If…if you knew what he had done, what he was capable of doing, would you still willingly touch him?

Would you still call him beautiful?

Would you finally see him as the monster that he truly was?

You were about to pull away from him when he laid his hand on yours, unwilling to be separated from this feeling that he couldn’t name for how could he when he was never shown love? When he was never taught of love?

How could he knew he was falling for you when that emotion was foreign to him?

“I-is your father still alive?”

He shook his head, not trusting his voice. He thought he would feel regret when he opened up about his past to you. Strangely, all he felt was peace. He felt lighter.

“Good,” you whispered, nodding your head. They didn’t deserve to still be in Suga’s life after the horrifying deeds they did to a defenseless child.

“Noona?”

You snapped out of the trance that you were in, quickly putting distance that Suga hated upon hearing Jackson. He was rubbing the sleep off of his eyes as he walked to where the two of you were. “I woke up from a nightmare. A monster was chasing me, ahjussi,” he said sadly, cheeks damped from his tears. He looked up at Suga with a pout, lifting his little arms expectantly. Yet Suga looked at him in confusion.

“What? W-what does he want, Angel?” He asked you, shifting his gaze from the young child to you as though he was asking for help.

“I think…he wants you to pick him up.”

He sighed before easily picking him up. The child was quick to wrap his arms around Suga’s broad shoulders, his chubby cheeks leaning on his shoulder. “I wasn’t scared, ahjussi! I knew you can fight the monsters,” he boasted sleepily.

Suga didn’t even notice himself smiling at the sentiment. Of course he would slay all the monsters…despite him being one. Once the two of you got him in bed, Suga was about to turn around and leave when he called for him, whining about wanting him to stay so he could slay his demons.

And in that moment, Suga looked at you for permission. He held your eyes captive, his eyes gently awaiting your decision. You nodded at him, and the three of you laid quietly. Jackson was fast asleep in between the two of you, the darkness of the night making it difficult for you to know whether Suga was sleeping. Yet, when you turned to look at him, he was already looking at you with his dark eyes, his body fully attuned to yours.

You turned to him, your hands under your head as you looked at him. “I’m glad you survived that,” you whispered truthfully, your eyes tracing his scarred one.

He looked as though he was contemplating. You thought he would never answer as he was only looking at you, but then he asked, “Why?”

“Because you’re here now.”

In that moment, he was convinced now more than ever that they never loved him. Because when you loved someone, you would never hurt them, you would never even entertain the thought of hurting them. No. When you love someone, you protect them. You cherished them. You would never, ever, lay your hands on them. Yoongi thought that he would rather die than hurt you.

“May I help you?” You asked the tall and broad shouldered man. You noticed him looking around the clinic, his back facing yours. He looked like he was at loss as to what to do.

He turned around slowly, his dark eyes focusing on yours as he took you in. You weren’t ready when you finally saw him. He looked like he could say that he was a movie star and you would completely believe him with no question asked. He could claim that he was a prince and you would say, ‘yep, that sounds right’.

In conclusion, his beauty was out of this world. And he looked like he was aware of it. He had this clean look in him, almost clinical in nature. His hair was neatly combed back, his long-sleeves folded to his elbow.

“I…” he started, his brows furrowed as he considered what and how he was going to say. ��I lost my cat.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible!”

He scrunched his nose and thought whether losing Yoongi was really terrible. His life was way quieter without him. Did he really want to look for him, he thought. He looked like he was in deep contemplation. “It…is?”

Your head tilted to the side in confusion. Wasn’t it a terrible thing to have lost your own pet?

At your expression, he straightened and nodded his head solemnly, willing you to believe him. “Yes. It’s terrible. It is.”

“What did you say you lost?”

“Yoongi,” he whispered under his breath.

“What?”

“I meant- a cat. I lost a vicious cat. A dangerous one,” he stated, his voice strong. “It is imperative that I find him.”

You blinked at his statement, and then some more when he wouldn’t stop looking at you. “Do you want my help?”

Suga looked at the clinic’s secretary with a dull expression on his face. For weeks since he started working at that diner as a waiter slash guard when rowdy teenagers visited the diner with no intention to pay, he always picked you up from the clinic. It became your tradition to go home together. He would go to the clinic as soon as he finished his work, and you would be where he wanted you to be- in your office waiting for him.

So where the fuck were you now?

He had his arms crossed, his eyes trained on her despite her trembling form.

“She’s not here,” he repeated slowly, not liking the thought of not knowing where you were. It pissed him off. It unnerved him. It didn’t sit right with him.

“She left early with some guy…”

Min Yoongi had never felt that exceedingly terrifying feeling before. It gnawed at his bone, it punched his heart as his brain thought of million grotesque scenarios concerning you. Did his enemies find you? Did his enemies found out that he was fucking alive? Did they somehow get to you?

Did you now know who he truly was?

His hand curled into a tight fist as he felt darkness clung to his mind. Was this how his paradise end?

You eyed the man sitting on your sofa. You helped him looked all over the town to no avail, yet when you asked him if he had a picture of his pet so that the search would be easier, he claimed that he lost his phone early that day.

He was calmly sipping the coffee you made him, looking around your house with nonchalant observation. It was already dark outside and you kept on looking at the clock. You wondered where Suga was. It was hours past his shift and he still wasn’t home.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find your cat.”

He smiled gently at you before softly placing the cup of coffee back on the table. You noticed that his movement was always refined, that he moved with an air of elegance as though he was born with a golden spoon.

“That’s fine,” he started, his voice deep and his eyes shone with intelligence like he knew something you didn’t. “He’ll come.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that when the front door slammed opened. Suga’s eyes seemed to appear darker than the usual, his form menacing. This was the first time you saw him resembled a wild predator. He seemed to appear unhinged, his look of bewilderment when he finally found you made you unconsciously stepped back as he neared you with heavy steps.

But you didn’t get far.

You would have fallen had it not been for his arms that wrapped around you tightly as though he would never let you go. You never knew how big he was until he had you plastered to him, his form completely enveloping you. This close and you could hear how hard his heart was beating, how it wanted to break free from the cage that was his ribs. This close and you could feel how his body was trembling with an emotion you didn’t know.

“S-Suga-“

“Never,” he growled, his dark hair cascading on his face making him looked more feral. He gently pushed you away, his hands on your shoulder as he made you looked at him with ferocity. He was taking you in, the alarm in his face hadn’t gone down an inch. But the moment he saw you, he looked as though a weight had been taken off his shoulder.

He had never felt as thankful to whatever deity or Gods that were out there than he did the moment he saw you alive, that you were still here in front of him, that he could still fucking hold you.

“Never, ever go somewhere without telling me first,” he growled at you with a dark look on his face . He was imposing and serious like you had never seen him before. “Never go somewhere where I cannot fucking follow-“

“Suga, please calm do-“

“Do you understand me, Angel?” He cut you off as he tilted your chin up, making you understood how fucking terrified he was, of how he would find any other answer unacceptable but your agreement. And when you finally nodded did he reluctantly let you out of his hands.

And only then did he notice the man sitting on the sofa with a smirk on his face.

“Hyung.”

- National Police Agency, South Korea -

Park Jimin was staring at his laptop unblinkingly. Ever since he found out who the traitor was, he was at loss with what to do. He was raised to value both the organization and family. And right now, he needed to choose between the two.

He couldn’t find the answer as to why he was able to do what he did. He couldn’t understand why he betrayed Yoongi when he protected them like they were his own brothers. Min Yoongi, as dangerous as that man was, took lashes for them. He would tell them to fuck off and then catch a bullet for them. He made the difficult decisions for them. He bled just so the seven of them could live.

Min Yoongi was the most loyal man he ever knew.

And so, how could that traitor do that to him?

“Detective Park.”

Jimin lifted his eyes to the man who called him. He was wearing his uniform, just having been temporarily promoted to Yoongi’s position. He was smiling like the sunshine he was perceived to be, yet behind those smiles lied something dangerous…something sinister.

“A word.”

He smiled at the traitor.

He smiled at Jung Hoseok.

Latibule VII

#bts yandere #bts fic #yandere bts #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #yandere min yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #mafia min yoongi #min yoongi yandere #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bts mafia au

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syluscore · 1 year ago

Text

Every Version of You (3)

A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.

~ Masterlist ~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

SONGS: To the End - My Chemical Romance and Broken Smile (My All) - Lil Peep

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART THREE: self-deprecating, angst, anxiety, depression, yelling, feelings of insignificance, death, talking about death, feelings of love, love confessions, mentions of wanting to die, arguing, teasing, anger, blood, bleeding out, descriptions of blood on skin, loss of hopes and dreams, trauma, tension

TAGLIST: @growingupnrealizing , @weneewinnie , @delulusimps , @yoonbabe-d , @missjoenowhere , @cassiecasluciluce , @greywardensaywhat , @kennedyswhore , @all-mights-babygirl , @weasleytwinscumslut , @pinkrose1422 , @british-mint-bunny

!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS POST AND BLOG ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!!!!

PART "CHAPTER" THREE

Rookie sits on the cold floor with his back pressed against an even colder cement wall. But he feels uncomfortably warm with you sitting right next to him leaning your head on his shoulder.

It’s been an hour since he watched your random make out session with his older self. It stirred up feelings within himself that he’s not sure he wants to address. But sitting here in silence, there’s nothing else for him to really do. Of course his mind is wandering, threatening to burst out of his skull completely if he doesn’t suffocate the flames.

You’re not in any better state of mind. He feels less like a pussy seeing you struggle to process and cope with everything, just as he is, but he also wants to take it all away from you. He hates seeing you in so much pain, so torn up inside that all you can do is stare off blankly. He knows he’s useless to you right now. He’s staring off blankly at the same wall, so how in the hell could he ever be comforting to you?

Rookie never considered himself to be an overly anxious person, but right now, he feels like he merely exists as a cloud of anxiety over the room.

He’s an insignificant man; he knows he isn’t destined for anything revolutionary or some sort of infamy. He’s looking at this older, well seasoned version of himself and doesn’t see how he could ever get to such a point in his life.

How is he supposed to meet the expectations layed out for him by his future self? Surviving apocalypses, outbreaks, and man made horrors? Somehow prevailing against all odds? He’s just Leon Kennedy, not a superhero. He’s been destined for failure since the day he was born. And yet, he’s somehow supposed to save lives and possibly even the world?

No wonder you freaking died! He’s irresponsible and not the leader type. He’s meant to do as he’s told and never fall out of line. That’s what Leon Kennedy is good at, not whatever this bullshit is. Time travel, for fuck’s sake? He’s entirely out of his element.

Then, he has to stand here quietly and watch as older Leon makes out with you. He sees this devotion and utter adoration in his eyes when he looks at you and it feels so foreign to him. That’s supposed to be him–he’s supposed to feel like that? Maybe not now, but one day? He’s capable of such a thing?

You’re a nice girl and everything, but he doesn’t know you all that well and he’s supposed to just accept that there’s something written in the stars between the two of you? How the fuck is he supposed to feel?

With the knowledge he now possesses, how is he supposed to authentically experience anything ever again? How does he naturally fall in love with you or know that he is in love with you, when in the back of his mind he knows he’s meant to? How does he go about his normal life, knowing an outbreak is coming and not to go running for the hills? Everything feels wrong–is everything wrong?

In all of the cheesy movies he’s seen about time travel, they say that this is the way timelines are destroyed. Is he responsible for completely fucking up the natural trajectory of the world? Maybe not this version of himself, but he still feels complicit. Something, or some things rather, happen to him and he’s messed up enough to be willing to destroy the world and society as we know it. What gives him the right–what makes him significant enough to do something so major?

Nothing has made sense since they showed up and pulled him from his life and timeline. He’s so overwhelmed and it’s only been a day or two since he was taken from his average life.

You’re also overwhelmed and overthinking everything, but for very different reasons.

You’re sure of your feelings for Leon. When you thought he was dying, those feelings forced their way to the surface and demanded to be acknowledged. You could lie and blame it on the traumatic situation, but deep down, you know those feelings have always been there. It was easy to admit to them in the moment, simply because falling in love with Leon is one of the easiest things you’ve ever done.

Now that you know Leon had to endure the same exact thing, except you actually died, it’s a hard pill to swallow to put it mildly. That’s not even mentioning the fact that you’re meant to die. You’re supposed to drop dead in what, a few weeks or maybe a few months? It fills you with an existential dread that you’ve never felt before.

This must be how people feel when they’re told they only have a few months to live. The finality of it, the inevitability of it, fills you with a helpless feeling you desperately wish you didn’t have to address.

You keep replaying the conversation between you and Leon over and over and over. No matter how hard you try to push it out of your head, all you can hear are his words.

“...A life without you isn’t a life worth living for me.”

Dying? What the fuck is he talking about?

You pull yourself out of his grasp and force as much distance between the two of you as possible.

Leon speaks again. “I’m sorry. I know that’s a lot to process, but it’s my truth. I just needed you to know that.”

“I’m going to die?” Your voice is shaky, showing the nerves you’re trying to push down.

Leon shakes his head. “Not if I have anything to do with it. Hindsight is 20/20. If I have to sacrifice myself to save you, then I’m sorry I couldn’t live for you. But I’d choose you over absolutely anything any day. I’m nothing without you and I know you’d find happiness in this world, even without me. You’re resilient and beautiful and captivating. The world would bend to your will just to keep you.”

Your mouth falls open and all you can do is stare at him. You’re not one to ever be speechless, but you keep finding yourself in this state.

“How did it feel when you thought I died? Did you feel that emptiness–that helplessness? Do you understand how it feels now?”

“Not you. My Leon. And I’d rather not discuss how it felt, but thanks anyway I guess.” You avoid his eyes, but you have something else you need to say. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

You’re referring to the kiss and Leon recognizes that immediately.

“You’re serious?” He scoffs at you.

You scoff right back at him, “Yeah I’m fucking serious. You may be Leon’s older self, but you’re not my Leon. My feelings are for him.”

You feel like you betrayed him. Whether it’s his older self or his younger self or whoever, your loyalty belongs to your Leon. Fuck every other timeline besides yours and his. It’s the only timeline you give a shit about.

“I’ll try to be patient with you. I know I’ve had a lot more time to process the dynamic of what’s happening, but my love for you is unconditional. I love every version of you. In every past life, this life, the next one, and the one after that.”

“We’ll be able to wake Leon shortly. He just needs to… marinate a bit longer for lack of a better term,” Luis snaps you from your thoughts.

You nod at him. The emotions are eating you up from the inside out and you’re starting to feel numb and disconnected.

“Hey,” Chris speaks up this time. “You’re not going to die. We’re here for the sole purpose of saving you. We won’t let anything happen to you. It’d be a waste of time for all of us if we let you die anyway.”

His last sentence is humorous and even though you try not to laugh, you can’t stop the huff of breath that leaves you.

“What if we can’t save me? Or what if we destroy the world by messing with the timeline or something? What if God comes down and smites us all? If you believe in any of that. Whatever divine presence you could possibly believe in, it doesn’t change anything. How can we know anything we do will change fate?”

The word vomit just keeps tumbling past your lips. You can’t help it. You’re terrified. You’re anxious. You’re every negative feeling to ever be translated into this language.

“We’ve succeeded before with a whole lot less,” Luis explains. “I’m supposed to be dead, yet I’m very much alive.” He does jazz hands. As if he didn’t just casually mention they’ve done the time travel thing before and it’s the only reason he’s standing here. He treats it like you’re discussing what to order for fucking lunch.

“He was the trial run,” Leon explains while shrugging. “Sort of like a crash test dummy. We weren’t going to put you through this without knowing if it could actually work. Plus he’s a scientist, or whatever.”

“Jee, thanks amigo.”

Chris’ lips thin as he fails to hold back a laugh.

“For Christ’s sake, what now?” Leon spits out at Chris.

“I think he calls us amigo to remind us how white we are. A more accurate translation of his amigos would be his white people. It’s funny.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny,” you butt in and Leon’s head whips in your direction, shooting you a death glare. You throw your hands up in the air to feign your innocence, but he just shakes his head at you.

“Amigos, why must we always argue?”

Chris responds, “See, Leon? He’s not denying it. He’s patronizing us-”

“What the fuck are you talking about-”

“Hey!” Luis yells over the two of them. “Kiss and make up, will you? We got shit to take care of.”

Both men finally quiet down; Leon getting one more dirty look in at Chris before shifting his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“Any way,” Luis looks back at you, “These two managed to get their hands on the technology to come back and intervene in my…ending. But the side effects are pretty brutal. I’ve spent a lot of time researching and altering our methods.”

“The mechanics were terrible,” Chris grimaces.

“What gave you that idea? The fact that we almost killed ourselves in the process?” Leon scowls.

Rookie finally speaks up. “Is he always like this?”

“Hope not,” you mumble.

“As I was saying,” Luis once again has to bring everyone’s attention back to the actual discussion. “Your mission will be delayed due to an urgent matter. The president’s daughter is kidnapped and Leon will be sent to retrieve her. I was meant to die on that mission.”

Leon finishes the story for Luis.

“Then, I get back and we go on with our assignment and everything goes wrong. You die, I barely survive, it’s a shitshow. But now Luis is alive and we’ve figured our shit out, so now we can go on with our actual initiative; saving the girl who somehow considers me a different person.”

“Sorry this is a weird situation we’ve found ourselves in.” You snap at him and he gives you a look of complete surprise at the outburst.

And then, Leon laughs. It’s a humorless laugh as he cradles his face in his hands. You’re completely confused at his reaction and you know it’s showing in your expression.

When his head whips back up, his eyes instantly meet yours, your heart stops and you’re actually startled by the angry expression on his face.

“You died in my fucking arms!” He shouts and the whole room falls into silence.

You can’t bring yourself to look away from him. You wish the world would swallow you up and remove you from this situation. Or maybe if you could fold in on yourself until you ceased to exist right before his very eyes. Anything to not feel the intensity in the heat of his stare.

You don’t know what to say. What the fuck do you say to that? I’m sorry for dying? It wasn’t my intention to do so? Thank you? Glad you could join me there?

“Can we have a moment alone?” His words express a question, but his tone iterates it as a demand not to be argued against.

The other three men quietly leave the room. As they walk away, you silently plead for one of them to stay–to not leave you alone to face his wrath and fury on your own.

But your prayers go unanswered as Rookie gives you a sympathetic look before closing the door behind him.

You stare down at your hands as you fiddle with your finger nails. You don’t know which would be worse, the deafening silence or him actually speaking to you. Do you even want to know what he has to say to you? He’s furious, to put it mildly, and you dread the fact that he might take it out on you. Leon wouldn't do that though–or would he? Do you even know anything at all anymore?

He sighs heavily before walking over to you, sitting next to you on the floor. He takes over Rookie’s old spot, his presence much more crowding than he younger counterpart.

He takes your left hand in his much larger hands. You feel so small with the way your hand ceases to exist between his. It’s scary, it’s overwhelming, it’s comforting. It’s a perfect fucking fit is what it is.

“I don’t mean to be so angry. I don’t want to be, but I can’t control it anymore. I’m so fucking angry.” He speaks to you quietly.

“Why?” Your voice is even quieter than his. It comes out barely above a whisper.

“You were bleeding out in my arms. Your blood covered my entire chest and was dripping off of my arms. And it was so warm; it’s like I can still feel it coating my skin.”

You finally turn your head to look at him, but he’s still looking ahead. You bring your other hand to his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles gently. You silently encourage him to go on and he finally sighs, relenting.

“I could feel the life leaving your body, could feel you weakening against me. And in that moment, even though you knew you were dying and there was nothing we could do, you were comforting me. Assuring me that I’d be okay.”

Your lips form a sad smile, because you know that that is absolutely what you would do in that situation. Even as you lay there dying, half way in his arms and half way in the grim reapers, you’d want to make sure he was okay. You’d want to assure him that everything would be fine for him even though it wasn’t for you. It wouldn’t matter if you could accept the fact that you were dying or not; you’d want to comfort him with the fact that you were at peace with it. All for his sake.

“And then you were just,” He looks over at you and releases a heavy breath, “Gone. You stopped bleeding and your blood slowly dried into my skin. The blood went cold on me. And I knew there was nothing I could’ve done to save you, but I wanted that warm feeling back. I wished you were still bleeding out in my arms and that your warm blood was running down my body, just so that I could have even a few more seconds with you.”

You nod your head as you listen to him. He probably takes it as you encouraging him to talk about it and release it from his system, but it’s more than that to you. You understand how he felt. You would’ve jumped into the vat of liquid with Leon just to have those last moments with him. You hated the thought of him dying alone in there and you would’ve given anything to hold him in your arms that one last time.

“You know, I denied my feelings for you until the bitter end. I sat there with your lifeless body and that was when I finally allowed myself to admit I was in love with you. I was forced to acknowledge all of those emotions I’d refused to for so long. All I could do was whisper to you how much I loved you even though I knew you were no longer there to hear it.”

He leans in and rests his forehead against yours, “I’m sorry it took you bleeding out in my arms for me to finally speak the words of what I knew all along. I still feel the pain every goddamn day. I spent every minute after that wishing I would’ve just died with you.”

You pull your hands from his and bring them up to his face, holding his cheeks in your palms and forcing him to look you in the eyes.

“I know,” your voice waivers. “I know because it was the same for me. Felt like the fucking world was ending. I just knew that I loved you so much, and that I would never get to love you while you were alive.”

Leon wrapped his arms around you and you wrapped yours around him. You clung to each other so tightly, your souls might have actually merged together right there in that basement. It didn’t matter how complicated the situation was, because you two understood each other. And that’s all that really mattered in that moment.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

After a while, everyone is back in the basement. Chris, Luis, and Leon are gathered around the control panel, talking amongst themselves. You and Rookie are once again left to your own devices.

He hasn’t spoken much and just by the lost look on his face, you can see his mind running a thousand miles per hour.

“Hey,” Rookie’s attention is immediately on you, as if he was just waiting for you to speak to him. “I know it’s probably not comforting at all, but um, the version of me in your time is oblivious to everything too. We haven’t gone through life altering atrocities together yet. If she was brought here, I think she’d have shut down completely. Like, fuck, I’m still trying not to shut down completely.”

Rookie smiles at your attempt to calm his mind, like an actual smile. His actual smile versus the ones he fakes are so different, it’s like night and day. And you’d do anything to see his real smile, so you continue.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you, having your dream ripped from you is devastating. Having to let go of everything you thought you’d have? Processing the world being completely different then how you always knew it to be? It’s miserable. It doesn’t matter if you save the entire world, you’ll never feel like a hero. But you are a hero, Leon. Nothing will ever lessen the burdens that are yours alone to bear and for that, I am so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he says before leaning his head on your shoulder, the opposite of your earlier position. When you were leaning on his shoulder in a subconscious need to be close to him.

“I think I’ll always mourn the life I wanted for myself. You know, the fulfilling career, finding my soulmate, the white picket fence. Can’t forget the house full of well behaved kids,” you huff out a laugh. “My dream is simple now, but seems so much harder to attain than my previous ones.”

“And what’s that?”

“To be happy.”

Rookie looks up at you, a solemn look on his face.

“Is it okay if I steal that dream and make it mine too?”

“Well, of course. Gotta shoot for the stars, right?”

You smile at each other, your smile only grows recognizing his genuine smile. And you stare at each other longer than what would be considered normal. But the longer you stare at each other, the harder you find it to look away.

In his eyes, you see every version of Leon and the feeling growing inside of your chest is foreign and new to you. Because he’s still your Leon, just the younger version. And the Leon leaning against the cement wall as he watches Luis and Chris argue over something on the control panel, is your Leon too. You have no fucking idea what to make of this realization.

You’re not sure how much time passes, when a throat clears, pulling you and Rookie’s attention over to the other men.

“His calibration is done,” Chris announces. “We can wake him up now.”

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil 6 #resident evil 5 #resident evil fanfiction #ghostkennedy #every version of you #evoy

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fairyvearths · 2 years ago

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3 times you try (and fail) to kiss luffy and the 1 time he kisses you

FANDOM: one piece WORD COUNT: 5, 300+ PAIRING: monkey d. luffy x reader WARNINGS: none, for the most part. a hint of jealousy, but it’s very small.

NOTE: hello @hawkix, i am your secret santa for the @onepiece-blorboexchange. i hope this piece is to your liking. merry christmas, and happy holidays 🎄🎁 also cross-posted on archive

one

“You’re best friends with Luffy, right?”

Zoro is sleeping—or at least, trying to. With how rambunctious the crew is right now, and the way the ship rocks on the waves, it’s pretty easy to assume that the man is still awake. That, and, you had seen his brows flinch slightly when your shadow fell over his face.

But still, he pretends.

Fine.

You kick him.

Zoro catches your ankle before you make contact with his leg. “Oi,” he snaps.

You flail for balance, a squeal sticking in your throat as your centre of gravity tilts.

Zoro pulls you as you fall and you crash on your side.

“Ow,” you say, mostly for show, because your arm had cushioned your landing and you’ve been through much worse than this. Zoro knows it too.

“Quit being a baby,” he grouses, shifting himself up higher on the railing now that he’s officially awoken from his nap. “The Hell were you thinking, trying to kick me?”

You roll onto your back. “You were ignoring me.”

“I was trying to sleep.”

“But you weren’t, yet.”

“Yeah—yet. I was getting there.”

“So you just ignored me?” You bat your arm in his general direction. “What if it was an emergency?”

“It wasn’t.”

“You don’t care about me.”

“The Hell?”

You giggle because he didn’t say, ‘Yeah, of course I don’t’ and that’s a win if you’ve ever encountered one. “You don’t,” you sigh, carpeting the floor with your faux misery. “I could die and you woul—”

“Shut up.” Zoro actually jabs you in the arm with the hilt of one of his swords.

“Hey!”

“You didn’t hit your head when you fell, right?”

You scoff, mirthful shock coating your words, “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No—I mean, I made sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell.”

It takes a while for his words to click in your brain, and when it does—Oh. You turn your head to look at him, cheek pressing into the hardwood floors. “Why can’t you just say you care about me like someone who isn’t emotionally constipated?”

Zoro scowls, crossing his arms across his chest and looking away like he’s a four-year-old child throwing a tantrum. “Is this what you woke me up for?” he grumbles.

You want to keep ribbing him, but you understand that Zoro is being defensive, so you take his cue and reroute the conversation. “No, actually—I wanted to ask you a favour.”

He turns back, scepticism raising his brows. “About Luffy?”

You open your mouth to ask how he knows, but you realise you had asked about your captain when you approached Zoro. “So you did ignore me,” you gasp, slightly maybe a lot offended.

“Yeah, of course I did—I was trying to sleep!” he shoots back.

It’s your turn to cross your arms over your chest and cast your gaze to the sky. “I can’t believe you.”

Zoro clicks his tongue before tapping your leg lightly with his foot. “What’d you need help with?”

“Nah,” you push out with a breath, “I don’t want your help anymore.”

“Fine,” Zoro says, yawning. “Go somewhere else—I’m trying to sleep.”

You slap his knee. “Oi.”

“What do you need, then?”

“I wanna kiss Luffy.”

A beat. Then, “And you’re telling me, because?”

“Because, Zoro,” you say, turning to face him again, “last time I tried, you called his attention to a Sea King and ran off with him.”

Zoro snorts. “So, go kiss him now.” He jerks his chin towards the deck where he, Usopp and Chopper are gathered. “He’s not busy.”

“It’s not that simple,” you intone, stretching out your words. “I can’t just do it out of nowhere, it has to be proper and—”

“Oh, kill me now,” Zoro whispers in exasperation. He deflects another one of your attacks, knocking your hand out of its trajectory. “If you wanted romantic, you should’ve gone to the Cook.”

“But he’s your best friend,” you reiterate. “You know him better than anyone here.”

Zoro sighs, long-sufferingly. “Have you tried talking to him?” he asks, tired.

“No?” Bewilderment laces your tone, falling in a heavy heap on the ground. “I’m not telling Luffy I want to kiss him.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird; I can’t just tell him, I just gotta do it.”

“Then do it—He’s right there.” Once again, he gestures towards your captain, as if you’re not already hyperaware of his presence.

“Not like that,” you hiss.

“Oh, my God,” Zoro grumbles. “Stop being difficult.”

“I’m not! I just need to you to help me—”

“I’m trying! You keep dismissing my solutions. It’s so easy, here, look—Luffy!”

Your heart jumps into your throat as Zoro hollers, and you leap forward to cover his mouth. You misjudge the distance, punching him in the cheek instead.

“What the fuck?” Zoro rears his head back, slapping your hand away.

“Shit, I’m so sorry—” You retract your offending limb, covering your mouth in shock. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, didn’t hurt,” he says, and you can tell he’s not just saying it to make you feel better. The man’s been through so much worse, and you both know it. “Just, what the fuck, though?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you lament. “I just—You yelled, and I was trying to stop you, but I—”

“What’s up?”

You didn’t scream.

You didn’t.

You just, got startled. Because it was Luffy. And he came out of nowhere. And if Zoro or Luffy said you screamed… well.

They don’t know what they’re talking about.

You whip around, heart hammering in your throat because you were just talking about kissing Luffy, and now the man is here, squatting in front of you, and you don’t know how much he may have overheard. “Nothing!” Your voice comes out high and nervous.

“Fucking—” Zoro sighs, nudging you towards Luffy with his calf because in your scramble to shut Zoro up, you’d landed on his leg. “Can you just ki—”

You’re more successful this time, shouting over the top of his words and slapping a hand to his mouth. “What the Hell is wrong with y—Ow!” You wrench your hand away at a sharp sting on your palm. “Did you just bite me?” At Zoro’s deadpan stare, you furrow your brows. “What kinda feral—?”

Behind you, Luffy laughs; so loud and carefree that your heart stutters in your chest.

You think you might pass out, but you turn to look at your captain because his joy is always a sight to behold.

“Wow,” Zoro muses aloud, “you are down ba—”

You jerk your elbow into Zoro’s stomach, cutting off his words. “Shut up!” you hiss.

“What were you guys talking about?” Luffy asks again when he settles down.

“Nothing,” you repeat, voice calmer.

Zoro rolls his eyes. “Really?”

“Except for the fact that Zoro is being a butthead,” you say pointedly.

“Butthead?” the butthead echoes.

“Ah.” Luffy nods sagely. “That sounds like Zoro.”

“Oi!”

You giggle, watching as Zoro grabs a sword and jolts the hilt towards Luffy’s face.

Luffy grabs the hilt to deflect it, but when Zoro pulls his weapon back, Luffy careens forward.

“Ah!” The shout is more from surprise than anything, Luffy’s knee colliding with your shin as he practically falls on you.

“Shit,” Zoro breathes.

“Oh.” Luffy scrambles himself off your leg. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you dismiss his concern. “That actually didn’t hurt, I’m fine.” You’re hefting yourself up with your elbows, expecting Luffy to move out of your way.

But he doesn’t.

And now you’ve almost pushed yourself up against his chest.

And he’s looking at you so earnestly your cheeks are flushing. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he presses.

You nod, throat thick. Body warm. Your eyes dart down to his lips. The urge to kiss him rises tenfold. Maybe you could just do it. No fancy situation, no set up. Just… this. With him hovering over you because it just happened that way. Staring at you with concern swimming in his pupils.

“So, can I go now?” Zoro pipes up from behind you.

You startle, bumping a shoulder into Luffy’s chin.

Luffy recoils, effectively severing the moment.

“I am so sorry!” you gasp, reaching out to cradle his head. “Oh God, are you okay?”

Luffy nods in your hands, chuckling lightly. “’M fine.”

“Zoro, you can’t just do that!” you hiss at him.

“I have been here the whole time,” he deadpans. “But it seems I’ve done my job, so I’m gonna g—”

Luffy tilts his head. “What job?”

“Nothing!” you yell before Zoro can answer, letting go of Luffy like you’ve been burnt. “Nothing.” You slide out from between the two of them and clamber to your feet. “You take your nap,” you say to Zoro, “and you can go back to—” You signal towards Usopp and Chopper, “playing, I don’t know.” You smile at Luffy even though you don’t really feel it. “I’ll go.” You depart before the two of them can say anything to you.

“You were too much of a butthead,” Luffy says in a low enough voice that you know he’s not talking to you.

There’s the sound of something hard hitting something fleshy.

“How’s this my fault?” Zoro retaliates.

You duck into your room before you can hear if their banter escalates to sparring.

two

There’s a stabbing pain in your side, but you ignore it in favour of running across the rubble—or at least, try to. The sharp ache is all encompassing, and you’re pretty sure you’re bleeding out as well.

But right now, it’s of no matter.

What is of matter, though, is the fact that Luffy is on the other side of this debris, and you need to get to him.

You crest the peak and start down the slope towards the ground, towards your captain wobbling on his feet, bruised and ruffled. “Luffy!”

He turns when you call out to him, face lighting up when he catches sight of you.

You’re practically tripping over your own feet to make it over to him, teeth gritting at the jabs that lance through your ribs.

He crashes into your body when you enter his personal space, your legs faltering under the unanticipated weight.

You catch yourself on your knees, holding in the gasp that wants to escape because him jarring into you didn’t help. You wrap your arms beneath his shoulders to keep him up. “Hey,” you breathe out, chest releasing some of the air that had been trapped in there at the thought of your captain in peril. “You okay?” You’re frantically pawing at his face, thumbs swiping at the blood and cuts.

Luffy nods, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “’M good,” he manages to answer around you pulling on his skin. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Satisfied with your inspection—his wounds are shallow and will heal up at a rate that still shocks you—relief pools into your stomach. “We’re good, we won.”

He furrows his brows, eyes scanning your face before they rest down your body. “You’re hurt,” he states.

“It’s fine.” You shake your head, hiding a wince because, yeah, it does hurt, but you don’t want him to fuss over you when he looks like this. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” he reiterates, cupping a hand over your wound.

“Ah!” You shrink away from his touch, unbalancing both you and him because he had been essentially leaning on you for support.

Luffy circles his arm around you, righting you before you topple backwards, taking him down too. “You’re hurt,” he repeats, voice soft.

You stare at him, face so close to yours that you can see his eyelashes. You’re so pressed up against him that you feel him breathing on your chest, every rise and fall in tandem with yours.

His heart is beating quickly—or maybe it’s yours.

It probably is yours.

He’s so close to you, and your brain feels like mush; lightheaded and echoey. Your ears thunder with the sound of your own heart. Your breaths catch in your chest.

“We should get you to Chopper,” he murmurs. He looks behind you, over the debris, where the rest of the crew should be.

A part of your brain knows it’s urgent, but the other part can’t stop staring at his lips as he speaks. “Luffy,” you utter.

He snaps his focus back to you, gaze darting between your eyes. “What?”

You shift your weight onto his, and he takes it easily, tightening his arm around you. You can feel your breath blow back on your face with how hard you’re breathing onto Luffy’s. Your head fills more and more with cotton as you careen towards his lips.

You black out before you make it.

three

After the fiasco of employing Zoro’s assistance, you decide that he actually isn’t much help at all. So the next best thing is to go to Robin. Because she’s clever, and smart.

You sit her down in the quiet of the aquarium and tell her about your dilemma, and about Zoro’s ridiculous suggestion of ‘just asking Luffy,’ and how nothing you’ve tried has worked.

She laughs at the end of your recollection, a soft thing that she hides in her palm before standing up. “Come with me,” she says.

You follow her, recognising the walk to the library as you’re halfway there.

She settles you down at the table before disappearing between some shelves, to, presumably, find a book. When she returns, a light in her eye, you know she’s found something good. “It’s Christmas soon,” she says as though it’s a suggestion.

“Okay?” you ask, bemused.

She chuckles softly, rifling through the pages to find the spread she wants and places it on the desk, tilting it so it’s upright for you to read. “Mistletoe.”

You look down at the page, a drawing of said plant on display. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s tradition,” she begins, “for people to kiss when they’re caught under a mistletoe together.”

You glance up at her. “Oh. So, we just have to get some mistletoe,” you say. The plan sounds easy enough.

But.

“Where, exactly, are we gonna get some mistletoe?”

“Next time we stop by an island, I suppose,” she muses quietly. “It’s a Christmas tradition,” she elaborates, “so at this time of year, people will be selling these everywhere.”

“Great—thank you.” You already feel much better about her advice than you did with Zoro’s. You lift the page between your fingers, pulling the paper.

Arms sprout from the table, clutching at your wrist.

“What,” Robin says, a harsh lilt to her tone, “are you doing?”

“I just need to know what it looks like.”

“You’ve seen what it looks like,” she continues in the same voice.

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna remember it once we get to an island.”

“So, you decide to vandalise my book?”

“I’m not vandali—Ow, ow!” You let go of the page as she tightens her hold around you. “Okay, I made a mistake,” you cry.

The arms disappear. “I’ll buy it for you,” she resumes the conversation like nothing happened. “You can find some place to put it afterwards.”

You feel like you got whiplashed. “Okay,” you whisper, confused. “Thank you?”

It’s another three days before the ship docks at a small island, and Robin comes back with two sprigs of mistletoe. She hands one to you, keeping the other ‘just in case.’ You don’t really know what that means, but at this point, you know well enough to just leave her and her property alone.

“Where’s a good place to put this?” you ask, dangling the twig between your fingers.

“Where would Luffy spend most of his time?”

You sigh.

You burst into the kitchen, having checked through the windows to make sure it was devoid of your captain first.

Sanji looks up at your sudden entrance, scraping carrots into a bowl. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he informs you absently. He returns to cutting the vegetables. “Probably start cooking in ten minutes.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

That piques his interest, the blond looking up again. “What’s up?” he asks, attention now more evenly split between the food prep and you.

“I…” You glance out the windows, as though talking about Luffy would summon him. “Need your help with something.”

“Mine?”

“Yeah.” You approach the counter where he’s working, sitting on a stool opposite him. “I need to put this,” you lift the sprig higher so he can see, “somewhere in here.”

Sanji stares at the plant. “Mistletoe?”

“Yes, see.” You tell him about Robin’s ingenious plan to help you kiss Luffy. And how Sanji knows the kitchen better than anyone, and knows where Luffy lingers the most.

Sanji lets out a sharp breath of amusement through his nose. “Okay.”

“Great! Just—not now. Christmas is in five days, so—”

“I got it,” Sanji says. “Keep it safe ‘til then.”

“Exactly, thank you!”

The following week is busy; the crew gathering to decorate the Sunny, and making quick stops onshore to find gifts for one another. Between draping garland and wrapping presents, you find yourself migrating to the kitchen a lot.

It’s not that you don’t trust Sanji.

But.

This is really important to you, and you don’t know if he’ll prioritise it the same. You make sure the mistletoe is still alive and fresh. Hidden somewhere out of sight and not easily disposed of if someone else were to help out in the kitchen. Most days, you volunteer yourself to assist, just so you know another crew member won’t find it, and then no embarrassing explanation would have to ensue.

It’s easier that way.

“Good morning,” Sanji greets, already anticipating your arrival with a cup of tea.

“Hey.” You take a sip before putting the beverage down. “Is—”

“Yep,” he says, already taking out the tin from the cupboard and sliding it across the countertop to you. “Same place as it was last night, when you checked. And the time before that, and before that too. And—”

“Alright,” you snap, no heat in your tone. “I’m just…” You shrug, at a loss for why you feel so obsessive over a piece of tree.

“Nervous?”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

Sanji pushes the tea over to your hands, and you smile at him. “How about, no more looking at it today.”

You frown. “I don’t think that’s gonna help.”

“Did looking at it help?”

You close the lid and pass it back to him. “No,” you admit quietly.

“I don’t think you’re stressed about the mistletoe disappearing,” Sanji says, voice incredibly soft as he addresses you.

You hum, tapping your fingers on the sides of the cup. “I just… want it to work.” Because if it doesn’t…

If it doesn’t…

That’s not something you want to think about.

“It will.” And he says it with so much certainty that for a second, you believe it too.

You don’t check up on the mistletoe for the rest of the day, but you do still help out in the kitchen.

You’re staring at the counter, where you know the mistletoe is. You know it’s there. You saw it this morning. Sanji let you put it back in there before closing the cupboard and declaring that place off-limits to you. And no one else had come in, other than to eat, and that was over here by the dining tables, not over there.

There’s still a gnawing feeling in your stomach, but you haven’t seen it. So, what if? What if someone came through, looking for something else, and in their search, saw it and took it?

“Are you okay?”

You blink back to the present, snippets of conversation tuning back into focus like a radio. Right. Dinner with the crew. Everyone’s here, eating and having fun.

Sanji is peering at you from across the table, waiting for your answer.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just—distracted.” You look back down to your plate, surprised to find that nothing’s been taken from it.

“Do you want to check it?”

You purse your lips in thought. It would help.

But.

“No.” You shake your head. “I’ve already gone most of the day, right?” you say. “No point caving now.”

“If you’re sure,” Sanji relents. At your nod, he sighs. “Can you just eat something?”

You stick your spoon into the rice.

A chicken drumstick is placed on your plate, and when you follow the hand attached to it, you realise it belongs to Luffy, sitting on the far end of the table.

“You look sad,” he calls across, retracting his arm.

“I’m fine,” you dismiss his concern, turning back to your food. “Thanks.”

The rest of the crew watches, astounded at their captain’s generosity, and your lack of response.

When Christmas finally arrives, you’re not sure how you feel. Yes, it’s Christmas, so you’re excited. But that means putting up the mistletoe and finally bringing your plan to fruition. And that part, you’re more reluctant about.

You’re the first one in the kitchen aside from Sanji, and he looks up, smiling at you.

“Door,” he says.

You turn, watching it close. “What?”

“The mistletoe,” he reiterates. “Put it up last night.”

“Oh!” With the new information, you tilt your head back. It sways gently from the door’s motions. “That’s the best place for it?”

“Luffy comes and goes upwards of twenty times a day.” Sanji sounds sure of himself. “If there’s any place that he frequents a lot, it’s that door.”

“Thanks, Sanji,” you say, beelining for the tea he’s left for you on the counter.

Sanji starts to crack eggs into a mixing bowl, and you stare at your drink. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug. “Still nervous, but… not much else I can do about it.”

“Just.” He takes a whisk from the drawer. “Don’t think about it too much.”

Scoffing, you take a sip of your tea. “I really don’t think there’s anything else for me to think about, right now.”

“What do you want for breakfast?” he asks.

“Whatever you’re making,” you say absently, “I don’t mind.” You’re two-thirds of the way through your drink when you speak again. “What if it doesn’t go right?”

“How?”

“Like, what if…?” You swallow something thick. “What if he doesn’t want to kiss me? Then I’ve just—”

Luffy crashes through the door, startling you out of your conversation with Sanji. He scans the kitchen, face lighting up when he makes eye contact with you, bounding over. “What are you doing in here?” he asks, plopping himself down in the chair you’re standing next to.

“Nothing,” you deflect, because you don’t really want to tell him that you were lamenting to Sanji about whether he’d kiss you or not. But your answer is suspicious too, so you retract your earlier statement with what you hope is a carefree shrug.

(It’s not.)

“I was helping out with food and stuff.” You turn to the eggs already beaten laid out in front of Sanji. Shit.

Luffy hums, a slight dejection to the note. “Come outside,” he says instead.

You pause, trying to think of an excuse. “But we gotta make breakfast, then there’s the big Christmas dinn—”

“But I miss you,” he says, frowning.

Oh.

“We donʼt hang out much, anymore.”

You blink, gulping your dangerously loud heart back into your chest. It’s suddenly warm in the kitchen even though the ovens and stoves are off. “Okay,” you croak.

Luffy beams at you, and your breath sweeps away. He grabs your hand to lead you out, and your palm feels clammy in his.

As you’re leaving, Sanji clears his throat.

Luffy stops, turning around. “What?” he asks.

You turn too, a murderous glare pointed at the blond. Shut the fuck up, you will towards him.

Sanji flickers his gaze over your heads.

“What?” Luffy repeats.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, trying to step further onto the deck to steer him out of the kitchen.

Luffy purses his lips, standing his ground. He’s always been stronger than you, so your attempts to move him are rendered futile because he’s not cooperating. “No, I wanna know,” he presses. There’s a pout to his lips, and you can’t help but think he looks cute like this.

“It’s just.” You swallow thickly, tilting your head up to look at the top of the door frame.

Luffy follows your eyes, zeroing in on the lone green tendril hanging off the door. “Ah,” he says.

You watch him, trepidation drying your tongue.

“Why’d Sanji put food in such a weird place?”

“What?”

He shoots his arm towards it, clutching the plant in his hands—leaves and all.

And shoves it in his mouth.

“No!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sanji yells, vaulting over the counter. He grabs Luffy by the back of the neck. “Spit it out!”

“Luffy, that was mistletoe,” you say when you’ve gotten over the initial shock. Your hands are hovering over him, wanting to help but not sure how because Sanji is already there, and you’d only be in the way.

“So?” he manages to say around Sanji trying to pull his mouth open.

“Mistletoe is poisonous, you dumbass!” Sanji growls, realising that it’s already been swallowed. “We need to get you to Chopper.”

“But I feel fine,” Luffy protests.

You usher your captain out the door, heartbeat reverberating loudly in your throat. “No, please just—C’mon.” You walk around Luffy when you’ve exited the kitchen, pulling on his hand to lead him to the infirmary. You look at Sanji over Luffy’s shoulder. “You go��” You gesture back inside the kitchen. “I got this.”

“You sure?” Sanji asks.

You nod. “There’s a lot to do for today.” You turn back around, glancing at the rest of the deck. “Chopper!” you call out to him when you see the reindeer with Usopp and Nami.

Chopper darts his head up, looking at you. “Yeah?”

“We need you in here!” you say, pointing your thumb back towards the door of the doctor’s office.

There’s clambering as Chopper disregards his prior activities—unwrapping presents, judging by the colours on the floor—to run over. “What happened?” he asks when he’s closer.

“I ate something,” Luffy says when you open the door. “Sanji said it was poisonous.”

“Mistletoe,” you interject before Chopper can panic too much. You stand to the side, letting them in first.

“Mistletoe?” Chopper repeats.

“It’s… a long story.”

plus one

Chopper releases Luffy from the infirmary after coming to the conclusion that the captain’s run-in with Magellan has heightened his tolerance for poison. So eating a twig of mistletoe will do nothing more to him than upset his stomach, which should pass on its own.

After the little doctor confirms this, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

Luffy turns to you; a smile on his face, a comment on his tongue of how you’d been so worried over nothing, but—

You’re exiting the room, door shutting behind you.

“Hey!” Luffy scrambles off the bed, sidestepping Chopper with a quick ‘Thanks!’ before dashing outside to find you.

You’re faster than anticipated, halfway to the dorms.

But Luffy has abilities that you don’t, so he stretches his arms, hooking his palm around the mast to slingshot himself forward, landing in front of you with a grunt.

“Fuck!” you hiss, jumping backwards, eyes wild with his sudden appearance.

“Sorry!” Luffy is quick to placate you.

“What the Hell?”

“Didn’t mean to scare you—What’s wrong?” He interrupts himself with the question because thatʼs more important right now, and knowing how the two of you like to banter, you’d gloss over how you’re feeling in order to keep teasing him about startling you.

“What?”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Luffy says, because he hasn’t been seeing much of you this past week, and he thought that maybe you just wanted time for yourself to recharge, but you were always in the kitchen with Sanji, instead of hanging out with him like you usually did, and that—

He pushes that aside.

Not important right now.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” you say quietly.

“Yes, there is.” He’s insistent, knowing that whatever it is is bothering you.

“It’s just… I wanted to—” You sigh. “Nothing,” you dismiss. Then, “It’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid about it?”

You pause, thinking about his question. “I�� don’t know.”

“So, it can’t be stupid.”

Your lips quirk up, a brief thing that lights up your face for a millisecond, but Luffy watches, enamoured, because he hasn’t seen it in so long.

“It’s…” You shrug, hesitation dancing across your features. You stare up at him, and he really wishes your eyes weren’t apprehensive.

“Tell me,” he presses gently.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Oh.” He suddenly finds it hard to breathe. “And that makes you upset?” The thought of that squeezes his chest.

“No, no! That doesn’t make me upset, it’s just, I’ve been trying to kiss you for the past month, but things would happen, and I couldn’t do it, and then we came up with this plan with the mistletoe, but you—”

He stretches his arms, wrapping them around your waist to pull you towards him. He leans down and seals his mouth over yours, effectively silencing you.

You gasp in surprise, but the noise is swallowed up, lips chasing after yours. He’s squeezing you to him, waist pulled in so close he can barely think straight.

You wrap your arms around his neck, urging him closer, and Luffy tilts his head, fingers breaching the hem of your shirt to caress your skin. You whimper, so delightfully desperate that Luffy pushes against you, tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

He loves the noise—the neediness lacing your tone that he’s only ever heard you use towards him. Every time he’s been unimaginably close to you, he’d notice the way you’d stare at him, full of want and unadulterated longing that it fogs his brain and tightens his heart down to his stomach.

And how you’d whisper his name, like you did back in the forest, even though you were bleeding out. You were staring at his lips and he thought you were going to kiss him, and he realised that in that moment, he wanted to, too. And he would’ve. If you hadn’t passed out immediately after.

Then after he’d taken you to Chopper and you recovered, you pulled away, secluding yourself in the kitchen with Sanji, pretty much all day.

But, now.

Luffy gets to kiss you. He giggles into your mouth, something light bubbling away in his chest.

You pull away from him, breathing heavily. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you wanted to.”

“But did you want to?”

He thinks about you; his crewmate, nakama, friend. Someone he trusts with his life. Had gone through the biggest ups and downs of his life with you. Then he thinks about kissing you, of how many times he’d wanted to in the past, even before the forest. “Yeah.” And because he can, he pulls you in for another kiss, and he feels you smiling against his lips.

When you part this time, it’s his turn to ask a question. “Why didn’t you just kiss me when you wanted to?”

“Because it’s weird,” you say as if it’s common sense. “You can’t just kiss a friend out of nowhere.”

“But we’re not just friends. We’re… different.”

“Different?” you echo.

“The way I feel about you, and us, it’s different from how I feel about the others. It’s just different with you.”

You swallow and Luffy watches your throat move. “So, you’re saying, I could have kissed you, at any time, in the past few months, and you would have been okay with it?”

Luffy nods. “Yep.”

You purse your lips. “Oh, dear Lord,” you mutter under your breath, “Zoro was right.”

“About what?”

“He said I should’ve just asked you—I thought he was being daft.”

Luffy laughs, and you smile up at him, drinking in the noise. “You’re silly.”

You nod, before double taking as you catch sight of something over his shoulder.

Luffy looks up too.

There’s another sprig of mistletoe dangling from under the mast, metres high above your head.

“Don’t,” you say, before Luffy can react, “eat it this time.”

#op y/n secret santa #one piece x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #one piece #one piece x you #one piece.#luffy.#gift.#blorbo exchange.#long post #( i rly hope you like this #i also couldn't gift it to you on ao3 )

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