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moonit3 · 6 months

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A LOYAL BUTLER pt. 2

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, nsfw, cunnilingus, handjob, blowjob, afab! reader, male! yandere, dom! reader, sub! yandere, kissing, dry humping, non penetration but smut, I don’t how to write moans so bare with me, implied overstimulation.

➥ synopsis: a party leads to an unexpected moment for you and elliot that makes the relationship even more intimate.

➥ yandere! butler x f! reader

➥ a/n: with the help and guidance of @taeee0902 , im bringing the second part of the story that many of you have been waiting for! keep in minds this is probably the now longest piece of the blog for now, also the most long smut ive write before \(//∇//)\ so im hoping to all of you enjoy this piece as i loved writing this one! also, this is part two of this post! so check it out for some context.

➥ it’s been a few weeks since you and elliot got closer than ever. letting his hands and lips going over your body during working hours, making you feel relieved after long days of paperwork and making you feel so much pleasure from his hands alone. to think he is doing it almost daily is insane, specially when it’s risky to be caught. one time, elliot touched you in the library, despite knowing there were servants around.

➥ the occasions when he isn’t touching nor speaking dirty things to your ears, elliot still helps with your family’s finances. despite being your lover behind the curtains, he still needs to be a presentable man to keep his job as your personal butler, but also to prevent anyone from finding it out the relationship you two share. elliot knows how many people wants to steal you away from him.

➥ “you are mine, [name]…” his hands holds your waist down to the bed, preventing you from escaping his touch as he teases your entrance. the lovely sounds coming out from your lips and seeing how your eyes are rolling back makes him smile. “none can see you like this but me, do you understand me?” the only thing you could do is nodded, too busy to speak when his fingers entered your hole and too much concentrated to not moan loudly, too focused to not moan out loud of this situation.

➥ and his touchy attitude got more intense with the invitation from an old friend of your late father. a gala where many nobles will celebrate the birth of the new addition of the duke’s family, not a big deal though. however when the party started, noblemen got all over you, asking for your hand and shameless flirting with you, not caring it’s that is against the queen’s words.

➥ i should’ve stayed home…that you keep thinking by every time one of those old men gets closer to you, offering you to become their second or third wife. you can’t believe men like this exist, how can they be this stupid? thankfully, elliot is here to help.

➥ his expressionless face and sharp words were enough to make those men step away from you. because of that, many nobles began to believe that he is the voice of reason of the barony, a harsh and cruel butler who has to help the inexperienced baroness who inherited a large territory, but they don’t know the true, none of them really does.

➥ when it’s the time to leave the party, you decided to go to the bathroom and elliot took the opportunity to arrange the carriage. you give your best at smiling at those nobles for hours and hours, so that’s the barely minimum he can do for you. he was ready to enter the carriage to wait for you, but suddenly a maid calls for his name, one that he recognizes to be working for the party’s host.

➥ despite telling her name, elliot’s mind fail to remember as she talks and talks even more about her admiration for him. it’s an innocent crush, elliot can tell that by how her cheeks gets reds when he pretends to pay attention and how she can’t hold her voice low whatever she speaks about her current hobbies. situations like this are normal, everyone gets a crush on someone else, but this girl is getting off the hook. trying to touch his gloved hand and taking steps to be closer to him, this girl is surely bold or stupid enough to not know her place.

➥ he was ready to yell, maybe making a scene to scold her behavior, but nothing happened as you returned. with a smile on the lips, you make your way to stand next to elliot and dismiss the maid. the tone of your voice is shape and cold, completely opposite of your usual manner. it was efficient and the maid quickly left the scene, but not before staring at you with hateful eyes.

“my lady,” he is relieved by your arrival, things could’ve been different if you hadn’t arrived in time. “thank you for helping me with that maid.”

the sweet smile on your lips calm him down, “no problem, elliot. its my duty to assure that my closest friend feel uncomfortable.” is that so? your hands goes to his and you get closer to whisper your next words, “before we leave, i need to show you something. follow me~”

and he obeyed you. step by step, elliot walked behind you for a path that he didn’t visit earlier of the duke’s manor as he was too occupied by staying at your side during the party, however you seems familiar with this part of the mansion. have you visited here before? perhaps. after all, every noble knows each other from either arranged marriages or business relationships.

it took a few more minutes til you arrive at the place you wanted to show elliot, a library, where the only living souls around are you and him. the door is closed when he enters after you, there is something around that you want to show him? maybe an ancient book, money or could it be something else?

“elliot.” turning to face you, elliot is surprised by your hands pushing him to sit down an dusty empty armchair. slowly, you began unzipping the back of your dress, revealing the black bra and panties that you are wearing underneath it. what are you doing? this is unladylike of a noblewoman! but why isn’t he stopping you? “is this alright with you?”

he nodded, too busy to talk by the moment your hands hold his face closer to your. feeling your breath to his skin makes the entire world pause for an instant and the soft of your lips on his makes elliot feel the luckiest man to ever exist. the kiss was meant to last seconds, but elliot didn’t want to let go of this magnificent moment, so he pulled you closer with his own hands and kissed you for longer.

it’s a little weird to know that had touched you before in numerous occasions, but it’s just now that you shared a kiss with him, one that left a line of saliva when the two of finally separated. cheeks red and completely breathless, those are the words that describe you and elliot in this situation.

“a-are you—“ you interrupted him with another kiss, but it didn’t last long as elliot pushed you away. “we shouldn’t do this—it’s wrong and unacceptable to a noble lady kiss her servant.”

“really? off all the things we did before, you consider a kiss to be more blasphemy than those times you were in middle of my legs?” a laugh escapes from your lips, trying to minimize the awkward of this situation. “besides, i know you want this too, to take things just a little more further between the two of us.”

the embarrassment of elliot’s face faded with your words. “you want me?” the thought of alone makes him wonder for long you have planned this.

“of course i want you, elliot.” you kissed his neck, dirtying a small part of his white long shirt and smiling at his face. “but i will understand if you wish to pretend this never happened—“

“NO!” he holds your hips closer to his, not daring to let you escape from his grab nor getting up from his lap. “i want this. i want you, [name]…so please, continue to touch me as you wish, my lady.”

“then, i will begin.” you smiled.

with his hands on your hips, elliot guide you to move forward and back on his lap. soft moans comes from his mouth by every time you rub your intimate part closer to his buldge, it’s a new sensation for the butler, one that is making his body feel so good.

your hands on his shoulder makes him smile, this isn’t a dream, this is real and feeling your soft finger touching him is a reminder this whole experience is reality and he won’t ever change this for anything, not even for a fancy title.

elliot can feel that he is close. the moans turned into whimpers and whines speaking your name when his grip is getting weaker, his eyes are full of tears of pure pleasure. he wants to hold it, too make this moment last longer, but he failed to do so.

“ahhhh……mmm~!” one of your hands went to his lips, preventing elliot from moaning out loud to the entire manor, but that didn’t stop him from dirtying his brief and pants. its stick, you can feel as you get up from his lap and it’s visible if anyone pays closer attention. also the look on his face doesn’t help much either. “…[name]…”

things was supposed to end there, at least, that was elliot thought before you kneeling in front of him. before having you unzipped his pants, removing his briefs to take his cock into your hands. he couldn’t say a words, not when his own voice was betraying him by only letting the library’s wall listen to his stuffy moans.

the tears coming from his eye block mostly of his vision, only letting elliot see your blurry hands touching his cock and feeling your tongue licking the head of his member. wait. are you going to do what is he thinking? your lips gets closer to his shaft and then take as much as possible of him inside your mouth.

“ah…” elliot groans, the hand that isn’t preventing the moan from escaping goes to your head, guiding you to take just a little more of him. “hmmmm~”

the base of his cock is getting stoke with your non-dominant hand while the other one is holding his thighs from closing whatever elliot whimpers. your tongue can already taste the precum coming from the tip and he is already telling you to stop, saying that you shouldn’t drink it, that is dirty to a lady like to do it, but you don’t hear him.

and for a last time tonight, elliot whimpers as he finally came over and in return, you take it all inside your mouth. not a single drop escape from your lips as you smiled after drinking it all, impressing elliot in the process.

“elliot~” you still between his legs, holding his still hard cock in your hands. “are your ready for another round?”

“y-yes, [name].” he stuttered.

hiding behind one of the many pillars of the manor, a maid stares at the library’s door, waiting for two people to step out and to caught them for staying after the party was finished.

“my lord won’t like this at all.” a smile crept into her lips, already imagining the many scenarios of the baroness and her butler getting scolded and gaining some extra money for it. “and i might get a chance with that guy afterwards.”

the maid stood there for at least an hour or so before the door finally opened, revealing the two individuals she was hoping to see, but instead of calling their attention or some knight to scolded them, her body freeze by what she notice of them.

lipstick marks on the butler’s neck, a tiny drop of white fluids on the noble woman lips and what made her too stunned to speak…they are holding hands! a member of the high society being touchy with a mere commoner, isn’t that wrong? she was supposed to say something or at least call someone to shame them in the public eyes, but she just stood still, watching the two walking away to the entrance.

the baroness and her butler smiled to each other when stepping out of the duke’s manor, happily to their relationship getting more intimate and to the maid who was too scared to do something against them.

@moonit3 writings

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overtail · 1 month

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ATLA Headcannons - Dating Them ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

These are all MY headcannons, and you dont have to agree on them :3

Aang ༄

-since you two are so young, it tends to be awkward at first

-hes very touchy, but he'll try his best not to show it

-he'd love to hug you by wrapping his arms around you waist and bringing you tight. the feeling of your cheek against his chest makes his stomach flutter

-if you're a non-bender, he'll be very protective towards you. if you were ever taken or lost, he'd behave just like when appa was stolen by the sand benders

-he spends most of his free time daydreaming about you

-'you've got, nice, uh, ears?'

-horrible at compliments

-you hear whenever he asks Sokka for crappy advice

-absolutely adores when your hair is down (fem)

-when it comes to liking guys, he prefers longer hair (masc)

-blushes when you ruffle his grown out hair

-he'll take you on rides on appa when you're feeling down

-'i'd love to try, but there's meat in the stew..'

-if you were a bender, he'd always be begging you to teach him moves and tactics even if you didnt know how to be an instructor

-loves skin to skin contact, and will press his bare chest against your back when sleeping

Sokka 𖦹

-the BIGGEST nagger

-can't ever stop moving while sitting around the fire

-won't keep his lips off yours when you're alone

-will fall head over heels for an angsty teen boy (masc)

-especially mean to you when he likes you, and teases you while dating

-thinks your aggression is hot

-very protective of you, even if you're strong/a warrior

-'shit- i mean uhm.."

-cussing problem

-both of you guys are stupid together, so when you were thirsty and dehydrated in the desert, you both got high on cactus juice

-'heh.. you see that flying shark cat?'

-loves seeing you embrace your feminine side (fem)

-love language is cooking for you, even if he sucks

-crappy pick up lines work but just because you think his attempt is cute

-'did i hurt when you fell from heaven?'

Zuko ☄

-not very open about his emotions in the beginning

-when he gets comfortable with you, he'll sometimes cry in your arms at night

-arm across your shoulders or around your waist CONSTANTLY.

-and when i mean constantly, i mean constantly.

-when hes fire lord, he'll have a designated room for whatever hobby you're passionate about

-'the greenhouse is just outside-' 'A GREENHOUSE?!'

-thinks stretch marks are the most beautiful thing

-can stare at your face for hours on end because hes so lost in your eyes

-loves doodling you in his notebooks

-if hes in an angry mood, he'll always have a soft spot for you

Katara ≈

-jealous jealous jealous girl

-love splashing you with water just to bother you

-runs her fingers through your hair at night to calm both of you down

-embarrassed when you catch her singing

-she hates it when you leave a mess

-super cuddly when tired

-loves stupid nicknames

-'whatever you say, princess.' 'what did you just call me?'

-loves telling stories you've heard 1000 times over and over again

-SUPER big hugger

-will elbow you when she can sense you're annoying someone

Toph ᨒ

-will always find a way to wind in an argument

-constantly using being blind as an excuse

-'i can't clean up the mess if i CAN'T SEE IT.'

-super giggly when you tell jokes, but only when its you

-jumps around with joy when she hears that you're gonna be joining the gaang on a mission

-hates when you hold her in your arms because she can't feel the floor

-women with deep voices make her weak in the knees (fem)

-unsurprisingly, fighting is one of her love languages -- she likes competing with her favorite people

-loves when you tell a story in detail, especially the juicy ones

-holds your hand whenever walking somewhere

Suki ❀

-loves spending time outdoors (picnic dates, walks, exploring)

-she loves putting you in makeup because you look ridiculous (masc)

-very inexperienced when it comes to romance

-'why are you kissing my neck? That's not where my lips are..'

-loses things CONSTANTLY and always makes you help her look for it

-loves dancing with you

-pathological liar, but only when it comes to stories

-'one time, i saw the unaki eat a child.'

-listening to rain and cuddling in front of a window makes her feel so happy

-loves taking care of children with you, and looks forward to having kids

-loves your corny jokes

...

BONUS!!

Sexuality headcannons..

Aang: unlabeled

he just sorta loves who he loves

Sokka: Bisexual with a preference for women

Says hes a ladies man, but will fall for a boy from time to time (*cough cough* zukka)

Zuko: Gay

Im sorry ladies but just LOOK AT HIM.

Katara: Pansexual

I love kataang with my whole heart so i couldn't really see her with anyone else, but if Aang wasn't in the picture she'd date a few girls

Toph: Lesbian

like cmonnnnn

Suki: Straight

im sorry but im a sucker for strong straight females

#aang #avatar the last airbender #fandom #fanfic #fluff #katara #sokka #sokka x reader #katara x reader #katara x aang #toph #toph x reader #atla suki #suki x reader #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x reader #headcanon

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wileys-russo · 5 months

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we need a dj leah fic

i know nothing about dj-ing so this is all y'all get lmao hobbies II l.williamson

"lee? baby i'm home!" you called out, kicking off your shoes and shrugging off your jacket at the door. though when you received no response you frowned, walking further into your home.

"babe? leah?" you continued to call out, popping your head into the bedroom and the living room but finding no trace of the blonde. her car was in your driveway and unless you'd missed something you weren't aware of her having an event or plans tonight.

"oh here you are." you sighed in relief finally finding her in the kitchen. "baby?" you called out, dropping your bag on the counter. "lee?" you called again, the girl bopping her head focused on something else, headphones covering her ears.

you paused for a moment eyes falling to the sliver of her abs visible where her shirt had ridden up, waistband of her boxers poking out from her pants as her tanned and toned arms flexed while she messed about with whatever was in front of her.

"leah!" you yelled louder, smacking your hand on the counter a few times as your girlfriend finally glanced up, flinching a little in shock at the sight of you stood there. "hi gorgeous, didn't hear you come in." she pulled her headphones down to her ears with a smile.

"missed you." she attached to you right away with a soft smile, attacking your face with kisses before finally rewarding you with a real one, tugging you around the counter to where she previously stood.

"yeah no wonder you didn't hear me. what the hell is all this?" you frowned seeing her messing about with her laptop and some sort of board full of buttons. "dj pad." leah gave you a toothy grin, wrapping you in a hug, your head resting against her chest as you stared down at her latest hobby.

"oh leah." you sighed as she let you go, tenderly kissing the side of your head. "what?" she smiled, ducking down to kiss you properly, sending your head into a spin as her tongue swiped your bottom lip but you forced yourself to pull away.

"you always do this!" you pulled yourself up to sit on the counter beside her laptop. "do what!" leah frowned, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow sent your way.

"you invest in some sort of hobby, do it for a week or two and then it joins your graveyard of dead interests and you move onto something else. then the cycle repeats!" you shook your head knowingly.

"i do not!" leah scoffed in offence as you now raised an eyebrow at her, jumping down from the counter. "come with me my love, let's go on a little house tour." you smiled holding our your hand, leah pulling off her headphones with a roll of her eyes and leaving them by the dj pad as her slender fingers interlocked with yours.

"example one; the hoverboard." you gestured to the item sitting abandoned in the corner of the living room, untouched for years now. "babe everyone bought those during lock down!" leah defended as you hummed.

"example two; the indoor golf set." you kicked the box sat with her trainers. "i still use that." leah protested as you fixed her with a firm look. "you've used it like four times if you're lucky."

"example three; the knitting!" leah followed you into her study as you yanked open one of her desk drawers and pointed to the abandoned bundle of wool and needles. "excuse me? i made you a blanket and that blanket was made with love." leah scowled as you shut the drawer.

"a baby blanket maybe it was like four poorly finished squares lee it could cover my ankles if i'm lucky." you chuckled moving to the large wall to wall bookshelf as leah scoffed. "psychology!" you continued, waving to the five or six huge textbooks your girlfriend was yet to even touch let alone crack open.

"hey i could still read those, that doesn't count." "but will you? signs point to no." you sighed with a shake of your head, ignoring your girlfriends hand swatting at your bum with an unimpressed huff at your tone.

"the VR goggles?" "they gave me a headache!" "the drumming pads?" "okay those were an impulse buy." "gardening? the veggie patch?" "our garden is immaculate!" "yes it is, because i'm the one who looks after it and actually keeps it alive baby. the video camera?" "hey i made the cutest video with that last year, it isn't my fault i lost the charger."

"do i need to continue baby or are you seeing the pattern now?" you challenged with a smile, swinging leahs hand back and forth which was still linked with yours.

"okay maybe i can be a little bit impulsive. but life is too short not to enjoy simple pleasures babe, even just for a moment." using your interlocked hands she tugged your body into hers, hands cupping your cheeks as her thumb pulled down your bottom lip before it snapped back up with a small pop.

"did you learn that in one of your self help books?" you grinned right as she leaned in to kiss you, head flicking back to the bookshelf. "shut up, but i'm getting pretty good! come." with that she lead you out of the office and back to the kitchen.

"leah!" you laughed as she effortlessly picked you up by the waist and sat you back on the counter. "listen." she carefully slid her headphones over your ears, pecking your lips a few times and focusing back on the dj pad.

your lips curled into a smile as you adjusted her headphones, wincing a little as a loud beat sounded in your ears, and you tried not to laugh at how your girlfriends eyebrows furrowed together as she pushed and prodded at the different buttons.

"see? not too bad eh!" leah stopped after a few minutes and you tugged the headphones down. "wait that was it?" you frowned, leahs mouth dropping into a small o at your words. "that was like someone beat boxing without a sense of rhythm. babe that was so bad!" you laughed honestly, covering your smile with your hand.

"baby!" leah whined, smacking your leg and crossing her arms. "what? do you want me to lie?" you grinned as she pulled her headphones off you with a huff. "don't quit your day job for the ibiza circuit just yet sweets, you're no fred again." you continued to tease as you patted her shoulder.

"hey it's really hard okay! these stupid programs i downloaded are no help either." leah pouted with another huff. you held up a finger for her to wait, lifting your hips to pull your phone out of your back pocket.

"here baby, one more for your bookshelf." "how to dj for idiots and dummies."

"cheeky girl." leah tutted, slotting herself in between your legs as her hands slid up and down your legs which wrapped around her waist. "have you figured out your dj name yet?" you grinned, getting your words out in between the lingeringly soft kisses the taller blonde was leaving on your lips.

"no, got any suggestions?" leah chuckled, closing her eyes as your mouth pulled away from hers and focused on her neck, her hands gripping your hips and pulling your body closer into hers as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of her favorite perfume.

"i think dj hold the mayo williamson will do numbers in ticket sales." "oh really? think i might need a tour manager love." "aren't you lucky, you've got the best in the business right in front of you." "mmm i haven't done any gigs yet gorgeous, afraid i can't pay you." "oh don't you worry williamson, i think we can work some sort of arrangement out."

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso blurbs #engwnt #leah williamson #woso imagine #woso fanfics

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deonsx · 4 months

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If They Become A Girl Dad

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai, Atsushi, Akutagawa

Dazai Osamu

God! I can imagine him in complete joy. Being the father of a girl made him much more exciting than being the father of a boy. The reason is that he always wants to protect his little princess. Father and daughter dress the same and often go shopping for his daughter

He will definitely spoil your daughter and if you try to stop him, you will be the bad cop.. He will be the one who gets her ready for school in the morning, while you will prepare her bag. While braiding your daughter's hair, you laugh when you realize how complex Dazai's mind is, "Honey! Braiding hair, I need help with this!" "Yes, mom and dad can't do it, my hair is tangled, please" While your daughter is complaining about her father, poor dazai is only trying to communicate with him more

"My beautiful daughters, I am lucky to have you... I have a duty to protect you”

Chuuya Nakahara

He shows off his Cooking skills to your daughter and manages to impress your daughter every time. He is a hero in your daughter's eyes, but the problem is that your daughter...is in love with your husband much more than you. "Dad, I love you more than my mother~!" Chuuya laughs and looks at you, "Look, your mother says she loves me more, even though~" Your boyfriend kisses his daughter as if he's teasing you

he takes your daughter out on trips all the time, and to be honest, he is a real trick when it comes to mothering her. he can take care of your child for hours, days, weeks, even when you are not around and working overtime at work. He will try to entertain her with his powers. I can imagine him rocking your daughter to sleep on his lap. He buys your daughter clothes from the most expensive brands and dresses her like Barbie. Your daughter and Chuu look so much alike that there would never even be a possibility of suspicion

“You can't understand how it feels to have two angels belong to me”

Fyodor Dostoyevski

He is definitely a difficult person and the fact that he now has a daughter really makes him a more difficult father figure. His daughter is a complete copy of him, her hair and eyes are purple, I know that Fyodor will not be a very careless father, on the contrary, he really cares about her very much, mostly the fact that he does not have time to care does not make him a careless father. He always has his eyes on his daughter and is busy protecting her.

If you leave them alone, it is possible, although very rare, to witness them playing games with their daughter. Usually, they play the Barbie house game together as a result of her daughter's insistence. Fyodor agrees not to talk because instead of these games, he prefers to teach her new hobbies such as chess, piano and violin. He is a very disciplined father, he is still with his daughter during her high school years. he stays (to keep her away from men) he's a jealous father he just can't say it

"I'm the only man in your life, your father, you won't need anyone else"

Nikolai Gogol

He is a total entertainer, he does his best to entertain his daughter. Your daughter has long white hair and deep blue eyes, a snow-white skin, and it is certain that she inherited all her genes from Nikolay. She starts braiding your daughter's hair at the very beginning of the morning and they spend hours together. Even your daughter's first word is "pa~pa!~" You and Nikolai looked at each other and were shocked. "My dear girl!!!!~~" Your lover is capable of being both a mother and a father to him and you didn't realize this until you had a child

Your child loves to do magic tricks! You don't have to wake up at night because Nikolai gives your child all the sleep back in 1 minute with his talent, you don't even have to get out of bed, he always dresses his daughter like a royal princess when shopping for clothes, he buys the most expensive jewels (even though she is still small, she has a lot of diamonds), her daughter's taste attracted her father and They eat their favorite meals together. Whatever her father wants to eat, she wants it too

"You're not jealous of us spending so much time with my daughter, are you? Remember...I'm yours."

Atsushi Nakajima

He is a really worried father, sometimes he even forgets that he is a father and becomes a child, it is possible that you will feel like you have 2 children because you cannot get out of this cycle in the general period of time... Atsushi really likes to introduce everything to your daughter, he takes her to the agency on the days when you are busy and tired. It mostly saves you from a tiring day. He spends all his time with her in the mornings and your daughter doesn't look like you, she is a complete copy of her father, her eyes are a mixture of sain and purple, she reminds of autumn, her hair shifts from white to blonde and her naughty mistakes are the same as her father's.

He is always protecting you and your daughter. Now he has 2 lives to protect. He cried the first time when he learned that your baby would be a girl. I can imagine him kneeling down on his knees and crying with happiness, thinking about what kind of a daughter he will be. "I-I will be a father! And the father of a girl!!" There was a huge celebration when he shouted this news to the agency, "My father is a tiger!" Your daughter was constantly bragging about her father and trying to convince her friends that he was a tiger

"Oh, did my darling daughter and wife miss me? Because I missed them”

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

He is a father who really has a hard time showing his emotions, but when it comes to his daughter, everything disappears for him. If you see him talking to his daughter, you will feel like you don't know him at all. He likes to play with your little daughter and teach her new words. His first word is "rasomon" He entertains your daughter by showing her his talent. rasomon is at your daughter's disposal. They go on shopping trips with his father but of course his father can't take care of him alone, so he can't help but call you. "I think I still have a lot to learn from you, s/o" Unlike other fathers, Akutagawa is uneasy and is still trying to overcome his inferiority complex left over from Dazai. Of course, everything is better with you painted too white

Even though he had a hard time expressing his feelings when he found out you were going to have a daughter, he gave you a reassuring smile and held your hand "I'm with you" he always reassured you and as you now rocked your daughter in his arms these memories ran through your mind, Akutagawa definitely described his child about Dazai, your daughter strangely doesn't like dazai

"You're the one who helped me erase the darkness in my heart... don't leave me s/o..."

Enjoy!

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buckybarnesb-tch · 9 months

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Hiii! I was wondering if u could do a royalty au with the yandere Mikaelsons! It can either be human or vampire but like image THE AESTHETICS OF IT!! And can u somehow include rebekah as well!! I can leave the rest of the plot up to u or if u want I can also send ideas :)

I Don’t Want a Crown -Klaus M.

For something like this I could see going vampire but no, I’m going human on this. I’m excited to try it out!

Your father thought it was an insult.

You were your fathers youngest daughter, the only one currently unmarried as he had married off your sisters already to make necessary alliances. The Mikaelson family was a very powerful ally, they were close with the king and queen but your father only wanted you to be married to the eldest, Elijah. Elijah however is already betrothed.

Elijah was happy to marry you to his younger brother, Niklaus, who you hadn’t met but you had heard some truly horrific stories of him beheading and gutting his enemies.

Your father dismissed you so that he could talk to Elijah alone and you happily exited the stuffy room, exploring the castle before making your way outside. You were enjoying the overcast sky before coming across a man leaning against a tree and seemingly sketching something in a book. You paused as you walked passed him to look and see him drawing an image of your horse that was by the stables.

‘That’s very good…are you an artist or something?’ You questioned and he paused to look down at you before smiling.

‘Or something, it’s a nice hobby. I’m glad you like it. I’m Nik, lovely to meet you.’ He took your hand, kissing your knuckle softly and bowing as he did which made you smile. Many men that greeted you didn’t think they had to bow to anyone but your parents, this man was a stranger and showing you more respect than your regular suitors.

‘I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure. Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you Nik.’ You turned to walk away when he quickly fell into step beside you.

‘I can’t leave a beautiful girl to walk alone now can I? What kind of a man would I be?’ He held out his arm and you took it as you walked through the gardens. ‘So, why are you taking a stroll alone on such a dreary day?’

‘Oh I love days like these, and I love walking in the rain…much to my fathers dismay but that somehow makes it better.’ You teased and he seemed to like it. ‘Rainy days are the best kind. And I suppose I needed to get away. My father has been trying to marry me off to some rich family, though which one is anyone’s guess. It’s exhausting meeting potential husbands every day, and not one of them actually interested in meeting me. Just my father because it’s his choice and I will do what I’m told. Then I’ll get married to a man who is cold and cruel and just as happy to make me do what I’m told. I’m not ignorant enough to think I should be free to fall in love, the world isn’t that kind but shouldn’t we at least like each other? I don’t want to become my sister, married to a man who beats her with only the intention of filling her with a son…and now I’m ranting my problems to a stranger who only asked about the weather. I’m so sorry Nik-‘

‘I asked why you were walking, you answered. And I don’t think it’s an outrageous request to want to get along or a husband who will not beat you. A man should respect his wife, she is the one who will raise his children and give him a happy home to come back to every day, warm his bed yes but that should be more than one sided as well.’ You tried to hide your blush at the topic but he definitely noticed. ‘You’re a lovely women. You should be taken care of, and regardless of what a man is like with other men he should be a gentleman with his family. I’m sure your husband will prove to be a good man, at least to you.’ You smiled at that, his optimism being refreshing.

‘It’s a nice sentiment, though the man my father is meeting with now is trying to marry me off to an apparent madman. Of course those are just rumors, everyone deserves a fair chance.’ He looked stunned by your words as you sat yourself on the rock wall overlooking the ocean. It’s where you came to read often, it was peaceful and you loved watching the waves when it stormed.

‘You have a refreshing outlook on life. I like how sweet you are Y/n. Any man should be honored to have you, I know I would be.’ He sat beside you, kissing your hand once again, his blue eyes being the kind you want to get lost in for hours.

‘Well, I’m an optimist I guess. Besides, it’s not just him that’s a possibility. My father is meeting with someone else today, I suppose he feels slighted that I’ve been offered a second son, dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life but my father is nothing if not sensitive.’ You joked and while he laughed he looked…angry? He hid it quickly before standing and holding out his hand.

‘We should get you inside, it’s going to rain any second Princess.’ He walked you back to the castle in silence and while it wasn’t uncomfortable, you felt the need to ask as you got inside.

‘Have I offended you? If I have, you have my sincerest apologies my Lord, I don’t-‘

‘Nonsense! You have done nothing of the sort.’ He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and the way he looked at you was so…heavy. ‘Now, you go get yourself warmed up and dressed for dinner. I’m sure I will see you again in a bit.’ With that he bowed and was gone, leaving you to realize how late it really was and rush to get ready for dinner.

When you arrived you were greeted by your mother as your father spoke to a man who must be in his early 40s. Very close to his age at least. ‘Y/n, your father has invited both of your suitors, Lord Aslan and Lord Mikaelson to dinner tonight. He would like to speak with both of them freely and see which is the best match, please be on your best behavior?’ Your mother begged.

‘Please tell me that old man is my suitors father?’ Your mother looked at you with hard eyes and you knew to shut up as you all sat down to eat.

‘Should we wait for the Mikaelson’s?’ Your mother asked and father rolled his eyes.

‘Can’t even be on time for a potential alliance. How disgraceful.’ Lord Aslan spoke and now you rolled your eyes.

‘Apologies my Lord, my brother has had to leave, our sister is having a bit of trouble. I’m sorry for my tardiness.’ You know that voice.

‘We can understand that. Young women are a handful, I should know, my wife gave me 5.’ Everyone knows your father hates that your mother gave him so many girls before a boy but he still brings it up. You looked up to see Nik sitting in the chair across from you and smiled politely, but you’re sure he could see it didn’t reach your eyes. ‘Gentlemen, this is my daughter Y/n.’ You waved politely, Nik smiling while the man beside your father leered at you.

‘The pleasure is mine Princess.’ Lord Mikaelson greeted, the other man laughing suddenly and gaining everyone’s attention.

‘She’s not a Princess. A Lady, maybe, and a lovely one at that.’ You cringed, taking a drink from your cup and trying to ignore his eyes on you.

‘Every women should be treated as a Princess by her husband. Do you not agree my Lord? I’ve met many Princesses, they don’t hold a candle to you Darling.’ The blush is back and this time you can’t even pretend to hide it.

‘Thank you my Lord, you are sweet.’

The rest of dinner was your father speaking to Lord Aslan while he leered at you and you spoke to Nik back and forth, finding the rumors about him to be insane. He couldn’t hurt a fly. Or so you thought.

After they had left and you were getting ready for bed your father knocked on your door, letting himself in with a stern look on his face. ‘You behaved very rudely at dinner. You didn’t once try to speak to Lord Aslan.’

‘He was staring at my chest all night and he didn’t speak to me either, just you. He wants me to be his wife and doesn’t even want to know anything about me? No thank you. Besides, I loved speaking with Niklaus, he was sweet and he wanted to know me. I would much rather-‘ you were about to finish when your father cut you off with a hand around your throat, eyes angry and determined.

‘You think I care what you want? Your opinion means nothing to me child, it’s the men that matter and I will not be offended by being offered a second son for my youngest girl. I’m being given land and an army by Lord Aslan, plus a dowry that is worth much more than you. You’ll make yourself happy where ever I put you like a good daughter and a good wife! You are set to marry Lord Aslan in a fort night. That is all I will hear on the matter.’ When he stopped speaking he finally allowed you to breathe, pulling his hand away and watching you collapse to the floor, gasping for air. ‘Sleep daughter. You have lunch with your husband tomorrow and you must be presentable.’ With that he was gone and you were left alone to change into your night gown, holding a cold compress to the quickly forming bruises on your throat.

You were in too much pain to relax and sleep, every time you moved your neck or swallowed pain shot through your throat and didn’t leave you with the ability to get comfortable. You had finally given up trying and ended up on the loveseat with a book and an inability to stop the tears despite your pain. You were going to spend the rest of your life with a man who doesn’t care for you at all. Niklaus would move on and find a new wife, some lucky girl to have a good husband and a good life and you hate her. You were trying to calm yourself when you heard a knock on your French doors making you look up before it happened again. Quickly you wiped your face before moving to the doors to see a familiar face, waving casually.

‘What are you doing?’ You asked, opening the doors and allowing him to slip in and watching as he looked around your plain room.

‘I am to be your husband, I’m allowed to see my wife, aren’t I? I want to get to know you better before-we…why are you crying?’ You quickly wiped your face again and he stopped you, taking your hands in his and brushing the tears away.

‘Niklaus, you have to go. You can’t be here-‘

‘I will not have you cry, why are you upset, I can-‘

‘You can’t fix it! You are not going to be my husband! I told you, I’m not going to be married to a second son and what I want doesn’t matter! You need to leave, please? You’ll be killed if you’re found in here!’ You pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge, pulling you close and tilting your head up, inspecting the bruises on your neck gently. ‘My Lord-‘

‘Husband.’ He cut you off, clearly angry but not acting on it. ‘I’m sorry if you got confused Princess, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, your father seems to want to irritate me. There was no chance of any other man marrying you, I have already decided that you’re mine. You are not to worry about that, do you understand?’ He asked it so softly you felt like you were dreaming.

‘But my father-‘

‘Do. You. Understand?’ His eyes were a stormy blue, like a raging sea, impossible to tame but he never once made you feel like you were in danger with him.

‘I understand. But my father will never agree. He’s stubborn and cruel-‘

‘You haven’t seen cruel Princess…and you never will. I promise you that. And this-‘ he touched your neck softly, his eyes hardening when he looked at the bruises. ‘This will never happen to you again. Not in this lifetime, you are my wife, my Princess to protect and no one will ever harm you. No one will get close enough to try. Tomorrow you’ll go about your day like normal and not speak a word of this, then you will get the news that you are being married to me. Now come, Princess’ need sleep.’ He suddenly lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bed, tucking you into the blankets and holding your hand.

‘I can’t sleep. My neck hurts and I-‘

‘Shh.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle, reaching up to open your mouth and you didn’t fight him as he pored it onto your tongue, making you swallow. ‘Now relax, you’ll sleep just fine my darling. Don’t you worry about that.’ He pressed your hand to his face, kissing your palm and sighing, his stubble scratching your hand roughly. As he began standing your eyes fell, heavy with sleep and you felt a kiss on your cheek before you fell asleep.

You slept well into the next day and you were awoken by a maid just before lunch, helping you into a dress that covered the marks on your neck. You went to the gardens for your lunch but Lord Aslan never showed up.

Your father was furious for the rest of the day and you didn’t see him at dinner but your mother told you that he was in a meeting. Walking back to your bedroom that night you turned to see familiar blue eyes looking down at you, waiting outside your door. ‘Nik?’

‘Hello my darling wife.’ He pulled you close to his chest and into your room, the door shutting behind him. ‘Our wedding will be held in 2 days time, everything is being taken care of, you won’t have to lift one little finger. I want you to have the best wedding day ever.’

You pulled back, looking up at him confused. ‘I’m engaged already, he told me-‘

‘Your father is an idiot, and he knew not to cross me yet he did so anyway after finding out that I wanted you as my wife. That’s his problem. The other…I hesitate to call him a man, isn’t an issue anymore. He was found dead in his home this morning for looking at things that didn’t belong to him.’ You stared up at him in shock, not sure what to do. ‘I told you, I like how sweet you are and any man should feel honored to have you. I do, and I always will. I will protect my sweet girl until my dying day, and not once will your innocent eyes be forced to see anything even resembling violent. I know I’m not the best man, but I will take care of you love, and I will love you for the rest of eternity…do you want to be mine?’

You didn’t know what to say to that. ‘I’m already yours-‘

‘I will see to it that you live like a nun for the rest of your life if that’s what you choose, but I would much prefer you be mine. I love you Y/n, but it’s your choice.’ His honesty spoke volumes and I nodded my head without hesitation.

‘Yes. I want to be your wife…I love you too Nik.’

Klaus was the best husband she could have ever dreamed of and he was true to his word, she never saw any violence…even when she ordered it.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

I Don’t Want a Crown Moodboard

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 month

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Id love to see how DOG! Konig actually first saw Reader or even when he knew he fell in love with her <3

König saw reader first time on TV :)

It was one of those boring moments when the latest mission was done and he was coming down from his adrenaline/testosterone/cortisol high, channel surfing at the base with a blank stare.

He passed this one channel that never had anything worthwhile to watch, except this time—wait a minute—there��s some cute girl whipping egg whites there. He changed the channel out of habit but immediately changed it back again, his eyes boring to the screen where this woman was making lemon tartlets.

He pays attention to the nice voice… Nice lips… Her hands, very delicate when she decorates each tart with raspberries and mint leaves. It’s always hot in his opinion when a girl prepares dinner or dessert, and this cutie is doing both. She has a sad smile and a pair of depressed eyes, her body language reminds him of tortured prisoners on the brink of confession. The despair in her eyes resembles the look on women just before they cum, and it drives him fucking nuts.

She’s fucking perfect… So weak, just a poor little thing who’s trying to hide, probably hates the camera and her audience, every small prick she has to work for and with.

König binges her whole show within a few days from some streaming service, even faps during or after watching – just a few times because in a few episodes, they filmed her breasts and hands a lot, although it must be said it’s that helpless look in her eyes that truly makes him cum hard… He fantasizes about arriving at her studio with his guns blazing, wondering how she would react when he stains her cute little tarts with blood. How she would react when she sees a big, able man come to take what’s his – would she kneel and beg him to save her life, or would she gasp and look like a stupefied goldfish when he pulls his dick out after the bloodbath and tells her to give it a kiss?

Next thing he does is he googles her, finds a few articles in some lousy girl magazine where she mentions she has “learned to make peace with solitude” and that “time spent alone feels good nowadays”. Ja, sicher! Poor little thing is lying her eyes out, anyone can see that. She tries so hard to be brave, looks so fuckable when she sighs and looks down at the food she just made like it’s the only thing in this world she can do right. Just cook some food and decorate dumb pastries, looking like a spoiled little princess while she’s doing it.

He gets his hands on the actual, physical articles and keeps them in his locker because they include pictures of her. Finds her on social media and looks at her Instagram feed first time in the morning and last time before bed, chuckling to himself from how pathetic she is, so fucking desperate to get attention... He has a collection of screenshots on his phone: one of his favourites is, surprisingly, not a picture of her delicious ass, trying another dumb hobby that’s supposed to be trendy. It’s the one where she’s smiling at a big mug of coffee in front of her, looking like a cute little kitten who’s been offered a treat. Or her on the beach with a big straw hat on her head, looking at the waves and smiling a big, silly smile, her worries forgotten for a moment. Her at a party, all dolled up and practically begging to get fucked, holding the waist of some weak civilian he could kill with one punch.

But his ultimate favourite is a selfie she took while she was out on a walk. She’s without her makeup, wearing a simple old faded t-shirt, looking up at the camera with a fake smile and those sad, pleading eyes, silently begging for someone to take the pain away. She’s unprotected, and lonely, so pitiful that König would do anything to teleport beside her right now and haul her away like a sack of whimpering potatoes thrown over his shoulder.

Is no one going to fucking come to her rescue and spoil her to bits, is no one going to fuck those dumb little thoughts out of her head? What the fuck is wrong with men these days, he doesn’t understand, but he’s not going to watch this ridiculous shit for a moment longer…

(If you asked König when he realized he was in love with her, he would answer it was love at first sight. Or… maybe… that one time when she asked where she put the cream. She was talking to herself while the cameras were rolling, looking helpless, lost, and dumb because she literally had one job... König found that very endearing.)

#dog fic #stalker!könig

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starkwlkr · 2 months

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celebrity skin | cillian murphy

barbenheimer series

‘Is Hollywood done with Y/n?’

‘Y/n L/n, the girl failure’

That’s what the articles published on their front page. Recently, Y/n had refused to do a big budget film for a legendary director claiming that she wanted to take a break from the world of acting. Her and Cillian were looking to buy a house in Ireland so she was busy looking at listings and calling multiple real estate agents.

The director ended up calling her a bitch over the phone. He had insulted her over and over, stating that she would regret her decision.

After a source told multiple magazines about the situation only the ‘source’ didn’t tell the full story, the media started calling her annoying, selfish, dumb blonde, and the one that stuck the most, a bitch.

Cillian was not having it. Instead of going to his audition for a new series, he stayed home with her. He didn’t want her to be alone, especially at a time where the media and ‘fans’ were turning their backs on her.

“You don’t have to stay with me.” Y/n sighed as she snuggled up to Cillian. They were currently in London since Cillian had gotten an audition for a BBC series. He called the casting director and canceled, which made Y/n mad. Why wouldn’t she be? He had talked about the audition for months and now he canceled?!

“I want to.” He replied, giving her a kiss to the side of her head. “You haven’t eaten anything. I can make you pancakes, I know how much you love breakfast for dinner.”

“I’ll eat in a bit. I think I want to take a nap.” She said.

Cillian had noticed how she’s been taking naps all week. Sometimes she wouldn’t even come out of her room and all she ate was granola bars and orange juice.

“I want you to know that I’m with you every step of the way. Those articles? They’re wrong. Fuck those articles. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love you so much.” Cillian admitted.

Y/n could feel a tear roll down her cheek. Sometimes all she wanted to do was run away with Cillian to whatever country and live their lives in a nice house.

“You’re a jerk, you know that. . I wasn’t planning on crying today. But I love you too.” Y/n laughed as Cillian pulled her in for a kiss. “I wish we could leave this place and go to one of those cottage houses in the countryside. That’s always been a dream of mine.”

“That sounds nice. Why don’t you pack your bag and I’ll buy our tickets and we can leave tomorrow.” Cillian said.

“What?” Y/n asked confused.

“I saw you looking at this cottage the other day on your laptop. I bought it two days ago and I payed my mum to buy us some nice furniture and food so by the time we get there it’ll be okay for us to stay there for a while. So go pack and I’ll arrange our flight. You and I are leaving all this behind for the next few days. No work, no fancy dresses or premieres to attend. Just us and our new home.” He explained.

“You’re full of surprises, my love.”

TIME SKIP

OCTOBER

It had been a few months since Y/n and Cillian left their life in London and stayed in their new cottage in the countryside. She loved it there. No paparazzi or pushy fans to bother her or Cillian. It was paradise for her. Eventually the casting director for Peaky Blinders offered the role of Tommy Shelby to Cillian since last time Cillian was going to audition he had called to cancel. The casting director desperately wanted him to portray the protagonist of the new BBC series.

Y/n encouraged Cillian to take the role. She was fine with staying in their cottage after all she had made new friends with the women that lived nearby. So Cillian flew back to London to film and Y/n stayed behind. She had picked up new hobbies, fixed some stuff that needed fixing like the guest room and even started working on her garden.

Soon, Cillian had finished filming and made it back home to Y/n just in time for her birthday. Even though it was her day, Y/n insisted on making dinner herself. She decided to cook a comfort food of hers, chicken alfredo.

Cillian watched as she set a plate full of pasta and chicken in front of him then placed hers on her placemat. “I should be cooking for you.” Cillian said, grabbing his fork and beginning to eat.

“If the birthday girl wants to cook then let her.” Y/n stated then began to eat. “How was filming? I saw some pictures on twitter of you on set and I have mixed feelings about the haircut.”

“You don’t like it? Be honest. I don’t like it.” Cillian admitted.

“Well it took some time to get used to it, but I kind of like it now. I don’t know, you look hot either way.” Y/n smirked.

“Then I guess I’ll have to thank the hair department.”

Soon, both plates of food were forgotten as the two lovers made their way to their bedroom, pieces of clothing scattered around. It had been months and both Cillian and Y/n were counting down the days until they say each other again. Months without a single kiss or the feeling of skin on skin. What a way to end your birthday . . .

TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @agustdpeach @celesteblack08 @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekyliepage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

#barbenheimer series #cillian murphy series #cillian murphy one shot #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy

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alwaysshallow · 3 months

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how you get the girl

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x female reader

READ ON AO3

You spend Valentine's Day with your best friend, perfectly oblivious to his feelings to you. (3k)

A/N: an exchange gift for @tokusho!! hope you like it; Kyle is a sweetheart!! a sweetheart that loved you from the very start, it would be proper to say. I wouldn't be myself if I wouldn't include smut in it lmao

People love winter for multiple reasons.

First, school doesn't bug them that much. Sure, there’s always something to do, but it’s calmer around Christmas time and February, when all of the exams are over. Time for yourself, learning new hobbies or expanding current ones. Cute.

It's also the best to spend this time on travelling—around the world or near the area someone lives in. No matter where, it’s good to take a breath and visit your family or friends, too.

Or just to wander around your town, taking in nature and thinking about mundane things, far from the school, far from the boring reality someone is in. When you can just be amazed by the view right in front of you, thinking how small the world really is, how grateful you are to be here.

Secondly, it's a cozy season. You can get lost in watching those silly romcom movies, trying to bake something edible from the various cooking shows that are out here. Wanting to be at least half as good as Gordon Ramsay is, or to serve the best cake in the world. Everyone makes it so effortless, it’s only natural to want to try it too.

Does it work?

Well, based on your own experience, you're certainly better at it, but cinnamon rolls are by far the best thing you can make—mostly because it can't be too sweet. And your main problem? Making things way too sweet. Not because you like it that way, not because you have someone who likes it that way, you just… Well, let's say, you like to skip the amount of things you have to add.

Everything is "on eye" and maybe it works with cooking, but certainly not baking.

All of those reasons could be your reasons why you would like winter. Could—because you have one that is way more important than baking or being alone.

Because this is the season when you see Kyle Garrick after months of being apart. You see his dumb smile whenever you open the door for him, how happy he is to be here. How he literally can’t wait to step into your house and be here for a couple of weeks since that’s how he uses his leave. Couple of days for other friends and catching around. The rest is for you.

Kyle is your friend from high school. Years spent together in the same classes, parties, he was—still is—a dear friend that had your back, and you had his, always, no matter how shitty the situation was.

Inseparable, that’s what you were. Attending the same practices, no matter if it was a football one, art classes or something else; you always were here for a good laugh, especially if you sucked at some activities.

Everyone around always saw you together. There were even a few rumors about you two dating, but it never came down to this, to being together despite years of flirting and a few innocent kisses, there and there. You two didn’t even talk about this, much to your dismay.

Maybe you would, if he didn’t leave for the military. Tough separation, leaving you on ice with no one to help you to get up and get your shit together because life doesn’t only depend on one boy that you’re hopelessly devoted to. Took a couple of months, but you eventually got used to it—being with him for a couple of days or weeks to see him leaving for another couple of months. Weeks.

You sometimes wonder if he has someone out there. Waiting there for him in the military, even if it’s forbidden at some point. Or, maybe he has some medic that always patches him up after the missions, a small smile at her lips, keeping his secrets. Keeping his bed warm, making the whole thing easier because she’s always gonna be around. No matter what.

“—and he’s just a moron.”

But maybe if he did have someone, he wouldn’t spend Valentine’s Day with you.

You look up at him, a confused look on your face, but you manage to give him a smile. He probably talks about the movie that you two are watching; a classic romcom, Love Actually, but you’re not sure. You got too lost in your thoughts to know who he is calling a moron and give it more than a second of your thinking.

He seems to know that. An arch of his eyebrows exposes him, appearing when he always thinks of something a little too much. Military habit, he once explained, but it makes you chuckle every time.

“Who’s a moron?” you ask, deciding not to act dumb—it wouldn’t work in front of him. Not when he knows the pattern of your thoughts, not when you two know each other inside out.

“Him. I would give up on a girl that’s taken, sure, especially if she’s nothing but eye candy. A stupid desire that would end the friendship. But he literally filmed her through the entire wedding,” he mutters, his fingers curling slowly the ends of your hair. He repeats the action several times, even if he talks. You think it’s soothing him in some way. “She had to mean everything for him.”

“It’s about the art of letting go. She was in love with his best friend, it’s… not that simple.” You shrug; for some reason, Kyle barks a laugh at that. Startled, you punch him with your elbow and you take a little distance. “What? You don’t agree? Come on, you wouldn’t do it.”

“Well, ‘m not the one to do it normally, but if I’d be obsessed enough to keep my eyes only on her, I might as well give it a better chance before she gets married,” he huffs. If you didn’t know him like you do, you’d suspect that there's a bitterness somewhere in it, the way he says it. Mad, almost like it’s about him, and a single thought about it makes you sick in your stomach. “Wouldn’t you?”

You gulp. It feels like an interrogation, not a simple talk between two best friends about a romantic comedy that you just watched. There’s a hardness in his tone, demand for answer. “No. I’d put his happiness before mine. If he’s happy, if he has plans that don't involve me in some way, maybe that’s only right. Especially if it’s like this for some time right now.”

It’s not the confession itself, it’s not your feelings with your heart that you put on a silver platter for him to take, but it speaks. It screams, suffocated so many years under the water because you don’t want to ruin anything that’s between you two. Maybe it would be easier in high school, maybe before that prom where he went with Lizzie instead of you, but it didn’t happen.

So, in your mind, it’s something that needs to be buried deep. Six feet underground, where you could meet your feelings from time to time with all the memories that followed it. When you’d eventually move on, but it doesn’t happen.

A small ding in the kitchen rescues you from the fiasco that could happen with this conversation; suddenly, you have to check on your cookies and decorate them, as you always have. Year by year, something sweet; a recompensation for being single so many years in a row.

It doesn’t take much time to have Kyle looming over you like a vulture, curious what you have here. It doesn’t take much time for him to help you; clumsily, but he does a cute job with decorating, even if it’s way too much cream there and there. You have no heart to tell him that, though. And, it doesn’t take him much time to think that’s way too boring for now, so he should do something different.

Something different: dance with you, like he always has. An old song playing from his phone, one hand on your waist, while the other hand travels to make you move. He doesn’t talk (he never does when you two dance, not unless you’re gonna start doing that), he just looks at you. Chocolate brown eyes staring into yours, like they’re trying to see something in yours.

“Boyfriend material,” you could say; and you do, without realizing it at first—Kyle’s smile gives it away.

“I mean, can’t say no to that.” He grins, happy. You, right now, want to kill yourself in some way. “I’m pretty useful in many ways, if I have to say so myself. I mean, just think of how many times you’ve been impressed with me already.” He chuckles, turning you around and around with seemingly no problem. He’s always like this; charming, boyish. Making you fall right into the trap with his eyes, straight up from a fairytale.

He is, in fact, from a fairytale. Too perfect to be real and too perfect to be single, guys like him are always snatched from the public. Kept close the heart because every woman in the world deserves someone like him.

“Your ego could be tempered, though.” You poke his chest (ridiculously hard chest), while he laughs again.

“Always charming. You love my ego,” he points out. You might not agree out loud, but in your mind? Oh, hell yes. Not debatable.

You’d give everything to love him properly. To cherish him, to make him happy when he’s on leave with kisses, gifts, with taking him to your family so he’ll have a scrap of normal life. To wake up beside him in bed, arms sneaked around you with a dose of protectiveness that he always has, even if it’s not the romantic one like you want it to be.

“And you’re thinking way too much, pretty,” he chuckles, leaning over you even more. The size difference between you two is evident and big, encouraging him. Always had, especially when he knows how much of an impact he has like that. “Care to share?”

“Usual shit,” you answer, clearing your throat. Two beats of silence pass, when he sighs and turns you around one more time, pulling you closer to himself. Chest to chest, or—your head to his chest, to be exact. You have to look up at him to see his eyes. “Kyle—”

“—is it about that movie we watched? You love someone that you can’t have?” He shoots a question at you; unexpected, a swift bullet going right through you. Making you tremble, feeling like you’re not in a warm house, but in the busy, cold street in London in your underwear only.

“No, it’s—”

“—Because if so, why didn’t you tell me? I bet there’s a way—”

“—there’s no way, that’s the problem. That’s the problem because you’re funny, handsome and you probably have someone here, way more interesting than me, so I don’t understand why you are here right now. I don’t, I won’t…” You breathe. There’s a lot in you right now, way too much to unload it right now.

“You love me?”

The choice of words, so carefully avoided by you the whole time, dawns on you. Makes an unpleasant feeling in your stomach, the presence of thousands of butterflies informing you that, in fact, you do love him. Always had, even if you denied to use these specific words.

“Since high school.” It’s a quiet confession. Almost shy, but you look him straight in the eye when you say that, taking a step back when he takes a step forward.

“And why you… didn’t tell me sooner?”

“Wanted to. But when you took that girl to the prom, something…” You sigh. Taking a moment because for the first time, you need to be honest about your feelings. “I don’t know, something snapped. I thought it would ruin everything between us, I thought it’s not worth it to say that I want something more when you want someone else. And, after you got around the idea of being in the military—”

He steals the rest of the words with a kiss. Soft, indicating you don’t need to say more than you’ve already said because it’s all he needs to know, actually. It’s the first time he does it completely sober, not driven by alcohol, curiosity or some dare—it’s something that he wants to do, and you can feel it on your lips. The hot feeling of desire, when your hands travel under his t-shirt, where you didn’t have access earlier.

“Took her only because Jake said he’s going with you. I had no idea that he was lying,” he whispers out. Nervous, like he might spill some secret, while you just can’t keep yourself from smiling. “I wanted this,” he points at you and himself after another kiss, “since I’ve fuckin’ left. Got sick thinking of other bloody bastards that could—”

“Thinking too much?” you interrupt him, reminding him of his words from earlier. Words that, right now, seem even more appropriate given the situation between you two and how unimportant the past is.

Garrick huffs with disbelief, amused. “A fucking minx you are, y’know that?”

He doesn’t let you say anything in response, as his teeth clack against yours when he kisses you, hastily, like a man starved. Hands going around your waist just to transfer the two of you to your bedroom, decorated for Valentine's Day, unintentionally.

And maybe it makes sense, when you think of everything he has done for you, when he’s on top of you, placing a map of kisses on your body. Maybe it makes sense how he always brought you something on Valentine’s Day, making you feel special. Always saying that it’s a “commercial event” and nothing else, just a day, even if he always brought you flowers, teddybears and chocolates.

How he always spent it on doing your favorite things. Ice rink, going to a match, movies, it didn’t matter—what mattered was you. How he didn’t deny that you’re a couple when some strangers cooed that you two look absolutely perfect with each other. Only a big smile on his face, arm around you, protectively. Making sure that you’re here with him, not anywhere else.

He always keeps you close, even right now, insisting on holding hands when he fucks you, making you fall in love with the idea. Kyle moves slowly, like he wants to remember every inch of your body for the first time you’re so close with him, but it doesn’t last long. It doesn’t because it takes a couple of your moans and he goes mad crazy about the whole thing.

Between the sudden rough, fast pace of his thrusts, he talks a lot. You don’t get much of it, melted into a puddle of your own thoughts; you wanted it so bad. Fantasized, touched yourself to the thought of him to have him right here, right now, and now he’s rutting into you like a maniac. Spreading you open like it’s not even a challenge for him, which makes it easy to ignore the first pain of his cock in you.

When one of his hands circles around your throat (one hand still holding yours, fingers intertwined, like he insisted on doing), you pay more attention to his words, even if they’re incoherent. Messy, he lets every thought flow out of his mind, no matter if they have end or not, no matter if he said something similar or not. You are the one thing that entangles them, even if his words make you feel more and more weak in your knees. How good you are for him, how he’s not gonna give this pussy to anyone, how much your body will make him lose his shit.

He makes the whole thing way more intimate than it already is, luring you into the endless pleasure with him, when he leaves hickeys on your skin, a mark that he was here. Making you depend on him, intoxicating like a couple of colorful drinks, always making you dizzy, but nonetheless, you always want more, until you’re gonna see stars.

And that’s what you see with Kyle Garrick. It doesn’t even feel real, until your fingernails scratch his bare back and your fingers from the other hand tighten around his. Your legs are weak for him, your whole body is.

You feel it twice as hard when he comes too, babbling the whole time about you being the only woman in his life and marrying you. In a bliss, you only smile, kissing his forehead a couple of times, when he hugs you tight, like he doesn’t want you to leave the bed.

Not like you planned to do it anyway.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs against your shoulder, moving a little; you feel how his cum leaks from you. His softened cock still in you, as Garrick apparently doesn’t feel like pulling it out.

“The best Valentine’s Day,” you correct him with a lazy smile on your face. Content, for the first time in the while.

Garrick nods, slowly. “Yeah. Ended up in having sex, so—”

“—you’re the worst,” you laugh, shaking your head. Kyle seems almost scared for a moment, but when he sees that you’re genuinely laughing, he breathes out. “Only because of that? Not because your best friend basically confessed her feelings to you?”

“That too. Obvious option.” He grins, while you smack him with amusement. Kyle bites your shoulder, leaving another mark, while his other hand ruffles your hair.

You groan. “You’re gonna explain it tomorrow to my parents. All those hickeys and bites, young man.”

“You think they’re gonna be mad? Gonna tell them we’re together and they will ask about children,” he laughs; and he’s completely right about it, though. Your parents were cheering for you two from the start, they probably still do. “Anyway, we should order something. I don’t feel like cooking when I have you in bed.”

You huff, amused. “Romantic.”

“Very,” he snides, pulling you closer. His hand travels south, fingers circling near your clit. “Delivery will take some time, so we have to… make use of the time. You tired yet?”

“No, but—”

“—Fantastic.”

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x you #cod x reader #cod smut #kyle gaz garrick smut #gaz cod #kyle garrick fluff #kyle garrick smut #kyle garrick x you

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wildflowerluver · 1 year

Text

beautiful sound

derek morgan x fem!reader

derek doubts your ability on the team. his words hurt more than normal.

cw: case mentions, slight enemies to lovers, derek is kinda an asshole, quiet!reader, reader knows sign language, first kiss, she/her pronouns, bau reader, objectification of women, hotch defender

wc: 2.6k

༺♡༻

you’re quiet, you always have been.

growing up, you sat on your hands, often not making a sound.

it became routine, a habit. speaking became a bother.

you learned to sign from an early age. although most didn’t know the language, it was comforting to have a second form of communication.

when drafted into the bau, your quietness was never a problem; marked on your file actually. it proved to be an asset at times. you see people differently and when a case involves someone who struggles communicating, your skill set helps out.

the team is sent for a case in san jose.

you hate referring to it as standard but that's what it was, four women murdered with the same m.o.

once boarding the plane, you slide into a window seat in the group of four. derek clambers in after you. when hotch assigns you and spencer to victimology and the geographical profile, he bumps your arm.

“was hoping i would get victimology with you for once instead of pretty boy.”

you blush. the comment is flirty enough to speed up your heart rate.

as much as you want to work with derek, you like working with spencer. the two of you work well together and he knows how to sign. makes it a lot easier than writing information down to convey to the others.

though the case is standard, it takes three days to get a lead.

no one takes a break. between another body being found in that time and a restless community, there isn’t time. victimology is tough too. the women are all different, no jobs, friends, or hobbies to connect them.

to combat the long hours, derek brings you and spencer coffee, his warm and yours iced. spencer grumbles about having to add cream and sugar to it but yours is perfect, your exact order. it’s a small gesture but it sends your heart fluttering. but, you know not to overthink it. if anyone asked, you could recite the team's coffee orders off the top of your head; except for hotch who, in secret, prefers matcha.

you choose to stay at the precinct when garcia gives off the name and address of the suspect; arthur miller. raids aren't your strong suit. each member of the team looks at you as they leave to which you nod. a silent be safe.

miller fights the entire way to the interrogation room. derek’s grip on his arms are strong but even he struggles a bit with the thrashing. you don’t blame miller. as of right now, he’s innocent. if you were brought in, you would be kicking too.

once the team regroups, the objective is clear; get a confession or frankly, anything that’ll help the case.

“y/n, get ready. you’re interviewing.”

hotch’s orders are stern.

derek scoffed. “hotch, come on man. we have a missing woman and he is the only suspect we have. you want to send her? she never talks.”

your head drops. it’s not an unusual reaction but his words sting; you’re used to side comments from police officers or families from cases, not a close friend.

“morgan,” hotch warns.

“no no. we have five dead women and who knows if there are any others. and you want to send in the girl who can barely even operate verbally on this team. are you not seeing how she could screw this up?”

it’s silent.

your heart splits out of pure betrayal and dejection. you weren’t exactly open with the team about why you’re so quiet, but you didn’t think anyone on the team thought of you this way, let alone derek.

hotch turns to you with a nod. permission to proceed. you stand up with your head bowed.

you like derek, more than you probably should. it's childish, delusional, to think he would ever like you back. but his words don’t just sting, they burn. barely even operate, screw this up. you bite your lip in an attempt to try to not to let it show how this is impacting you.

derek shakes his head and turns around, mumbling something about it being the wrong decision. you have no choice but to ignore it, grabbing your cosmetics bag and heading into the precinct bathroom to get ready.

eyes fall to you as you stepped out of the bathroom. this is the biggest interview of your career yet, and you needed to dress the part.

you kept your dress pants on, though you shed your top layer besides a tank top, pulling it down just enough to be considered scandalous. with makeup and hair dolled up, you grabbed the file from hotch and stopped.

“are you ready for this?” his questioned stems from protectiveness.

you nod. “i am.”

with the case file in hand, you head towards the interrogation room. you look nervous, like you don’t know if there's a hungry lion or bouquet of flowers on the other side.

but the second the door clicked shut, your demeanor changed.

“well hello pretty lady,” arthur greets almost immediately.

to the teams surprise, you giggle. “pretty?”

“very.”

a smile remains on your face as you sit down, case file placed on the table.

“now i have to ask, what’s a pretty lady like you doing with the fbi?” he muses.

you shrug, hand moving up to twirl a strand of hair. “i dunno,” you start. your tone is sweet, almost sickeningly. “my daddy wanted me to make something of myself. thought crime might be fun. i was actually excited to be asked to talk to you.”

this catches arthur’s attention.

“you interested in murder, little lady?”

you nod, pulling in your bottom lip as you lean forward. his eyes fall to your chest. it’s gross and subjective but expected.

“i asked my boss to let me talk to you,” you reveal. “i couldn’t help it. they all left for the day so i’m working off the clock for this.”

“off the clock?” arthur clicked his tongue twice. “eager girl.”

“yup,” you beam, popping the last letter. “i asked if i could film it but they said no. have to pay to record after hours i think.”

“i guess i’ll just have to make this moment last.”

you met his eyes, though not for too long to keep up your act.

“tell me about this?” you beg after opening the file, a pout passing your lips. “it’s so cool.”

arthur grins and at that moment, you know you have him right where you need him.

“well,” he starts, using two fingers to slide one of the pictures out. “that was lacy walker. ooh ooh ooh, she was sweet. screamed too. all the best ones scream.”

“these are all of your kills?” you hope your astonishment sounds genuine.

arthur grins. “only the public ones.”

only the public ones.

there’s more.

there’s more killings no one even knows about.

your head is spinning. you don’t even want to think about the reaction of the others behind the one-way glass. while you wanted to coerce more information out of him about it, you knew you would be pushing your luck.

instead, you roll your eyes and scoff. facade aside, you can’t help it.

“you know i thought criminals like you were smart.”

arthur freezes. “what?”

“i mean come on. are you really dumb enough to think that all of this isn’t being recorded?” the question hangs in the air. “because you just confessed to a hell of a lot of murders.”

he jumps up, realizing what he’s done. at the same time, you do too, slamming your hands on your desk. you stand taller, height not restricted by handcuffs connected to the table.

“that’s honestly just embarrassing,” you titter.

arthur yells the entire time it takes you to gather the file and walk ouit of the room, but it doesn’t impact you. you got a confession and you got it quick. someone else can deal with interrogating him on his other victims.

you don’t stop to talk to the team, though their faces show a range of emotions: proud, impressed, and a slight bit of panic, no doubt from the information you got out of arthur. after grabbing your cosmetics bag, you head to the bathroom. all of the team, besides one, has turned away at this point. you don’t even have to guess as to who keeps their gaze on you.

hotch sends everyone to the hotel to get some rest. interrogations on arthur’s other murders would wait until the following day.

no one was going to argue with that.

derek made his way to your hotel room that night. he mind was swirling with what he said to you earlier and especially after a not-so-nice talking to from emily, he needed to apologize.

you heard the knock on your door after you slipped a t-shirt on post shower. it was late and you were sure most of the team was asleep.

after checking the peephole, you hook a deep breath and opened the door.

“y/n,” derek greets.

it’s weird for him to be here, especially at this hour and especially after what went down earlier in the day.

“can i come in?”

you nod, opening the door a little wider for him to step in.

your eyes look at him quizzingly and derek swears he melts. if his guilt hadn’t reached the surface, it did now. eyes were always a weakness. when you didn’t talk, your eyes showed how you were feeling and right now, they’re filled with sadness.

“i wanted to apologize for what i said today,” he starts. “it was out of line. i shouldn’t have questioned your ability. I'm sorry.”

short and simple.

you stay quiet.

as much as you want to forgive him, tell him “it’s okay,” a simple ‘i’m sorry’ doesn’t fix things.

derek continues. “you deserve to be on this team, i shouldn’t have questioned that. i’m sorry, i really am. i like you,” you swear your heart stops. “i like working with you. i just hope you understand where i was coming from.”

that last part erases all prior apologies. seconds ago you would have placed money that there was an underlying confession in there. you would have gone to bed blushing and giggling over the possibility of requited feelings. how could you have understood where he was coming from?

your eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line.

you rack your mind for something to say. you need him to know how he hurt you, but yelling isn’t something you do, especially at someone like derek.

the silence becomes unbearable even for him.

“god for once in your life can you please say something?” derek looks to the ceiling. “i’m trying to do the right thing here.”

each word stings more than the last.

he didn’t want to apologize for the things he said, but rather he felt like he had to.

“goodnight derek,” you whisper. anger bubbles but you don’t - can’t - lash out.

derek looks to you defeated. you know that’s not the response he was expecting.

the door closing after him rings in his ears even as he falls asleep.

____

hotch and rossi lead the interrogations the next day.

they’re the opposite of what you gave arthur. they’re strict and stern and get the information they need by early evening.

but it’s too late to fly home to washington.

when he makes the announcement that you would be staying in san jose until the following morning, spencer is nodding off on your shoulder and j.j. is slumped in a chair in the corner. everyone needs sleep.

you trudge into your hotel room, following the same routine as the prior night. a shower feels wonderful on your tired body.

ignoring derek isn’t ideal, but it’s necessary. it’s painful and hurts more every time you remember how much you like him. when spencer goes quiet, derek seems to understand, never pushing him to speak when he doesn’t want to. but for you, it’s different. why is it different?

that question racks your brain as you get dressed.

before you can crawl in bed, there’s another knock. this time you don’t even have to guess who it is.

“we need to talk,” derek pushes out.

everything inside of you is telling you not to open the door further, not to let him in. He didn’t even greet you this time. but you do, derek walking inside, though not moving past the space after the door.

“i know i apologized last night,” he cringes at his words. “well, attempted to apologize. i don’t have any excuses, really. the things about liking you and working with you, those we’re all true, i promise. i let my emotions get the best of me and i took it out on you. i know it doesn’t justify any of this but i wanted to apologize again.”

his apology is nice, it feels genuine but the question from earlier is eating you up and you can’t have it unanswered.

“why do you treat me differently than spencer?”

derek furrows his brow. “different?”

“every time he doesn’t talk, you don’t seem bothered. but when it’s me, it’s like my silence is the greatest inconvenience in the world to you.”

“oh.”

you suddenly feel small, like every instance you’ve picked up on never even happened.

it’s easier to drop your head, tap your fingers consistently on your palm and go quiet. always go quiet.

but derek doesn’t let you. his finger hooks under your chin to pull your face up to his.

“hey hey, don’t hide from me now.”

“i’m sorry,” you squeak.

“no need to apologize.”

his gaze is intimidating. you feel like he’s profiling you, the rule the team put in place seemingly not existing.

“i treat you differently because you’re you. i promise it’s not a bother, i just really really like your voice.”

your mouth parts. you don’t miss the flicker of derek’s eyes down to them. you know your expression is probably embarrassing right now, how in love you look. but you’re past embarrassment and you take your chances.

your kiss is soft and gentle, short and sweet.

derek isn’t expecting it. he thought you would’ve been a lot more upset, not using his mistakes as a reveal of your feelings. but in no matter does he mind. if he’s being honest, he’s waited for this moment for a while.

you pull away first, mouth opening to utter an apology but derek beats you to it, meeting your lips in a bruising kiss.

neither of you know if this would be your only kiss and it’s clear in the way he holds you.

you don’t part the entire way derek nudges you towards the bed. you fall first, him crawling on top. you pull back first. your breaths are heavy and your eyes never leave derek’s.

it’s expected that he would say something first, though you weren’t sure what he would say. are your feelings really the same? are you even allowed to date within the team?

but derek doesn’t verbalize any of that. his thumb moves to the space between your eyebrows, rubbing just slightly back and forth to ease the crinkle you developed from your overthinking. oh.

you know he still feels bad about his earlier words. but he kisses the tip of your nose before ducking down to your jawline, trailing kisses there.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” each apology is met with a kiss to your neck, almost as if he’s pressing his words into your skin.

and to his surprise, you giggle.

“stop apologizing.”

derek pulls back, eyes meeting yours.

your cheeks are rosy, lips plump from kissing. one hand rests on the spot beside your head, using it to hold himself up. derek’s other hand, previously on your hip, moves to cup your cheek.

“i think that might just be the most beautiful sound i’ve ever heard.”

and with that, his lips meet yours again.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x y/n #Derek Morgan blurb #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x y/n #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fanfic #criminal minds reader insert #cm x reader

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moongreenlight · 1 month

Text

It's WIP Wednesday and I'm thinking so hard about “Chateau Lobby #4 (In C for Two Virgins)” by Father John Misty that my head explodes.

Retired!Price x Divorcee/single mom!reader (titles are hard who cares)

Cw/Tw: Pressure to perform sex/sexual acts

Little 1k blurb that ends right before the smut because I just got done ovulating and the thought of writing about cock and dick is not in the cards rn.

There was never much time to date while John was working. Never enough of him to occupy all of his work and pleasure. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to spread himself thin enough to coat the surface of all his wants.

He tried for a few years, early, when he could stay out late and still feel alright putting in a full day’s work the next morning. But he’s a romantic at heart. Never found much appeal to a fast-and-loose lifestyle and eventually stopped looking for trouble in places he would find it.

He was now alone, but with more time to figure out what he really wanted after retiring. Had more of himself to portion out. Pursued his hobbies. Picked up odd contracting jobs out of a need to keep himself busy. Found trouble with a single mother and recent divorcee who hired him off of an online ad because she needed help with a few things around her new house.

He knew he was in for it the moment she opened the door. Asked her out while he was half inside a cupboard under her sink. She said no twice.

Third time’s the charm.

She must have been put on one of those religious conveyor belts and turned out like she was on a factory line- that or she had parents to piss off. Married, turned out two kids, and split young. Must have been straight out of high school, because now that the divorce is finalized she’s cheating her way through a business degree at the community college around her day job.

Still carries some of that youth and innocence in her even though she’s only a year or two his junior. In the way she snorts when she laughs and hastily covers it up by holding the back of her hand over her mouth. The three times already tonight she’s prefaced that she doesn’t kiss on the first date and she’s got a strict rule about no ‘secondary locations.’ It’s charming. Like she’s spending any fleeting moment of free time discovering herself.

And is he glad she’s wasting her precious time on him. Even more glad he caught her on a weekend where her ex had the kids, though the idea of introducing himself to her house, her innocence, her little family, was fucking intoxicating. Made him forget the two fingers of whiskey sitting up right of his plate.

He gets so tipsy on the thought of besting her rules that he can’t help but push his luck after she- ever so delicately- refused the waiter trying to drop a dessert menu at the edge of the table.

“Cheap date.”

A snort from her. She has to pull her lips away from the rim of her wine glass to stifle it. House, even though it’ll give her a headache, she says. Couldn’t possibly bring herself to spend a dime of his money further than what was necessary. Darling thing. He’d love to see how far that ‘good girl’ act went. How much pressure it could handle.

She’d probably pull him in warm. Gooey in the middle when he finally got her spread open.

“Wasn’t out to test your fiscal limits”

She dabs the corner of her smile with a napkin. It’s his turn to laugh now.

“Shame. Half my appeal is the restaurant.”

She falters for a breath. Her eyes go a bit wide, like she’s suddenly worried she hasn’t thanked him enough. Hasn’t been good enough to please him. The thought makes him ball his hand into a fist to distract from the tightness in his slacks.

“Gosh, John, and it is such a nice place. Dinner was fantastic. Thank you, really.”

Her fingers curl around his fist. She has to stretch a bit to reach him from across the table. Her fingertips don’t touch even when she tries to wrap her hand around his. Earnest is thick on her voice now. It honeys her tone. He wonders if when she pulls away she’ll leave a sugary stickiness on his skin.

He tsks, a smile flirting across his mouth. Unable to help himself. A hungry stray being tossed a hot meal.

“And how impressive would it have’t be if I had my heart set on bringing you ‘round t’mine for a nightcap?”

She wrinkles her nose at that, though there’s a glittering of humor in her eyes when she gives his hand a kittenish slap.

“You couldn’t afford it.”

Sharp as a tack.

He has to clench his jaw shut to keep from sinking his teeth into her. They ache to see if she’s candy-floss all the way through.

“No?”

“Dinner was fantastic, John. Thank you.”

She throws him a warning glance with that. There’s the faintest outline of severity blurring into the soft edges of her voice. He digs his nails into his palm.

“M’I that bad to talk to?”

He’s pulling out stops now. Ignoring the chirping alarm sounding in the back of his skull that tells him that he should be able to pick out if he’s insisting for the right reasons or not.

She’s more difficult to guilt a second time. Rolls her eyes and starts folding her napkin on the side of her plate.

“Must be.”

She is fucking delectable.

Trouble. Everything about her. Every new layer he peels back sets him ablaze. He’s smoldering in his chair, waiting for the smoke curling off the crown of his head to set off the smoke detectors.

It takes some effort, but he’s able to get her to settle on him coming ‘round to hers after dinner. ‘One drink, John. I’m serious.’ She digs her heels in a bit, but he’d already made his mind up. He’d have her. Tuck her in a paper bag and take his dessert to-go.

She makes him turn away when she punches the code into her garage opener. Says the remote in her car is dead, and while he looks around the edges of the house for security cameras, he makes a note to come back and get both of those things taken care of for her. Doesn’t like the thought of her alone in her driveway after work tired and vulnerable.

Never mind if she had to step out in the rain. Sugar melts.

He tries to convince her to sit on the couch with him while she nurses a weak pour of wine, she refuses. Sits on a plush armchair catty-corner to him in the living room and smiles while shakes her head.

“Not used to being told no?”

It’s less of a question than it is a plain statement. A surface-level observation. It should strike him as an insult, but watching the words fall from her pretty mouth made pride swell in his chest.

“Should I be?”

Trouble. He’s inching toward the line.

“You’d think.”

He wonders what she would think if he took her down to the studs. Not much of anything- if he was lucky.

#moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #price cod #price call of duty #captain john price #john price #captain price #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price x reader #wip wednesday

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ystrike1 · 8 months

Text

Haru no Arashi to Monster - By Miyuki Mitsubachi (8/10)

A super sheltered girl and a boy from a broken family end up together...as step-siblings! This story is fairly slow burn. Our heroine slowly gets over her anxiety thanks to her outgoing, but troublesome new brother. He slowly chills out and stops committing petty crimes thanks to her influence too. He is really toxic though. It's not easy to shake off a bad upbringing.

Ranko is a loner, by choice. She is really, really, really sheltered and quiet. She always looks down, and she never leaves her safe space.

I think we all know teen life is harder than it looks. School is a jungle, especially if you meet the wrong people. Ranko wants every day to be peaceful and simple, so she avoids....literally everything that could make life complicated for her. Including friendship and hobbies that involve leaving the house.

Her mom gets remarried, and her ultra-spoiled life changes immediately. Her new dad has a son. Her mom is also super outgoing, so her getting married means the house will be very lively. Ranko is a little lazy. She has no interest in caring for her new brother. She doesn't care if he's comfortable in his new home. She literally just wants to be left alone.

Ranko has had problems with socializing for years. Gossip doesn't make sense to her. She freaks out when people try to pick fights with her. She can't handle any criticism. She's weak. She's got a really weak personality. She's been isolating herself for years.

Kaya isn't flirty at first. He's rude. He tries to steal Ranko's allowance. He likes to pick fights and he's an edgy, cryptic teenage boy. Ranko hides from him for a while...but then she realizes she's being a huge jerk. Kaya is clearly uncomfortable in his new home. He doesn't feel welcome because she runs at the sight of him too. When Kaya goes out to hang out with delinquents she realizes he's doing it because he's lonely. Not because he actually enjoys smoking or beating up other kids.

She reaches out to him, and he immediately lays claim on her. Immediate clingyness. Ranko is confused.

Kaya opens up to her. His backstory is horrifying. His "father" is actually his uncle. His real father was abusive and Kaya is actually falling behind. He bounced through multiple homes. He's not a genius, so he might not make it through school. He's handsome, so a couple of the foster families assaulted him? Like, they didn't do anything when their daughters and relatives constantly flirted with him...which led to him getting blamed and abandoned.

He is clearly traumatized by all of that unwanted attention too.

Secondary Love Interest Boy shows up.

Kaya immediately beats him up and bullies him and its kinda awful and it doesn't stop until Ranko cries and says she can't understand him...it's a mess.

Ranko tries to set him up on a date. She is honest about it. Kaya doesn't know if he really loves Ranko. He's just really attached. He refuses the date...but then he goes. Just to see how he feels, and he notices that Ranko is special. She's not just a pretty girl. She makes him happy.

He gets possessive and Ranko does not enjoy it. She likes hanging out with him. She thinks about kissing him, but his violent behavior is a big no for her. She knows he lashes out because he's immature, and he has few good influences in his life. He's not a cool delinquent guy. He's a fifteen year old boy with trauma that is falling behind in class. It's very raw and brutal.

He throws away a gift from Secondary Love Interest Boy, and she gets upset.

He gives it back to her soaking wet and sorry about his rude behavior.

I think he's going to get better, and they'll get a happy ending. Ranko will give up on her loner lifestyle, and Kaya will make friends that don't steal from convenience stores.

#Haru no Arashi to Monster #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #manga

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threadbaresweater · 1 year

Text

Unexpected

As a recent divorcee, you're eager for a chance to spend a summer alone, finding who you are apart from your asshole ex-husband. Your best friend surprises you with the trip of a lifetime, and you spend a blissful three months walking along the beaches of a quaint coastal town. Enter Nanami Kento, widower of two years, his name on the lips of every woman in town. He's never shown interest in anyone until you come along. What blossoms between the two of you is more than either of you could ever hope for.

The details: 8.5k words, slow-burn romance, NSFW for eventual smut (oral sex, vanilla sex). Reader is divorced and has a child. This is a repost from a collab I did last summer.

The divorce was…well, it was.

You had married your high school sweetheart– first love, first kiss, first time. Now, you chuckled dryly to yourself while driving from the courthouse, I can call him my first husband.

You had no plans to marry again anytime soon…or, ever for that matter. The freedom you had experienced the past few months was more than wonderful– enough to convince you that staying single was the way to go. You didn't need a man. You were a strong, independent woman with ample free time, a job you loved, hobbies and friends and a beautiful child you got to dote on every other week.

The custody arrangement also allowed for summers spent with each parent on alternating years. The first summer belonged to your now ex-husband, which meant you had three months alone to spend however you pleased.

It was an emotional goodbye with your daughter, who didn't quite understand why you had to leave and why she had to spend the entire summer with her father. You reassured her that you could FaceTime every day, that she would have loads of fun with her dad and his new girlfriend, and that she could write and call anytime she wanted. The poor girl wasn’t convinced in the least, and you watched– tearful, behind your oversized sunglasses– as her father ushered her into the back of his car. The guilt ate at you long after they drove away, but you knew she would be safe with him. A little bored, most likely, but safe.

On the drive back home, your best friend called; all you could hear was excited squealing on the other end.

“What’s going on?” you shouted, laughing.

“I have a surprise for you!” she boasted; you could almost hear her bouncing up and down. You rolled your eyes and sighed, though your grin remained plastered on your face. “Oh yeah? Let me guess: a vacation house full of hot bachelors who are going to attend to my every need, all summer long.”

She gasped dramatically. “How did you know?”

“It’s my wildest fantasy. You’re my best friend, therefore you’re in my head and know exactly what I want, all the time.” You signaled a turn, driving away from the sunset. “But seriously, what’s the surprise? You know I hate surprises.”

“How rude!” she scoffed. “I’ll have you know that you were at least partially correct with your wild guess.”

You raised a brow. “Oh yeah? Which part? Please tell me it’s the hot bachelors. God knows I could use a personal massage with a happy ending.”

“Nope. Sorry, babe. But! My mom and dad said they’re not using their vacation property this summer. I told them about your divorce and they insisted that I give you the key to their house!” She squealed again, and you could hear the patter of her feet on the floor, wherever she was sitting. “Girl, you get a whole summer to yourself in a little house by the sea. Ah, I used to love going there when I was a kid! We used to have the best time, just hanging out by the water every day, riding bikes, eating ice cream…” She trailed off, her voice sounding wistful and far-away. “Seriously, you’re going to love it. Wanna stop by and grab the key?”

“Really? I.. well…” You were speechless. Though you really hadn’t made any plans yet, you knew that most of the summer would be spent practicing some much-needed self care. You had just planned on doing it at your own place, alone. But a vacation house close to the ocean sounded like something out of a romance novel– a place where you could re-center and learn about yourself again. A place to work through the pain of the past and learn to slow down and appreciate the little things in life.

"You still with me?" your friend laughed.

"Yeah, I– yeah. I'll be over in a few."

The day you arrived was picture perfect in every way. Warm sunlight and a gentle breeze streamed through your open car windows, and you could smell the sea as soon as you reached the quaint little town. Most people walked or rode bikes, and you slowed to a snail's pace, taking in the sights. Everyone seemed relaxed– laughter rang throughout the town, children shouted, bicycle bells rang, and the scent of cotton candy and sea breeze seemed to permeate the air. You knew instantly that this summer would be exactly what you needed, and you told yourself right then and there that you’d spend it in the most leisurely way possible.

The house was furnished, so all you really had to bring was personal effects– clothes, toiletries, a few good reads you’d picked up at the bookseller back home. The cupboards boasted plenty of space for food, and you planned to go grocery shopping later in the evening, as soon as you got everything else settled. You spent a little bit of time exploring the house, then opened the back doors that led directly to a boardwalk to the ocean. The view was immaculate– soft sand slipped beneath your bare feet as you walked toward the shoreline, a heavy wind whipping your hair around your face. Holding onto your oversized sun hat so it didn’t blow away, you took in a deep, cleansing breath and closed your eyes, a languid smile curling its way onto your lips.

Paradise.

A summer alone wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

Later, after a bike ride to the market, you hummed to yourself as you perused the narrow aisles, delighting in the cute brand names and marveling at the freshness of the produce. It seemed that everything was made and packaged locally, which made your heart happy. Focused on how plump and ripe the plums you picked out were, you didn’t notice the man standing in front of the tomatoes and ran straight into his side. He didn’t move– in fact, you don’t think he even stumbled in the least. He just stood there like a pillar and stared at you– expressionless, if not a little bored and annoyed.

You laughed sheepishly and took a step back, dropping your plums into your basket. “Sorry about that,” you said, looking into his brown eyes that seemed to hold nothing but disdain for your clumsiness.

“It’s alright,” he responded, turning back to inspect the tomatoes. “You should be more careful, though. Some might not be as forgiving as I am.”

Nodding, you turned to walk in the opposite direction, avoiding eye contact and feeling like a fool. “Right. Sorry again,” you mumbled. Wonder if he’s a local, you thought as you grabbed a few more vegetables and made your way to the cash register. Just as you were finishing up, he came to stand in line behind you and actually gave you a thin, tight smile when you looked back at him. Why did you blush? You turned away quickly and paid the sweet cashier, then hurried out to your bike, your heart pounding. Not out of fear, but for some reason you couldn’t quite explain. You secured your little bag of groceries in the basket on the front of your bike and pushed off, your eye on the sky. It looked like rain, and you needed to pedal fast.

Just as the first few drops of rain began to fall, you arrived home and scurried inside before getting completely drenched, then set about making dinner for one. You were used to only cooking for yourself during the weeks your daughter wasn’t home, but for some reason this meal felt particularly empty. Music will help, you thought, so you streamed some music from your phone onto the little speaker mounted under one of the cupboards and tried your best to quell the loneliness. Tomorrow would be better. Once you were settled in, had a good night’s sleep, and spent some time on the water, the whole idea would be much easier to stomach. You made plans to visit the rest of town tomorrow, to see what it had to offer.

It was nice, when you really sat down and thought about it. No routine, no deadlines. No rigorous schedule to keep or meetings to attend. It had been a long time since you’d been alone with your thoughts, and while at first it felt uncomfortable, it seemed to be exactly what the doctor had ordered.

You spent the first few days wandering through town, walking on the beach collecting shells, and devouring both books you’d brought along. You discovered all sorts of boutiques, art co-ops, coffee shops, even a pottery studio. It felt like something out of a daydream. Everyone was kind and pleasant, even the tourist families who tore through on weekends and laughed loud and hearty along the boardwalk. There was also a small library in town, and you spent an entire afternoon perusing the shelves and ended up getting a membership card to keep your appetite for reading satiated.

You found the library to be your favorite place to visit. Of all the little shops and public places, the atmosphere was exactly what you were looking for, what you craved. Quaint, quiet, and full of all the books you could ever want to read and then some, you visited often, especially on days when it rained.

The summer was one of the rainiest on record, according to some of the locals. You recalled something your grandmother had told you about rain meaning good luck and good fortune, so you didn’t get too disappointed when the weather didn’t bode well for outdoor days.

The handsome stranger from the market seemed to enjoy it as well. You’d find him in the same corner nearly every time you visited, his nose in a new book, blonde hair hanging over his forehead, an air of importance hanging around him. One afternoon, you perused the shelves near his seat and accidentally dropped the book in your hand. “Sorry,” you offered, sheepishly kneeling to pick up the paperback that had fallen to the floor.

He responded with a grunt, not even bothering to look up at you.

Well, you thought. Could be worse. He could have shushed me or gotten up to move to another area.

At the checkout desk, the friendly clerk gave you a conspiratorial smile. “I see you’ve met Mr. Kento.”

“Hm?” You glanced back at the man and found him looking at you, but as soon as you made eye contact, he looked back down at his book, turning the page and crossing his legs the opposite way. “Oh, him? Nah, we don’t know each other.”

The clerk chuckled as she scanned your books. “Honey, he’s here just as much as you are. I’m sure you two have had some kind of conversation in the couple of weeks you’ve been around.”

You shook your head. “I mean, we run into each other sometimes. At the market, mostly. I think I’ve seen him once or twice at the cafe, but–” You stopped short, watching her expression change into something akin to amusement. “Yeah, I guess we do run in similar circles. I don’t know his name, though. We’ve barely spoken two words to each other.” Leaning in, you lowered your voice. “Do you know his story?”

“Oh, honey, he’s a widower. His wife and daughter– bless their sweet souls– passed away in a terrible car accident years ago. He’s been around here ever since. The house he lives in was their family home.” She threw him a sympathetic look. “It’s been a long time, and I never really see him talking to anyone. To me, it’s a little sad. I think he’s still grieving.”

Nodding, you gathered your books and threw another glance in his direction before heading out the door. As you straddled your bike, you heard the bell on the door and looked up to find none other than Mr. Kento himself, sliding his sunglasses down off his head and onto his face. A brief moment of eye contact gave you pause, and you lifted a hand in greeting, hoping he wouldn’t blow you off.

“Are you a spy?” he called, stepping down the concrete stairs.

You had to laugh. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you!”

“So you are.” He pursed his lips, then stopped. “Tell me something about yourself so I don’t have to keep up this wild guessing game I’ve been playing with myself.”

“Guessing game? Are you really that suspicious of me?” You tilted your head to the side and offered him a small smirk– one which he did not return, nor did he look even the least bit amused.

Nanami crossed his arms and frowned. “I don’t have all day.”

“Fine. I’m a teacher, not a spy. And I’m just here for the summer.”

“That will suffice. Thank you,” he said, then strolled off in the opposite direction. You stood in place for a few moments, watching him leave, then headed home.

In the days following, you saw him in passing several times in town and on the beach. He always looked deep in thought; a dismal melancholy seemed to hang around him, as if he might have been carrying the spirit of his daughter and wife everywhere he went. Perhaps he did– you knew firsthand what it was like to be away from your daughter, but the depth of the pain of losing her forever was something you couldn't fathom, nor did you particularly want to.

He carried himself with a fatigued kind of poise– like a man who had worked so long and so hard to move on with his life but was still dragged down by his own personal demons that he felt there might be no escaping them. Tall and broad shouldered, you found yourself sometimes staring at him a little too long, thankful for the shield of your sunglasses so he didn't notice. Sometimes, he would find you and look back in your direction, but he'd never smile or wave. Just stare. You wanted to know what he was thinking when he watched you like that. You wanted a chance to talk more with him than just in passing.

One morning, your neighbor coaxed you into taking a hot yoga class. At first, you had balked at the idea. Yoga was supposed to be relaxing, not sweaty and uncomfortable. She convinced you somehow, touting the benefits and the promise of pure, unadulterated relaxation. Sweating out toxins and stress, letting your body really feel the burn in a climate-controlled studio where they cranked up the heat and the humidity.

The class was mind blowing. You really felt as if you had transcended to another plane. The instructor was kind and knowledgeable, the classmates respectful and attuned to their own needs. As you and your neighbor were chatting on your way out, using fresh, cool towels to dab at the sweat on your face and chest, you looked up and came face to face with a familiar face.

“You’re here,” he said, matter-of-fact, almost disinterested.

You raised a brow at him. “Well, um, yeah. I am.” You chuckled lightly and looked at your friend, who smiled back at you with a look that spoke of confusion and intrigue. “I’ve never done this before. Do you, ah, come here often?” The way you said it, it sounded like a corny pick-up line and you rolled your eyes at yourself, puffing out your cheeks in embarrassment.

He huffed something akin to a breathy laugh which felt strangely out of character, looking between the two of you; you were suddenly distracted by a bead of sweat that ran down his neck and settled into the curve above his collarbone, and barely heard his response. Totally bewildered now, you looked up at him, jaw slack, eyes wide. “Twice a week,” he answered, looking incredibly bemused.

Nodding, you looked at your friend and laughed a little at yourself. Oh God, this was nerve wracking in a way you felt embarrassed about. It felt like talking to your high school crush– the familiar jolt of adrenaline made your heart pump a little faster and your head tingle. You know your cheeks were flushed bright, and it had absolutely nothing to do with yoga. “It’s an intense experience. I never thought I’d enjoy sweating on purpose.”

The man offered a thin, strained smile. “How were the plums?”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked.

“The plums. From the market the other day? Did you enjoy them?”

He remembered. Which meant one of two things: he had been thinking of you, or he just had an incredible memory for details. You looked into his brown eyes for the answers but found him hard to read. “I– yes. They were delicious. I bought more the other day but you weren’t there to approve,” you said with a grin.

By now, your friend had quietly retreated to the shower room, leaving you with this handsome stranger again. An awkward air of uncertainty hung between you, and he nodded once, taking a step toward you. You took a step toward him for some reason, then you both stopped. A sheepish laugh filled the void, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, if we keep meeting like this, people are going to talk."

You wished you could stop laughing at everything he said, but it was a knee-jerk reaction– one that made you sound like a total ditz. The more you did, though, the more he seemed to relax in your presence, as if your teenage girl behavior made him less self-conscious about his own rigid demeanor. “I guess that’s their problem, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.”

You shrugged and dabbed at the back of your neck with your towel. “I mean at this point, we might as well give them something to talk about and exchange numbers, huh?” A bold move, one you had no idea how it would be received. You knew what you hoped for, but you didn’t want to be presumptuous. You took a step back to reclaim your own space and kept smiling that same nervous smile you’re sure had been plastered onto your face during this whole encounter.

It obviously took him by surprise, but he nodded once, signaling that he agreed with your sentiment. “I’ll meet you out front after I’ve had a chance to shower,” he said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder toward the bathrooms.

True to his word, he waited for you at the entrance, leaning casually on one of the support beams outside. After exchanging numbers came another loaded, awkward silence before he extended a hand. “My name’s Kento. Nanami Kento.”

You accepted his handshake and nodded. “I know.” You gave him your name as well, not missing the way his brow quirked and his lip curled ever so slightly.

“You know?”

There went your heart again, skipping a couple of beats as you realized there should be no way in hell you already knew his name unless you’d been doing some recon. “I, well– I found out at the library the other day. The woman at the desk asked me if I knew you and she told me a little bit about you.” There. Blame it on the librarian.

“Oh. I see.” He pursed his lips and seemed to close off, the little progress you’d made in cracking him all but closed up now.

“She didn’t reveal much.” Lies. “Just told me your name!”

“I see,” he repeated, a little quieter.

You decided it was best to take your leave at that point and offered him a quick goodbye, followed by an exuberant “Call me!” before meeting your neighbor where she stood waiting by the bike rack, rolling with laughter at the show she’d just witnessed.

Not surprisingly, he wasn’t the first to text or call. You gave it two days and mulled over dozens of possible opening lines, then finally decided to break the ice on a rainy, mid-week afternoon.

Lovely weather we’re having, huh?

It took him two hours to text back. You only checked your phone 47 times while waiting.

DelightfulI fell asleep watching the rainWhat’s exciting in your world today besides the weather?You smiled and texted back right away:

A good book and even better wineI’ve been reading most of the afternoon. Not much else to doYou mean to tell me you don’t enjoy long walks in a torrential downpour?

Not particularly lolWhat about you?

You don’t see me out there, do you?

I’d need an awfully good reason to be walking in this weather

Would be a shame if someone invited you out for dinner

Yeah, I wouldn’t goNot tonight

There was a bit of a pause. A few minutes ticked by, and you stared at your screen with bated breath, wondering if maybe he got a phone call or fell asleep again.

What about tomorrow? Forecast looks sunny

Are you asking me to dinner?

I suppose I am

Giddy, you covered your mouth and squealed, pattering your feet on the floor before shooting back a response.

What time?

7:00?

Sounds like a date!

You sent it without thinking, but it was too late. You slapped a hand to your forehead and felt your fingers tremble, waiting for his reply.

YesA date… see you then.

If you had overstepped some kind of unspoken boundary, he didn’t acknowledge it, but that didn’t make you feel any less nervous or worried. You spent the rest of the afternoon putting together an outfit, anticipating dinner tomorrow night with more excitement than you’d felt for anything in a long time.

At seven o’clock on the dot, you arrived at his house, which ended up just being a short walk away from yours. Really, everything in this little community was reachable by a walk or a bike ride, so you weren’t too surprised when only ten minutes into your walk, you had found his address. The main door was open, leaving only a wood frame screen door as a barrier between his home and the outside world. Warm yellow light spilled from the entryway, and you could already smell whatever he was cooking. In your hand you carried a bottle of wine, and he pushed the door open for you before you even had a chance to knock or ring the bell.

“Ah, you’re punctual. I like that,” he said, lifting his arm so that you could duck under it and step inside. He took the wine from you and headed toward the kitchen; you had no choice but to trail behind, taking quick stock of his house. Tidy, but homey. Touches of seaside decor, a handmade afghan on the back of a rather elegant looking couch. Soft music played on the stereo, and there was no sign of children or pets anywhere.

“You live alone?” you asked, then reprimanded yourself. You sure had grown bold in the type of questions you’d been asking lately. Though it didn’t seem to bother him, because he set the wine down in the middle of his kitchen table and went about his business as you took a seat.

“I do. No children, no pets. No surprise wife.” Turning his attention to the stove, he seemed to find your question amusing and hid his smile. “What about you?”

You thought about your daughter back home. “Ex-husband. I have a daughter, too– she’s eight. Spending the summer with her dad.”

He nodded, then turned to you. Somehow in those few seconds that passed, he’d managed to open the bottle of wine and pour two glasses. Handing one over to you, he studied your face. You wish you could say you knew what he was looking for, but whatever it was he seemed satisfied once he found it. He raised the glass and took a sip of his wine, seeming to mull over the flavor; he swallowed and made a deep hum in his throat, “Excellent selection. You’re a wine lover, yes?”

A little bit of your nervousness began to dissipate, and you took a drink, too, mainly to wet your lips and tongue, which had been bone dry since you set foot on his porch. “Wine enthusiast, foodie, woman who desires a vacation away from her sad life on the mainland.”

He grunted a little at that, then continued his work with food preparation. “Your life doesn’t sound so sad. A child? That’s one of life’s greatest joys, isn’t it?”

Nanami had you there, and you knew it. Nodding, you fiddled nervously with one of the linen napkins he’d set out. “You’re right. She’s really special. Makes life worth living sometimes, you know?”

You couldn’t see it– not with his back turned to you– but pain shot through his gaze and he faltered while plating your dinner. “I do know,” he murmured under his breath.

“Beg your pardon?”

Plates in hand, he turned and set them down on the table in front of you, then slipped into the chair across from you. “I said I do know. About children making life worth living.”

“Oh! So you do have children?” You hoped that the tone of your voice didn't give away the fact that you already knew.

“Had. A daughter. She and my wife…” he trailed off, finding the napkin in his lap of great interest now.

His expression spoke of deep anguish, of unresolved guilt and overwhelming grief. Out of reflex, you reached across the table to cover his hand with yours. He was warm and soft, his hand trembling slightly. “I didn’t mean to pry,” you said.

“No, no. It’s alright. It’s been two years now. I need to learn to talk about it. Just not right now.” His demeanor shifted again, and he looked up at you with a soft smile. “I’d like to not talk about such heavy things while we get to know each other, wouldn’t you agree?”

“It doesn’t matter to me what we talk about,” you said with a shrug. “I’m just thankful for a meal I didn’t have to cook and some new company.” Lifting your glass, you smiled at him. “To new adventures. May we be fruitful in our pursuits.”

Nanami stared at you and raised his glass to toast. “To new adventures.”

Dinner led to a walk on the beach, which led to another bottle of wine on his back porch, which led to your head drooping onto his shoulder at some point well past midnight. He stiffened at first, the touch of a woman something he didn't feel was right to enjoy. The simple weight of you there made his stomach flutter, and he turned his head, tapping your chin with his index finger.

He said your name and you looked up at him, a lazy, drunken smile making its way across your face. "Don't fall asleep on me. I'm not done talking yet."

You lifted your head, widening your eyes. "What if I'm done listening?" you teased, feeling woozy and silly.

"Then I'll walk you home, if that's what you want. I wouldn't want to bore you any longer than necessary."

"You're not boring me, Nanami. I'm just relaxed. For the first time in ages, I feel like I can finally just rest," you said, turning to look out at the sea again. "For months I've just felt like I was running from something. And I was, really. From my ex husband, from a life that I didn't want, from my fears and my insecurities. I'm so goddamn tired and I just want to lie down and sleep." Tears fell unchecked down your cheeks and you sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "I'm so tired," you repeated, your voice weary and thin.

There was a beat of silence, then you felt his weight shift beside you and he stood up, extending a hand to you. "If you're tired, let's walk," he said.

He wasn't ready to take you home. Not yet.

Another hour of conversation and you felt like you'd known him your entire life. The alcohol began to wear off and you found yourself more coherent, if not experiencing a bit of that weird, hollow feeling of being drunk and sleep deprived at the same time. At some point he held your hand, and you didn't remember when or how– just that it felt right and good, as natural as breathing.

Your walk took you to your own back porch, where he lingered for another hour saying good night. The sun peeking over the horizon brought you back down to earth and suddenly ready to go inside and try to catch a few winks of sleep.

"Thank you for your company," he said earnestly, picking a stray lock of hair away from your forehead. "It's been a long time since I've indulged in the company of a woman." Guilt flashed through his eyes, glassy from lack of sleep. "Since my wife passed, if I'm being totally honest. I– I've avoided getting to know someone… because I still love her," he said, his voice thick and quiet.

You squeezed his hand and watched as a single tear escaped from his left eye, daylight filling the space between you with each passing moment. "I understand," you whispered, unsure of what else to say.

"I'd like to see you again. Whenever you're free." It wasn't a question. He squeezed your hand this time and watched you closely as if calculating the odds of you saying yes.

"Sure, I'd love that." How about tomorrow? "Maybe the weekend? There's a little restaurant on the pier that I'd like to try. There's live music, too, if you're keen on dancing."

For the first time, he smiled. Genuinely, a bit uncomfortably– but a smile nonetheless. Nanami nodded and let go of your hand as you walked side by side up to your back porch. "I would enjoy that. I'll meet you there, say…seven thirty on Saturday?"

Dinner on the pier was a dream. Of course there were drinks as well, so by the time you finished eating, you were more than ready to take to the dance floor and finally move to the lively music the house band had been playing all evening. Namami surprised you here, too. For all of his stoicism and uptight demeanor, he was a skilled dancer. You struggled to keep up with him at times, but his broad hand at the small of your back and his confident steps kept you from making a total and utter fool of yourself. Even during the slower numbers, he held you with poise and confidence, and though you knew in your heart he wasn't interested in a romantic connection, you couldn't help but hope for something magical to happen tonight.

"You dance well," you said, halfway through one particular song in which you could feel the bassline pumping through your veins. That soft, barely-there smile of his made a delightful reappearance, and he studied your face with those deep brown eyes.

"My wife was a dancer," he said, spinning you out, then back in to fold his arms around your waist, your back to his chest. "She had students, one of which was the man you're dancing with now."

A moment passed, and you felt his warm breath on your ear, stirring a wisp of your hair as he exhaled. "I see," you breathed, trying desperately to quell the desire you felt building from the pit of your stomach. Though you wanted to live very much in the present with him– here and now– you found yourself thinking about what his life must have been like before the accident. A million and one questions came to mind, but you had no idea just how much or how little he wanted to talk about her. "She must have taught you well."

He chuckled, low and thoughtful, and the sound of it vibrated against your back. "I'm just a good student. Observant. Intuitive." He spun you around so that you had no choice but to look up at him again, nearly nose to nose. "I've always been very good at predicting people's behavior."

Your breath hitched. He was so close, yet you still felt some kind of invisible barrier between yourself and him. You imagined his wife, disappointed to know that the two of you were dancing like this– so close, so casually intimate.

"She would want me to live a happy life without her," he said, as if he'd read your thoughts somehow. Startled, you looked straight into his eyes and knew that this was your moment.

Your body seemed to move of its own accord and before you knew it, your lips met the plush softness of his. Eyes closed, you breathed him in, the heady taste of wine a subtle backdrop to the taste of his kiss. Dancing all but forgotten, you opened your mouth to deepen the contact, tongue touching just beyond his teeth until he made a low, soft moan and pulled back suddenly, drawing in a deep breath.

"I– "

"I'm sorry, I–" you began, only to be cut off by a firm press of his mouth against yours again. This kiss was a little more hungry, a little more insistent. You threaded your fingers through his hair and held him a little closer. The music seemed to stop, the world around you stilled, and you lost yourself in him.

You couldn’t remember the last time your ex-husband kissed you with so much reverence and care. In fact, you couldn’t recall a time he had kissed you, period. Nanami’s lips seemed custom made for slotting over your own mouth, however, and the longer you kissed him, the more you realized that you’d been starved of affection for so long it had begun to harden your heart. Somewhere deep inside, that shell began to crack, and when his lips fell down along the line of your jaw, you positively melted against him, mouth open in a breathless expression of pure pleasure– something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in months.

He walked you home under the pale moonlight, stars blinking overhead to further light your way. You’d swear you could hear the whispers of some of the women in town, but you paid them no mind. Tonight would be all about you and Nanami sharing yourselves with one another in the way you craved– the way you needed him and he needed you.

In the soft light of his bedroom he kissed and kissed you as if he couldn’t possibly get enough. He didn’t attempt to take off your clothes, nor did you try to undress him. The contact was enough, though you could feel the heat from his body radiating against yours, the energy of a man who had been two years without the touch of a woman. He took his time, though you could sense that he wanted more, so you took one of his hands and pressed it tentatively against your breast, looking him deep in the eye as you did.

Nanami broke the kiss, watching you intently as he pressed tentative fingertips into the soft flesh beneath your dress, a long exhale issuing from his kiss-swollen mouth. “It’s– I…” He found your nipple, taut and firm, and rolled it between his thumb and finger before pressing a reverent kiss to the skin just above your cleavage. You pressed a kiss to the top of his head and held him there, encouraging him to explore further.

Perhaps it was the wine. Perhaps it was the festive atmosphere you’d just spent endless hours enjoying. Perhaps it was a pure, unadulterated need that you felt for one another, but you knew then that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You didn’t want to push, though. Not in the least. You wanted him to explore at his own pace, to find his way around your body and map it out, inch by beautiful inch.

“It’s been so long,” he whispered, pushing one of the delicate straps of your dress down off your shoulder to drop a kiss against the now exposed skin. You closed your eyes and breathed deep, already blissfully aroused, careful not to move too fast lest he decide this wasn’t a good idea.

“Take your time. There’s no rush.” Your voice was calm and reassuring as you felt his mouth pull in the skin just above your nipple, sucking a tiny mark before he pulled away again, stormy eyes drinking in your features, your reaction, your flushed face and glistening eyes.

Nanami backed you up to the bed, and when the back of your knees hit the blankets, you sat down, lifting your arms around his neck to pull him down into another kiss. He shifted his weight over you and lowered himself, lips trailing down across your jaw, down to your neck, tongue laving across your collarbone as he pulled down the other strap of your dress. Somehow, you worked your hands between you to begin undoing the buttons of his shirt, one by one. He allowed it, and you heard his heart begin to pick up its already frantic rhythm as you lifted your hips to graze his, desperate for friction between your legs.

He pulled away fast, panting, standing at the edge of the bed with a hand carded through his hair and his eyes wild. You sat up just as quickly, a little dizzy from the rush, and reached out a hand, your own eyes filled with concern. “Did I do something wrong?”

Nanami shook his head, a nervous laugh escaping his already open mouth. He took a few deep breaths and a step backwards, his legs visibly trembling. "No, you did everything right. I just– I need a moment. I'm sorry."

You didn't understand why he felt the need to apologize, and you told him so. "You’re fine. It’s fine. We don’t have to do this,” you cooed, crossing your legs under you and fixing your hair a little.

His eyes welled with tears and he looked away from you, his face flushing bright red as he inhaled sharply, pressing a tight fist to his mouth to quell his sadness. Before he spoke again, he seemed to center himself, then sat down beside you, resting his hand on your knee. “I haven’t been with a woman since my wife and daughter have been gone, and I don’t– I don’t think I should. I carry around far too much baggage to ask anyone else to help me shoulder it. And if we were to be intimate, I…well I know it sounds strange, but I’d feel as if I was betraying her somehow.” Nanami sighed heavily afterward, unable to meet your tender gaze.

“You said before that you think she’d want you to live a happy, fulfilling life. I’m not asking you to do this– we don’t have to do anything besides sit here and talk, but…consider that happiness might mean moving on with someone else, eventually. Doesn’t even have to be me–”

“But I want it to be you,” he blurted, startling both of you. He lowered his voice and took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and repeated it, softer this time, more intentional. “I want it to be you.”

The rest of the night, you held him in your arms while he told you the story of his wife– the love of his life– their daughter, their picture perfect life together before tragedy struck and took them away from him. You learned that he was out of town the day they were killed and harbored so much guilt and still hadn’t forgiven himself from being away on business. It took him two days to get back to them– between delayed flights and traffic patterns, he slept little and grieved painfully, thoughts of what he would possibly do without them pervading his mind. He told you that his wife had just been promoted in her line of work and his daughter was about to enter the third grade, that she was the brightest student in her class and had a talent for dancing and eating ice cream.

Nanami talked himself to sleep on your shoulder as the sun rose, his voice raspy and thick with exhaustion and raw emotion. He kissed you just before he succumbed to his dreams, appearing more content than you’d seen him in the short weeks you’d known him. You slept with him, in his bed, your own mind laden with the story of his lost love and with the hope that he could find it again.

You slept well past noon the next day, waking to the sound of sizzling bacon and the smell of a strong brewed coffee. At first you were a little disoriented, waking up in a bed that wasn’t your own, but you soon realized as you looked down at your disheveled dress that last night, you’d slept next to Nanami. The thought alone made your head spin, and you sat up slowly, stretching on your way down the hall into the kitchen to find him at the stove with a pair of tongs in his hand, humming along to a song on the radio.

A far cry from the vulnerable man you cradled in your arms last night, he turned to you with a soft, sleepy smile, the bags under his eyes looking a little less burdensome than before. He offered a quiet Good morning and handed you a cup of coffee, which you graciously accepted before sliding into a seat at his little table.

“I need to thank you,” he said, cracking an egg into the same pan where the bacon was frying.

You sipped your coffee, then tilted your head. “Thank me? For what?”

“For listening to me. For allowing me to release all that I’ve been holding in. I…I’ve never confided all of that in anyone before, and I have to admit– it feels good. So thank you." He sat down in the seat across from you and offered you a plate, which you graciously accepted. "I did want to ask you, though, how long you're going to be here. In town, I mean. I assume you have to leave at some point."

You nodded while chewing a bite, then swallowed, following it with a sip of coffee. "Three more weeks," you said. I have to go back and reset my classroom. What about you? Is this a permanent home for you, or is there somewhere else?"

Nanami shook his head. "Nowhere else. This is home. It has been since the accident. We used to vacation here as a family, and I can't bring myself to return to the house in the city." He paused to sip his coffee. "I sold it last year, actually. It wasn't home to me any longer."

Over breakfast, you made plans. Tentative plans at best, but plans to reunite in the summers– if not for anything romantic, at least to spend some time together near the water and nurture the friendship you’d built. You helped him clean up, then lingered in the doorway, caught between wanting to stay longer and wanting to go home and change your clothes and freshen up after last night’s activities.

But you found yourself reluctant to leave. Nanami knew it and reached for your hand, thumb running over your knuckles. “You can stay, if that’s what you’re thinking. I have a shower too, you know.”

The next few moments were a blur of lips, fingers, tongue and flesh. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply, lifting you off the floor so that you could wrap your legs around his waist and hang on. He carried you to his bedroom where he took his time taking you apart, memorizing you inch by inch, just like he had started to do last night.

“I don’t” – he began, hooking his fingers under the elastic of your panties to peel them down and away from your body– “want you to think that I’m doing this out of some desire to forget.” He looked deep into your eyes while nimble fingers spread your thighs apart. You opened them willingly, reveling in the feel of his flesh on yours in such an intimate area.

“I know you aren’t.” And you did. Though much of your conversation had been about his past, you knew two things: one, he’d been needing to confide in someone for a long, long time; two, he desired you. You knew he did by the way he looked at you, the way he held your hand, the way his kisses felt like summer rain and his fingers between your legs felt like they belonged there.

“Good. I like you. I like you a lot,” he implored, lowering himself so that you felt his warm breath on the meat of your inner thigh just before his tongue licked a broad stripe right up your slit, making you arch your back clean off the bed and grip his hair in frantic fists. You closed your eyes as he explored you, his nose nudging the curls at the top of your slit, fingers delving just inside to provide extra stimulation in addition to his tongue.

You cried out his name as he took care of you, pulling him by the hair to hear him chuckle at your enthusiasm. With gentle suction, he pulled your clit between his lips and flicked his tongue over the sensitive bud, causing you to twitch and beg for mercy, please God please oh don’t stop don’t stop. At your command, he hooked his hands over the top of your thighs and dove in for the kill, licking at you like a man deprived of his favorite meal for far too long. Your climax hit you hard and fast, and it took you several minutes to recover, breathing deep, a sheen of sweat across your brow and chest.

Nanami gave you a few moments to breathe before he climbed over top of you, his cock pressing insistently on the inside of your wet thigh. You opened yourself to him willingly, without protest, and he slipped inside with a long, low moan, pushing his face into the space between your neck and shoulder.

No one had ever touched you the way he did. He cradled your head in his hands as he thrust in and out with slow, controlled motions, his girth stretching you in a most delicious way that had your eyes rolling back in your head and your jaw permanently slack. He pressed kisses along your neck and chest, his breath hot and steady, face never more than a few inches from yours. When he feared he might come too soon, he lifted you into his lap and had you straddle him; down onto his length you sank again, arms linked around his shoulders, each breath a low, wanton moan as you felt his long strokes inside you, filling you to the hilt with his impressive size.

He was quiet for the most part– a grunt here, a low rumble there, but he didn't speak. He was focused on your pleasure and his own, wanting to prolong it as much as possible until he couldn't hold back anymore.

The buildup was almost too much for you to bear, and when you felt him begin to twitch and pulse inside you, you came again, this time a more profound sense of euphoria making your head spin and your body tense until you scaled that peak. "I've got you," he whispered upon your ear, one hand at the back of your head and the other grabbing a handful of your ass, pushing you against him with incredible strength despite his own loss of muscle control.

The room was filled with the lewd sounds of wet flesh, of the evidence of your lovemaking between your legs and his, of breath and hushed voices and tender kisses. He took his time riding out your orgasm, in no hurry to take himself out of you. Nanami gently guided you back onto the now missed blankets of the bed and rolled you both on your side, facing each other so that he could look into your eyes and find your reaction, your look of blissed-out euphoria. No longer did he carry the guilt of moving on, of taking another woman into his bed. You made him feel comfortable and secure, and he wasn't sure words could convey his gratitude.

You spent the afternoon dozing, eating, drinking wine and toeing along the sand, totally immersed in his company. The last few weeks of your visit were spent in his company as well, the days just as magical as the nights.

And when it came time for you to return home, he took you to dinner, a hopeful look in his eyes as you discussed the possibility of returning each summer. You knew that the chances were slim– you explained that the house where you had stayed wasn't yours to rent, that your best friend had arranged the whole thing.

He reached across the table and covered your hand with his. "Come and stay with me." Ah, his way of presenting ideas was direct and to the point. It was something you'd come to admire about him– how no nonsense he was when it had to do with something he cared deeply about.

Your expression softened when you considered the possibility. You hadn't been hopeful of a love connection when you took this trip, and you had to be honest with him– you still weren't sure you were ready for another full-fledged commitment just yet. The wound of your divorce was still fresh, still painful, and you wanted to spend some more time getting to know the woman you were without your ex-husband, without the baggage you'd carried around for so long.

And when you divulged this to him, he drew back his hand, taking a long drink from his glass. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." He threw your own words right back at you, and you had to smile. "I enjoy your company regardless."

Your daughter was overjoyed the day you pulled into her father's driveway. She came skipping out of his house and you caught her in your arms, spinning her around in a tight, tearful hug. Your ex husband stared at you and smiled softly in a way that told you he saw a difference in your demeanor.

"Restful vacation?" he asked, his jealousy barely masked.

"Oh, you have no idea."

#nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x you

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