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lostdreamr-blog1 · 6 months

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Pinky Promise

Pinky Promise 2

Part 3

Summary: Jake gets a call in the middle of the night asking for a ride home. But it’s who is asking that makes him worried.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Another request knocked out! Currently working on part 2 of Beautiful Stranger and might have plans for continuing this one depending on if you all like it. Thank you so much for reading! -C

You were a little on the tipsy side as you squinted at your phone trying to make out the numbers on it. With them moving as much as they were, it was near impossible to type in a correct phone number. Instead, you opened your contacts and scrolled down to your brother’s name.

The smart thing to do would be to call him for a ride, but the more drunk side of you could only think about the nagging you would get on the way home and probably the month following. So, you scrolled up and down your contacts deciding on who would be the lucky winner to receive a call at 1 in the morning.

Jake groaned as he heard his phone going off. He blindly reached for it and squinted at the bright screen, trying to decipher who the hell would be calling at this hour. He had to be up in a few hours to get ready for another day of trying to get through the near impossible assignment, so unless it was an emergency, he was ignoring it.

The number that flashed on his screen wasn’t one he had seen before. He almost wrote it off as a wrong number or another spam call, but something told him to answer it. The area code was one he knew and a call this late on a Saturday might mean something is going on. So, instead of rolling over and enjoying the few hours of sleep he had left, he answered the mystery number.

“Seresin.”

“Oh shit! That’s the Jake that’s in this phone? Why would he put that number in here?” The voice was female and sounded somewhat familiar but was clearly drunk.

“Sorry to disappoint. Who is this?” Jake was kicking himself for answering it now, having the person insult him within two seconds of talking.

“Ah. Look, you have to promise not to tell my brother anything. Like pinkly swear and everything.” Jake was too tired to entertain childish requests, but the first part of the statement finally sunk in. The only one on the team who had a sister near base was Bradley. Fuck.

“Y/N? Is that you?” He needed the confirmation before freaking out. What did she do that warranted keeping her brother in the dark?

“I am not answering that question until you promise me.” He sat up in bed, turning on the lamp next to him. There was no way this wasn’t her.

“Alright. I promise I won’t tell him right now. Can you tell me what’s going on?” He was hoping she was too drunk to catch how he promised.

“Fine. I’m at this bar with my friend and I played wingman a little too well and she left with this guy. I mean good for her. She just got over this really bad breakup and needed to get laid.” Jake had gotten out of bed and put the phone on speaker as he got dressed. Something told him he was going to have to pick you up from somewhere. That’s if you managed to stop getting sidetracked.

“Anyway, I have this thing about not liking to get in Ubers by myself and it’s a long ass walk back to my apartment.” Jake had grabbed his keys at this point and was walking out the door.

“Where are you? I’m on my way.” He turned on his truck and waited for a response.

“Shoot. Well, we started at one place and now this is place three. No place four. You know what, let me ask because I have no idea.” Jake sighed and shook his head. He had heard stories from Bradley about his younger sister and how reckless you were. Or at least that’s the way he described you. He always kept you on a tight leash, trying his hardest to keep you out of trouble.

But Jake thought you just wanted to have some fun. One of his sisters went through a phase like this and it was best to keep a close eye on them but never push them. For reasons like this.

You told him the name of the bar and he was on his way. “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. Are you okay to wait inside for me?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I need to finish this water anyway.” Jake told you to call if something came up but he shouldn’t be long.

It wasn’t but 5 minutes later his phone started ringing again. He saved your number as Baby Bradshaw, knowing that this probably wouldn’t be the last time you called him.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Are you close?” As casual as you tried to sound, Jake could hear a slight bit of urgency.

“Five minutes away. Everything alright?” The hesitation that followed his question told him everything he needed to know. But he waited for your response before he pushed the issue further.

“Umm, it’s probably nothing. Just this guy by the bar keeps giving me this look and it’s making me feel a bit uncomfortable. But I’m also drunk and a tiny bit paranoid.” Jake pushed the accelerator down a bit further, breaking a few laws in order to get to you faster. He wasn't going to be blamed for getting the youngest Bradshaw in trouble.

“I’ve always been told to listen to your gut.” He heard the hum on the other end of the line as he blew through a red light.

“My gut is telling me they want tacos.” Jake couldn’t stop the laugh that came out.

“We can get you tacos on the way home, sweetheart. Now do me a favor and stand where a lot of people can see you. People like security or a bouncer. Can you do that for me?” He heard you hum again.

“Slight problem. He is following me now.” Jake’s heart started to beat faster and knew he needed to get there now.

“Shit. What did Bradley say. Thumb out, use your knuckles.” He shook his head trying to figure out what the hell you were saying. But it clicked a second too late.

“No don’t-“ He heard commotion on the other line and parked his truck right outside the bar. Flying out the door, he nearly ran into you as you were standing by the entrance with a bouncer blocking a guy with blood running from his nose from getting close to you.

Jake grabbed you before you could get around the bouncer and pulled you outside. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, you creep!” You were yelling at the guy all the way outside, letting him know you weren’t to be messed with. He wanted to go back in there and show the guy what happens when you mess with innocent people, but he knew leaving your side wouldn’t be for the best.

When the two of you were next to his truck, Jake let go and looked you over. Your face had a red tint to it from what he assumed had just happened, but besides that you looked to be in one piece. That was until he saw your eyes start to water.

He put a hand under your chin and lifted your head up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You sniffed a few times and wiped the tear that managed to escape. “Bradley didn’t say how much it hurts to hit someone.”

Jake bit back a smile and looked down at your hand. While it was a bit red and would surely bruise tomorrow, it didn’t look too bad.

“He probably didn’t think you would ever have to do that. Why don’t we get you back home and you can tell me what happened.” He watched you nod your head and opened his passenger door for you, closing it when you were in.

He waited a few minutes after you were on the road before asking questions. “Want to tell me why you called me instead of your brother?”

You shook your head at the question. “Have you met my brother? It would be nonstop nagging for God knows how long. Anyone else seemed like the better option.” You paused as you remembered exactly who you were with.

“I will say I didn’t expect him to put your name in my phone. He seems to have a strong dislike for you.” Jake smirked at what you had said and shrugged his shoulders.

“He probably knew I had sisters and would do anything to make sure they were alright. Regardless on who they were related to.” You thought this over and nodded your head. It wasn’t long until the next question came.

“What happened at the bar?” You felt his eyes on you and knew he was more concerned than curious.

“The guy I told you was giving me weird looks ended up following me to the door. He stopped me and tried to grab my hand and even though I pulled it away, he kept coming at me. I don’t know, I guess I just felt like I needed to do something to stop him.” You missed the way Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel or the clench in his jaw.

“He was lucky I was 30 seconds behind, or he would’ve gotten more than a broken nose.” You looked over and saw how serious he was. A look your brother wore all too often.

“How long until you tell bird boy what happened?” Jakes eyes caught yours and you saw the conflict in them.

“If I was him, I would want to know something happened to my sister. But I will at least drop you off before I call him. Keep your phone on silent and say you fell asleep. That way you can push it off until he gets off tomorrow.” He heard your sigh but that was the end of that.

It was silent in the car until he heard you say, “I’m not as stupid as my brother makes me out to be.” Stupid was never a word he would have used to describe you. A little carefree maybe, but you knew what you were doing.

“I see someone who wants to have a little fun in their life while they can. Nothing wrong with that.” He glanced over to you to see you playing with your injured hand.

“You’re not as bad as they make you out to be either. Besides my brother, not many people would come and get me when they have to be up soon.” Jake held back a wince when he saw the time. A coffee run in the morning would be needed. Maybe he could talk Natasha into picking him up some from that place she always went to.

He pulled into your apartment complex and parked as close to your building as he could.

“Hey, sweetheart. You can call me anytime you need help, okay? I know your brother and I are not on great terms, but I know he would help me out when family is involved.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him for the ride.

He waited until you closed the door before he backed out of the parking lot, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Bradley. It was nearing 2am and calling him was oit of the question. So, he sent a simple text.

Hey man. Your sister called a random number in her contacts tonight and didn’t realize it was me. She needed a safe ride home and that exactly what I did. We can talk about it more at base, but wanted to let you know she is safe. -Hangman

He went to put his phone down when a text popped up. He prayed Bradley wasn’t awake, wanting to push the rest of that conversation off. But instead, it was baby Bradshaw with the text You never got me tacos.

Jake laughed out loud replying that he owes you some in the near future. With a spitfire attitude that you had, Jake saw the two of you becoming good friends. That’s if Bradley didn’t lock you up after tonight’s events.

A/N: Not too sure how I felt about this one but thinking about doing a Jake and Y/N friend series. Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you for reading!

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #topgun maverick #top gun maverick #chelsea writes #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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musclesandhammering · 7 months

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And another thing-

All of the little details about OB just break my fucking heart, like

-him being so excited to see Mobius again even though the only interaction he ever had with him was Mobius accidentally showing up in his workshop once and then immediately leaving

-it being 400 years since his last visitor

-when Loki asked past!Ouroboros if he could call him OB and he says “OB? I like that :)” because he was happy that someone would want to give him a nickname

-him explaining what the TVA guidebook was after realising that no one in the group had ever read it and then quietly saying “I wrote it myself.”

-him saying “it’s great being part of a team :)” after explaining that he takes care of all the engineering stuff for everybody and no one ever interacts with him, and then hopefully asking “how’s the team doing up there?” like he’s sort of desperately trying to reassure himself that he is, in fact, important and a part of the team

-in one of the tube things in his workshop (I think this is in the credits sequence) there’s just a moldy banana and the work slip says it’s from a hunter, which maybe sort of implies that the hunters play mean jokes on him :(

-there’s also a prop poster on his floor that says sending inappropriate notes, live animals, and some other stuff down in the tubes is prohibited, which implies he’s had that happen enough times to make a poster about it. Which also implies the other workers just like to mess with him

-the fact that he seems to be the only TVA worker that didn’t have his memories wiped- which could mean he’s some all powerful being or something- but I’m pretty sure it just means that even Kang didn’t find him significant enough to brainwash, and he probably knew OB stayed alone in the basement all the time anyway so there was no chance of him blowing the ruse

-the way that all the other people at the TVA (even B-15 and Mobius) had to be convinced that pruning people was bad, but when OB mentioned deleting a bunch of timelines and B-15 said “that would kill all those people, we can’t do that.” he immediately just agreed and said he’d find another solution

-Mobius asking how tf he’s supposed to hoof it in that suit and OB saying “You have to!!” Like he has no reason to care about Mobius dying but he does

-there are “Danger!!! Maximum radiation!!!!” signs all over the walls of the loom room or whtvr but OB’s office is just like… feet from it. And he stays in there all the time. And no one seems to care ?

-how he was just so solemn and frantic and emotional throughout the whole astronaut Mobius scene, when again, none of that should even matter to him. The only thing he needs to do is close the loom door- all this fixing Loki business is extraneous.

I just love him. He has so much heart, he has such a big personality. And we’ve only known him for like 50 minutes so far 😭. I require this show to end with a found family, and I require Ouroboros to be part of it. He deserves friends, damn it!!

#ouroboros #ob #loki 2x1 #loki spoilers #loki season two #loki season two spoilers #loki 2x1 spoilers #loki meta #loki series

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f1version · 8 months

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ORDER NUMBER 16 ★ CL16

pairing: engineer!charles leclerc x scientist!reader (she/her)

summary: something about flirting with the guy you met at McDonald's at almost midnight.

warnings: fluff, meet-cute, probably unhealthy eating habits (aka mcdonald’s at midnight) because of work, the engineer and scientist thing is mentioned once, it is what it is (and it’s fluff)

word count: 1.2k

notes: originally wrote this in italian, like it made sense so it just happened, so have that piece of information!! also happy late birthday to this two baes @formulaforza & @strawberrysainz <33

“Welcome to McDonald's, what can I get you tonight?” The cashier said with a half-smile, they seemed tired, having the last shift of the day didn’t feel ideal anyways.

“Hi, can I have a six-piece McNuggets combo? Thank you,” you said, handing over your card, and Allison —according to the name tag— nodded, charging six and a half euros, handing it back with a ticket. Number 15. "Thanks again!"

A bar table, five four-seat tables, and the counter made the McDonald's a small place, a quick stop in small Maranello. You had the impression that you would be the only one there at 11 p.m. However, while you waited for your order, the door opened revealing a brown-haired man, his green —or blue? no— eyes finding yours for a couple of seconds.

"Number 15!" One of the workers called, making you look away.

Both of you reached the counter simultaneously, once again curious eyes stealing glances, there was something in him that attracted you. Maybe it was the fact that he was very handsome, or maybe it was the sheepish smile he gave you before greeting Allison.

"I would like a cheeseburger, thank you," you heard the stranger ask for and a slight smile left your lips, Cheeseburger, really?

You took your tray and headed to one of the tables, sipping on your soda. Order number 16 was called about two minutes later and you felt the movement a few meters away.

For the third time that night, green may be the only color available when the stranger sits at the table across from you, face to face with you. A small smile found it’s way to your lips, Was this guy serious? This is his way of flirting? Is it even intentional?

You watched him take the first bite of his burger and, as if it were a movie, the meat slid off the bun, his eyes turning away from yours automatically. A soft laugh left your lips, his cheeks turning crimson.

Suddenly the table in front of him seemed to be the most interesting thing in the world, his eyes following the pattern on it. This guy.

You softly tapped the table, the silence on the establishment enough to let him hear, his head shooting upward, giving you what you assumed was his ‘I’m embarrassed’ smile. You, confident enough in whatever this interaction was, tilted your head towards the chair in front of you, an invitation.

He changed seats, both of you smiling, searching for the start of a conversation.

“So, is your burger okay?” you said. The man seemed a bit taken aback, yet he laughed.

“I hope so,” he replied. He was smiling, pretty crinkles around his eyes as he took a couple of fries into his mouth, “That was a bit embarrassing”

You laughed, “Well, I think it was a good first impression,” you saw his cheeks flush again.

“Really? Then I’m the luckiest guy on earth,” he said and you laughed, taking a moment to tell him your name. His eyes widened, “Oh Right, mamma mia, I’m- I’m Charles”

You laughed and he followed, this was so awkward yet it felt right. Talking to him- Charles is very nice.

“So,” he imitated you, “How did you end up in a McDonald’s at almost midnight? And don't say because you were hungry,” Charles asked.

“Oh, I had the fantastic idea of leaving my job a little late, forgot I had an empty fridge, and I was hungry,” you answered. "What about you? How did you end up in a McDonald’s at almost midnight?"

"I wanted to meet a pretty girl, of course," Charles said, a grin on his face. You giggled softly, he broke his little act, “Actually, my reason is not that different. I was working on a few blueprints and when I finished, this McDonald’s was on the way to my flat."

“Blueprints?” you asked.

“I’m an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari”

“You’re lying” You smiled incredulously, he shook his head. Of course, this had to be more perfect, “I’m a scientist for Ferrari, Charles,” You took out your nearly new ID, “I got the job a couple of weeks ago.”

Charles chuckled, bringing out his own ID, "Well, what a crazy coincidence, isn't it?"

“A rather pleasant one if you ask me”

Your eyes met, and both of you burst into laughter.

This was such an unexpected thing, but in some way, it made sense. A lot of people living around Maranello worked for Ferrari, yet meeting one in McDonald’s wasn’t the most normal thing.

Additionally, Charles is gorgeous, his hair brown and a bit messy, his shape soft but defined, and his green eyes. They were like walking through an enchanted forest and ending up at the beach, turning and deep but also bright and colorful. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in them.

He looked at you sweetly as both of you finished your meal, his eyes drifting to your last nugget. A question appeared on his mind.

“Why nuggets?” he asked.

“What? You don’t like them?” you giggled a bit, eyes widening when you noticed his hesitation. “No”

“Well, it’s not that I don’t like them!” Charles tried to defend himself, laughter escaping him.

“Oh mamma mia, no no,” you dramatized, “Charles, you can’t call me pretty girl and then tell me you don’t like nuggets!”

"I've never tried them!" he said, eating the last of his fries.

Your eyes widened again, “What? Never?” Charles shook his head, “How is that even possible? Are you allergic?” you continued, one hand resting on the table while the other grabbed your soda.

"No, my mum always ordered a cheeseburger for me and it just stuck," Charles explained, one of his hands reaching for yours.

“Well, now I will have to make you try them!”

“Well-”

“Hey guys,” the McDonald’s employee, Allison, interrupted “It's almost half past twelve and we have to clean the place, so if you could please wrap it up! Thank you!”

“Yeah, of course,” Charles was fast to answer.

You looked at him, and he was already looking at you, cheeks flushed and you knew you were as red. Without talking, you finished eating your nugget and he finished his drink, honey eyes locking with each other. Why does it have to end?

“It was so nice meeting you, Charles,” you rushed out, not wanting to say goodbye.

He smiled knowingly, “You know, I would like to try some nuggets, maybe after work or on a weekend?”

And how could you say no to that?

“I would really like that”

“Yeah?” You nodded and he beamed, “It’s a date then,” Charles rapidly grabbed a napkin and pulled out a pen from his pocket.

“Don’t you want to write your number directly on my phone?” you asked endeared, he was writing as fast as he could.

“For what?” he said standing up, and handing you the paper, “That takes away the cliché aspect!”

You chuckled, picking up your tray and dumping what was on it, Charles did the same. Both of you said goodbye to the —apparently very invested in your relationship— employees and left.

"My flat is one block that way," you said pointing to the right.

"Mine is one block to the left," he replied, "I guess not everything could be so perfect."

You smiled, "I’ll see you later, yeah?"

"Of course, see you soon," he said before taking your hand, squeezing it, and letting go.

3XX-XXXXXXX — Charles Leclerc ♡

Don’t tell anyone but I think I fell in love with this girl at Mcdonald’s!!!

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mysteria157 · 3 months

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Those Moments In Between

Moment One: An Old Flame

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity, explicit sexual content (whole lotta smut, I’m talking: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, creampie…lol you get it).

Word Count: ~6k

Summary: When Nanami has no choice but to work overtime, you bring him dinner as a surprise. But you unexpectedly find his ex-girlfriend already keeping him company.

Takes place a few weeks after Chapter 15 of It Had To Be You!

Notes: I had this idea way back when I wrote chapter 15 weeks ago and I finally made it a reality last night LOL. I don’t have a beta reader, so sometimes there may be a mistake or two. I have a habit of being way too detailed when I write, and that includes smut. So hopefully you enjoy it!

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @sweetxmelody

Those Moments In Between Masterlist | Moment Two TBD...

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

MINORS DNI

Nanami knows better.

He knows that his ex-girlfriend, Pia, is just as devious as she was when they were in undergrad.

When they were younger and together, she gave sweetness and tender love that made Nanami stick around a bit longer than he should have. Though they had nothing in common and she was far too outgoing, she helped him embrace many different things that were normally out of his comfort zone.

She taught him how to express public displays of affection in his own way. She taught him how to express what he felt when it came to romantic love.

He was grateful for it. Truly.

Indirectly, her personality only made him realize just how ill-suited they were for one another despite her good intentions.

Pia was spiteful to those who disagreed with her, disrespectful to those who did not have the same values as her, and outlandishly rude to those who came on to Nanami. She covered it all up with smiles, jokes as a means of apology, and an innocent glint in her eyes that Nanami at the time, didn't have the experience to see through.

Gojo had tried to warn him, year after year.

But he was young--his disdain for Gojo was five thousand times more intense than it is now--so Nanami treated everything that fell from Gojo's lips as a ploy to annoy anyway.

Nanami remained oblivious to her behavior, caught in the haze of young love, until their final year of college.

That haze had gradually become easier to sift through. The complaints from his friends finally began to register in his mind. Then, one day between classes, a significant moment allowed him to finally blink away the fog.

Every action that he had once dismissed, enticed by the flutter of her lashes and the touch of her lips, rose to the surface from an ocean of naivety--loud and unfiltered.

He despised himself for having to come to the painful realization that Gojo had been right all along.

Nanami allowed Gojo to mock him for a week before reverting to his habit of telling him to shut up unless he had something meaningful to contribute to their conversations.

Despite feeling embarrassed and heartbroken, he cut ties--clean and simple--moved on with his life, and never heard from her again.

Until now, that is, as she is currently in Nakameguro for a project to market her wine enterprise. She specifically chose his company to assist in expanding her business in the Japanese market, and he despises every minute of it.

Pia clearly wants to make up for lost time because she goes to great lengths to be close to him.

She has a habit of discreetly slipping into the elevator just before it closes, coincidentally finding herself alone with Nanami every time. With a simple smile and a polite greeting, she faces the front and they ride in silence, but with every encounter, she subtly edges closer and closer to him.

Like clockwork, without fail, she makes a point to peek into his office every morning, disregarding his attempt to keep the door closed. She greets him, extends an invitation to lunch—an invitation he consistently declines—and continues with her day.

Being a recluse by nature, he rarely leaves his office except for coffee runs to the breakroom or when Yuji relentlessly calls for his presence. But with Pia’s presence, he can hardly focus when she’s around. He refuses to engage in conversation or give her an opening to pursue him romantically. Because he knows she will. So now he makes Yuji come to him and will bring his own coffee from home.

He chooses not to confide in you about his struggles.

You had only met her once, but it was more than enough. Because to you, Pia is overwhelmingly beautiful, with a well-traveled life and wealth. You are an amateur ceramic artist with modest savings, a mother that you can’t stand, and a body that had recently been stretched and marked by childbirth.

You thought Kento deserved better—deserved someone like Pia.

You were grappling with the overwhelming responsibilities of taking care of Ulani, trying your best to navigate through postpartum depression in a healthy way, and coming to terms with a body that seemed alien to you.

So the sight of Pia for the first time, radiant and flaunting a badge of honor for dating Nanami, did nothing but throw you into a deep pit of insecurity.

Kento lifted you out of that dark place, demonstrated to you again—without fail—how devoted he was to you then and always.

He made it abundantly clear that he was yours.

He’s determined to never make you feel unsure of yourself again.

So it's not a big deal. She’s just a nuisance that he has to dodge for the next week.

Just another week until she goes back to Italy where she—hopefully—will never return.

What’s the worst that can happen?

It turns out, a lot.

He tries to stay one step ahead, deliberately exchanging a brief greeting with her in the lobby to prevent her from slithering into his office. He even waits until the office is deserted, and the day is nearly over before stepping into the elevator.

He doesn’t know how he got out scot-free, but Friday rolls around and he thinks that he just might pull this off.

But Yaga chooses today of all days to ask Nanami to stay behind to consolidate a few contracts that only Nanami—unfortunately—has access to. In normal circumstances, Nanami would decline and suggest pushing it off until Monday.

It’s even more unfortunate because he has plans tonight. He wants to help you make dinner and spend time with his daughter and he shouldn’t even have to think about excuses because he hates overtime. But, the consolidation is due Monday, and he wants to get it done now so that he can avoid the hassle later on.

You don’t sound upset when he calls you to break the news. Your usually calm voice is slightly downcast with a gentle sigh that you think he can’t hear.

“I guess it’s rare so I shouldn’t be mad but,” you complain weakly, your words tinged with a slight whine that makes Nanami smirk to himself. “I made Katsudon.”

He groans, mouth instantly watering at the mere thought.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, my love. I promise.”

You grumble a reply that makes him chuckle, a tender sound resonating deep in his chest as he listens to you tell him that you love him before hanging up the phone.

***

It’s seven o’clock and he’s fighting a migraine. But he’s almost done, and he’s determined to finish the last stack of contracts that require organizing before he can make his way home to you and Ulani.

As he pens his signature on the bottom of one contract, there’s a knock on his office door, prompting him to invite them in—assuming it’s merely the janitor since everyone else on the floor left hours ago.

That’s all he thinks to himself; he focuses his attention on yet another clause, preparing to initial his name on the side when everything comes to a screeching halt.

Because standing before him isn’t the janitor—it’s Pia.

Pia, clad in a tight black dress that not only defies workplace etiquette but also starkly contrasts the one she wore earlier in the day.

Earlier that day, he followed her every movement as she got into her car and drove away, silently relieved that he could finally relax. Yet, here she is; her dark brown wavy hair hanging over her shoulder in a manner far too seductive for his comfort, and black heels clutched in her hands instead of adorning her feet.

It takes him only a second to assess how quickly he can maneuver past her without a word. He will take the steps if he has to, or maybe he can grab the remaining contracts and finish the rest at home and—

“Gojo always mentions how you never stay late anymore, so I’m surprised to see you here,” she purrs, her Italian accent grating against his ears, exacerbating his throbbing migraine behind his eyes. Her lust-filled, indecent intentions taint her dark brown eyes, reinforcing the strong urge within him to leave, quickly.

He’s not the type of man to belittle a woman’s appearance because they all possess their own beauty. His mother hammered that among other things about the respect of women deep into his skull before he hit puberty. But he’s well-mannered enough to acknowledge beauty and let the line be drawn there—because other women aren’t you, and he doesn’t have a wandering eye.

He never has and he never will.

“Is there a reason why you are here, Pia?” he questions, discreetly binding the stack of contracts together so he can swiftly grab them along with his blazer and push her out of the way if he has to. “Your project finished at the end of the business day, so I assumed you would be on your way back to Italy.”

She scoffs a deep and guttural noise that makes Nanami’s stomach twirl in distaste and intensifies the pounding behind his eyes. “You know exactly why I’m here, Kento. Don’t be dull. You never were back then, and you aren’t now.”

His stomach churns, the knots tightening with each passing moment between them. The tension becomes unbearable, culminating in a swift rise from his seat as he retrieves his blazer behind his large, deep red chair.

“You need to leave,” he demands, his voice devoid of the polite courtesy he had extended to her during her visit. He tucks the contracts beneath an arm, grabs his car keys, and makes for the door—but she’s quick to sidestep so her frame blocks his path.

Irritation surges within him, an emotion that others—excluding you—are keen to elicit when they begin to waste his time.

“Pia, please move out of the way so that I can go home.”

She arches a perfectly groomed eyebrow, adding to the torment coursing through his stomach. “So you’re saying you don’t even want to talk? It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, and you’ve done nothing but avoid me during my entire stay.” Her whiny, petulant tone and childlike frown only serve to trigger flashbacks to times when she didn’t get her way, intensifying the deep divide that caused their separation.

“And you don’t understand the reason why?” he retorts, irritation heavier and thick in his mouth. A frown etches itself onto his lips, and his patience dissipates in the tense air encircling them.

A noise in the lobby—a noise that implies someone can be listening—makes his heart stammer in his chest and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

While she has an agenda, he does not. He refuses to allow others to lose respect for him in this office, thinking he indulges in infidelity during his free time when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He couldn’t care less about others’ opinions, except when it involves you and your relationship—that’s where he draws the line.

Unaffected by his sarcastic remark, she delicately places a perfectly manicured hand on his chest. He’s quick to react, catching her wrist in a way that makes his blazer fall to the floor, pulling her hand away from him as his body begins to shake in frustration.

“I don’t know where you’ve gotten the impression that I want anything with you, but I won’t be entertaining it. What we had was a long time ago and it won’t ever be reignited again. Try your best to understand that,” he states firmly.

“But—” she begins to protest.

“Enough, Pia. Leave. Now.”

He isn’t asking nicely anymore, his head pounding, and the decision to simply push her out of the way is made. Just as he prepares to do so, the door swings open, and the person he longs to see the most but also wishes wasn’t here right now, rushes in.

“Ken, I thought I could bring you dinner and—” you stop mid-sentence, words wedged in your throat as you take in the scene in front of you. You’re holding a Tupperware container, the steam inside condensing along the edges.

Nanami with papers under one arm and the other dropping from a delicate wrist to flop down at his side, his hair disheveled from hours of musing, his face clearly disturbed. And Pia, beautiful and ethereal as usual as she whips around to look at you.

Since that first day you met her, you haven’t encountered Pia again. And Kento’s unwavering loyalty and trust have provided no reason to entertain the thought of her.

However, Nanami’s stiff stature, Pia’s tight dress that reveals a bit too much in the front, and the stiletto heels swinging from her finger in one hand make it abundantly clear to you why she is here.

At seven o’clock at night.

With no one else around.

You want to shy away from the implication, to fend off your surprise with a shy chuckle, and let the poisonous current of insecurity draw you away like that time before. But Nanami had skillfully put those doubts to rest weeks ago.

Now you’re just irritated.

“Pia? What are you doing here?” You keep your tone light, masking the annoyance bubbling inside you. Pia’s earlier sultry gaze has vanished, replaced by widened eyes and hands smoothing her already unwrinkled dress, anxiously. “Kento told me the project ended a few hours ago. Aren’t you flying back to Italy soon?”

She fumbles, her rose-tinted lips curling as she searches for something to say, gripping her heels tighter in her hand. It’s reminiscent of watching a child scrambling for an excuse after being caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

Nanami remains silent, astonished. In the past, any other woman daring to breathe his air while Pia was present would have been met with scathing words and threats. But now, that Pia is desperately trying to produce an excuse for her late presence within a workplace when she she should be on a flight home.

“She was just leaving, love,” Nanami interjects, trying his best to make the situation as simple as it can be. Pia agrees, blushing and nodding, hastily slipping her heels back on with hands seemingly covered in sweat.

Watching her struggle to secure her heels, her fingers slipping on the buckle, reignites a surge of confidence deep within you. The once persistent insecurity in her presence now feels like a mere joke. In this moment, she becomes the joke.

And you want to savor every minute of it.

The next words spill from your mouth, impossible to contain. You wiggle the small Tupperware container in your hands, gesturing towards her and offering a shy but satisfied smile.

“I was just bringing my husband dinner,” you chuckle airily, the lie slipping from your lips with ease. You relish the reaction from them both. Pia’s hands slip on her heel strap, causing her to stumble. Nanami struggles to contain his composure, eyes wide as saucers, his breath caught in his throat as your words ring in his ears like a piercing siren.

“Kento is the only one on this floor, it’s awfully late and I doubt you would have left earlier without saying goodbye. Surely you—” you pause, pretending to be taken aback before leveling an accusatory gaze at her. She looks up from her hunched position, hands still fumbling with the straps of her heels, her eyes wide and beautifully tan skin appearing pale. You’re not one for pettiness, but the delight from the sight of her struggling courses through your veins. “Surely you’re not here with the intention to do something else, are you?”

“No!” she quickly retorts, her voice both loud and tinged with a hint of nervousness that makes the corner of your lip twitch. “No of course not—”

“So what are you doing here?” you cut her off with a narrowing of your eyes, repeating your question from earlier with a touch less feigned innocence, your tone slightly more serious and impatient.

“L-leaving actually! Just wanted to say goodbye to Kento before my flight in the morning,” she stammers, now standing three inches taller, maintaining an air of elegance and grace even as her embarrassment paints her cheeks red.

She hastily bids Nanami farewell—a choked and tight goodbye—, a lopsided and anxious smile directed at you, and stumbles once more as she hurriedly exits the room, a snort of amusement escaping your lips as she trips before disappearing from your sight.

You close the door behind her, shutting away her presence for good.

The room falls into silence, Nanami’s face turning a vibrant shade of red that forces you to suppress your laughter with every ounce of effort you can muster.

“Love, I can explain—,” he begins, but you promptly cut him off, a giggle escaping despite your best attempts to hold it back.

You know he would never do anything. Nanami would probably take infinite shifts of overtime instead of letting a woman who was not you touch him. In fact, you heard the entire conversation before you rushed in, and it makes your heart flutter with love that is already overflowing for him.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles.

But it’s so funny to watch him squirm, his face burning even more and his movements awkward as he clutches the bundle of disheveled contracts in his hand. His expressions of frustration and his furrowed brow only serve to ignite a warmth in your stomach.

You love to tease him. And now you’ve been given the perfect opportunity to make him sweat.

“There’s no need to explain, Ken. I’m just messing with you,” you reassure him, taking his free hand and gently pulling him back to his desk. Turning to face his still-nervous figure, you retrieve the papers from his grasp and place them neatly on his large mahogany desk.

“I heard the entire conversation. I am curious though,” you begin, pressing him down into his chair. He’s silent as he watches you push the chair back a little, so you have room to stand between him and his desk. “What do you think she would have done if I hadn’t come in time?”

“Absolutely nothing because I don’t—” he starts, but his words are abruptly cut off by the touch of your hand gliding against the fabric of his chest. Unlike Pia’s touch, your fingertips radiate heat and beckon him in a way that has his cock twitching in his slacks. His heart skips a beat as he watches your own manicured nails circle the buttons of his dress shirt before undoing them quickly. “We can’t—”

“Why?” you interrupt, your voice low and hot, instantly drying up his throat. Your fingertips dance along the exposed skin of his chest, gently teasing him as your nail flicks against a pink nipple before trailing down between the contours of his abs. You tap your fingers along the downy hair that trails under his slack and his stomach bunches in response, twitching from the stimulation, his heart skipping and his throat tightening slowly.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He doesn’t. God, he doesn’t, and the words ‘no’ are out of his mouth before he can stop them, giving you his consent even though he’s embarrassed out of his mind. His migraine becomes an insignificant thought, the pulsing from earlier falling into a slow ebb, eclipsed by the escalating desire coursing through his veins.

Nanami has never been the type of man to do this sort of thing. While he likes to be inside you anytime he can, he cherishes the privacy that safeguards both himself and you, more.

But he can’t lie to himself that the thought of something happening in this office with you hasn’t crossed his mind multiple times—especially when you used to work together.

The sound of you undoing his belt buckle has his heart racing, thumping loud and heavy in his chest and his face is on fire as he watches you release him from the confines of his pants, his cock already hard and leaking.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down and finding it difficult to contain your own desire from the sight of him. The area between your legs throbs as you trace your eyes down a cock that you’re intimately familiar with. Warm and achingly heavy, leaking with anticipation and pleading for your touch. His abs tense with a sharp intake of breath as you wrap your hand around him, a pleasurable hiss escaping his throat as he watches you stroke him languidly.

You press your free hand into the arm of his chair, leaning in until your lips are mere inches apart. Inhaling his ragged breaths, you admire the way his deep brown eyes blow out, leaving only a ring of burnt umber for you to gaze into.

Your grip on him has his mind foggy, desire overtaking any rational thoughts that he would normally use right about now.

But you’re so good.

You’re curling your wrist with every upward stroke just the way he loves and his abs bunch with every jolt of pleasure that zips inside of him.

He has to touch you, has to get his hands on you in some way to ground himself, and he instinctively reaches out for you when suddenly you tsk, pulling back slightly to create more distance between your lips.

“No touching.”

Oh.

You never deny him when you’re both like this. You always want his hands on you. The fact that you’re now denying him, gazing at him with a dangerous look in your eyes, shocks him. And it arouses him to a degree that makes him choke on a breath.

He sags back into his chair, gasping for breath when your hands trail down to cup his balls. He digs his fingers into the chair’s armrests, scratching red leather, and he’s desperate to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“Did you—did you lock the door?” he manages to gasp, grasping onto any shred of coherent thought he has left.

You tilt your head in confusion, gaze at him with an indifferent stare, and then shrug nonchalantly before sagging down to your knees in front of him. The sight makes his toes curl in his expensive Chukka boots.

The rational part of his mind urges him to get up and check the door. Just get up and make sure the door is at least locked before anything else—but then his thoughts are short-circuiting and stuttering as your tongue slides wet up his shaft and you swallow him down to the base without a care in the world.

The back of his head slams against the cushioned chair as a surge of pleasure courses through his veins. You’re wet and sloppy, teasing him with your gaze as your mouth stretches from the thickness of him—and he’s struggling to hold on, struggling to keep his orgasm at bay even though it’s right there.

He tries to reach for you—tries to card his hands through your hair but you smack it away and glare at him with such a ferocity that he’s embarrassed for even attempting.

Marketing templates. Morning traffic. A cold cup of coffee.

He thinks of everything he can to resist the warmth in his stomach and the coil tightening along his spine; because you suck his cock in a way that makes him fidget in his chair, humming and gurgling into his ears in a wicked melody that’s making him go insane.

You’re enjoying every second of this and it only makes him blush harder with just how exposed he is to you right now. The mere weight of his cock in your mouth and the slightly salty taste of him makes your panties damp, your cunt pulsating and aching to be filled.

And you’ll make sure it happens.

So you patiently wait until he’s panting harshly, his grip on the arm of his chair growing tighter and tighter. You wait until that crazed look dances in his eyes—the one you’re so familiar with right before he cums. And right when he’s on the cusp, you pull away.

He exhales hard and sinks into his chair almost in relief as the band inside of him relaxes slightly, desperately trying to catch his breath and hissing as the cold air of his office wraps around his wet cock.

“Pia really did have a plan, didn’t she?” you playfully tease, standing to card your fingers through his blonde locks. Your fingertips glide across the faint traces of sweat, your hand moving along with the shake of his head in response to you, his gaze unfocused.

You kick off your shoes, hook your thumbs into the corner of your leggings, and slide them down and off your legs—his eyes following every inch of creamy brown skin that is revealed to him.

You’re wearing an oversized sweater, a soft cashmere that he got you simply because he wanted, and it now covers your faint stretch-marked thighs. They are your battle scars, your own reminders of the journey your body underwent to grow and birthed the beautiful daughter you both have now.

His breath falters as he watches you gracefully perch on his large desk, placing your legs on top and bending your knees so your fuzzy sock-covered feet press against the rich mahogany. Leaning back on one arm, you effortlessly open your legs for him. His naturally narrow eyes widen at the sight of your white damp panties, and he longs to lick, suck, and slide his cock inside the very place they conceal.

The glint in your eyes is mischievous and taunting, delighting in the way he struggles to stay seated even as you slide one of your hands down into your panties.

“Can I—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“No.”

You leave no room for argument and don’t offer anything else as you begin to circle your clit leisurely, arching into the touch as echoes of pleasure hum to life. It’s not long before you’re pushing your panties to the side to expose yourself to the open air. Your cunt throbs with desire when you hear Nanami groan softly under his breath.

You’ve never been this bold, never entertained the thought of anything voyeuristic. But Nanami seems to awaken something within you, something you’re slowly embracing. He’s so shy about sex outside of the privacy of your home, and it only makes this more exciting that he’s even entertaining it now.

“Did she do this with you?” you ask him, your voice breathless as you sink two fingers into your wet cunt. The corner of Nanami’s eye twitches from the sight and you swallow down a giggle that threatens to escape. “Did she ever make you watch her while she touched herself?”

You moan softly as you curl your fingers up as best as you can from your angle. Nanami’s fingers dig into the leather of his chair with barely contained restraint.

“Answer me, Kento.”

“No. She didn’t.”

Satisfied with his answer, a sense of pride flaps in your chest, and you gleefully continue fingering yourself in front of him. It always takes you a while to get off with your fingers, so you use that as ammunition to watch Nanami squirm.

You watch the way his exposed muscular pectorals move with his increasing breaths. You watch the way his cock twitches, hot and heavy against his stomach, leaking precum onto his abs. And you soak up the way he traces his eyes along every inch of you, leaving nothing without his attention.

When you finally cum, sharp and abrupt, he’s hanging on by a thread—ready to abandon your command to be still, yank you to him, and sink inside.

He watches your cunt flutter around your fingers as you slowly come down from your high, gasping like an angel into the office air. Breathless, you stand on shaky legs and move to stand before him, lifting slick-covered fingers to his mouth which he readily opens without command, desperate to taste you any time he can. He groans softly against your fingers, eyes drooping, tongue sliding wet between your digits. The sight makes your cunt throb weakly, faint embers that had just died down, licking to life again.

You taste like everything to him, everything he wants and everything he needs.

But it’s not on the menu tonight.

You straddle his lap wordlessly and smack his hands away when he tries to wrap large hands around your waist. He swallows his frustration, yearning to touch you, yet willing to comply for the promise of more.

Using the remnants of your arousal between your legs, you coat him, stroking him enough to make sure you take him effortlessly, and then you guide him to your entrance and sink down to the hilt. The feel of him inside you is glorious, stretching you in the way you like that makes your cunt tremble to life around him, grateful for his presence once again.

“Fuck,” he hisses—chokes with eyes squeezed shut, hand gripping the chair until it groans. You’re so wet, so fucking warm and tight that he’s shaking--practically trembling and swallowing a whimper as he fights the urge to grab your hips.

You didn’t need much to get used to him. You’re a masochist when he stretches you—you crave the way your cunt tenses from the intrusion, gripping him like a vice.

You’re a champ, enveloping him and giving him little time to acclimate before you’re bouncing on his cock with a finesse that would make any woman jealous.

You slide both hands into the hair at his nape and pull so that he cranes his neck back to gaze up at you. He’s slack-jawed, panting with breaths that tickle your lips, his eyes heavy with desire.

“Did she ever fuck you like this, hmm? Come into your office when you would work long hours and ride you until you couldn’t see straight?”

He can only shake his head ‘no’ in response, his throat too dry to speak, his lungs burning. He craves your touch, your lips on him, something to anchor him as he struggles to keep up. It’s the only way he can stay sane when the neurons in his brain are frying by the second. He begs wordlessly, groans deeply up into your mouth, pleading for anything.

And thankfully, you grant him a searing kiss. Your lips mold against his, tongues battling for dominance that he willingly surrenders to. His every thrust hits that perfect spot within you, brushing away hints of oversensitivity and bringing forth faint pleasure that makes you dig your hands into blond tresses and pull tight.

The pleasure caresses the insides of your thighs and tightens the muscles of your legs. Every brush of your clit against the skin of his abs shoots electricity throughout your cunt and up to the base of your spine, igniting a simmering fire that begins to heat deep pools of lava that reside there.

You pull away from his lips with a harsh moan, gasping into the warm air of his office, riding him harder to the point that the legs of his chair begin to squeak.

He knows you well. He knows how you get demanding and delirious and incoherent when you ride him, and he loves to count the seconds until that switch in your brain goes off. And it’s not even a second later when—

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. So, so good,” you moan against the skin of his lips. “Fucking me just the way I like Ken.”

He watches every move you make, tracing his eyes over the contours of your face and the way your loose curls cling to creamy brown cheeks.

His eyes roll when he picks up your whispered chants. You’re a woman possessed and you take what you want—when you want. And he gives and gives with every yes, yes, more Ken, you’re so good, please, please, please yes!

Your pupils are blown and glazed over with desire, but suddenly your brows furrow in frustration.

“She walked in here in a tight dress and high heels looking to get you in the same position that I have you now. But at the end of the day, you’re mine.”

There’s not an ounce of coyness in your words. You’re so serious, firm, and unyielding that it makes him shudder, a groan sliding from his parted lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and—

“Look at me,” you command, voice low, panting from exertion and the feel of your body beginning to draw tight with embers of a powerful orgasm. His eyes roll back without hesitation, locking with yours. “Unless—unless some other circumstance tears us apart, you—you are mine. Pia can have all the money and fame, but she will never have you. I do.”

“Yes,” he whispers, the word tumbling from his lips without faltering. His hips struggle to keep up and his thighs begin to stiffen as pleasure begins to curl deliciously so that his hands dig into the chair. His fingers slip against the leather, sweaty and tingling.

“You’re the father of my child.”

“Yes,” he chants again, breathless and quivering as the rubber band along his spine grows taught, stretching and shaking from the tension.

“You sleep next to me. You kiss me. You fuck me.”

“Yes, only you—only you.”

You tremble from his words, satisfaction oozing like hot thick globs along your skin. “That’s right, Kento,” you purr as your hips begin to roll against him, your clit carrying currents of pleasure through your veins, that pool of lava at the base of your spine boiling and rising to the brim.

“Please,” he whispers, his plea pulling you from your desire-induced haze. You look down at him, admire the flush of his cheeks, the warmth of his breath against the collarbone of your sweater, the sweat that beads along his hairline. “Please.”

“Please what?” you tease, trying to maintain a playful demeanor even though your hips are beginning to ache from overuse. You come to a stop on top of him, your breaths mingling together.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, always gentle and caring, even when he’s bursting from the seams. You love him so fucking much.

“Will you make me cum?”

“Always,” he responds without hesitation, his words filled with conviction. You lean in, pressing your lips against his, savoring the affection he willingly gives you. When you pull away, you brush thick blonde locks from his forehead, exposing more of his sharp features that will never fail to make your heart race.

“Then touch me, Ken,” you whisper, your voice laced with desire and anticipation.

Without wasting a moment, he swiftly lifts you in his arms, his cock still nestled inside as he carries you towards his desk.

Your breath catches as you stare up at him, the sound of papers scattering to the floor filling the air. He pulls your sweater up, revealing every inch of your faintly stretch-marked belly, before tugging down a cup of your bra, heady eyes watching as one of your breasts spills from its confines.

He’s too fast. You fumble for words and let out a surprised yelp when he yanks your waist toward the edge of the desk. He presses your knees as close to your chest as you will allow, and then he slams into you once—and then twice before picking up a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

He devours you, tongue flicking and swirling wet and dripping around your exposed nipple as he pounds into you unabashedly, the desk squeaking and groaning from his efforts.

All bravado that you had earlier splinters away with each smack of his muscular hips against you, the skin of his abs brushing against your clit deliciously, coaxing moan after moan from your lips. His tongue flicks your nipple again before he bites the hardened bud, and your cunt flutters—clenches around him, your thighs beginning to twitch even though they’re pressed to your chest.

“I’m all yours. Always yours,” he whispers against your lips, blonde tresses gliding against your cheeks.

You hope there’s no one on this floor, or that no one has decided to come back for something because the last thing they need to hear is Nanami Kento, Director of Strategic Partnerships, railing his girlfriend on his over-priced, too-large mahogany desk.

You can barely breathe, your moans growing in pitch, the sound of skin on skin echoing through his office, your hands sliding up to dig fingers into the skin of his back. You don’t even have the chance to tell him you’re close.

The stroke of him inside you, the slap of his skin against your bundle of nerves, and the feel of his mouth trailing along the sweaty column of your neck with a deep and heavy cum for me baby breaks the seal inside of you.

The lava boils over—pools along your bones, hot and delicious and caressing every nerve ending within you, your cunt squeezing him without remorse. You can’t help the loud moan that shakes from your lips, growing in pitch when the pleasure seems to spike and overheat you in oversensitivity, your entire body tingling and shaking like an exposed nerve.

Nanami takes every ounce of pleasure you offer. Everything, every part of you is precious—treasured in a way that no one else will ever be able to comprehend. He takes every breath, every hitch in your throat, every droplet of sweat on your skin, every whimper and moan and scratch of your nails against him. He savors it all—needs it to survive, to know that you have chosen him, that you want him, that you love him.

You’re the only woman who makes Pia tremble and stumble over her words. You are a force to be reckoned with, and he knew that the moment you snapped at him when you first met. You’re fierce in the way you love, strong with the words you say, and so fucking beautiful that he cant help but feel proud of just how threatened Pia was by the sight of you.

Those words you spoke confidently to her have played like a record in his head since you forced him into his chair.

“I was just bringing my husband some dinner.”

My husband.

He’s thought about it, so many fucking times. And he swears it will happen. Soon.

One day you’ll be his wife.

His wife.

His thoughts come to a sudden halt because he’s cumming, catching him off guard, that rubber band snapping in half, pleasure yanking from the base of his spine and pulling a harsh groan from his chest as he spills inside of you.

His hands slip from behind your knees and smack onto the wood of his desk and you wrap your legs around his waist as you both regain your breath. He’s putty against you, melted and loose and molding against every crevice of you as he takes in your intoxicating scent. Lilac from your body wash, shea butter from your lotion, and a hint of cooking grease that wafted onto your skin when you made dinner.

Your fingers lovingly comb through his sweaty hair, your legs blissfully achy, your cunt satisfied and throbbing, and your heart coming to normal sinus rhythm in your chest.

“Ome is probably wondering where I am,” you finally speak, breaking the tranquil silence of his office. “She offered to watch Ulani when I left.” Nanami hums against you, a low and gravelly sound that’s typical of him when he’s ready to go to sleep. “Bring the rest of the contracts home. No more overtime.”

As if he would even entertain the thought of being in this office a moment longer. “Okay,” he agrees, pressing his lips to your neck. He still has his arms around you, still connected to you despite having softened inside you minutes ago.

But you don’t mind. You cherish these moments with him, holding them dear in your heart, knowing that each one is a gift.

Because you’re the only one who can revel in the way he needs you, the way he craves having his hands on you, the way he murmurs his adoration into your skin. And you love every bit of it. You love him.

“Will she be back?” you ask, a hint of hesitance in your tone.

He shakes his head, groaning softly as you scratch that spot behind his ear. “No. Never.”

“She better not,” you jest, an eyebrow lifting to the ceiling, gazing at no one. “If she pulls shit like that again, there won’t be a happy ending for you.”

He barks out a laugh against your neck, lifting his head to take in your blissed-out form. Fatigue weighs heavy on your eyes, your lashes delicately curled, your hair spread out on his desk to make you look like the most otherworldly thing he has—will ever see.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

He kisses you tenderly once and then twice, before resting his head against your chest, the soft cashmere of your sweater caressing his cheek. His eyes catch something on the corner of his desk.

The Tupperware of food that you brought still emits steam, a homemade Katsudon by your hands, just for him.

His heart thrums in his chest, full and filled with warmth.

His wife.

Soon.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)

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toruro · 1 year

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hihi ok so i have a request

hear me out lol

so like svt caring for u /taking you home when u go out w friends to a gathering or something and accidentally eat an edible which has u on mars and u don’t know what to do

kinda funny, kinda soft, kinda idk srry

svt + when you're high

a/n: hi anon! i didn't write individual scenarios because i couldn't think of such different and long scenarios for all thirteen of them but i wrote a few and assigned members to them, so i hope that works! anyways i LOVED this prompt LFMAO? this lwk reminds me of the first time i had an edible and i was like.., ok this isn't working and then i ate more and then it felt like i elevated to the subspace so ngl all of these might just be self inserts.

tags/warnings: recreational marijuana use

w/c: 1.1k

seungcheol, wonwoo, jihoon

he notices you cuddle closer to his side as you and your guys' friends gather by the fireplace, but doesn't think anything of it until he hears you giggling a little too much at a joke he thinks you normally wouldn't find very funny. he’d look down at you and when you look up at him with those dopey eyes he knows something’s up. looking down at the plate on your lap his eyes would widen as he realizes that you ate the edibles. he’d curse himself for not letting you know earlier that they were edibles but realizes that there’s no point in sulking over that now. he would definitely excuse the both of you and take you home but as he tries to get you into the car you’d be incredibly stubborn. “baby get into the car.” you’d literally stomp your feet and shake your head. “no!” he would get slightly irritated, but the look on your face is just so cute that he’s finding it difficult to stay strict. “baby please.” you’d go back and forth for ages, and at some point he thinks he might pull out his hair. safe to say that the next time you’re out with friend, he keeps a close eye on you.

jeonghan, minghao, vernon, chan

he notices you're high right away because you're making zero fucking sense when you speak. like you'll be talking, acting like everything's normal, but then he'd actually listen to what you're saying and you would just be...saying words, not sentences. he would kind of go blank for a second wondering when the hell this happened because you didn't mention anything about wanting to get high tonight, but when he notices the empty plate with a few brownie crumbs left in your hand, he'd put two and two together and figure that you hadn't done this intentionally. he would be slightly upset that no one (himself included) let you know that they were edibles, frowning to himself as he dragged you to the car. you'd get in obediently, still running off your mouth with what nonsense you were going on about earlier, and at some point while driving home, he just really needs you to shut up so he can focus on the gps. he'd pull over so he can reach over to hold your hand, pleading, "babe, please, i love you but i really need you to be quiet. i can't focus on the road." your eyes would well up with tears and he winces as he realizes that he might have just set off a ticking bomb. "you don't wanna hear me talk?" you'd ask quietly voice wavering as he sighs. he'd spend another 15 minutes just trying to convince you that he loves talking to you, he just doesn't want to two of you to die from a car crash.

joshua, jun, mingyu

he's be slightly confused when you go up to him, wide-eyed asking him if he thinks you look pretty tonight because while he knows you love words of affirmation, you usually don't ask for it in social settings. when he'd answer, "of course i think you look pretty," you'd pout and huff and then repeat the question. he'd look at you confused, asking you if you're okay because you're usually not like this. his eyes would flicker around you and your surroundings and that's when he sees the little candy bag that definitely wasn't filled with normal gummies in them. literally will snatch the bag away from you, groaning when he sees it empty. assuming the worst, he would excuse the two of you and take you to the bathroom to talk to you. "how many d'you eat?" you'd give him a funny look. "how many of what?" you'd look so innocent he wants to melt, but he holds up his firm exterior. "the gummies, baby, how many?" you tap your chin funnily before saying, "maybe...one—no wait, like five—honestly i don't know! they were kinda yummy." he sighs, "baby they were edibles." you look at him kind of dumbly. "and? they tasted good." he'd just look at you for a few moments trying to decide what to do with you before piling you into his car to take you home as you run off his ears about how much you love cookies. he wouldn't have the heart to tell you to shut up, because he honestly finds it super cute, but he'd also try his best to keep an eye on you constantly.

soonyoung, dokyeom, seungkwan

he's the life of the party and he honestly thrives in crowds, so when you feel yourself swaying side to side a little, you aren't sure if you should go up to him and interrupt whatever he's got going on, or just sit tight and hope for the best. of course, right now, you aren't in your right mind and the thought of him being annoyed with you for interrupting him sends you spiraling, although you know it's a very unlikely situation. you kind of just sit in the corner and talk with one of your friends until she has to leave and you start feeling unbearably lonely and finally end up marching up to your boyfriend who's having a conversation with a group. when he notices you by his side, he greets you with a smile, "hey baby." wrapping an arm around you, you try to not get lost in the racing thoughts of your mind, saying, "can we go?" he turns to look at you, a little confused. "is everything alright?" your breath would hitch and you'd feel tears well up in your eyes for no reason. you can't really control it, but him wouldn't understand what's going on and be concerned. "are you mad at me?" you blurt out, not being able to stop yourself. "no—babe, what's going on?" he'd ask, pulling you away from the group to talk to you in a hallway. "baby," you'd whine, "i think i ate an edible and now i don't know what to do." his gaze would soften and he'd laugh a little at your tears—he's not laughing at your sorrow, he just knows that you get emotional when you're high and that this wasn't what he was expecting. "okay baby," he says, taking your hand, "let's go." you turn to look at the other people, "but what about your frie—" he cuts you off, "they don't matter. all i care about right now is you."

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cupofsapphics · 9 months

Text

The Coffee Shop

[ melissa schemmenti x reader ]

warning(s): none

summary: a new coffee shop opened near abbott and something, or rather someone, keeps a redhead coming back

a/n: feeding you guys one fic a year is so generous, right? right?? also forgive me you guys, it's been a while since i wrote... so mel might be a bit ooc

word count: 1.7k

Mondays were always a pain for the staff at Abbott. Work to catch up on, plan lessons, and more. Just like every other morning, Janine walked into the room with a bright smile. “Guys, did you hear about the new coffee shop that opened down the road?”

Barbara gave her a glance and shook her head. “I’m satisfied with my regular coffee.”

Ava suddenly bursts through the door. “Girl, no wonder you always be lookin’ so miserable. That new place serves one hell of a coffee, y'all should try.” She grins as she puts countless spoons of sugar into her coffee.

Barbara and Melissa shared a skeptical look before getting up to go set up their classrooms for the incoming kids. Undeterred, Janine turned to Jacob “I’m thinking of checking it out tomorrow, do you wanna come?”

“I’d be happy to, I’ve been planning to go over there anyway.” Jacob gushes.

The next morning, the two pulled the door open to the shop and were taken aback by the sight before them. Compared to the frigid air outside, the cafe felt welcoming. The walls were plain white, but many paintings adorned them. Strings of warm lights hung from the ceiling, inviting passersby to sit and relax. You just opened the cafe a mere 15 minutes ago and the ring of your doorbell caught your attention as you were cleaning the counter.

“Hi! Welcome to my cafe, what can I get you?” You beamed as you leaned on the counter with both of your arms. Business has been slow ever since you started the shop, so it was nice to see people come in.

“Just a cappuccino, please,” the woman says excitedly and moves to sit down at one of the tables. You nodded and turned to her friend to find him staring at cookies, donuts, croissants, and muffins through the glass. You clear your throat and his attention redirects back to you as he orders quickly to join his friend at the table. You quickly get to work and start preparing.

You approach them, with the two drinks and snack in hand. Putting them on the table, you ask, “Are you guys from the school across from here? I don’t get a lot of customers, so it would make sense if you guys work nearby.” They take a sip as they listen to your inquiries and their eyes widen as they drink more.

“Yeah, we’re from Abbott, the school just across from here. I’m sorry, but I just got to say, this coffee is absolutely amazing,” Janine rapidly finishes as she drinks more. You hear a muffle from her companion, which you could make out was along the lines of, “I know right.” You let out a light chuckle. The woman sticks her hand out and says, “By the way, my name’s Janine, and my friend over there is Jacob.” At the mention of his name, Jacob pauses from eating to give you a small wave.

“Nice to meet you guys, I’m Y/N.”

Janine and Jacob talked to you for a few more minutes before they had to go back to prepare for their classes. They promised to come here as often as they could for their coffee. Over the course of a few weeks, you became good friends with both of them and often joined them for meetups outside of work.

You got a call from Janine about a week ago about having some drinks and snacks out for the staff at Abbott to enjoy. She asked if you could provide them and bring them over. “I’m sorry if this is kind of last minute,” she says nervously. “It’s okay, Janine. I’ll bring them over next Monday,” you replied reassuringly.

Monday came quickly and before you knew it, you found yourself in front of Abbott Elementary with armfuls of coffee and food. Scrambling to the counter, you ask the person in the front for a pass (Janine said you needed one) and made your way towards the staff room. There were already a good amount of teachers chatting amongst themselves. Janine made her way up to you as she took the boxes off your hands and set them on one of the tables. “Everyone, this is Y/N. She owns the coffee shop across from the school and was kind enough to bring us some coffee and food to get through the morning!” Janine rambles eagerly.

Everyone’s eyes were on you as you gave a small wave and started to hand out some coffee. You let your eyes drift to a redhead with glasses focused on grading some papers. Noticing no coffee next to her, you made your way toward the table and gently put down a cup next to her. The sound made Melissa look up, preparing to give a cold response. However, she was surprised to find a sweet and unfamiliar face.

Not expecting her eyes to look so mesmerizing, you practically stutter out, “Hi, I noticed you didn’t have any coffee cup next to you, so I just wanted to give you one.” Melissa blinked for few times, not used to kind gestures from strangers, let alone pretty ones. She didn’t reply until Barbara elbowed her side and she jolted back into reality. “Thanks for the coffee, sweetheart,” she murmured. You could feel your face turning beet red at the nickname as you nod slowly and make your way back to the table where Janine sat.

Melissa smirked at your reaction, watching you turn and walk toward Janine’s table. In the corner of her eye, she saw her friend shaking her head. “Melissa Schemmenti, you sure are something,” Barbara states as she returned to her morning crossword. The redhead shrugged. She already had her coffee for the morning, but she wouldn’t mind another one if it came from you.

Taking a sip of her new coffee, Melissa paused, licked her lips, and turned to Barbara. “Oh my god, this coffee is unbelievable.” Her friend raised an eyebrow as she took another sip. Melissa thought that it was about time she paid a visit to the coffee shop across the street.

It was a busy morning for you. Your alarm didn’t go off and when you got to the cafe, you found the sink in the back having some issues. You were scrambling to fix the pipes somehow when you hear the doorbell ring. Panicking, you quickly made sure there would be no leaks and stood up, moving to wash your hands. “Hi, welcome to the cafe! Give me one second and I’ll be right with you,” you said promptly. You came out to the front but slowed down when you recognized who it was waiting to order. There she was in all her glory with her leather jacket and fiery hair. Realizing you’re still at work, you snap out of it. “What can I get you?” You lean on the counter waiting for her order.

Approaching the table, you handed the captivating woman her coffee and felt the redhead’s hand brush against yours. Your face was painted with a light blush, causing the woman to grin. “What’s your name, hon?” God, this woman was going to kill you.

“The name’s Y/N. Nice to finally know the name of the gorgeous lady I saw the other day,” you replied. You weren’t sure where this confidence came from, but those questions disappeared when you witnessed her eyes widen at the unexpected answer. The moment was quick though, for she recovered and quipped back, “Well, nice to meet you Y/N. The name’s Melissa. What’s a pretty girl like you doing working in a coffee shop?”

From then on, Melissa came every morning before her classes started. It didn’t matter the circumstances: rain, hail, shine, snow, she would still be there every single morning chatting away with you. She said that it was because the coffee there was just unmatched by any she’s had anywhere else. You’d like to believe that if it weren’t for the fact that you two exchanged flirtatious remarks every single day.

Another dreaded Monday came for everyone and it became a regular sight to see Melissa walking into the staff room with a coffee from the shop across the street. The redhead sat down in her usual place next to Barbara who glanced at the coffee but said nothing. Everyone was wondering the same thing, but no one wanted to say it. Janine, brave as ever, decided to break the silence. “So… you must really like the coffee from the shop that Y/N runs right?” Melissa looks at Janine and then proceeds to look at the coffee cup. A soft smile appears on her face as her thoughts drift to you and all the moments the two of you shared over the past month or two. “Hello, earth to Melissa!” Janine says with a confused expression.

Melissa looks back up at Janine. “Yea, she makes the best coffee I’ve had in a while,” she says hastily as she goes back to her grading. Jacob turns away from Melissa to mutter to Janine and Gregory. “The coffee’s not the only thing that Melissa keeps going back for..” Gregory snorted as Janine tried her best not to laugh.

Melissa heard what Jacob said and she thought about it for the entire day. Sure, the coffee was amazing, but it definitely wasn’t the real motivation for coming to the cafe every single day. Melissa finally came to the realization that Jacob was right. The next morning, the redhead practically barged through the door and walked towards you. The sudden impact of the door startled you as you see Melissa coming towards you with an unreadable expression. You couldn’t help but feel nervous as she rounds the counter and kisses you. To say you were caught off guard would be an understatement, but not wanting to give the wrong impression, you kissed her back. After what seemed like forever, both of you pulled away and a comfortable silence filled the room.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” Melissa let out a light chuckle before deciding to respond. “What do you say to dinner at my place tonight, hon?” The smile you offer her gives Melissa the answer she’s looking for.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti imagine #abbot elementary imagine #lisa ann walter

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bellgraves · 6 months

Text

I'm sorry for this, I'm still sick and I was all day in bed. Sorry for grammar mistakes, I wrote this on my phone in note app 😓🤦🏻‍♀️

Warning: mild mention of sex.

You're a Shadow and Graves wife. Also part 2 of my none name fic, because I forgot to name my own fic. Uhhh..😣🤧 Anyway there you go

Phillip Graves / Reader

Graves didn't like it what was going on. He was walking back and forth in his mansion. He didn't like that you had misterious phone calls and you disappeared in other rooms when you were talking. You become cold towards him. Didn't want to have sex with him since 2 weeks. That pissed him off the most. When you were home you loved to make love to each other. Now you were kinda.... avoiding him? His first thought was that you're working for someone else. Or you are doing some illegal things. The last thought it was that you're cheating on him. But that's impossible. You're too loyal for this. But are you? You never flirt with other soldiers and it doesn't matter if that was Shadows, Task Force or other team. You were professional. Always friendly, respectful but with boundaries. So what you're really up to? Graves has to know. Otherwise he will explode and just throw you into the bed and fuck you into oblivion until you spill all your secrets. He went upstairs looking for you.

Honey did you finish your shower? He entered the bathroom without knocking. You were not there. Graves looked in every room. You were not home. What the hell? Just 15 minutes ago you told him that you're going to take shower after gym. So where are you??

It was late at night. Graves was sitting in the living room with small light, waiting for you like a police detective. You finally get back home. You looked amazing. Wearing short, black dress with high heels. But at the same time you were little tipsy.

Oh baby, you're not sleeping? You asked with sweet smile.

Where have you been? You didn't told me you're going out. Graves got up and took few quick steps. He stood infront of you and examined you very carefuly.

Phillip... we need to talk. Please. You took his hand and pull him into the couch. You sit on his lap.

What is it? Why I have to worry about you? Graves had offended tone.

You took a deep breath.

Baby... Before you get upset listen to me.

Go on. Phillip situated you on his lap comfortable.

I went to a bar with a friend. She is a girl that I met during my last mission. We get along and I just wanted to go out. I just.... you stopped for a moment. You caressed with fingers Graves chest.

Phillip... Last mission.. and the one before.. It was too much for me. Too much violence, too much blood and death.

Graves slowly was caressing your back and listened to you carefuly.

I know that you're one of the best soldiers and commanders in the world. You thrive in war. You're in your element when you can have a gun fight and kick some asses. You smile to him softly.

But... it became too much for me. It's overwhelming. Last year was only war and missions for me. For us. I just wanted to go out and feel like a normal person. To forgot about evilness of this world. Just to drink and dance for fun. To feel that I'm a human... not a war machine. I'm sorry baby if I neglected you. You caress his cheek with the scar.

I need some time off the missions. I want to do more of my wife duties. Cook for you, take care of you. Making this house warmer with love.

Graves took your hand and kissed it.

Sweetie, you should've told me about this. You know you can tell me everything. I got you. You're my wife and if you feel bad or uncomfortable you need to tell me this. You know I would burn the world for you, just to make you happy and safe.

Phillip... you whined and kissed his lips.

He kissed you back, enjoying your closeness. He felt relieved that nothing bad is actually happening.

You broke the kiss.

Baby.. I need to tell you something more but please don't be mad.. You kissed his cheek

Honey, you know I can't be mad at you when you look so sexy. Phillip kissed your chin and went down to your neck.

Baby.. I lost my earring tonight. You showed him your ear.

You know.. this was from the sapphire set that you bought me from Italy...I'm so sorry.

You almost cried. You were still little drunk and felt overwhelmed.

I can buy you thousands of these sets. A thousands sapphire, diamond or emerald earrings you want. Graves laughs and kissed your lips.

I love you so much... You're truly the best husband I could've dream of... You kissed him again. But please tell me that you forgive me. I need to hear that.

Okay, okay. I forgive you. He laughs again.

Now... He stands up. You strangled his waist with your legs. He took you up.

I want to fuck my beautiful, sexy wife. Alright?

Graves took you to your shared bedroom and put you on the bed. He quickly undressed you and himself and started to kiss you like there is no tomorrow.

*********************************************

Intense making love and alcohol from the party got you fall asleep quickly in Graves arms. But he wasn't asleep. He was holding you in his bare chest and caress your head. After he made sure that you're asleep, he slowly released himself from your embrace. He got up from bed and as sly fox he is, he took your phone from your purse and went to bathroom. He checked your messages and phone calls. He noticed one number that you particulary were calling few times recently. Also you called this number before you left the house.

Graves had a plan. He called this number from your phone. He was waiting few signals before there was answer in the other side.

Hello? It was a woman's voice. Graves felt relieved.

Good evening. I'm your friend's husband. My name is Phillip Graves.

Good evening Mr Graves. Something happened?

Yes..listen.. my wife is busy, she is... taking a bath. And she asked me to call you and ask if you have seen her earring? She lost it in the party. It was family heirloom and she is sad that she lost it. Graves come up with a lie.

Oh I'm sorry... I haven't seen it. But if I will find it, I will defently give it to her.

Yea, thanks a lot, and sorry for late call. Have a good night. Graves ended the call.

He was so happy and relieved. You didn't cheat on him. You really made friend with a girl. And you had some stress relieving party. Nothing bad.

Graves came back to bed and he hugged you tight from behind. He kissed your neck.

I love you so much. He whispered before he fell asleep too.

**********************************************

The woman looked at phone when Graves ended the call. She was sitting at the bar. She gave back the phone to a man with mohawk who was sitting next to her.

Thanks cousin. You're really the best. Said Soap and and took the phone.

How did you know that is her husband calling and not her? She asked.

We have agreement to not call each other after midnight. Soap said with small smile.

Johnny... that girl is not good for you. She will bring you only troubles. Also she is married to very dangerious man. Soap's cousin looked really worried.

Dangerious you say... Soap put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a blue sapphire earring. He turned it over in his fingers several times. He knew exact moment when you lost it. It was in the hotel room, few hours ago, when Soap had you pinned into the wall and pumped his member into you. You were holding into his arms and threw your head back. That's when your earring fell off. Soap took it from the carpet later and hide it into his pocket.

Johnny.. you know I will always support you. But this is bad idea. You had your fun. Leave this girl alone and find yourself someone better. Soap's cousin took a sip from her drink.

No. She is perfect to me. Soap still felt your sweet arousal in his mouth. He ran his tounge across the roof of his mouth. He chuckled and took a sip of his beer.

Perfect for me.

@candy616

@xxavengingangelxx

I did it for you because I love your blogs and you make me love cod even more ❤❤

#call of duty #phillip graves #commander graves #phillip graves cod #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #johnny mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny mctavish x you #soap mactavish x you #soap mactavish #johnny mctavish #johnny soap mactavish

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lovergirly · 1 year

Text

mornings with wednesday

i wrote this while super drunk so please bear with me. i love y’all so much i hope you enjoy 💕

dating wednesday addams was a crazy experience. she didn’t quite know how to express emotions, but she tried for you. she held the door open, kissed your knuckles, allowed you to pick on her without killing you, etc. your favorite part, however, was mornings with your lovely, goth girlfriend. it was currently 5 am and you could feel wednesday trying to get out of your grasp.

“wednesday stop-“

“no. it’s 5, i need to get up. you should too.” you can see her braided hair was slightly messy and she didn’t have any makeup on. she looked beautiful.

“can we please cuddle for another five minutes?”

“why must you always ask this? you know i say no every time so just let me get up.” she sees your face turn a little sour so she sighs and leans in to give you a kiss. she finally gets up and leaves for the bathroom to take a shower. you stare at the door for a couple seconds before starting to close your eyes again, only to hear wednesday yell, “don’t go back to sleep,” through the door. you never understood how she knew you that well. so well she could tell your every move, even when she couldn’t see you. you disregarded her words anyway, and took a nap until she got out of the bathroom.

“i thought i gave you explicit instructions.” you simple smile at her and she deadpans back at you.

“i’m tired what can i say my love?”

“you can say nothing and get out of bed.”

“whatever.” you say while finally getting out of bed. you get dressed in your uniform while wednesday changes into the same uniform but all black. just looking at her made you fall even deeper in love. she always looked so composed. even when it’s 5:45 am and her hair is down and… wait. her hair is down. it was longer than you expected, very wavy. she looked absolutely elegant, but you knew she’d braid her hair again. it’s never not braided after all. why not make the morning just a tad bit romantic.

“wednesday?” you asked while conjuring up the sweetest voice you could find.

“yes mi amor?”

“can i braid your hair… please?”

wednesday paused. she never let anyone touch her hair. it was her thing. she always needed to look composed, it didn’t matter who she was with. as long as she was composed she’d be fine. she can’t act nervous right now because it makes her lose control of her body. and when she loses control of her body she loses control of her words. “you want to- what?… umm why may i… ask?”

“because i love you and i want to make you feel beautiful. and if doing your hair will do that then i must braid your hair.” you shrug. deep down your real reason was to be close to wednesday. you loved her. her shampoo, her hair, her face. not only that but her personality, her charisma, her style. you loved the girl in front of you with everything you could. and in return she loved you. she sat in front of you as you started dividing her hair and getting to work. she was nervous (though she’d rather swim through a pool of her own blood than admit that). she loved your gentle touches and how you can make her feel like a precious doll. now wednesday hated feeling weak, but with you she didn’t feel that way. she instead felt loved. every smile you sent her way was true love. every time you reached for her hand when you were nervous was true love. every time you apologize for pulling her hair a little too hard was true love. you both were so in love with each other and neither of you were scared to admit it. “oh mi amor, you did such a good job on my hair.” the goth praises while giving you a kiss of the nose.

“of course i did! i tried my hardest. now it’s 6:15 we need to get breakfast.”

“of course after you my love.” she says while opening the door for you and giving a false bow to show how chivalrous she is.

————————————————————————

i hope you guess enjoyed !! like i said i’m very drunk rn so i’ll probably delete this tomorrow morning or something. leave me more requests i’ll get back to them asap!!

#wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega #lgbtq #addams family #fanfic #jenna ortega x reader #wednsday addams #drunk thoughts #i’m drunk

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moumouton4 · 10 months

Note

THE WAY YOU WROTE GENYA WAS UGGHH *CHEF'S KISS* WE ALL KNOW THERE AIN'T ENOUGH GENYA CONTENT EVEN AFTER S3 CAME OUT 😔 so can I request hcs or a part 2 please? 🙏😭 It's totally fine if you won't! Have a great day! <33

Not So Repulsive After All || Genya Shinazugawa x fem!reader

Part 2 : The Beginning Of Something Before Taking The First Step

A/n : Hello my dear one I really hope you're gonna like it as much as the first ! 😍 But seriously the first was so good nothing could be better in my opinion lmao 🤣 This one was a bit harder to write but I think I managed. Also shout out to my little sister. Whom I read and the first part told me how Inosuke was put on the corner lmao 😂

Including : Tanjiro Kamado, Inosuke Hashibira, Giyu Tomioka, Zenitsu Agatsuma, Mitsuri Kanjori ( in description )

Part 1 : First Meeting 🔫

There will be a PART 3

Summary : Now that' you've recovered you're ready to start training again. In the last part Genya accepted to come with you. So will it be just like a training or more like a date. Well only time will say.

Warning : Fluf fluff fluff

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 3151

After this Genya zoomed to his place. He couldn’t help nor understand his heart from beating this fast in his chest even way after you left. When he sat at the table with his brother he didn’t even manage to finish a whole bowl or rice and vegetables – let’s hope Tanjiro doesn’t learn about that – nor was he able to look his brother in the eye anymore.

When it was time to get to sleep it was the same thing all over again. Lying in his futon, his gaze fixated on the ceiling above he couldn’t help overthinking the training session he was going to share with you tomorrow. His brain was working fast as he repeated the scene in his mind again and again.

“You’re the one who proposed so that means you wanted to spend time with him, right ? And maybe get to know him better ? WAIT ! Was this a DATE ?!?” he thought startling back up. He carefully walked to the bathroom, mindful not to wake Sanemi up. Once in the bathroom he stood in front of the mirror. He sighed at the sight of his hot face. Damn it, you weren’t even there ! Why was he acting so dramatically ?!? He then bent forward and gently splashed some cold water on his burning face. Hoping it will grant him the fresh restart he needs to be able to actually go to sleep.

But once he was back in his futon, he couldn't stop the thoughts from swirling in his head. What if he disappointed you anyway ? What if his lack of breath control would cause him to make a fool of himself in front of you ?

He tried to reassure himself as best he could, telling himself that since you'd just come out of convalescence, you must not be in the best of shape, but he couldn't help putting himself down, thinking that in any case, at least you had mastered a breath unlike him. After a little more time worrying, he finally fell asleep.

The next day he got ready with trembling hands due to an anticipation that reflected his excitement at spending time with you alone. He picked up his katana and guns and strapped them firmly to him before snapping his fingers when he remembered he'd forgotten something. He stepped back and retrieved two small cloth handkerchiefs to soak up any blood that might drip from his nose. Better to be prepared for the worst.

Unsurprisingly, when he arrived at the training ground, he was alone. Of course, he'd taken at least 15 minutes to calm down when he got there. As he waited, he shifted from one leg to the other, occasionally playing with the hammer of his pistol or shooting at some rocks.

Just when he thought you weren't going to show up, he heard you shouting in the distance, waving your arms dramatically - it seemed that Zenistu had turned on you.

"Hey hello ! Sorry I'm late !" you shouted in the distance as you ran at full speed towards him, nearly stumbling several times because of your lack of training due to your injury, but you got where you wanted to go.

Once you were in front of him, out of breath, you spoke up "I'm sorry ughh I was held up again by Inosuke, who wanted to ask me to duel, but I told him I was already taken and I ughh ran off"

In front of you, Genya half-listened to what you were saying, a light pink color beginning to appear on his cheeks as you moved in front of him. At the mention of Inosuke he snapped awake "I-I will go talk to him" he said in a voice both firm and trembling.

But you stopped him by shaking your head - this time deciding not to touch him for fear he'd refreeze like the day before - "Don't worry about that, I think the person who caught him earlier gave him a hard time. Let's start training instead !" you said happily, drawing your katana.

As his eyes fell on the azure-blue blade of your katana, he completely forgot to ask you who the person who had taken care of Inosuke was ( and you can guess who it was ? 👀 ).

He only nodded to let you know that he was ready to start your training together. You start with an intense warm-up to get you back in the saddle after 3 weeks off the bike. Stretching, a few sets of muscle-building exercises, field laps to gauge your endurance... everything you could think about.

And all the time Genya - whose face was particularly flushed compared to the simplicity of the exercises for him - couldn't help glancing at you. First, because you were so so pretty, and second, because he wanted to make sure you never overdid it for fear of re-injuring yourself.

A short break was needed at the end of the warm-up so you could catch your breath before the real training. Since he wasn't talking much by himself, you decided to strike up a conversation "So, Genya, what's it like to be the brother of a hashira ?" you said in a gentle, genuinely interested tone.

He held his breath for a split second when he heard you addressing him. The gears in his brain were turning at full speed to find something that wouldn't be awkward to say "T-that's great" he mentally slapped himself "I-I mean it's really gratifying a-and I'm proud of it" he caught himself trying to meet your gaze as he spoke. But when he saw that your eyes were fixed on his face he couldn't help another wave of red spreading across his face.

You continued to talk unaware of his special condition "I bet you're really strong ! He must have taught you a lot" you beamed.

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck when he heard your praise "I- well... not a-as much as him" he replied in an almost quiet voice.

Thinking he was humble you continued "I've seen the way he treats training dummies. I just hope you're not going to send me flying through the air with a big gust of wind too" you chuckled.

"I could never do that" he said this time without stuttering. The words came from the depths of his heart. Even if he'd had the power, he'd never have risked it anyway.

But you understood his answer as a question of ability and replied "Really ?But breathing styles run in the family, don't they ?"

But that's when he tensed up and jumped up from the bench you were both sitting on. Your eyes followed his every move, waiting for him to speak.

The stutter in his voice returned like a galloping horse, "I-I can't... I mean... w-well" But you cut him off by standing up as well "Just breath okay. I'm sorry I shouldn't have assumed anything. If you want we can go back to training ?"

He tried to answer but the words stuck in his throat. Genya was getting fed up with himself. How was it possible for someone like him to be in this state of inability to speak ?

He grabbed his hair and grunted - but not screamed - "Raggh I don't... I don't have any breathing style. I couldn't master it" he finished his sentence almost in a whisper. You could see disappointment in his beautiful eyes and decided to take a step towards him.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you spoke "Hey, I think that makes you even braver than the others. You're going out there and kicking demons' asses without even using some kind of powers"

Listening to you, he couldn't help but feel the warmth spreading in his heart. A shy smile settled on his lips as you continued to speak "You know Tanjiro told me that you were a great help back then in the Swordsmith Village. If I made it out, it's partly thanks to you because I was knocked out long before the main fight started, according to what he told me"

He chuckled sheepishly "W-well I did my best" but he couldn't help feeling that he was hiding something important from you. Like the fact that he could momentarily become a demon if he consumed their flesh. He was glad Tanjiro hadn't told you. Giving him the choice of revealing his secret or not. Contemplating the idea, he decided not to mention it for the time being, thinking that you'd find it disgusting or worse, that you'd get scared and decide to stay away from him.

Your voice brought him out of his thoughts "If you like, I'd like to see how you fight. I don't suppose you've got a katana ?" you said, breaking the contact between your hand and his shoulder.

"Y-you'd like to see ?!?" he said almost in disbelief - he also wished your hand had stayed where it was.

"Well yes ! It's a fighting training isn't it ?" you chuckled.

"Y-you're right" he finally said "C-come with me" he said walking to an improvised shooting range behind the bamboo forest ( All the dirty minded people there I'm seeing you lmao )

You walked through the green walls on a path you hadn't taken since your arrival at Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters.

After about 10 minutes of walking in silence, a shooting range came into view. The area was much smaller than the others training ones, but more than enough for one person. As you got closer to the targets, you could see that they were all hit in the center, and multiple times.

"Do you train here alone ?" you asked softly, as if you'd just stepped into a sacred place. He nodded, his face still a little flushed. He was getting used to having you around.

"Yes, a little every day" he replied.

"I can see that you're good. I can't see any target you haven't hit the center of already" you said surprised.

"T-thank you !" he said feeling a wave of warmth on his face but before he could - embarrass himself - say anything more you asked "Can you give me a demonstration ?"

His eyes widened. What ? You were willing to see him shoot ? "Y-yeah I can s-show you some tricks"

Once on the shooting range, he took a deep breath. This was his chance to show you what he could do. And with that he pulled out the guns he had on him. And he turned back to you to see if you were at a safe distance. Then he started shooting. And each bullet that went off would nestle right in the center of the target, then move on to different objects at different distances. Even the objects he threw into the distance couldn't resist him. He shattered them one by one with a rapid rate of fire that would not have given an enemy a chance in a deafening roar.

Once he'd finished, and as the last sound of the explosion fading away. While his guns were still smoking, you could hear that he was breathing a little raggedly. Yes, it took a lot to shoot as quickly and accurately as he did.

He almost fired - not at you - when your cheer broke the almost perfect silence of the shooting area "Wooooooow bravo ! That was so impressive Genya ! Are you a real marksman ?"He waved his hands in front of him "N-no far from it... but it's true that I-I train a lot" he said sheepishly.

Suddenly he saw you fidgeting with your fingers "Would you trust me with it to let me shoot ?" you asked shyly. What again ? Were you so interested that you were willing to give it a try ? He stood dumbfounded for a few seconds, as if time had stopped.

When he didn't answer, you stuttered "B-but you don't have to of course. It's not a big dea-"

"Y-yes I'm going t-to put a new t-target" he said and a second later he was rushing to install a brand new target for you. He quickly explained how to proceed and not to turn around and point the gun at him. When he handed you one of his precious guns, your fingers brushed and he felt a spark of electricity on his finger, making him bring his hand quickly to his side.

One thing he still didn't know was how familiar you were with guns, and as you began to shoot, it was clear to him that you knew what you were doing. You hit the target right in the center 2 or 3 times. Without looking back, you asked him "Could you send a target or two into the air for me, please ?"

His eyes widened as he picked up some sort of Frisbee and, after approaching you, threw it into the air. Once again you impressed him, hitting almost all of them. It had been a long time since you'd fired a gun, after all, long before your battle wound.

Once you'd finished, you blew the smoke out of the gun and turned to him, gun pointing down, before handing it back "So, how did I do ? I might be a little rusty" you chuckled softly. You really wanted to get an overview of such a great shooter.

Except that when you turned around he had his back to you. You didn't quite understand and called out to him, "Genya ? Are you all right ?"

"Y-yea yeah j-just give m-me a s-second" he asked you, busying himself with his face. The Shinazugawa was reaching for tissues to wipe away the blood that had flowed from your performance. Gosh you looked so hot. How was this even possible ?

When he turned around, you eagerly held out the weapon he'd kindly lent you. He took it quickly without looking you in the eye, and then put it away. When you looked up into his face, however, you couldn't help noticing the small piece of handkerchief that protruded from his nostrils "Erm are you okay ?"

The poor flustered boy, who'd been speechless for a second, didn't even have time to reply when another voice roared out of nowhere "Y/n !!!! I've heard your call to battle throughout the domain !"

"What are you talking about-" you said in disbelief. The boy in the boar mask continued, running towards you at full speed "I accept your challenge and we're going to fight in sweat and blood until we die. To establish the new king of the mountain-"

Genya reacted at full speed, his arm going in front of you to protect you from Inosuke's assault "Back off !" he growled, nearly knocking one of the papers out of one of his nostrils. He quickly put it back, wiping away the drop of blood that had run down.

"Get out of the way, it's just the two of us-" but he didn't even have time to make a single move when someone stopped him. You recognized him, it was the man from earlier. The one who had agreed, thanks to Tanjiro, to help you get better at your breathing technique. He appeared behind Inosuke and struck him on the back of the head with the handle of his katana. The boy collapsed to the ground unconscious, as his mask rolled off, revealing his silky blue hair and oddly angelic face.

You and Genya looked dumbfounded "Don't worry, Tanjiro will come and get him" said the young man with black hair and a two-tone haori jacket in a very monotone voice.

Then he resumed "I'm counting on you not to be late tomorrow" you could only nod frantically as you looked at the Water Hashira standing in front of you "Very well. Have a good evening" he said and finally left.

Genya for his part was stunned "Y-you... he's going to teach you ?!?" he was so impressed and surprised that he almost lost his stammer.

"Well it looks like it. I still have to thank Tanjiro for Tomioka-san's willingness to take me on as an apprentice" you said, watching Inosuke on the ground before turning your gaze back to Genya. He saw your hand come dangerously close to his face "You've got blood there" you said, wiping the blood from above his upper lip.

Suddenly he grabbed your hand, the air thickened around you for a moment. All he wanted was to bring your body closer to his own, although he felt totally powerless against you "Ah, I've finally found you !" a voice beamed from the forest. He immediately let go of your wrist as Tanjiro walked in your direction. Once there he gave you a big smile before picking up Inosuke who had been forgotten on the ground "I tried to keep an eye on him Y/n I swear but he rushed off when he heard the shots"

"It's nothing Tanjiro, don't worry. But I'm beginning to think I'll end up doing this fight. At least to tell him I'm not trying to take over his territory" you laughed.

"I hope you trained well today, because tonight Kanjori-san is inviting us to a feast" he exclaimed. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your lips. You liked the Love Hashira so much. You'd finally found someone who loved good food as much as you did. She was always so kind and expressive. You couldn't wait. But you couldn't go just like that.

"Genya, would you honor us with your presence tonight ? Please ? Pretty please ?" you asked, making puppy dog eyes. And how could he resist you when you looked so adorable "Y-yeah sure" he smiled feeling his heart swell at the idea that you still wanted to spend time with him.

Tanjiro smiled proudly as he saw you walking along the path towards Mitsuri's house while he carried Inosuke a little behind. He was really looking forward to seeing how your relationship would evolve in the end. And even Mitsuri seemed to sense the bubbling feelings between you when she saw you both coming. And of course she couldn't help but give you a bone crushing hug. Causing another wave of blood to flow from Genya's nose.

Bonus :

"Y/n-chan you have blood on your haori" Zenitsu said pointing at your shoulder.

You chuckled before taking a tissue and wiping it "It happens more than you think"

On the other side of the table Genya was for some reason choking on his... erm nothing because he didn't eat. He only came for you. But at least you had a good evening and for him that all that mattered.

A/n : I hope you guys liked it ! 🍨🍗 Again my requests are open 🥐🥗

A/ n 2 : My sister also reminded me that Genya and Sanemi didn't talk to each other anymore and that Genya wanted to become a Hashira just to be better than his brother. I totally forgot and that's so sad. I hop to see them draw closer again in the future. Please no spoilers 🥰

Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff

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ayteya · 8 months

Note

Human or Avatar!reader giving her first ever Na'vi bracelet or necklace made by herself to Neteyam/Tsu'tey. It's not an amazing work, maybe even quite bad, but he keeps it anyway.

Also if you want to add some spice, such a gift may give him a wrong idea. But it's up to you.

Narlor - Beautiful

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

Word count: 473

Warnings: ngl, I wrote this at literally 2 a.m. (Yes that's a warning itself), so I dunno if there are any mistakes (Sorry sorry). I just forgot to post it, so that's what I'm doing now.

A/N: Hey anon, thx for the request ^-^ I chose to do this one with Teyam, cuz I have smth in my drafts for Tsu'tey- Also, I didn't add spice, cuz I didn't rlly saw it fit into this fic, hope you'll forgive me <3

„Aaaand finished.“, he laid the newly-made necklace down on his thigh. „What about you, paskalin?“, Neteyam looked over at Y/N, watching her fingers move at the piece of jewelry.

She didn't turn to meet his eyes, still focused on tying the knots, „Mhm... Just a bit more.“

Neteyam nodded, silently sitting cross legged next to his girlfriend, watching her in awe as she created a necklace as beautiful as herself. How did he get so lucky? How did he get so lucky, to have a girl like that as his mate?

That 'a bit more' turned into 15 minutes, and she finally tied the finishing knot. „Done... Frustrating crap... Now I know why I'm better at hunting.“, dramatically, Y/N let herself fall back to the ground from her sitting position.

„It looks beautiful. You did really good, yawne.“

Y/N just blankly stared at him, at the necklace, then back at Neteyam again. „Yeah no. Doesn't look good. Just take a look at yours- The entire thing looks so- so... I dunno how to describe it, just wow. And then-“, she let out a scoff, holding up her selfmade jewelry with a single finger „and then there's this thing right here.“

The young man lightly pushed her shoulder, „Hey, stop talking like that, would you?. It looks great, alright? It's your first one, you'll make more in the future and I'm sure you're gonna like them.“

„Yeah ok, but look at that knot and bead right there, it's-“

Neteyam interrupted her with a quick „No, I said stop.“

But Y/N being Y/N, she didn't listen, „Lo'ak would've done better than m-“, her sentence was stopped as she felt Teyam's lips on her own, engaging her in a kiss.

After some seconds passed, they pulled apart, only for him to lean in once more, stealing another kiss from her soft lips. Y/N was kinda suprised, so she asked him, „What was that for?“

He only responded with, „Was the only way to stop you from talking shit, yawne.“

----

The next day, when Y/N saw Neteyam again, her eyes immediately fell to his neck. There was a necklace. Her necklace. The one she made the day before. How could he wear such thing?

Neteyam noticed her gaze and chuckled. „I didn't lie when I said it's beautiful.“, he mentioned to Y/N „You're wearing the one I made as well.“

„Of course, but-“

„Paskalin, Dad doesn't want me to be late for training again.“, he stroked her cheek before bending down to give her a passionate kiss. „I'll see you later, yeah?“, with that, Neteyam stepped over to Jake, who was standing some feet away, aling with a handful of other hunters from the clan.

Now it was Y/N's turn to think how she could get so lucky, as she watched her beloved boyfriend walk away.

!Translations! Paskalin - Honey/Sweet berry Yawne - Beloved

Hope you liked it, if you want to request something, just click here.

Love y'all, Ayteya <3

#avatar #avatar twow #avatar 2022 #avatar x y/n #avatar x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam fluff #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #avatar (james cameron)#ayteya.writes

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2dmenenthusiast · 4 months

Text

"I love you."

(Ryan Lucan x Gn!Reader)

Hey heeyyyy um disclaimer this one is DEPRESSING. I wrote this every time I felt a lil sad so like, I am basically pouring my soul out to yall lmaooo but I hope some of you find comfort in this fic if you relate at all, and remember that you are loved :)

Reblogs and feedback is always encouraged and appreciated!

Words: 3k

Summary: feeling lonely and cooped up in your apartment, you call Ryan in the middle of the night to help quiet the racing thoughts in your head.

Warnings: talks of depression, self-hate, anxiety, just a whole lotta sad, Ryan loves you so much

1:30

2:03

2:47

Your head lolled to the side as you checked the time again.

3:15

A groan left you, bringing your hands up and dragging your palms over your face. Exhaustion tugged at your eyelids, urging you to close them and doze off. But every time you tried, you just couldn’t. And you had tried everything. Counting sheep, drinking tea, watching some relaxing videos. Nothing seemed to work. Throwing the blankets off you, your bare feet touched the cold wood floor as you padded over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. You quickly felt bile rise up in your throat and choked the water down, spluttering out a cough and spitting into the sink. God, you felt like shit.

It had been like this for the past couple days. You’d stay cooped up in your small apartment, never going out unless it was for work, and you’d lay in bed, feeling like absolute shit for just laying around, but feeling too tired to do anything else. Tired, yes, considering the fact that you could barely catch more than three hours of sleep these past couple nights.

Tears of frustration sprung and you quickly wiped at your eyes, mentally scolding yourself for how silly you were being. Christ, some days you just felt like you were suffocating, like everything happening around you was just too much to deal with. And there were moments where you wished you could just sink into the floor, and never be seen or heard from again.

But not tonight.

The loneliness you felt was overwhelming, desperately wanting to reach out and talk to one of your friends, but feeling too ashamed to burden them with your frantic thoughts and shifting emotions. You knew they were worried about you. They would place their reassuring hands on your shoulder and give you that look, that single expression that always asked the same thing.

Are you okay?

And you’d give them that simple halfhearted smile, lips twitching up in a small effort to lie to them.

I’m okay.

With trembling hands, you searched for your phone on your bed and scrolled through your limited contacts, lip pulled between your teeth as you contemplated who to reach out to. You were hyper aware of the sound of your own heartbeat, and you tentatively pressed on Ryan’s name, thumbs hovering over the phone's keyboard. It felt like minutes had passed as you contemplated what to say, frantically typing a sentence before quickly deleting it, and typing up another one. You deleted it again, and again, and again. Nothing sounded right, and you were too worried about sounding desperate or clingy.

You eventually gave up and threw the phone on the bed with a frustrated sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and pacing back and forth.

He’s probably sleeping anyway.

But you couldn’t stop staring at your phone, the thing practically screaming at you to pick it back up. Your thoughts fought with one another, everything threatening to come spilling out all at once. Before you could scream out your frustration, you snatched your phone back up and jammed your thumb on the call button. You heard it ring, once, twice, and hung up before the third.

Fuck, what am I doing?

You pressed the call button again.

Ring.

Ring—

You hung up.

“This is stupid. God, this is so fucking stupid!”

Taking a deep breath, you called him again, frantically tapping your foot and bringing the phone up to your ear.

Please pick up. Or don’t pick up. Either is fine. Fuck, do I want him to pick up? This is stupid, this is fucking stupid, I’m fucking stupid—

“Uh, hey?”

Your eyes widened at the sound of Ryan’s groggy voice, not believing that he actually answered, and you struggled to find your voice.

“You there—?”

“Hey! Um— sorry, I just… Did I wake you?”

There was a moment of silence on his end, and you knew that you had.

“No! No, I was just uh, reading. You know, nature stuff.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the thought of Ryan staying up this late just to read about plants and animals, as if he didn’t already know everything about them.

“Wow, sounds riveting.”

He chuckled, and the sound had your chest feeling warm. Neither of you said anything for a moment, not sure how to continue a conversation at almost three-thirty in the morning. You almost hung up, too embarrassed to admit why you called when you heard him clear his throat.

“Uh, is there a reason you called so late? Is everything okay?”

You spluttered for a moment, hand rubbing the back of your neck as heat uncomfortably crawled over your skin. “Y-Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine. Just uh… you know.” You cringed at your awkward behavior, pressing the edge of the phone against your forehead. “Sorry, I— this was dumb, I shouldn’t have called. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“Wait, wait. Hold on.”

You sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed and playing with a loose thread on your blanket as you waited for him to continue. Great, now he was definitely going to know that something’s wrong.

“Hey, you know you can talk to me, right? Whatever’s bugging you, you can tell me.”

You and Ryan had been dating for the past five months, and while you undeniably felt more comfortable around him than you ever had another person, you had never let him see this side of you. This version of you where your brain was constantly on overdrive, overthinking every little thing, your breath always catching in your throat from the overwhelming anxiety that built up in the pit of your stomach. You felt like you were standing on the outside, looking down at yourself. And you loathed it. And while you wanted to confide in him, you felt like you couldn’t. Ryan was a constant positive in your life, and you didn’t want to muddy it up by letting your gloomy thoughts and feelings interfere.

But god, you were so tired. While you could usually power through it, the weight of the loneliness and frustration you felt was almost crushing, and your hand curled into a fist at your side as your jaw clenched painfully, the tears from earlier resurfacing.

“Um, c-can I see you? It’s okay if you don’t want to, I know it’s really late and you probably just wanna sleep. But I just- I didn’t know who else to call, a-and I know I’m probably just being stupid and—”

“Hey, you’re not stupid, okay? I’ll be over in a little bit.”

Your eyes slightly widened. “Really? Like I said, you really don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to. I want to see you.”

You bit down on your bottom lip, softly sniffling as you quickly wiped at your eyes, and you hoped that Ryan didn’t catch onto the fact that you were crying. “Okay.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in ten, alright?”

You hummed into the phone before hanging up, shoulders slumping as you placed your hand against your forehead.

It’s fine. Everythings fine.

Rifling through your drawers, you took out a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a loose fitted shirt, throwing Ryan’s flannel that he left at your place over it, and catching a small whiff of his scent. The familiar smell of the outdoors and amber was almost comforting, and you found yourself pressing your cheek into your shoulder to get a better smell.

Ten minutes couldn’t have gone by fast enough, and you were racing down the steps of your apartment as soon as you saw the headlights of Ryan’s truck in front of your building, not wanting to spend another second without his presence. He was in the process of unbuckling his seatbelt when you threw open the door and hopped inside, slightly surprised at how frantic you were.

“Oh, I was gonna come up. I thought—”

“No. No, I just— I need to get out of there,” you muttered, slowly looking over at him and witnessing as he carefully examined you, a mix of confusion and concern in his gaze. “Can we just drive around for a little bit?”

He paused before nodding, putting his seatbelt back on and pulling out of the parking lot. The silence that settled between you wasn’t as awkward as you felt it would’ve been, but it still left you unsettled, your fingers fidgeting as you wracked your brain for something to say. As you opened your mouth to finally speak, your thoughts were cut off when Ryan reached over and lightly tugged at the sleeve of his flannel, sending you a small smile.

“You know, I was wondering where this went.” His hand slid down your arm, intertwining his fingers with yours and giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You flustered at his touch, head leaning back as your body slumped down in the seat. “Hey, I didn’t steal it this time. You left it. As well as one of your shirts, and your toothbrush. I think I have some of your underwear in my laundry basket.”

“Oh, come on. Like there isn’t an entire drawer I cleaned out specifically for your things back at my place.”

“Wow, a whole drawer? You really know how to spoil someone, Lucan.”

He just glared at you while you sent a large grin his way. His hand moved to your thigh, pitching the area under your knee that had you squealing and shifting away from him, frantically slapping his arm.

“Hey— Ow! You’re gonna make me crash,” he laughed, no longer pinching your flesh, but his hand remained, thumb stroking back and forth over your thigh.

You hummed, leaning towards Ryan and resting against the center console, eyes trained on his face. There was always something about him that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. His voice, his touch. Hell, Steph told you once that you looked like some lovesick fool when she caught you mindlessly staring at him. How couldn’t you, though?

Ryan cast a quick glance at you, lightly squeezing your thigh. “Whatchya lookin’ at, hm?”

You smiled. ”You.”

“Oh, yeah? Is my face that interesting?”

“Mhm. You’re pretty.”

His eyes widened a fraction as his face visibly flushed, and you couldn't help but laugh as he awkwardly cleared his throat, hand squeezing the wheel.

“I, uh… Glad you think so.”

“Oh, I know so.”

He scoffed and shook his head, your hand fondly resting over his. It was moments like this that you were grateful for. Where you could forget your burdens, even if for only a second. Ryan’s presence was always a fast-acting cure for when you felt like this. Numb and rotten. Like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin because every sensation feels so fucking wrong and uncomfortable. But it was tolerable with him at your side.

The silence in the truck was almost deafening, the ringing in your ears getting increasingly louder as the seconds went by. You were anxious to turn on the radio, flicking the knob and—

Oh, you’re shitting me.

“For the love of god, please tell me I’m not actually hearing this right now,” you said, voice on the verge of laughter as your hand dragged over your eyes.

You could hear Ryan sigh over the melodic chirping coming from the radio, and he reached over to shut it off. “You remember what I do for a living, right?”

“Oh, I can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you were not listening to that for your job,” you laughed, throwing your head back against the seat.

“And so what if I wasn’t, huh?”

Your laughter died down into quiet giggles, and you leaned over the center console to press a quick kiss to Ryan’s scruffy cheek. “Well, I think it’s cute. Even if it is a bit dorky.”

He swiftly grabbed your hand when you pulled away, tangling your fingers and bringing the back of your hand to his lips. The action sent a tingling down from your fingertips, through your arm, and right into your chest. It was almost overwhelming how he made you feel sometimes. He touched you so gently, looked at you like you were the only person in the world. And you loved him with every breath you were worth.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head back and listened to Ryan fiddle with the radio until he tuned in to a local station, a gentle melody you think you might’ve heard twice before overtaking the silence in the truck. You could hear him humming along after a moment, the deepness of his voice reverberating in your ears and sending pleasant waves washing over you. You didn’t need him to say anything or try to reassure you with positive words or gestures. He didn’t have to spend his time expressing his love for you in any physical or emotional ways, despite his overbearing want to. No, his presence next to you was comfort enough. To just know that he was within arms reach, his touch and his comfort readily available, that was more than enough.

Your eyes cracked open, and the headlights illuminated a lone road you’ve been on many times before.The overwhelming want to go somewhere different was ever present in your mind. Familiarity was always something you could cherish. The same street signs, the same buildings, the same people waving at you as you walked the same path to work. And you couldn’t deny that Haven has always and will always be your home. But, you desired change. Craved it in the most desperate way.

You longed for different sights, the unfamiliarity of a brand new space. You wanted to learn the names of new streets, be able to barely make out the faces of people you’ve just met. Go to a recently opened cafe and try to pick out what your regular favorite would be. The mundanity of it all seemed unreachable almost. Like a life somewhere else would be forever unattainable and would remain as remnants of a dream in your clouded mind.

You felt trapped. Your tiny apartment was your safe space and your prison, this town you loved so dearly something you could never escape from. You were stagnant— stuck. With life moving at a snail's pace, and going by all too quickly at the same time. Yet, you remained. This place remained. This same, complacent existence.

“Have you ever thought of leaving Haven, Ryan?” Your voice sounded almost unfamiliar to you, so used to just sitting in idle silence.

He huffed out a breath, glancing at you and shrugging. “Can’t say I’ve put much thought into it. Why? In the mood for a little road trip?”

You know he meant it as a joke, maybe he thought you were joking. But, he had no clue the weight of reality his words held. Because yes, you would leave Haven right now if he wanted to. You’d tell him to stop the truck only when it ran out of gas so you both could get far away. But you knew Ryan would never agree to that.

This was his home.

The place he grew up, where all his fondest and saddest memories were shared.

He would never leave them behind.

“Hey.” He squeezed your hand. “Where do you keep going, hm? What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“A lot, I guess. Feels like someone else is in there screaming at me right now.”

A pregnant pause, and then—

“Anything I can do to quiet it?”

Your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, biting down hard until the skin tingled as your eyes burned with tears. Fingers curling around Ryan’s hand, your nails lightly dug into his skin in some lame attempt to ground yourself, to keep yourself from vomiting your guts out in his truck. A silent tear rolled down your cheek, and you felt the car shift whilst he pulled over.

“Hey, hey.”

There were hands on your face, gently tugging to get you to look at the man beside you. He was gentle, far more than you deserved as his thumbs wiped away the wetness on your skin, and you wanted nothing more than to hide away. You pulled out of his grip and leaned forward, burying your head into his neck and sliding your arms around his waist under his flannel coat. His warmth seeped into your clothes and settled deep in your bones, your tears wetting his shirt and his hands rubbing up and down your back.

You could spend hours like this, crying your soul out in the front of his truck as he held you. It was painfully blissful, like the hurt didn’t matter because he was here to ease it.

“Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it better.”

You shook your head, arms tightening around him as your heart lodged itself in your throat. He was so fucking nice. So caring and considerate. It made you want to scream, because when was the last time someone made you feel like this? Made you feel so overwhelmingly valued and loved? He had given himself so selflessly to you, and you were ready to throw yourself at his feet in return.

“Just this. This is enough.” you muttered, and he pressed his lips into your hair.

“I love you, you know?”

You did know. How could you not with the countless ways he constantly showed it?

“You deserve to be loved.”

A quiet whimper escaped your throat, and you only burrowed further into him, arms tightening around his middle.

“You sound so sure of that,” you said, voice weak and shaky. Fuck, you felt so pathetic.

He muttered your name, gently pushing you back so he could hold your face and brush his thumbs over your tear stained cheeks. You leaned into his warmth, and a part of you wondered if this was real. If he was real. You were almost sure if you pinched yourself, you would wake up in your cold bed, and reality would be so much worse than your blissful dreams where Ryan Lucan was the center of them all.

If it was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

“I’ve never met someone who gives so much of themselves without needing anything in return. You are the most caring, selfless, amazing person I’ve ever met. And I care so much about you.”

The praise and reassuring words were so unfamiliar, you almost didn’t believe it. But this was Ryan, and he would never lie to you. So, maybe he was just a bit delusional.

“I don’t know if any of that is true,” you said around a wet chuckle, trying to get your tears under control.

Ryan shook his head. “It’s facts. Don’t ever doubt how much you mean to me.”

You took a breath, pulling your face out of his hands so you could wipe at your eyes. Somehow, he always knew what to say to make you feel better, even if it only lasted for a moment. The comfort was welcome. Needed. Craved. And Ryan’s love for you, something he swore to you more times than you can remember, was enough to mend how broken you felt. Most days, you felt like you were being cut in half, and he was here to help put you back together. Like he was your other half to make you feel whole again.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you said, a sad smile playing on your lips.

“Ryan shook his head. “Pretty sure you have that backwards.”

You chuckled, and the warmth of his hand enveloped your own.

“I love you.”

Your thoughts are quiet, and you look up at him with misty eyes.

“I love you, too.”

#ryan lucan x reader #Ryan lucan #Ryan lucan imagine #Life is strange #life is strange true colors #Listc #Lis #life is strange: true colors

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doiefy · 5 months

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nct 127 as cursed college profs

very partially based on stupid shit i've had the pleasure and misfortune of seeing in my own classes. happy finals season girlies </3 i rise from my casket of inactivity to bring you the shit post i wrote on the subway on the way to an exam. whose class do you think you'd survive?

cw: cynical college humour because i'm coping, adult humour

taeil: not even that old, but barely knows how to use technology. spends the first 15 minutes of lectures trying to figure out zoom, then the rest of the time poorly explaining quantum mechanics from a textbook written 20 years ago. trips down the stairs two days into the semester and goes on medical leave, only to be spotted on vacation a week later. no one even gives him shit for it.

johnny: originally the cool, chill prof who occasionally went out for drinks with his classes, until he realized he was cool and tried to get even more hip with the kids. now he uses bad memes in his slides and films tiktoks in his lab. the number of students who ask to get drinks with him significantly boosts his ego, but no one tells him they’re doing it just to cross “drinking with a prof” off the frosh bingo card.

taeyong: the sweetest, loveliest, kindest soul you will ever meet—except he’s only taught twice in his life, just got put in as a replacement for a prof who tripped down the stairs, and gives you the most god-awful final exam known to man. he’s also stressed out (on your behalf) at any given moment, to the point where he just passes everyone with an 80 and calls it a day.

yuta: the hip, fashionable prof who only serves looks and random commentaries on society in the middle of his lectures. undergrads fight to the death to join his research group, but the ones who make it eventually realize he spends most of his time partying with the department’s money. yet still, groundbreaking work comes out of his lab every year…

doyoung: retired from research a few years ago to teach full time, but not a single person knows why. he may offer the clearest, live-saving explanations in his lectures—but he constantly looks like he wants to go home and will decimate your entire existence with a single look if you ask anything about the syllabus two weeks into the semester.

jaehyun: the hot single prof. every single freshman girlie has a sickening, concerning, fanfic-esque crush on him. some go as far as nearly failing his class and then booking office hours with him before finals, only to find out that he’s been using Doyoung’s teaching material for years, without credit. he is very much horrendous at teaching on his own. and very much gay.

jungwoo: wanted to go into early childhood education, somehow got coerced into doing his masters, then his phd, then post doc, then— still fulfills his dreams by treating his students like kindergarteners. this includes gentle parenting of frat boys who won’t shut the fuck up during class, handing out healthy vegan treats, and encouraging “mindful moments” while you write the hardest exam he has ever administered.

mark: refuses to teach because he doesn’t think any of the kids will take him seriously, is forced to anyways by the department. as a prodigy so fucking removed from what it’s like to be stupid, he ends all his quantum lectures with “this is pretty straightforward,” and books it back to his lab on an electric skateboard. yes he built it himself. no he won't let you try and ride it.

haechan: shares an office with mark and spends most of his free time figuring out which organic compounds he can mix together to perfectly recreate the texture and smell of cum. if he doesn’t show up to class, it’s because he’s terrorizing pigeons on the street for science. shows gruesome videos of explosions and chemical fires for a chemical safety lecture. has had the fire alarm pulled on him at least twice.

#nct #nct 127 #nct texts #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct timestamps #nct blurbs #nct dream #taeil #johnny #taeyong #yuta #doyoung #jaehyun #jungwoo #mark #haechan #shitpost

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nanaminsmoon · 10 months

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❛❜𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔❛❜

universitystudent!Megumi x rich!blackfem reader

A/N: this was the first au i ever wrote, and i wrote it on this day last month so it seemed fitting to post it today:)) thanks for the support on the last post too i literally want to finish writing all the shit i’ve been procrastinating so i can upload more 😭

cw: fluff, reader makes universitystudent!Megumi feel a little flustered, mentions of kissing.

wc: 2814

universitystudent! Megumi who made the decision to become a tutor after coming to terms with the fact that he couldn’t survive on ramen and toast for the rest of the semester, so he had to make some money. Hours of contemplating drew the conclusion that he refused to deal with working in retail or in hospitality, so Megumi collapsed on his bed, opting to have sleep for dinner. However, the next day, a classmate of his happened to mention that he had made bank over the summer from tutoring dumb, trust fund babies, and told universitystudent! Megumi that if he wanted to make fairly easy money, that was the way to do it. So universitystudent! Megumi shrugged and said he would think about it. Initially, he was hesitant as he figured teaching wouldn’t be his forte because he genuinely didn’t believe he had the patience for it, especially if his students would be spoilt idiots who probably have no discipline because they’ve never been told ‘no’. But his mind was quickly made up when he got back to his shared dorms, and took a look in his fridge.

universitystudent!Megumi who had to download Facebook for the first time since he was 14 because nobody uses that app anymore. But his classmate told him that he probably wouldn’t find ads for tutors on TikTok.

universitystudent!Megumi who spent 15 whole minutes trying to login to his old but kept failing, despite the fact that he swore that ‘fuck-u-toji’ was his password on everything ages 11 through 18. It was only on the thousandth attempt, that he remembered that he had deleted that account years ago. At this point, he was so irritated, he didn’t even know if the money was worth it anymore but his stomach rumbling spurred perseverance within him, and after, what felt like years, he had made a new account.

universitystudent!Megumi who saw an ad your guardian had posted, and settled on it pretty quickly, because: 1) you were local, 2) it was the first one that showed up when he searched ‘tutor’ on Facebook, and he was too lazy to look for any other ones, and 3) it paid $200 an hour so, as much as he didn’t want to be locked up in your house for hours, he wouldn’t mind making $1000 in one sitting. So he messaged your guardian and, after some intense interrogation (aka asking him about his degree and how he was finding the weather), they agreed for him to tutor you.

universitystudent!Megumi who showed up to tutor you at 4pm, right after his last lecture, and was rolling his eyes in the Uber to your house because, up until this point, his main thoughts about the whole situation were concerning the compensation. But then he realised that he would actually have to tutor a rich idiot in maths, a subject that is hard to teach anyways. But that fact is exacerbated by the fact that his student would be someone spoilt. But the sorrowful clouds above his head were soon lifted by your chirpy guardian, who greeted him warmly upon opening the door and soon began bragging about you the same way they did in their messages, talking about how smart you were. Which made them both chuckle because they were telling that to your…tutor.

universitystudent!Megumi whose eyes widened, and breath hitched, when he saw a beautiful young woman come down the stairs, instead of the broody teenager he expected to see after hearing, and reading, all the comments about your guardian’s ‘little girl’. But he wasn’t complaining. You wore comfy clothes; loose black joggers, a white baby tee, and an oversized green and blue plaid shirt—white socks and beige Yeezy slides on your feet. Your jet-black, middle part, wig was in a claw clip, and you finished the look with a pair of thick rimmed glasses. A sigh, subconsciously, left his lips at how flawless you looked in such plain clothing, and he figured it was mainly due to your beautiful face and magnetic aura. And when he said ‘beautiful’, he meant beautiful; even simple things, like your gait as you seemingly floated down the long staircase, mesmerised him. Your presence had pulled him away from reality and he didn’t tune back into the present until you started introducing yourself, and he realised that he had seen your lips moving (because he was staring at them), but had heard nothing you had said. His cheeks and the tips of his ears rouged at the fact that he had to ask you again, because he hadn’t caught your name the first time. But the kind manner in which you smiled at him and repeated it without questioning his request made his heart melt.

universitystudent!Megumi whose lips curved slightly at the discovery that you were around his age, which he found through deep investigation (aka ‘staring really hard’)…and asking you your age.

universitystudent!Megumi’s heart nearly stopped when you told him that you would be studying in your bedroom instead of just the living room, or at the dining room table. You know, in a public place. With other people around. Because the thought of being in such a personal space of yours, so quickly, made his knees wobble. Especially since he basically had a crush on you after having known you for the best part of five minutes. But he followed you up the staircase, through the hallways, to a vast room that was probably ten times the size of his dorm room. It was decorated very well and, although he didn’t know you very well yet, he thought it matched you very well.

universitystudent!Megumi who sees a student lanyard with an ID card on your desk that told him that you go to the same uni. When he asked you about it, he found out that your department buildings are directly opposite each other.

”But wait, why do you need maths for photography?”, he asked with a confused scowl on his face once he figured out what your degree was, based on your department building.

”That’s what I’m saying!”, you shouted in enthusiastic agreement, and the way your face lit up made his heart palpitate, and his eyes greedy to see it happen again.

”The lecturer said something about calculating settings and shit, but I picked this subject so I wouldn’t need to do this shit. If I wanted to do maths, I would’ve picked it as a degree!”, you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, and he chuckled lightly and nodded at you.

universitystudent!Megumi who stood by the edge of your bed, right hand on the strap of his backpack, as he awaited instruction on where he should sit. At first you questioned why he was just awkwardly stood there, looking around like a lost puppy. But when you realised you were sat on the only desk chair in your room, shock was painted on your face and you shot up from your chair and quickly scurried to your guardian’s home office to grab another chair. When you returned, pushing it in front of you, universitystudent!Megumi gave a tight-lipped smile, and placed his bag on the floor and sat down beside you.

Although it excited universitystudent!Megumi that, because you went to the same uni, you two would probably see each other again, it also confused him how you had been in such close proximity on a day to day basis, and he had never seen you before. He was sure he had never seen you because he would’ve remembered a face as pretty, and a laugh as infectious, as yours—he hadn’t said anything particularly funny, just a passing comment about a professor you both shared. But the way you had erupted into laughter had made him blush, and he just knew that your voice would be ringing through his head for the rest of the day.

The way universitystudent!Megumi would just stare at you, as you wrote down equations and completed practice questions, did not go by unnoticed by you.

”Is this correct?”, you had asked after scrawling an answer onto the paper, after writing and rewriting several different equations. universitystudent!Megumi hadn’t said anything in a few minutes, which obviously wasn’t a good sign, so you turned to him to find that he was staring right back at you, features more gentle than they had been when you first met him.

”Hm?”, he blinked himself out of a daze. He hadn’t even realised that he had been staring at you, so he couldn’t tell you how long he was even doing it for. He had just happened to notice how long your eyelashes were without any makeup, and that led him to your eyes. He noticed how pretty they looked earlier, but how did they look gorgeous from the side as well?? Then his gaze travelled down the slope of your nose, before sliding down to your lips; glossed, and plump. He was meant to be teaching you the geometric sequence, but he couldn’t focus on anything but those lips of yours, and how they would feel on his. He had to shake himself when your voice finally broke him out of his reverie.

”The equation? Did I do this right?”, you laughed nervously, not sure how to receive the blank stare he was throwing in your direction, and he just hummed while nodding. Before he actually saw what was written on the paper, and his nodding stuttered and he frowned deeply before grabbing your pencil.

”Oh…no, that-that’s not right”, he laughed out, and he basically scribbled out everything you had written and re-wrote everything again, and you just stared at him as he did it. His left arm was damn near bumping into your face with how close he was leaning over the table. His dark, aftershave wafted into your nostrils and you couldn’t help but notice how much cuter he looked now than earlier. He looked pretty good when he first arrived, but now you were looking at him closer, he looked…different; his raven coloured hair falling over his face, random parts of it just stood up as if they were being held afloat by a little hair fairy. You found it adorable how the ends of his bangs were kissing the ends of his eyelashes as he hurriedly wrote down whatever the fuck the geometric sequence was. He was just so…pretty. So was the bottom lip tucked between his teeth, as he frowned in concentration before he placed the pencil down, and met your eyes. The emeralds just bore back into yours, as silence ensued and, for a split second, it seemed like his breath got deeper. Mainly because it had.

”Done.”, he squeaked out. He didn’t mean to, but the nerves made his voice crack, and then his face got red because his voice cracked.

”Hot?”, you quirked an eyebrow, placing a hand on his knee. If he was on fire before, the flames had engulfed him completely now and he was about to turn into a puddle.

”Sorry?”, he whispered, moving back slightly. He didn’t realise how close you guys were until his knee knocked into yours.

”You’re red”, you pointed at his face, “Are you hot? Because I can turn the air conditioning on if you’d like.”, your own voice quietened subconsciously.

“Nah”, he shook his head, “I’m good. Just…thirsty”, he turned away from you, and you laughed before leaning down to your mini-fridge to grab a bottle of water and handing to him, and he accepted it with a smile.

universitystudent!Megumi whose heart sank into his bowels when your guardian opened the door to offer you snacks, breaking the conversation you were having about God knows what, instead of studying (which had been long abandoned). He started feeling bad because he would still get paid at the end of the 5 hours, which had been broken into two segments; three and a half hours of studying and the remaining ninety minutes just being spent talking. Even when you were studying, you were still mainly speaking about your classes, and other random shit. This is when universitystudent!Megumi found out that you were at a party Yuji had urged him to go to last Friday. It was an invite he had declined, instead opting to stay at home and play Valorant (a decision he, now, regretted infinitely).

After devouring all the snacks, and making stupid jokes for hours, you looked at the time and realised it was getting late, so you offered to drop universitystudent!Megumi off to his dorms. He hesitantly accepted because, as much as he hated the idea of the rich girl he liked seeing his dorms, he wanted to speak to you more. So you went downstairs, and he greeted your guardian then you went to the garage, and got into your Porsche 718 and told him he could connect his phone on Bluetooth and play whatever he wanted. He chose ’ROLE MODEL’ by Brent Faiyaz.

universitystudent!Megumi whose eyes became well acquainted with the dashboard as you pulled up in front of his dormitory building.

”Hey, can I…uh…”, he had been practicing this since you got in the car, which was part of the reason why he was more quiet than he was back in your room. But now that he was staring into your eyes, doe-like and gleaming with the way their sparkle ricocheted off the beige car interior and almost blinded him, he really couldn’t speak. It was as if they were so blinding that all he could see was bright white, and he just blanked.

”Never mind”, he smiled, and started grabbing his bag and getting ready to leave. Fuck, he thought. He choked it. And now, he just needed to get out of the car before he embarrassed himself even further. But his escape plan was halted when you placed a hand on his shoulder, and held him back slightly. Every muscle in his body hardened but, after taking a deep breath, he turned to you. He just assumed you were about to tell him he forgot something,

”I don’t know if this is inappropriate, but…”, you laughed breathily, and his brain basically shut down, because what were you about to say? It couldn’t be what he thought it would it be, because that wouldn’t make sense.

”Can I…get your number?”, you winced slightly, hoping you hadn’t crossed the line, and when he just looked at you, blankly, you feared you had and you took your hand off his shoulder. universitystudent!Megumi simply watched as it retreated back to your lap.

”Are you serious?”, he spoke quietly and you, hesitantly, nodded.

”Sorry if I crossed the line, it’s just that we were getting on pretty well, and I—”,

”What? No, y/n, I was just surprised.”, he chuckled, nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was, uh…trying to ask you that just now, but I fucked it up”, he laughed, and you chuckled shyly, just looking back at him, and he looked back at you. So, now you were just staring right at each other, and his mind only went to one place, but you weren’t going to kiss him…were you?

”Your phone?”, you looked at him, then the light bulb went off and he realised you were waiting for him to take his phone out.

”Shit, yeah. Here”, he handed you his phone, and you put your number in it. Even saving your contact name as ‘y/n<33’, making him chuckle when he got his phone back.

”You can delete the last part if you want”, you giggled, and he shook his head.

”I like it. It’s cute.”, universitystudent!Megumi wanted to comment on you being cute too, but you cut his thought processes short when you began waving at him. So he just smiled at you, before making his way out, and running to his door because it randomly began raining.

The whole thing was very funny because you had never wanted a tutor, but your guardian had suggested it and you had, begrudgingly, agreed. But now, you wouldn’t mind doing extra maths work if it meant inviting a cute boy into your room a few times a week. universitystudent!Megumi, on the other hand, couldn’t believe that he was getting paid bags a week just a talk to a pretty girl. But, again, he wasn’t complaining.

#nanaminsmooninc #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu megumi #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x black reader #jjk x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader

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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 2 months

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24 hours

Hey so this was a request from @cici0love on wattpad for an Alex x intern!reader so hope you like it!

Pairing Alex Karev x fem!intern!reader Word count: 1.3k

!!NOT PROOFREAD!! Warnings: none

(Alex is an attending in this) - Also I apologise for any goofy spacing. I wrote this on my laptop and it does the spaces between the speech all funky :(

Alex POV:

I hate today. Too many stupid kids coming into the ER and extending my shift since Robbins is in a super long surgery. I should just hand the work over to my interns but if I'm gunna be honest the only intern I'd trust to cover the pit is already elbow deep in some guys abdomen. Literally. She was called into trauma 1 like 20 minutes ago and she had to stop this guy's internal bleeding using her hand so now she has to go up to the OR with him briefly so he doesn't bleed out. But, if I'm being completely honest with you if she comes back, I kinda don't wanna leave. I mean yes, I have been here for about 19 hours at this point but who cares? If I get to see the woman I'm falling head over heels for it's worth it. Wow, I've never felt like this about someone, like I want to get serious with them. What is she doing to me?!

Time skip to when reader is out of the OR

"Dr Karev?" I hear the sweetest voice say from behind me

"Yeah?" I say as I turn round and give her a tired smile

"Oh wow, uhm, I was going to ask to scrub in on your next surgery but oh my. You look like a zombie you need to go home."

"Speak for yourself." I say chuckling at her comment and the irony of it.

"Can't, I'm on a 24 hour."

"On a Friday? Man that must suck."

"Yeah it kinda does but, at least you're here with me. That makes it a bit better."

I look at her a little stunned at the flirting but bask in it nonetheless.

"I could say the same for you, I mean I feel like you're the only reason I even tolerate interns anymore."

She blushed at this comment which makes my stupid little heart swell with pride and my stomach to fill with dumb butterflies. Shit, I really like her. I tell her she can scrub in and we head up to OR 2 and start a bowel resection on a 2 week old baby boy. He has had many complications however, this bowel resection may just be the tipping point. I don't think he can handle much more but, the parents want to try everything so I do. However, I may have failed to mention this to Y/N which I have a feeling may be a mistake but oh well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Time skip to half way through the surgery

"You wanna resect the rest of the bowel?"

"Really?" She looked at me with wide eyes. Oh my god her eyes, they're so beautiful. Anyways...

"Yeah 100% go for it." Se looked at mme and mutters a shy 'Thank you' and begins.

So far she's done everything perfect, down to the last minute detail but, like I said. I don' think the kid can take it.

Reader POV:

"Doctor, BP dropping." I look up startled, how could his BP drop? Iv'e done everything right. I think I have at least... Shit did I mess his up?

"It's okay don't worry." Alex says to me as I look up at him clearly worried about what I'm doing wrong.

All of a sudden the baby's heart stops.

"Get me the paddles and charge to 15!" I yell out to the nurses still trying o figure out what went wrong. "Clear!" I say as I shock the baby for the first time.

7 times. I shocked the kid seven times and noting. I call time of death and rush out of the OR. I hear footsteps behind me and know who it is instantly. I try to walk faster so he doesn't have to yell at me and thankfully I'm saved by the parents stopping Alex to ask how it went. Oh no, the parents. I decide Alex has done this long enough to know how to deliver bad news on the behalf of someone else's mistakes so I let him get on with it. It hurts even more that he's the one mad at me because I have a massive crush on him and we work really well together; I'm hoping to do paediatrics as a specialty as well. So great, my entire comfy life and rituals of greeting and teasing him are gone out the window. I go up to the paeds floor and find ann on-call room, lay down and start crying. I killed a baby.

Alex POV:

"Goddamnit." I mutter under my breath as I realised I lost Y/N. The parents were obviously upset but very understanding as the knew the risk and it just didn't go their way. So, now I had my favourite intern (and just person in general at this point) somewhere in the hospital, probably crying, probably beating herself up for no reason and probably crushed her confidence. Great job Alex.

I make my way to the nurses station and ask if any of them have seen y/n/n.

"I saw Dr Y/l/n go into the on-call room, she looked a bit upset is she okay?" The nurse asked worry lacin her voice. Damn, she's so sweet she's even befriended the nurses (who usually hate surgeons).

"Yeah, she'll be okay just gunna go talk to her." I respond and make a beeline for the on-call room.

As I walk in my heart breaks as I hear quiet sobs coming from one of the bottoms bunks.

"Look before you say anything I'm really sorry, I don't know what I did wrong and I'll go tell the parents it's my fault that their kid's dead-" She starts rambling and sitting up assuming I'm mad at her which tears my heart apart even more. I cut her off by sitting next to her and wrapping my arms around her and guiding her head into my shoulder.

"It's not your fault, okay? I really need you to believe that. The parents knew they were taking a risk sending him into that OR. He was a dead man- or baby should I say, before he was even wheeled into the OR. You resected his bowel perfectly but his body just couldn't take the strain. You did everything right." She wraps her arms around me even tighter after I said that. I lift her head out of the nape of my neck and hook my fingers around her chin.

"I think you're too tired to be here, and plus you've been on call now for what.." I quickly check my watch. "Boom, 24 hours. You're done and I'm taking you back to mine so I know you're okay." I say to her.

"Aww you going soft Dr Karev?" she says teasingly.

"Only for you." I reply while looking her straight in the eye, it's now or never.

Reader POV:

He's leaning in one minute and the next thing I know he's pulled me up onto his lap and put his arms around my waist to bring me closer to him. The kisses are getting sloppy and rushed now and I need him desperately but I'm just so tired. I assume he feels the same because he pulls away and says, "As much as I want to, if we did I think I'd pass out while we we doing it." I gugge at his response and agree with him.

"Look, how about I take you back too mine, we sleep, we go to work tomorrow and get off early because we both just did 24 hours , I'll take you out for dinner and then we'll continue where we left off here when we get back.? How's that sound?" A crimson red layer paints my face as he finishes his sentence.

"That sounds amazing, you know, maybe we should do 24 hour shifts more if it ends like this everytime." I gesture to me in his lap and he laughs and says we should. I smile contently at him and then wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle my head into the crook of his neck. He is literally perfect.

#alex karev #alex karev x reader #greys anatomy fanfiction #greys anatomy

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alwaysbethewest · 4 months

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Kingsman 2 fic: Stay Close to Me

Happy @pedrostories Secret Santa day, y'all 💃 I was thrilled when I received my assignment and saw that I'd be writing for my sweet friend @iamskyereads 😁 Skye, I hope you have a merry Christmas and I hope this little story helps make it bright. (Okay a quick note: generally speaking I don't believe in apologizing for your writing, but I do feel like a small apology is merited here. Halfway through writing this fic I started to panic because I felt like I wasn't really meeting the brief of your prompt 😬 I started wondering if I should start over from scratch but I was already too far into it. I accidentally wrote you... a case fic???? With a smidgen of romance sprinkled in. I'm sorry! Despite my stress over that realization I did have a lot of fun writing this and I hope you will enjoy it anyway!)

Title: Stay Close to Me Pairing: Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels)/f!Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 5.3k Content/warnings: Fake/undercover marriage! Statesman casefic! A little romance, kissing, coarse language, very mild peril and hurt/comfort, and a splash of alcohol. Reader is a junior agent and has some muscle but otherwise no physical/age descriptions. As with any good Kingsman fic, my first step was to disregard half of canon, so this is either pre-movie or an AU. Unbetaed but thanks as ever to @fleetwoodmactshirt and @mourningbirds1 for their hand-holding ❤️ Please let me know if you spot any typos/mistakes.

The Statesman offices are housed in a sleek highrise in Midtown, a 40-minute commute from your tiny apartment. To anyone who asks, you work in the marketing department, and you’ve learned enough by now to drone on about synergistic strategies for diversifying market shares to bore anyone listening, but to those in the know, behind passcode-guarded doors, you’re Agent Violette, junior analyst for the private intelligence agency hidden behind the national whiskey brand.

For a secret spy job, your work is actually fairly routine. Most of your time is spent doing research and compiling intel for agents working out in the field. Occasionally your boss sends you into the field yourself—little baby excursions to get your feet wet—and you won’t pretend you haven’t enjoyed the thrill. But your desk job is comfortable, and satisfying, and you’ve got no complaints.

It’s Wednesday, and the only sign something out of the ordinary may be taking place is the note you find on your desk when you clock in. It takes only a little of your codebreaking expertise to interpret:

9:15 AM—mtg w/ Agt. C rm 806

Room 806 is a teleconference room furnished with a small table and a handful of chairs. One seat is occupied when you get there.

Agent Whiskey raises an eyebrow at you from under his cowboy hat. The accessory is so out of place in the urban streets of New York City that when you’d first met him you’d wondered if it was an affectation—a marketing ploy to signal the authenticity of the Kentucky bourbon your company sells on the side. But while you haven’t worked closely with him, you’d quickly learned it seems he’s just… like that.

He slides a folder towards you and you accept it as you take a seat and don your glasses.

“Any idea what this is about?” he asks.

You shake your head. Just as you open your mouth to speak, the comms switch on and Agent Champagne appears across the table before you, via the technological wonder that is your projection spectacles. More high-tech and more secure than Zoom, they’re one of the many things that sets Statesman apart from lesser spy agencies.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Whiskey straighten up slightly in his chair.

“Jack!” Agent Champagne greets him. “How was Munich?”

“All good, sir,” he drawls. “You’ll have the full report this afternoon.”

“Very good,” the older man rumbles. He turns his attention to you. “And Agent, uh—” His eyes shift down to the notes on his desk. “Agent Violette. Good to have you on board.”

You’ve worked at Statesman for three years, but you’re still too low on the org chart to have landed on the director’s radar before this. He says your code name like vie-oh-let instead of the French pronunciation you prefer, but there’s an affability to him that makes it go over easier.

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, California,” he says, diving into the brief. Whiskey opens his file folder and you follow suit. The top page features a short itinerary and a character profile that you quickly learn is a new undercover alias. Violet Davenport. You like the name. She sounds high society. Glancing over to Whiskey’s file, you spot his alias and your brows raise involuntarily.

Johnny Davenport.

Hm.

“Vineyard owner out there is concerned about a potential theft. He’s received some threats and needs a couple of bodies on the ground to sniff out the trouble,” Agent Champagne states.

“Theft of what, exactly?” Agent Whiskey asks.

“Wine. Money. The usual. He’s got his personal wine collection stored on the premises. You know the business—some of those bottles are worth a pretty penny. Mr. Peterson—that’s the client—says he has a list of suspects for you to look at.” Champ waves a hand, looking vaguely unimpressed. “Obviously you’ll have to use your own judgment on whether any of his theories check out.”

“Sir, I don’t understand why I’m being sent on such a simple assignment,” Whiskey says. “No disrespect,” he adds belatedly, glancing at you. You give him your politest go-along-to-get-along smile.

Champ looks like he’s torn between amusement or annoyance at Agent Whiskey’s attitude.

“Same reason for anything, Jack. Politics. This client has close connections in the state government over there. If we can solve this simple problem for him, it may just lead to more prestigious cases. Ones you’ll feel are worthy of your valuable time.”

Jack should look chastened, but he doesn’t. He does stop arguing, though.

“I need a senior agent on the case. And Violet’s supervisor assures me she’s got the research and fieldwork skills to step up on this one. Your cover is a married couple on an anniversary trip, so I’m basically sending you on a paid vacation, here. There’s more information in the files you’ve got.”

Whiskey flips through the pages half-heartedly and gives a curt nod.

“Well!” Agent Champagne slaps his hands on the table decisively. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mazel tov!” With that he ends the transmission.

And that’s how you find yourself at the airport Friday morning with a diamond ring on your left hand and a disgruntled cowboy by your side.

The flight lands in San Francisco without incident, and Jack shifts into doting husband mode as you head to pick up the rental car the agency has reserved. He reaches for your suitcase to load it into the trunk.

“Let me get that for you, sweetheart.”

You give him a saccharine-sweet smile. “I’ve got it, hon.”

You lift the heavy bag with ease and watch his mouth purse for a second before he smiles back.

“I guess my baby’s stronger than she looks.”

The bored-looking attendant sees you off and Jack has you punch in the GPS destination while he eases into the busy freeway traffic. He’s a confident, slightly impatient driver, but you see him relax once you’re over the bridge and sailing smoothly north on Interstate 80.

“So what’s our game plan?” he asks as highway signs for Napa begin to appear, and you reach for your notebook and flip it open.

There’s only one bed.

You probably should have done the math on this as soon as Agent Champagne declared you a married couple, but in the whirlwind of arranging to leave town and the anxiety of stepping into your biggest field operation to date, it hadn’t occurred to you to worry about the precise nature of your accommodations.

Jack sets his bags down and flops onto the bed, letting the soles of his cowboy boots dangle off the end. It’s an exaggerated display of exhaustion, but you’re tired too after a seven-hour flight and another two hours in the car. His lanky body takes up the whole length of the bed and you try not to let your eyes linger as you contemplate the sleeping arrangements.

He picks up on your hesitation.

“This is where I’m supposed to do the gentlemanly thing and let you have the bed all to yourself, huh? Sorry, sister, not gonna happen.” His tone softens. “But I promise I don’t bite. There’s no reason we can’t share.”

The only couch in the room is a small, overstuffed loveseat that you can tell at a glance neither of you would enjoy reclining on for long. So you do the mature thing and agree to sleep with him.

Not like that.

Bill Peterson, the agency’s client, is one of those people who claim to be easygoing while in reality they exude nonstop nervous energy.

“I know exactly who it is,” he tells you in a hushed voice. You and Jack are in his office, under the guise of a private tour of the winery. Peterson has been going over what you already know from the file: that he has a high-value collection of wine held on the estate, as well as a hard drive storing what he’ll only describe as “sensitive” material; that he’s received several vague threats recently; and that with the hustle and bustle of harvest season upon them, he’s concerned his regular security won’t be sufficient to stop the would-be thieves.

“Oh?” you say. “Well, that will be very helpful, Mr. Peterson.”

“Okay,” he amends. “Maybe not exactly, but I can give you a list. Of suspects.”

“We’ve seen the list,” Jack tells him. “But what is it that makes you suspect these folks in particular?”

“They’re mostly other winery owners,” Peterson says. “Everyone on that list was present at a party I attended a few months ago where I—let slip some details about my collection. It was only after that the letters started.”

You and Jack exchange a glance. You’re both wondering if “let slip” isn’t code for “bragged loudly.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t gone to the police?” you ask. His eyes narrow.

“I value discretion,” he says tightly. “Anyway—I’m not sure they’d consider the threats actionable.”

“Can we see them?” Jack asks.

“Of course.” He retrieves a small stack from his desk drawer. You and Whiskey put your heads together to pore over them.

They’re all written by one person, in slanted, blocky handwriting.

YOU WILL PAY.

YOU WILL LOSE EVERYTHING.

YOUR EMPIRE WILL CRUMBLE.

WE WILL CRUSH YOU.

“Is there another one?” you check. “There are five envelopes but only four notes.”

Peterson hesitates, then shrugs and shakes his head. He’s lying, but you don’t push it.

“There is one other thing,” he says. “I keep seeing this blue truck—but it’s like he doesn’t want to be spotted. I see it slow down like he’s scoping out the place, but then he speeds off as soon as he sees I’ve noticed. I tried to get the license plate but it was covered in mud.” He scoffs. “We haven’t had any rain in months.”

Jack has him describe the vehicle and where he’s seen it, while you take notes.

“Alright, Mr. Peterson. We’ll be in touch if we have any other questions.”

“Thank you. Oh—here.” He hands you a pair of vouchers for a free wine tasting. “They come with the tour. One thing you should know about Napa—you’ll only really blend in if you’ve got a glass of wine in your hand.”

Jack’s code name is Whiskey for a reason. He’s a spirits man through and through and he doesn’t give the tasting room a second look, ushering you out to get back to your room to regroup. Admittedly, it’s only 10 AM, but you would have enjoyed a few sips of merlot. You’re craning your neck a little to look at the wine list posted by the door—just out of curiosity—when he startles you by taking your hand in his. You look at him. He’s staring ahead, holding your hand like it’s nothing as you walk side by side. Finally, your brain catches up and your nine credits of college acting classes kick in and you plaster a loving smile onto your face, leaning closer.

In the privacy of your little rented cottage, you pull out your notes again to review.

“Peterson is lying about something,” you start. Jack nods distractedly.

“Yeah—listen, before we get into that, I need to ask you. You jumped when I held your hand back there,” he observes.

You feel your face heat with embarrassment. He’s calling you out on your inexperience, the rookie agent who can’t even play-act for a simple assignment. You can do it, you know. Being undercover in the field is just still new to you. He could help you instead of being critical.

“Sorry—”

“It’s my opinion,” he says, with a slight frown, “that a man who doesn’t treat his wife a certain way is no man at all.”

You’re lost, suddenly. “Sorry?”

“What I’m askin’ is, do I have your permission to touch you like you’re my wife when other people are around?”

Oh.

Something about the way he’s worded it makes your stomach do a little flip.

“Oh. Yes. Touch me like…?” You swallow. “Like how, exactly?”

He gives you a steady look.

“Intimately.”

That’s fine. You’re fine with that.

“Right. That’s—” you nod, maybe a little too emphatically. “That’s okay.”

You look down, fingering the pages of your notebook again, trying to refocus on the more analytical side of the job, when another thought occurs to you.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you blurt.

“Shit, Violet, that’s part and parcel of it.”

“It’s Violette,” you tell him with a frown.

“Sorry.”

“Do you even know my real name?”

“Of course I do,” he says. You don’t push it but you also don’t know whether to believe him. He’s shown little interest in working with you this entire week.

Jack takes a step towards you.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says. “So you don’t jump like a rabbit when I do it in public.”

You take a breath. Suck your bottom lip between your teeth involuntarily.

“Okay,” you tell him.

Your eyes fall shut as he leans in. You feel his fingers steadying your chin, tilting your face to meet his, and then his lips touching your mouth, light, tentative—teasing, your mind prompts, and the thought makes you feel flushed again. When you don’t shy away he presses closer and you’re not sure which of you is to blame when your lips part and his tongue brushes yours.

You were expecting it, so you don’t jump, but you feel a little trembly when he pulls away. He doesn’t step back right away—instead, his lips hover over your skin, mustache coarse against your soft cheek, as he tucks his mouth by your ear and quietly, intimately, says your name.

“So you think Peterson is lying,” he says, picking up the thread from before.

“Um,” you say, forcing your brain to switch back to work mode. Your whole body feels warm. “Yes. Don’t you think he seemed shady?”

Jack shrugs. “Call me jaded, I think most people are shady. But I agree with you. He lied about the missing letter. I fuckin’ hate when clients do that. What do you think about the blue truck he saw?”

“I think that could be something.”

You open your laptop and with a few keystrokes you’ve used a Statesman backdoor into the DMV system, where you enter the make, model, and color of the vehicle Peterson had described. There are no matching hits within Napa County, so you expand the search. It’s an unpopular color, so there are only a few dozen matches in the state. None of the owners’ names are on the list of suspects you’ve been given.

“He said he hasn’t seen it around town, only driving by his property. And we don’t know who owns it. So how do we find the car?” you wonder.

Jack is silent for a minute. You watch as a slow smile spreads across his face.

“I have an idea.”

This case originated at Statesman’s Kentucky headquarters, so Agent Ginger Ale is your tech liaison. It’s clear from their dynamic that she and Agent Whiskey have worked together before. Having her voice in your ear is a source of comfort as you carry out Jack’s great idea—which you’re not 100% sure you’re on board with.

“Don’t you need some kind of license to operate this?” you ask tentatively.

“Technically, on paper, he has one,” Ginger offers. “Well, Johnny Davenport does, anyway. As of twenty minutes ago.”

“It’s a balloon and a basket, how complicated could it be,” Jack grouses. This doesn’t exactly raise your confidence.

“Just don’t crash this one, Jack,” she pleads.

“This one?!”

He shakes his head. “You have one helicopter fail on you and they never let you live it down. Don’t listen to Ginger.”

To his credit, Jack pilots the hot air balloon much more smoothly than you’d expected, and after some time you feel yourself relaxing and enjoying the view. It’s early October and the landscape is a mix of green and brown from the last of the summer heat. Tidy rows of grape vines are bordered by houses and larger wineries, copses of trees, and fields dotted with grazing cows. Tiny workers move methodically among the vines, busy harvesting fruit to be pressed and fermented. Through it all, highways and winding roads run alongside the properties, and this is where you refocus your attention.

Ginger has programmed your binoculars to register any vehicles matching the description of the blue truck you’re seeking. You train the lenses on the backroads and driveways, looking for private hiding places it could be stashed.

The whole endeavor feels like a long shot, and you’re just on the verge of suggesting you give up and head back to base when the binocs let out a high-pitched beep of recognition, zooming in on your target.

“Holy shit,” you whisper. “I can’t believe this worked.”

“I told you it would,” Jack says, looking smug. “What is that place?”

Ginger has looked up the coordinates before you have a chance to do it yourself.

“It’s a winery… Double Loop Vineyards. Do you guys know that name?”

You recognize it immediately. The owner is one of the names on Bill Peterson’s list of suspects.

You and Jack exchange a look.

“Guess we’re goin’ wine tasting at Double Loop,” he says, and he turns to start your descent.

The tasting room at Double Loop Vineyards is a large, tastefully decorated space that looks like it was converted from an old barn. It’s all dark wood and ceiling beams, and a bar runs along the back and right side walls. When you and Jack step inside, you’re greeted by a tall young woman with a pixie haircut and striking cheekbones. She’s wearing a name tag that reads Eva.

You settle in front of her at the bar and she pulls out a pair of glasses and pours a splash of white into each to get you started. You take a sip and peruse the small menu on the bartop.

“She’ll have the red flight,” Jack says, “And I’ll just have a glass. Can you recommend me something… full-bodied?”

As he says it he palms your hip suggestively, pulling you to him a little closer. You laugh, mortified but amused despite yourself, and he shoots you a wink.

Eva takes it in stride. “I can offer you a cabernet sauvignon that’s got legs for days.”

“That’ll do me just fine, thank you.”

You’re the only visitors in the tasting room for the moment so you have her undivided attention. She’s skilled at making small talk to keep you charmed and at ease; eventually she asks something more personal.

“So I’m planning to propose to my girlfriend soon,” she tells you. “And I’m trying to figure out how to do it. I’m like crowdsourcing ideas. You two are such a cute couple—can I ask how you got engaged?”

You and Jack exchange a glance and you give him a sweet smile. “You tell it, honey.”

“Well,” he says, keeping his eyes on you for a long moment before he finally looks away to face Eva, “I knew I wanted to marry her, and I had this whole plan in mind. I wanted something special for my Violet so I was going to take her on a trip—my buddy has this little cabin on the most beautiful lake you’ve ever seen—and make her favorite dinner, and sit down with a glass of something nice. And then I was going to present her with this beautiful piece of hand-carved wood that spelled out, Will. You. Marry. Me.”

He pauses to take a sip of his cab while Eva says, “Aww,” and looks at you like, what a sweet partner you have.

“Now the thing is,” he continues, warming up to the story, “as Violet can tell you herself, I have never carved a single thing in my life. And somehow, like a dumbass, I was convinced I could make this plaque and do it perfectly. But it looked just awful. And it was taking me so long trying to get it right I could tell she was starting to wonder if I was stringing her along.”

You shake your head in protest and he laughs. “You were! You’d look at me like, why has this fool not married me yet.”

Eva laughs, too. “So what happened?”

Jack lets out an aggrieved sigh. “What happened was, I caught the flu. Just the most dog-sick, pathetic man, all sweaty with fever and miserable to boot. And Violet never hesitated, she bundled me up and cooked me soup and tolerated my whining and she’d read me to sleep when my eyes couldn’t even focus on the TV. And somewhere in the middle of all that, I thought, I need to hold on to this woman forever, and I asked her right then and there.”

His voice cracks a little on the last sentence and you’re shocked to realize your own eyes are damp with tears. You’re not sure which part, or how much, but something in that story sounded true and it’s left you with a strange sense of heartache. You lift his hand to your mouth and press a kiss across his knuckles, watching his face soften.

“Okay,” Eva says. “So I guess I’ll add ‘get the flu’ to my list of ideas.”

“I don’t recommend it,” Jack tells her, “but I don’t not recommend it.”

As you finish your flight and Eva rings up a couple of bottles you’ve chosen to purchase—you’re not sure if these classify as company expenses, but you enjoyed them enough you’ll pay out of pocket if you must—she asks where else in the wine country you’ve been to so far.

“We spent some time at the winery right next to the place we’re staying—actually, we got to meet the owner there, what was his name, baby?”

You keep your tone casual, but you watch her face as you reply. “Bill Peterson, I think it was?”

Eva’s expression falters, just for a moment, before she recovers and plasters on a polite smile. “They’ve got a great pinot noir over there.”

“Not as good as these,” you tell her, just to see her smile turn genuine.

A tour group walks in just then so you take your leave and step outside into the late afternoon sunshine. When Jack takes your hand this time you let him, and you don’t mind it.

The blue truck is parked out back. You walk along the side of the building, just a pair of happy tourists slightly buzzed on red wine out to take in the view, until you get close enough to make note of the license plate. Back in your own car, you run a search on it and identify the owner: a young man named Lucas Trent. The address on the registration is in Paso Robles, a town 250 miles south of here, but you do some digging and find he’s a vineyard worker at Double Loop.

“So what’s the connection to Peterson?” Jack wonders.

“Look at this.” You point at the screen and he squints. “He’s only been at Double Loop for six months. Before that—”

“He worked for Peterson,” Jack finishes. “So he’s mad about getting fired and wants to get back at his old boss.”

“Maybe,” you say, frowning. “We don’t really know yet. But it’s a theory.”

“It’s a good theory,” he insists.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, mulling it over.

“Tell me this, rookie,” he says. “You ever been on a stakeout?”

On your first ever stakeout that evening, you quickly learn a few things:

Stakeouts are cold. Stakeouts are boring. And rental cars are not designed to accommodate them.

You shift uncomfortably for the fifth time in twenty minutes.

“How do we even know he’ll show up tonight?” you ask. In the quiet of the night you keep your voice hushed.

“Call it intuition,” Jack says. You can tell he hates sitting still this long, too, but he’s clearly built up a tolerance for it over the years, because he’s not wriggling around nearly as much as you.

“Can I ask you something?”

He grunts an assent.

“That story about how you proposed—how did you come up with that?”

He pauses.

“I just—made it up,” he says.

“I thought it seemed…” you start. He gives you a sidelong glance. “Never mind. You’re a good improviser.”

After a minute, he says, “I was engaged once. A long time ago.”

“Oh.” You bite your cheek, holding back your questions.

“She died,” he adds. Your heart drops.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course,” you say, helplessly.

Never in your life have you been more grateful to see a criminal approaching than when you see the familiar shape of Lucas Trent’s blue truck appear down the road.

“Ha,” Jack says, looking a little less glum. “What’d I tell you. Intuition never fails me.”

You take deep, silent breaths, trying to control your fast-beating heart as you creep behind Jack to follow Lucas inside the building. He’s got a key to Peterson’s winery; he must have stolen it before he left the job, you think. He heads down the hall, past Peterson’s office, and disappears behind a door.

Jack motions for you to wait a moment, listening intently outside the door. You hear nothing but the quiet thump of Lucas’s footsteps, growing fainter until there’s only silence, and finally Jack eases open the door. You’re faced with a short flight of stairs heading down into a cellar. The two of you tiptoe down the stairs.

You nearly bump into Jack at the bottom when he stops dead in his tracks, still hidden in the shadows. Peering around him, you see that Lucas isn’t alone in the room. Bill Peterson is here, too, standing next to a small wooden desk.

“What the fuck do you want?” Bill demands. Lucas stares at him sullenly. “You came here to steal from me, didn’t you? You didn’t think I’d be down here.”

“I just want what’s mine,” the young man growls. “You’re the thief, not me.”

Lucas steps further into the room, toward the back wall. The space is filled with racks of carefully preserved wine bottles—Peterson’s precious collection, you register—and a pile of empty wooden barrels, stacked two high.

“Those bottles are insured,” Peterson calls after him. “You’ll get caught if you try to sell them.”

Lucas says nothing, just continues walking until he reaches the wall. At the back of the cellar, he pushes aside a tapestry to reveal a combination safe embedded in the wall. He glances over his shoulder with a smirk, and punches in the code.

“How the fuck do you know that number?” Peterson roars, finally scared. He rushes past the racks of wine, suddenly worthless compared to whatever is on the flash drive Lucas has just retrieved from the safe. When they start to tussle over it, Jack finally steps in.

“Hey!” he yells, striding into the light. The men look over, startled, and then Peterson looks relieved. He lets go of Lucas, seemingly confident that his hired security will take care of the situation, and retreats to stand next to Jack.

“Get that back from him,” he tells him. Jack gives him a long, unimpressed look, and then turns his focus on Lucas, who’s starting to look slightly panicky now that he’s outnumbered.

“Listen, son. This will all go a lot easier if you just put that back where you found it and walk out of here with me.”

“You don’t understand,” Lucas protests. “He’s stealing from everyone. This is the proof.”

Peterson shifts on his feet, looking guilty. “Bullshit,” he says. “You resent me for being the boss, but I’ve worked for every penny I’ve got.”

Lucas lets out a humorless, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, you work real hard. You must break a sweat making copies of your accounts so you can lie about the numbers. I bet you have blisters on your hands from shortchanging your workers.”

Jack makes a mistake here—he takes his eyes off the suspect to look at Mr. Peterson in a new light, trying to gauge which of them is telling the truth. And in that split second, to your horror, Lucas hurtles forward and shoves the stacked wine barrels, hard, knocking both Jack and Peterson onto the ground.

You make a mistake, too, and he gets on your case about it afterwards. You let Lucas slip past you in your rush to reach Jack’s side. He looks dazed and angry and his legs are trapped under the hundred-pound barrel. Gathering your strength, you lift it off of him and set it upright, then fall to your knees to check him over.

“Jack! Are you alright?” You feel carefully along his legs, then gently at the back of his head, running your fingers over his scalp to check for bumps or bleeding.

“I’m okay,” he mutters. “I didn’t hit my head.” But he winces as you help him up, and he’s moving a little gingerly when he takes a step. “Might’ve tweaked my ankle,” he admits.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Peterson yells. “You let that little shit get away with my property.”

“Let me ask you this, Mr. Peterson,” Jack growls. “Was it true what he said, about the double accounts?”

“I don’t see how that matters,” he insists angrily. “I hired you to do a job, and I expected a lot better.”

“I’ll tell you why it matters,” Jack tells him. “I don’t work for people who lie to me. Consider the contract dissolved. You can get your ‘property’ back on your own.”

“Actually, you got lucky, Mr. Peterson,” you call back over your shoulder as you help Jack walk over to the stairs. “If we had gotten our hands on that drive, we would have been obligated to turn it over to the IRS. Statesman has connections in the government, too, you know.”

And with that, you leave him sputtering and pale, alone with his precious wine.

It’s 3 AM when you get back to the room. Jack’s ankle isn’t broken, just twisted. You’d made him wait in the car while you stopped at a 24-hour convenience store to get ice on the way, so now you get him tucked into bed with his foot elevated and a baggie of ice draped over his ankle. He’s clearly still peeved over how things went down with Peterson, but he also looks amused watching you play nursemaid for him.

“You know, I’ve been hurt a hell of a lot worse than this before,” he tells you. “I can take care of myself.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Getting badly injured isn’t the brag you think it is,” you counter. “And… you shouldn’t have to take care of it alone. That’s what I’m here for. I know you think I’m just a rookie, but—for this job, we’re partners, right?”

He’s silent for a beat, but then he nods.

Jack is still awake and waiting for you when you return from the bathroom in your pajamas. As you climb into your side of the bed, he says, “I don’t think you’re just a rookie. You did a good job on this case.”

The room is dark but there’s moonlight streaming in through the window, casting a beam of light across his face on the pillow. He’s looking at you. You look back.

“Thank you,” you tell him finally.

“Thanks for the ice,” he returns. He lets out a sigh as his eyes drift shut, and as you follow suit you feel his hand reach out and intertwine with yours.

“G’night, Violet,” he murmurs.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

He laughs, and you grin in the dark, and you hold on tight.

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift23 #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal #kingsman fanfiction #my fic #fanfiction

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