#their Italian taste buds couldn’t take it

[vldsideblog]

Btw Keith likes his food spicy. I’m talking redneck bullshit spicy. He’ll also add hot sauce to basically any meal possible. Half the reason he isn’t allowed to cook for other people is because he forgets that not everyone has his spice tolerance and love of putting hot sauce in spaghetti.

#the other reason he’s not supposed to cook for other people is because he’s really bad at cooking in general #pidge steals food off his plate one day and almost dies #their Italian taste buds couldn’t take it #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #keith voltron #keith headcanon #character headcanons #autistic keith #hcs #texan keith

[barbiewritesstuff]

Church Encounters: Chapter 9

-- We've tried adding a translation with the Italian while keeping it fairly natural, don't know if it works but we'll do better next time for sure .

This fic was written in collaboration with @Igg5989, she has also made the lively moodboard you see pictured here and will be posting this fic on her tumblr and her AO3

Please leave a comment or reblog, we appreciate all feedback :)

Previous Part

Taglist: @acarboni21 @unsurebuttrying @dempy @peaches-1998 @bbooks-and-teas @Roosterscock --

Jake didn’t usually help with the teens but Bob had convinced him a few weeks after Christmas that it wouldn’t be bad. His only experience was with three to seven year olds, even at home, so now that he was sitting with the sixteen years olds he found he didn’t really know what to say. He couldn’t really ask what their mummy and daddy did for work, or if they had learned any cool dinosaur facts at school, or even if they had learned any fun things in Sunday school. Jake was feeling way out of his depth. The campfire had been a good idea, the country boy inside him was satisfied, but that didn’t help that the few months of planning felt like a waste now that he was here. 

It felt like being back in highschool. The kids were all talking amongst themselves, in cliques and groups, it was the same type of gossip too. Who was dating who, who was breaking up, did you hear what Patricia said to Joan, I heard Millie’s parents are getting divorced. Really, the entire thing was making him panic. 

Jake desperately wanted to take a walk and shake off the feeling, but the rational part of his brain, the one that was keeping him firmly seated on the uncomfortable log next to Bob, was reminding him that he was in his thirties now, he was an adult. It didn’t really do much to make him feel better.

“You okay, man?” Bob’s youth ministering partner asked, he was a lanky dude with a goatee and an uncanny resemblance to Shaggy from Scooby Doo. Jake didn’t know his name, the man had been way too absorbed by playing the bongos by himself for most of the evening to bother with introductions. 

“I feel like I’m back at school again,” Jake said, taking a swig from his bottle of coke. One thing had changed since High School at least, his taste buds had stopped liking sugary drinks. 

“I getcha, man,” the man replied, “I’m Freddie,” he added, sticking out his hand for Jake to shake, “though I can’t see why you wouldn’t like high school.” 

Jake snorted. Where to begin, really? He hadn’t always been big and muscular, that was the result of a pretty drastic lifestyle change when he entered basic training. Jake had been awkwardly long and lanky for most of his life, coupled with a few unfortunate hairstyles and the ability to somehow turn every conversation into talking about the Lord, teenage Jake Seresin had been less than popular.

He’d started being mean on purpose then, a skill he now exercised liberally as a sort of shield he regretted having developed at all. Still, the Seresin charm eventually appeared and things started to look up in senior year. Despite his brand new friends, he’d never managed to shake that strange awkwardness and defensive aggressivity about him. 

“I liked leaving highschool,” Jake replied, knowing it cleared nothing up and unwilling to expand.

One of the kids snorted, “I don’t believe that,” he said, “You seem like the kind of guy who’d have dated the cheer captain or something,” he added. 

“Don’t pay him any mind,” Freddie said, “He’s going through his first big boy breakup.”

Freddie had said it in such a mocking way that Jake found himself disliking the man even before the sentence was finished.

“That sucks, kid, I’m sorry. Trust me, I know what it feels like,” Jake said.

The kid looked at him for a second, “You do?”

“Sure,” Jake smiled, “What’s your name?”

“Peter Marshall,” the kid replied.

“Well, Peter Marshall, my first ‘big boy breakup’ was with a girl called Stacey Callahan. We met at my cousin’s weekly Dungeons and Dragons night and we dated for all of senior year. Like all teens, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. I thought we were going to go to college with her, get married, buy a house, have 2.5 kids, you know. The whole nine yards. And then, the day before we were leaving for college, I found out she was cheating on me with my cousin. I think I cried for a whole week straight,” Jake said his best adult voice. 

“Stacey Callahan is a bitch,” Peter concluded, Jake nodded.

“True. But if I hadn’t gone out with Stacey Callahan I wouldn’t have met my girlfriend,” Jake continued, “When I finished crying, I prayed for a while. I really spoke about everything with the Lord, talked about the things I hadn’t updated him on while I was busy with Stacey. Asked him to forgive me for missing church a few times… You know. In the end I also asked him for guidance.” 

“A week later, as I’m still unpacking boxes in my college dorm room, I find that my grandmother has packed me a memory box of my grandfather’s stuff. In that box there’s a pack of letters from my grandfather. He described what it was like to fly and it resonated in me so much that I signed up for the Navy the next day. If I had been with Stacey, I’m sure she’d have talked me out of it. But I signed up for the Navy, went to Top Gun and then I met my girlfriend. She’s everything I have ever prayed for,” Jake finished quietly. He hadn't confessed that to many people. 

Peter considered him for a moment before asking, “Do you think that she was sent to you?” 

Jake let out a laugh, “I don’t know what I did to deserve her but yes, I think she was. But you have to remember that the Lord makes things happen in His own time. I had to wait a few years before I got her, but there was a reason for that, I just don’t know it.” 

“Do you think that you ever will?” he asked Jake. 

It was Jake’s turn to think for a moment, “No, but I don’t think I need to. We need to trust that the Lord has a plan for us, and he will reward our faithfulness and devotion to him with what we need when we need it.” 

Peter nodded. Jake gave him a kind smile before standing up, “Who’s ready for s’mores?”

Jake and Bob made their way to his truck, grabbing the s’mores stuff from the back seat. Before they rejoined the group around the campfire, Jake asked, “You don’t think that was too much do you?”

“Nah, I think you gave him some good stuff to think about. Maybe he will pray on it too,” Bob said, patting Jake on the back, “At least I know you gave me some stuff to pray about.” 

Jake grabbed Bob’s shoulder, “Hey man, I know you’ve had an eye on Maria, and I’m happy for you, just treat her right, okay?”

Jake saw a tint of red come over Bob’s cheeks, “Yeah, I have no doubt that she wouldn’t stand for anything less.” 

“Alright then,” Jake said, “Let’s get these kids some s’mores before their parents come.” 

Bob busied himself distributing the ingredients, and giving each kid a plate and a napkin while Jake stoked the fire. When he sat back down on the log, Jake found that Peter had moved to sit next to him. 

“Can I ask a question?” he asked, his voice sounding a little apprehensive. When Jake nodded, Peter took a deep breath in, “How do I pray? -- I mean I know how to pray, and like, I know the types of prayer but I mean, you know, how do I pray?”

“You’re going to have to be a little clearer,” Jake said. Peter smiled a little.

“You said that your girl was everything you prayed for. I pray everyday: I pray the rosary, I pray the Our Father, I try to talk to the Lord but I don’t know if I’m doing it right,” Peter explained.

Jake was quiet for a minute, thinking his answer through, “Well, the rosary is great, and the Our Father is too, but I think you’re looking at it wrong. You’re looking at prayer like it’s something on your to do list, talking to the Good Lord is more something that needs to be on a schedule, like -- err -- meeting a friend for coffee. Next time you try and sit down with God, maybe look at it like updating your dad on your life, you know? Like you tell him what you’ve been doing, how you’ve been doing. You talk to him about your plans, your hopes, your dreams and what you’re scared of. Just be casual if you have to, you know, just as long as you get the words out. I know some people who write down prayers if they can’t say them, there’s no wrong way, I don’t think. Just make sure that you tell him you love him, you know? Like you’d tell your dad. Tell him you love him and that you’re grateful for the life you have. The Lord put a lot of work into making your life perfect for you, it’s important we let him know we appreciate it.”

Peter was quiet for a moment, drinking in the conversation. Next to Jake, Bob had picked up his guitar. He had put it on his knee, one arm ready to tune the strings, but he hadn’t moved while Jake spoke. Jake felt himself grow self conscious. 

“Maybe -- err -- maybe Bob or Freddie can give a different opinion?” He stuttered out. 

Freddie opened his mouth, but Bob interrupted, “No, I think you explained it very well,” he said, giving Jake a smile.

“It was very genuine,” Peter said, looking at him, “You’re good at this. You’re good at speaking about the Lord and helping people find their ways.”

Jake nodded, “I wanted to be a priest when I was little. I figured learning how to speak was a good idea,” he explained.

“I mean yeah, but that was -- you can’t learn how to find the right words. That’s just you,” Bob said, gently patting his back.

“Was that before Stacey Callahan?” Peter asked, Jake nodded with a shy smile, “So, when you signed up for the navy, being a youth minister was kind of your backup plan?” Peter questioned.

“No. When I signed up for the navy, I figured I had left that all behind, but then I went to Top Gun, managed to piss everyone off and made a grand total of one friend. I was just really lonely, so I went to church on a random Tuesday at like, eleven pm and I was expecting to find it closed. But when I pushed the door, the lock gave way and the door opened. I just kind of walked in and kneeled in front of the altar and prayed for a while.” Jake explained, “Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder and I just about jumped out of my skin, when I turned around Father John was just standing there. I think he thought I was drunk or something, but I stood up, explained everything and told him I was missing home. Halfway through he interrupted me and asked if I wanted to be a youth minister, he thought it would suit me. I said yes and here I am now.”

“Peter’s right, you do know how to tell a story,” one of the girls asked. Jake had felt them looking at him from their log for the entirety of his conversation with Peter. “Why don’t you do the abstinence talk? I bet we’d understand things so much more,” she added. 

Bob had chosen that very unfortunate moment to be drinking from his coke. As soon as she spoke, a laugh came out of his throat and made him choke on the soda, Jake patted him on the back, trying to hide his deer-in-the-headlights look.

“Yeah, Jake,” Bob coughed, “Why don’t you do the talk about abstinence?”

----

The mess hall was booming with people excitedly chatting about the family day that was about to start. With five minutes left to wait on the clock, phones were starting to ring and buzz and siblings had started flocking together. Fanboy had found his sister and had dragged her away from her own friends to join his. Vegas had been dragged away by her brother and Harvard and his brothers had decided to meet in the middle and commandeer a separate table so the four of them could chat and wait. Eventually though, they all joined your table and soon enough, everyone was yelling over everyone else trying to get themselves heard.

“I would appreciate it if you kept the noise down,” Admiral Simpson spoke, his stern voice cutting right through the excitement, “Captain Mitchell, keep your students under control,” he added. Maverick nodded quietly with the facial expression of a man who had no intention of doing what he was told. 

“Dove, Lieutenant Floyd, you seem to be the only ones here not screaming. Help Captain Mitchell keep it down,” he added, shooting you and Bob a look.

“Yeah, sure thing Dad,” you said with a laugh as Bob chuckled into his drink, knowing very well that nothing anyone could say would keep this bunch calm. If family day hadn’t excited them to that point, the seventeen disposable cups of coffee currently littering the table would be enough to cause a commotion. 

It took a second for it to dawn on you but as soon as you had finished your sentence the table had gone quiet.

“Did you just call Admiral Simpson dad?” Vegas snorted. 

The table roared with laughter at your mistake, only Jake and Bob remained serious. You felt a deep blush creep up your face, turning you a lovely shade of fuschia. Seeing your embarrassment, Cyclone decided to step in.

“Your sister’s called, they’ll be late. Although I don’t know why they bother to warn us, I swear Annie would show up late to her own funeral,” he said.

“Wait,” Fanboy said, the smile that had been plastered on his face slowly sliding off, “Are you serious? Is Cyclone your dad?”

“Admiral Simpson, Lieutenant Garcia. And yes, we are serious. Now keep it down,” he said, shooting you a wink, and patting Bob on the back as a goodbye gesture. In the distance you could see Cyclone removing the phone from his back pocket.

Dadclone: Hope they don’t give you too much shit for this…

You could see him standing by the vending machine, pushing a coin into the slot and punching in some numbers, a mischievous smirk plastered on his face. 

‘Bullshit, you live for this,’ you texted back.

Cyclone moved away from the vending machine to stand in the queue for a coffee. He picked up two cups and filled one with black coffee, the other he filled up to the halfway mark and poured milk in to make up the rest. He typed a text with one hand as he fitted the lids on top of the cups.

Dadclone: Watch your language.

Dadclone: (You are right, I live for this)

You let out a chuckle.

‘You evil evil man,’ you replied.

Dadclone: :’)

Dadclone: It’s my revenge for that stupid music set. Just so you know, Elisabeth has already lost a third of it.

Dadclone: Accidentally of course.

‘Of course.’

Cyclone was making his way back to your table. Without saying a word he deposited the two cups of coffee in front of you and Bob, keeping the double decker chocolate bar for himself. Leaving you in the aftermath of his kind gesture with a shit eating grin on his face. Once he had disappeared back into the corridor, your phone buzzed again.

Dadclone: I like being your dad.

The table had been eerily quiet up until that point. Bob raised up the coffee cup to his lips and winced at the boiling hot liquid. On the table, you could see him tapping three of his fingers. He removed a finger, winking at you as you picked up your own coffee and sipped. As his last finger disappeared, Rooster opened his mouth.

“Wow, Hangman… Admiral’s daughter, huh?” Bradley laughed, easing the tension around the table. A few still exchanged nervous glances and Halo looked stupefied, but most had returned to their conversations.

“In my defence, I didn’t know until after Christmas,” Jake replied, shooting you a wink. 

“I spent so many evenings telling you what a hot piece of ass I thought that man was and NEVER did you think to mention he was your DAD?!” Halo shouted so loud that half the mess hall turned to look around. Phoenix choked on her coffee and Coyote patted her back.

“Awww, Halo has a cruush” Fanboy sang, “Halo and Cyclone sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”

“Leave me alone. There’s nothing wrong with liking older guys,” she said, offended by their teasing. When the boys laughed at her statement, she added, “Why are you fixating on that when he clearly seemed familiar with Bob too. I mean, he gave him a coffee.” 

“I -- maybe -- there’s nothing weird about bringing me a coffee… ‘t’s just a nice gesture,” Bob said, getting quieter as the sentence went on.

Fanboy turned towards him, “No, actually it’s totally not normal. Spill, are you like his kid too,” he joked. Bob thought about it for a moment and Fanboy groaned, hanging his head low.

“I have used too many insults to describe that man around you in the last three years…” he lamented, “You could have just told me, or y’know, asked me to stop, dropped a hint, just give me any indication that saying Cyclone had a stick so far up his ass that he could probably taste it was not a good idea…” 

“Hey man, it’s alright, you didn’t know,” Bob said, trying to make him feel better. 

At that moment Maverick called through the mess hall, “Alright everyone, let's get out to the hanger, they’re about to let people in.” 

When the clock ticked eleven people began streaming through the bases’ gates. The team stood in front of the hangar with Maverick, waiting to be spotted. Penny and Amelia were the first to make their way. Harvard’s family joined them in second, followed by Coyote’s, Halo’s, Yale’s and then, Phoenix’s. Chatter filled the echoing space, making it seem much more crowded than it actually was. 

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” you told Jake, who was deep in conversation with Coyote. He smiled at you in acknowledgement. 

You found an overturned metal box to sit on, not wanting to get your uniform dirty. 

San Diego had been unusually rainy for the past two weeks, soaking everything in a coat of mud and watermarks. But today, as if the sky had known about family day on base, the clouds had vanished to make way for a beautiful blue sky, golden sun and warm temperature. The only reminder of the almost constant storm left were the puddles yet to dry on the tarmac. 

“Got room for one more?” Bob asked, gently pushing you to the side of your box so he could keep himself dry too. 

“Maria is coming,” you said.

Bob turned away from you slightly so you wouldn’t catch his smile, “I know. She texted me, we’re going on a date tonight,” he said, forgetting to hide his grin, “You sure Jake doesn’t have a problem with it?” Bob asked, with worry in his tone.

Jake had gone through stages. At first he had been accepting, then, after a week, he had grown crabby at the thought of his baby sister possibly dating one of his friends, and now, he had turned right around to be accepting. You knew though, that deep down, Jake was excited about having Bob as a brother. 

“No,” you said, “he’s happy for you. He knows you’ll treat Maria right, and he knows that if you don’t Maria will be more than happy to set you straight,” you added. Bob chuckled a little.

“Speaking of, I think that’s them, isn’t it?” he said, pointing towards a group of people now making their way to hangar six. Even in the distance, you could see Isabella’s exasperated facial expression and Tony’s shit eating grin. 

Maria waved at you and you waved back, next to you, Bob jumped up from his seat and dusted off his uniform with a deep exhale. He looked at you with a smile, “I have it bad, right?”

“I don’t think you’ll recover,” you joked as Jake’s family steadily approached. They were now only a few feet away. 

“Y/n , it is so good to see you!” Isabella said, kissing your cheeks before moving on to Bob, “Where is my son?” she asked.

Jake stepped out of the hangar behind her as soon as he heard her voice. Despite having excused himself from whatever conversation he had been engaged in inside, Coyote and Fanboy had followed him out. Jake hadn’t invited anyone to family day before and everyone was curious to know the people responsible for Hangman. You could see in their faces that they hadn’t expected Isabella and Giovanni, however. 

“I’m here. I’m here --” Jake started.

“Pensavo di averti cresciuto meglio! Smetti di rispondere a tua madre!” Isabella chastised him, clearly upset Jake had turned off his phone. 

“Il mio telefono ha esaurito la batteria,” Jake lied. When he caught your eye, he winked, you knew damn well his phone hadn’t died, "Buongiorno" he told everyone. 

“Ci presenti i tuoi amici?” Tony asked, nodding towards Fanboy and Coyote who had now been joined by Rooster and Maverick. They too seemed to be waiting for an introduction.

“Sure. Can we switch back to english?” Jake said, sounding a little annoyed at the show his family was putting on. 

Giovanni huffed, “Come mai? L'italiano non ti basta adesso? Stai diventando un americano?” his voice had been meant as a joking jab, you’re sure, but there was real venom in the words, ‘Italian not good enough for you? Are you becoming American?’

Jake rolled his eyes, ignoring his father’s outraged questions, “This is Fanboy,” he tapped the man on his shoulder, Mickey waved a little, “This is Coyote, he’s my friend from the academy,” Javi nodded slightly, “This is Rooster,” he turned towards Tony, “guarda quei ridicoli baffi.”

“Hey!” Rooster exclaimed at Jake’s jab, “Watch what you’re saying, I do speak Italian. And my moustache is classy, not ridiculous. ”

“You speak Italian?” Jake asked, surprised. 

“Yeah I was stationed in Rome for a year after Top Gun,” Rooster explained, “I picked up some of the language.” he shrugged. Jake looked a little impressed. 

“This is Maverick,” he said, pointing at the instructor standing next to Rooster, “Do you speak Italian?” he asked, when Mav shook his head, he turned back to his family, “E quello che ho buttato fuori dal bar,” he said towards Tony. He’d told the story of throwing Mav out of the bar a million times by now and it never failed to make others laugh. Tony tried to hold in a smile.

“It’s not the full team, but everyone else is busy. We might see them later though,” Jake concluded, “Now, what are you doing here. I don’t remember inviting you,” he told Tony.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot, Jake Seresin is too cool for his family. First you renounce Italian, now your brother… What’s next? The Catholic church?” Tony replied, earning himself some shocked gasps from his wife and mother and a sharp pinch on the arm from his father.

“Non scherziamo su cose del genere,” Giovanni Senior growled menacingly. Jake looked at his brother for a moment as Tony tried to evade his gaze. Implying a rejection of the Catholic church was almost a death sentence for the Seresins, which Tony wouldn’t even think of doing under normal circumstances. Jake narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“What are you hiding?” Jake asked. Everyone turned around to look at Tony. He’d never been good under stress, you had seen it when the boys had played poker at Christmas. Tony had a tick, whenever he bluffed, or someone asked something that made him uncomfortable, his eyebrow twitched. You saw the concentration in Tony’s face as he desperately tried to control the muscle.

He was saved from his involuntary muscle spasm when Annie shouted your name, her long blonde hair flowing in the wind as she ran towards you, and Audrey hot on her heels. You detached yourself from the group and joined them halfway. 

“Oh my God, I have missed you so much!” she exclaimed, grabbing your face in both of her hands and kissing your forehead, “Look at you! You look gorgeous!” 

Annie engulfed you in a bone breaking hug, “Annie, let her breathe for a moment,” Audrey said, engulfing you in her own arms as soon as her eldest sister let go. 

“I thought I heard a noise!” Cyclone’s voice rang behind you, “How is it that in a base full of people, I can only hear you?” he joked.

“It’s because you love us. Your ears are trained to recognise our voices,” Annie joked, hugging him tightly, this time Audrey didn’t wait for her sister to let go before hugging too. 

“I do love you, you are right.” he said, hugging back, “So, have you two met Y/n’s boyfriend yet, or will this be the first time?”

“We briefly met on the phone,” Jake replied for them, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “Ladies, it is a pleasure to finally meet in person.”

“Huh,” Annie said, “I thought you’d be taller.”

“Yeah, I’m the runt of the litter,” he joked, nodding back to Tony and Giovanni who were standing there talking to Maverick, towering over everyone else, “I make up for it in humour though,” he said, earning himself an approving smile off of Audrey.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you too. You really should introduce her to your friend, she might lighten up a little,” Audrey laughed while Annie rolled her eyes, “It would be good for you. You wouldn’t smother me as much,” she turned towards you, “She tried tying my shoelaces for me this morning.”

Audrey put down her handbag and took off her scarf, swinging it over Cyclone’s shoulder before taking off her coat and folding it into her bag.

“I work in a nursery, it’s a habit,” Annie defended herself, “But please do introduce me to your friend,” she asked Jake, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“Now, which friend are we talking about?” Cyclone interjected, placing a protective arm over Annie and Audrey’s shoulders.

“Rooster,” you and Jake answered simultaneously. Cyclone paused for a minute. He looked at Bradley and then at Annie, “I can see it,” he said.

“Girls, as much as I would love to show you around with Y/n, I have some work to do. I won’t be free today. Maybe we can grab a coffee tomorrow and catch up?” he added.

“Sure,” you agreed, turning away to walk back to the hangar, “Come on, I’ll show you my plane.” 

Cyclone had already walked away when Audrey realised he had taken her scarf with him. “Admiral,” she screamed with no effect, “Admiral,” she tried again. So much for only being able to hear them, you could see her think, “DAD!” she finally screamed, taking a leaf out of your book. He turned around with a puzzled look. As Audrey tapped her own shoulder, Cyclone looked down to find what had caused the commotion. He jogged back towards them and gave it back with a kiss to her cheek, before kissing you and Annie on the forehead one last time. 

Jake pressed a kiss to your head, “I’m going to show my family around but we should get dinner together tonight okay?”

“Sounds good,” you said, giving him a brilliant smile and a kiss on his lips, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he said back before turning to your sisters, “Have a good day ladies, I’ll see you again tonight.” 

“Bye Jake,” Annie and Audrey called out after him. They both turned to you then, Audrey speaking first, “Okay so I know we said he was liquid fire on that video call but damn Y/N, he is like molten lava in person. I need to find myself a fighter pilot.” 

You laughed at her, “Well lucky for you there is a whole base of them here.” 

Before they could continue on the conversation you started to walk away from them, “Come on, let’s go see my plane.” 

Following behind you, your sisters chatted, occasionally pulling you into the conversation as well. The day on base passed quickly. Annie and Audrey oo-ed and ah-ed over your plane and the different training equipment that they saw as well as some of the other equipment that the Navy had brought out for the day. By the time the afternoon set in, you were exhausted and your voice was tired of being used. 

“Do you two want to come back to my apartment before dinner?” you asked them, “I bought a bottle or two of that wine we like.” 

“That sounds lovely,” Annie said, trying to fan herself with a pamphlet that she had picked up along the way, “Indiana is brutal but it is hot hot hot, today.” 

You laughed, “Yeah, you get used to it,” you said, walking with them back to the parking lot. 

They climbed into your car chatting the whole way home. All three of you let out sighs as the cool air inside the apartment hit your hot bodies. Annie sat down on the couch and took off her shoes, “This is what heaven feels like,” she said as she laid her head back on the cushion.

You and Audrey laughed as you popped open the bottle of wine, “Now it’s heaven,” you said, passing her a glass. 

It was only three and you had agreed to meet Jake and his family for dinner around five. When you made the plans with him that morning, he promised to pick you and your sisters up. When the three of you were together things had a tendency to get rowdy quickly, and today was no exception. 

The two hours passed quickly, and promptly at five there was a sharp knock on the door. You practically skipped down the hall before wrenching the door open, and excited, “Jakey!’ leaving your mouth. 

“Darlin’,” he said questioningly, accepting the hug that you pulled him into before pushing you back slightly to see why you were in such a good mood. The loud laughter coming from within the apartment as well as the sound of pop music started to clue him into what you had been up to, he cracked a smile before asking, “You doin’ some pregaming?” 

You laughed, “Well when we got back a glass of wine sounded so nice, but now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time we ate.” 

Jake shook his head, “Well we better get you ladies to dinner then, are you ready?” 

Pulling him into the apartment, you pushed the door closed, “I think so, let me gather them up.” 

The drive to the Hard Deck was interesting from Jake’s perspective. The three women with him kept singing to the radio and every now and then Annie and Audrey would let out loud awes at your hand holding. 

When you got there, Jake helped you out of his truck before leading everyone inside. His family had gotten there early, claiming a table towards the back of the place. The kitchen was open until ten so there was plenty of time still to order food. As the night progressed, you had sobered up, but your sisters were down to have a good time. 

Tony had his hands full trying to keep up dancing with Audrey, he was the only one you trusted to make sure she didn’t wander off, and you were sure that Sofia wouldn’t mind since she hadn’t been able to come. 

You had lost sight of Annie a few hours ago, but Jake had eased your anxious looks when he pointed her and Rooster out to you, they were leaned up against the bar talking. 

As Tony and Audrey rejoined you and Jake at the table, he looked at his brother, “So Tony, where is Sofia, I would have loved to see her here.” 

His eyebrow started twitching, “Ah…well you know…she was feeling a bit under the weather…thought it might be a cold…so she decided to stay home.” 

Jake laughed deeply, “Just tell us Tony, you’re a shit liar.” 

Tony grumbled, “Oh lei mi ucciderà…She will kill me, I swear… Sofia is pregnant!” he finished excitedly. 

Everyone at the table cheered, Isabella even going as far as shedding a few tears, “Mio figlio, my son, another baby! How exciting!” 

“I knew you were hiding something!” Jake cheered, “Congratulations man! How’s Sofia feeling about it?”

“She was over the moon when we found out and now that the morning sickness is in full swing, she glares at me whenever I enter a room…” Tony joked, “I get it though, she’s having a rough go of it. It was the same with Catalina, so hopefully it eases up as the pregnancy goes on.” 

Jake nodded, his mouth opened to say something, but you spoke first, “How is Catalina?”

“We haven’t told her yet. You guys are actually the first to know, so I would appreciate it if you kept it quiet.” Tony said, addressing the last part to the whole table.

Everyone chimed in with ‘of course’’s and ‘for sure’’s, and Tony relaxed, everyone had noticed how tense he was before but nobody had said anything about it. 

You looked around, realising that you hadn’t seen Maria and Bob in a while. Turning to Jake, you asked, “What are Maria and Bob up to tonight?” 

“Well Maria said that he was taking her to the boardwalk, they are going to take the ferry into San Diego for part of the night I think, there was a street fair or something he had heard about,” Jake whispered in your ear, not wanting the rest of his family to spoil their night. 

“Oh that’s nice for them,” you said, glancing down at your watch, “We should probably leave soon, or these two will be nightmares to get to church tomorrow morning.” 

Jake laughed, “Alright, let's round them up then.” 

He drove you home, the truck quiet except for the sound of the wind blowing through the open windows. In the distance you could hear the gentle melody of fairground music rising through the air. You smiled at Jake, “We should go some day.” 

“Sure, I thought you didn’t like rollercoasters, though,” Jake said, giving you a nervous look. 

“I’m sure I’ll be okay with what they have, if not, I guess I’ll just have to hold your candy cane,” you replied, moving your hand from your lap to rest on top of his over the gear stick.

Your phone buzzed in your lap. You unlocked the device to see a text from Bob, it was a picture. The photograph had been taken from the top of the ferris wheel where Bob and seemed to be sitting with one arm over Mara’s shoulders. She was leaning into him, her head on his shoulder and one of her hands laying flat against his torso. Behind them, the San Diego skyline stretched far, the lights and lamps throughout the city shining bright in the phone’s front facing camera. Another text came in a minute later, “Thinking of you guys, did you have a nice evening?”

“I take it it’s going well?” you texted back, “Evening went well, my sisters got plastered.”

Bobby boy: Yes! We’re getting off the wheel now, I think we’re going for hot dogs after. Nice, I want to meet them properly, they seem fun.

“We’re meeting dad for lunch after church tomorrow, tag along?” you asked. Bob sent back a yellow thumbs up.

----

The next morning was rough to say the least. Your sisters awoke with moans and groans from all the drinks the night before, but after a few Tylenol and a cup of coffee each, they were up and ready to go. The drive to church was quiet save for the praise playlist that you had turned on. 

When you arrived, they both got out, pinning their chapel veils to their heads. This is the part of the day that you were dreading the most. You pulled out the chapel veil that Jake bought you for Christmas and began pinning it to your head. Upon seeing the lace fabric that you were using, Annie and Audrey both stopped walking beside you. 

“Y/N, what is that?” Annie asked quietly. 

“What?” you asked, trying to play dumb. 

Audrey sighed, “Don’t play dumb. That’s a new chapel veil.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, “Jake got it for me.” 

“Why did he do that?” they both asked. 

“Um…because he wanted to be nice?” you said, but the nerves laced into your voice gave you away. 

“What happened to grandma’s?” Annie asked, her face more stern than you had ever seen it. 

“Um…about that…when I was at Jake’s family’s for Thanksgiving his niece went through my bag and she accidentally ripped it…she is only two and she didn’t know better, but its…its ruined,” you said, tears coming to your eyes once again at the thought of what happened. 

Annie’s face softened at that, and she pulled you into a hug, “Hey, it's alright. You took such good care of it for so many years, something was bound to happen sooner or later.” 

At that moment, you felt a hand on your back, Annie let you go and you turned to see Jake, he was giving you a concerned look, “You okay?” 

You nodded, wiping away your tears, “Yeah, I’m alright.” 

He pulled you into his side, squeezing you there gently before taking your hand in his and leading the way into the church. Audrey and Annie sat with the two of you in the back row, Jake’s family sitting to his right and you and your sisters sitting to his left. A few minutes before mass started, Cyclone came in with Elizabeth and joined the group on your side of the pew. 

Jake still pressed a kiss to your cheek when sharing peace and held your hand during the Our Father. At the end of mass, he bid you goodbye, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll see you after your lunch?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’ll let you know once I get these two dropped off at the airport,” you replied smiling. 

Jake bid your sisters goodbye before leaving with his own family, they were headed to their own breakfast before the Seresin clan headed back to Texas. They all gave you a hug, Isabella pressing a gentle kiss to both of your cheeks, before they climbed into Giovanni Senior’s truck and followed Jake into town. 

The diner you were meeting Cyclone at was just down the street. Annie and Audrey took off their chapel veils and tucked them into their luggage carefully before the three of you drove to breakfast, parking the car next to Elizabeth’s SUV and Bob’s Astra

“Hey kids,” Cyclone called out, ushering his brood into the diner, “You ready for some breakfast?” 

“Ready as ever Dad,” Annie called out with a smile, the three of you making your way up the stairs into the building. 

Cyclone gave each of you a side hug, holding the door open and bringing up the back just behind you. Your group was crowded together for a minute before the hostess had gathered enough menus to take you to a table. 

The eleven of you enjoyed the meal and at the end, with much protesting from Annie, Audrey, Bob, and yourself, Cyclone picked up the whole bill, simply saying, “I don’t get to take my adoptive kids out to breakfast as much as I would like, let me treat you.” 

When it was time to be headed to the airport you all made your goodbyes. Annie and Audrey were both a little tearful when giving Cyclone and Elizabeth hugs. They might not be your parents, but they were sure as hell the closest thing you had for a long time. 

You dropped your sisters off at the airport with hugs, tears, and the promise that you would see them on your next long leave. You stood at the bottom of the escalators watching as they rose to the security floor, giving one last wave before they were out of sight. 

Climbing back in your car, you sent Jake a text. 

Girls dropped off, heading home :(

Jakey <3: I’ll meet you there. 

Jakey <3: My family just left too. 

While family day was nice, it was always hard saying goodbye. As if the weather could sense your mood, it started to rain softly on your way home. Jake was waiting for you at your apartment when you arrived, and he had already picked out a movie to watch. You smiled when you recognized the beginning of the film, Pride and Prejudice (2005) was your comfort movie. You hadn’t mentioned that to Jake more than once, but he must have remembered. 

After changing from your church dress to a pair of warm sweatpants and a t-shirt you snuggled up next to him on the couch. You laid your head on his shoulder, inhaling his clean, manly scent. He squeezed you to his side, no words were needed to communicate the melancholy that you were feeling. The afternoon passed in a blur and the last thing you thought before falling asleep was how even the stupidly handsome Matthew Macfayden had nothing on how Jake had looked while standing in the rain. 

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #original fic #jake seresin #hangman top gun

[themightyhumanbroom]

This was originally posted on the discord of the Pokemon Showdown League I'm a part of but I'm weirdly proud of what I wrote so I'm posting it here

ITS YA BOI BENRY THE SKELETON!!!!!!!!! 

Sorry I couldn’t make it to Finals night, but I was BONE tired from working overtime. Coach is super busy in the Summer and I had to pick up the slack. I just wanna give a shout out to everyone on our team for a great season! 

Mega-Mawile AKA Large Marge: This bruiser was brought on after hearing glowing reviews of its performance in Season 2. She was brought on to hit really hard and holy shit she did that well. She also told great stories, like how she miraculously survived a truck accident and met a nice young man in a bowtie. Weirdly enough she told me to say this just before she left HQ; 

Large Marge sent me! 

Staraptor AKA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!: What else can be said about this guy that hasn't been said? The strategy with this one was as subtle as a flashbang during Easter Mass. Point at a target, say you no longer wanted to see it, and they got rid of it. High chance we will see them again next season. 

Slither Wing AKA Ripped Mothra: I once told them, “gal, if you were just a little faster, you would be 20 points if not completely banned.” They then punched me apart. Spent the rest of the day putting myself back together. I deserved it though seeing how I misgendered them. They were a crucial part of the team. Could give big hits and take them as well. They are one to watch I tell you. 

Tangrowth AKA Scott Smith: This guys great. Hell of a tank and he always smelled like freshly baked bread. An amazing ventriloquist as well. Before they were brought on we heard some unsavory rumors about him. That he murdered a bunch of tourists in the jungles of Mexico, on a pyramid of all things. The coach and I ignored this because we’ve been wanting him on our team for a few seasons. Hmmmm……we never did see Iron Thorns and Incineroar leave the building though….. 

Slowking-Galar AKA Cool Hat: When I heard that Slowking had a bizarro version of himself, I jumped at the chance to get him on our team. Great move pool, tanky, Regenerator, could hit real hard, and had great synergy with Cetitan. Guy had a really fucked sense of humor though. How bad you say? We didn't have an HR department before he came on. Now we do. 

Cetitan AKA Da Boi: Cetitan didn’t get to do much this season admittedly. Great synergy with Cool Hat, Belly Drum, and Ice Spinner are great but too much set up was needed for it to work. They were an absolute joy to be around though. Also he sounds like a groaning abandoned derelict ship trapped in the ice, Which according to the Coach, is “rad as shit”.  

Starmie AKA R’yleh: They are undoubtedly a forward scout that transmits indecipherable radio messages for some unfathomable alien horror that seeks to wither all life and love. But we needed a fast special sweeper and they had Rapid Spin so we brought them on.

Cobalion AKA (Insert the last thing Coach ate): After the first week we discovered we were in dire need of someone who could set up stealth rocks and Cobalion was brought on to fix that. An amazing utility pokemon that went above and beyond what we expected from them. Unfortunately they won’t return our calls due to us calling him Soup one too many times. 

Rotom-H AKA Meatball Maker: Coach met this guy at an Italian deli that sells imported stuff from Italy. Boss has been trying to get better at cooking and Rotom-H offered to come over and teach him some cooking tricks. Next thing you know they’re on the team as an all star pivot and an amazing cook! Never been more upset that I don't have taste buds or a stomach. 

THIS HAS BEEN YA BOI BENRY THE SKELETON!!!!!!!! SEE YA NEXT SEASON!!!!!!!!!!

#pokemon #pokemon showdown #writing #Benry is the captain of the team #competitive pokemon

[byuntrash101]

Ahhhh I just wanna try this out but I really don't know what I want. I just know that I want bbh 😩

1. Bday: Feb. 27, 1999 (I was born at 5:35 AM UTC+8 if that's important lmao)

2. Baekhyun 😭

3. I'm letting you take the wheel man. I trust you.

4. I love smut. But if you think it doesn't fit us then I'm fine with none.

It's okay if you don't accept this request though. I will forever be here silently reading your stories 🤗

Hello Anon! OMG you're so so cute!!!! Thank you for reading. I didn't know what you wanted so i went with something cute and a little angsty. I hope you enjoy ^^ don't hesitate to tell me :D

Warnings - angst (kinda), shower sex, body worship (f), oral (f)

Eternal Beauty - Pisces!Reader & Taurus!Baekhyun

When you push in the door of your appartement tonight you feel bummed out, saddened and heavy hearted. Your job as a model was, most of the time, fulfilling and it was amazing getting to be the part of an artistic process such as the making of a collection of clothes. You liked to catwalk or pose for photoshoots. You liked to look at the stylish piece together beautiful outfits and you liked to see the make-up artists do their magic. As a Pisces woman art and spirituality was a big part of you and having it as part of your job felt just right.

But unfortunately there were days, like today, that it wasn’t picture perfect. You auditioned to catwalk at the Paris Fashion Week for Céline. One of the designers you’ve admired ever since you started your career. And you got the job, yes, but originally they said you were going to close the show and wear the center piece. A gorgeous destructed ball gown inspired by grunge and underground culture. But alas, they announced today that they decided to go with somebody else.

What was supposed to be an accomplishment for you turned bitter as you couldn't help but to see it as a failure. You should be happy to be a part of the show. That only is already a great accomplishment but… you can’t.

Your creative nature comes with a downside because your imagination serves you to escape reality but sometimes it also takes your brain to dark places, washing your own confidence away, down the drain.

Baekhyun, a true Taurus, didn't pick up right away that something was wrong with your mood. You usually like to spend time on your own so it didn’t ring any bells when you simply said hello and went straight to the shower. Pisces when hurt tend to seek solitude.

But even if the bull isn’t notorious to be discreet he’s still far from dumb so when you seem to take a little too long he comes in.

“Sweetheart…” he’s hesitant. “Are you okay?” you sniffle.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine” you lie.

Baekhyun knows it.

“Can I come with you?” he asks, still hesitant.

“Yeah” you huff out, rubbing the tears away with more water.

When he steps in the big Italian style shower he notices right away your watery eyes and your pinkish reddish nose. And he knows you’ve been crying. The taurus man can’t stand seeing the ones he loves hurt so his first reaction is anger.

“Who did that to you?” His big voice bounces off the wall and makes you flinch. It’s the last thing you need right now. You feel fragile and hurt, you don’t need to hear yelling. When your eyes fill up with tears again, Baekhyun hugs you.

“My baby girl” he cooes as you quietly sob in his arms. “What happened?” he says, trying to catch your gaze.

So you tell him the whole story and somehow talking out loud about your struggles has lessened them. Baekhyun and you work together beautifully and harmoniously. You give him the whim he sometimes lacks and he’s able to ground you in like the stable and robust earth sign he is.

“Maybe I wasn't pretty enough?” you let out, repressing a sob, your lip trembling. There it is. The mean thought that you have been throwing at yourself ever since the big news this afternoon. The thought that has been eating away at your confidence.

“What?!?” Baekhyun says outraged. You chuckle cutely at his exaggerated reaction.

“My baby, you are the most beautiful woman on earth” he says as he attacks you with kisses in the crook of your neck as warm water runs down your back.

“Stop it” you say, nudging him.

“Baby I’m dead serious. I’ve never seen anybody or anyone as pretty, as gorgeous, as kind, as imaginative as caring as you. You’re beautiful in every way inside and out.” he looks at you with those eyes full of love that you can’t resist.

“I’ll prove it to you” he gets on his knees and bows his head to you. Which as you smiling from ear to ear. “You’re absolutely perfect, stunning you’re my goddess” he whispers. as he brings his hands to your chest. “Your stunning breasts” he presses a kiss onto your hip. “Your beautiful stomach” his hands go down to your back and bottom. “Your ravishing piece of ass” he presses another kiss to you pubic bone “and your heavenly, delicious little pussy”

He presses an open mouth kiss to your bundle of nerves, you let a moan out. He sticks his tongue out and wraps it around your clit, his warm tongue feels good and you let your head rest on the tiles of the shower.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good” Baekhyun says as he gets more impatient, attacking your swollen bud with small bites and sucking on it. “My goddess, my beautiful goddess” he whispers lips pressed to yours, sending vibrations to your core.

“Baekhyun, don't stop” you cry out. You needy moans make Baekhyun double his efforts.

“Cum my goddess. Please cum all over my mouth”

You feel your walls clench on themselves as you throb on Baekhyun’s skilfull tongue, moaning and panting, hand entangled with his wet locks of hair.

When you settle down Baekhyun gets back up and wraps his arm around you. Before laying a soft kiss on your lips, the taste of your cum spread in your mouth.

“You’ll book other shows, my love. In the meantime, could you model for me forever? My beautiful eternal goddess” he whispers as he beams at you.

#zodiac special #baekhyun smut #exo smut #baekhyun drabble #exo drabble #350 followers #thank you

[murusagi]

[Ambush Meal] A Collaboration with Lord Toma!? Love and Madness of Delicious Meal Ft. Cage Translation

This is a part of Otomate’s April Fool’s Special Event in which the cast of several of the company’s franchises turn into social media personalities.

Orlok: ...Bonjourno. [Pio House] Episode 1926. Today, we're going to film your favorite series, "Oruru's Ambush☆Delicious Meal Next Door".

In this series, I'm going to make a surprise visit to someone's home and enjoy a meal there.

Nicola: Orlok, can you hear me?

Orlok: Yes. The earphones are working perfectly.

Nicola: Great. I also can see you clearly through this camera.

Gilbert: We better explain the rules to the viewers.

[Rule No. 1: Oruru must obey any instructions given to him through the earphones.]

[Rule No. 2: Oruru must eat the given food without being picky.]

[The ones giving instructions in this episode.]

Orlok: I'll do my best.

Direttore: Nice answer. Now then, without further ado, let us ambush our target this time around! Please press the interphone in front of you.

Orlok: ...Clicks.

Ding Dong

Toma: Who is it--oh, if it isn't Orlok from [Pio House]! Did you come here by yourself? What a good boy.

Orlok: Y-Yes…

Dante: ...He's stroking his head.

Nicola: That's Orlok for you. He's quick at gaining someone's favor.

Orlok: Umm… I'm happy to be able to meet Toma from "Love and Madness of Animal Channel".

Toma: Me too. So, what brings you here? Do you want to hang out with me or what?

Orlok: No. Actually…

Toma: I see, so you want to have dinner here. Hmmm… let's see.

Orlok: Huh… A-Am I not allowed to?

Direttore: ...We already made an appointment, right?

Gilbert: Yeah, we should have made it…

Toma: You kind of remind me of Shin, Orlok.

Orlok: R-Really…?

Toma: Yeah. He's like a lil brother to me. ...Right. Can you try me calling me Onii-chan?

Orlok: What?

Toma: I'll let you in if you do. How?

Direttore: That's quite the painful request from someone whom you just met.

Nicola: I understand his feelings, though. "Onii-chan"... It has a nice ring to it.

Dante: I'll give it some thoughts if you want to be called that…?

Nicola: I don't know how to feel if you call me Onii-chan at this age… You think so, right, Direttore?

Direttore: Fufu… I will hate it, for sure. Well, I don't have little brothers? No need to worry about that?

Orlok: U-Umm, so what should I do?

Gilbert: Oops. M'bad. We stopped giving you instructions. ...Do as he said. We can't go on with the filming if he doesn't let us in.

Orlok: Okay.

...To-Toma Onii-chan.

Toma: Hm? Sorry, your voice is so small I couldn't hear it. Can you say it again?

Dante: He definitely heard it!

Nicola: Orlok, one more time!

Orlok: Toma Onii-chan…!

Toma: ...Nice. This feels satisfying for some reason. That guy will never call me that, after all. Alright, come in.

Orlok: I… I feel like I lost something important… In any case, I'm coming in.

Toma: I'm making dinner right now. Wait a bit, 'kay?

Orlok: Y-Yes.

Nicola: Orlok, how's the target doing?

Orlok: U-Uhh…

Toma: Bolognese with lots of minced meat~I feel like an Italian already~♪

Orlok: He's humming… some spells, I think? He's frying something while doing that… Looks very focused.

Dante: I see. It's time for our usual "House Tour" then.

Yang: Go to his closet.

Orlok: ...What!?

Nicola: Hm? You're up, Yang? Too bad. I wish you wouldn't wake up for eternity.

Yang: You sure are messing around with me, filming while I was sleeping. 5 billion women are crying right now.

Dante: 5 billion…!?

Yang: In any case, off you go to the closet, Orlok. Let's uncover the true nature of our targ--What are you all…?

Knocks.

Orlok: H-Huh? I can't hear you guys all of sudden...

Gilbert: ...Orlok, can you hear us?

Nicola: Don't mind us and just go on, Orlok. Yang is currently reflecting.

Orlok: O… Okay. So, I don't need to go to the closet?

Dante: Unfortunately, you must obey any instructions that have already been given to you. Let's head there while Toma is cooking.

Orlok: A-Alright.

***

Orlok: ...I found the closet.

Gilbert: Looks normal to me.

Nicola: Hey, Direttore? You've been quiet for a while. Come on, say something interesting.

Direttore: ...Ridiculous.

Dante: Where did all his tension from before go!?

Gilbert: H-Hey, you okay? Is your stomach hurt or something?

Direttore: ...I'm not interested in peeking into someone else's room.

Nicola: Hey, your real self is starting to show, you know? Be careful.

Direttore: ...Oops. I sincerely apologize for the mistake, letting out my honest opinions like that.

Orlok: ...I found the closet. It doesn't look suspicious.

Nicola: Where should we go next? He lives in a one-room apartment so there's nothing to look at.

Orlok: The balcony, maybe?

Gilbert: Nice idea. Let's take a look. Maybe he has a kitchen garden or something.

Orlok: Then, I'll open the curtain…

Opens.

Orlok: ...This is…

Dante: ...A cage.

Nicola: A cage.

Direttore: That's undoubtedly a cage.

Dante: This must be… the cage he uses for "Love and Madness of Animal Channel", right?

Orlok: To observe the animals…?

Gilbert: Y-Yea. Let's just think it that way.

Nicola: But any animals who could go into this cage… For example…

Direttore: Human beings.

All: …….

Nicola: ...Let's just pretend we do not see it.

Dante: I-I agree. My capo's intuition tells me this isn't something you can touch carelessly.

Orlok: Y-Yes. I'll close the curtain.

Closes.

Toma: …..

Orlok: !!?

Toma: ...Did you see?

Orlok: I-I didn't…

Toma: Really?

Orlok: (gulps)

Toma: Fine. Follow me, I just finished cooking.

Orlok: O-Okay.

Toma: I could only make this much.

Orlok: Whoa… Amazing.

Gilbert: How could he make this many in such a short amount of time!?

Dante: Now that I look at it again, what are those strange ingredients!?

Toma: You're in your growth period, right, Orlok? Eat a lot.

Orlok: Tha-Thank you. But is it really okay for me to eat this much…?

Toma: This is Latium's famous Volcano Bocca, a soup containing shrimps, shellfish and vegetables. You can warm up your body with this.

Direttore: Latium… I feel like I heard about it somewhere.

Orlok: I'm digging in...ugh!

Dante: A-Are you okay!? Did he put in poison or--!?

Orlok: S-Spicy… But it has such deep flavors…

Toma: These are steamed crab dumplings, dobin-mushi, and fried sesames. I used the vegetables from Kaga, queen crabs and barracuda stocks.

Orlok: T-These are great too! It tastes like something a pro chef makes.

Nicola: I get him. They look like the high-quality food you receive at the inns around Kanazawa.

Gilbert: That's an awfully detailed comment you have there.

Dante: Where is Kanazawa, anyway…?

Nicola: A place with the best onsen around.

Toma: I also have a cake. I heard your birthday is on April 23? Mine is on April 12. Since our birthdays fall on the same month, I made it for celebration.

Orlok: T-Thank you… Hehe… I'm happy…

Dante: …

Direttore: What is wrong, signore? Are you jealous he got sweets?

Dante: W-Why would I…!? I-I-I just think the appearance gets my taste buds tingling…!

Nicola: Endure it for a while. I'll buy you gelato after this.

Gilbert: Anyway, how come Toma knows Orlok's birthday?

Nicola: ...Now that you mention it…

Dante: …

Direttore: Let's put that aside. It's better to keep that a secret.

Orlok: (munch munch)

Toma: How? Is it tasty?

Orlok: Yeah. ...It makes me happy.

Dante: I don't know how to explain it but seeing Orlok eat makes me feel peaceful…

Nicola: I get you. Seeing Gilbert and Yang eat doesn't make me this happy. It's not heart-warming at all.

Gilbert: Yang aside, why do you have to connect it to me?

Yang: For crying out loud, don't put me and Redford on the same shoes.

Nicola: ...Oh? I'm sure I already locked you up. You broke out already?

Yang: Of course. After receiving such a warm welcome, I should give my thanks…

Gilbert: S-Stop it, Yang! Don't pull out your blade!

Dante: You too, Nicola! Put your gun away! We're still filming!

Direttore: Oh… What a scandalous dispute. It pains my heart.

[We are experiencing poor reception issues. Please enjoy this beautiful view of Sakura.]

Orlok: Thanks for the food.

Direttore: What a good boy. He ate them all without leaving anything.

Toma: Amazing, you ate them all by yourself. I was planning to put the leftovers into a container so you can share it with the others.

Gilbert: I wanted to try some after seeing so many interesting foods like those.

Orlok: So-Sorry. All of them were delicious so I just…

Dante: It's all right. Finishing them off is part of the rules so you didn't do anything wrong.

Nicola: Great job, Orlok. We have enough footage with this.

Orlok: Thanks for today, Toma. I'll be going now.

Toma: Ah, wait a minute. I actually have a request for you.

Orlok: ?

Toma: I still need more footage for my channel, can you help me with that?

Gilbert: Well, why not? He helped us wrap up the filming without any troubles.

Dante: We should return the favor.

Orlok: Okay. I'd like to help if there's anything I can do.

Toma: Great to hear that. Now--.

Can you get into the cage?

Orlok: ….Huh? ...What?

Toma: I've been keeping my eyes on you. Since you look like a small animal, it’s just perfect.

Gilbert: I see, so it's come to this…

Toma: I figured you'll be lonely so I put some plushies inside.

Orlok: T-That's not the problem here…

Toma: Now, now. You can't tell unless you try. Get in there.

Orlok: I don't want to--.

Toma: Only you can do this, Orlok. Please.

Orlok: ….

Toma: Can you look here? ...Yes, nice. It'll gain more viewers, I'm sure.

Orlok: Can I… get out of here already?

Toma: No, you just got in here. Oh, right. I have some chains. Can you put them on?

Dante: Even chains… This is abnormal…

Orlok: U-Uuuhhh… Guys, what should I do…?

Nicola: You'll be fine, Orlok. It surprisingly suits you.

Direttore: I agree. I'm sure there are people who are into this kind of thing.

Orlok: ...I'm not fine at all…

Toma: It's not as cute as hamster, but there's a huge demand for something like this. Do you mind if I turn it into a series if it gets good feedback?

Orlok: !!?

Toma: I think we were meant to meet. Shin would scold me again if he were here, though.

Orlok: I want to go home…

Toma: Hm? You want to meet him? He's off for another recording right now, so he probably won't return for a while.

Orlok: ….

...I realized something. I shouldn't trust others. The only one I could rely on is myself…

Toma: Haha. That's a nice expression you have there. With that said, it all depends on you guys whether I should make this a series or not. Don't forget to subscribe to our channel!

T/L Notes:  Dobin-mushi: Food steam-boiled in an earthenware teapot

#piofiore #amnesia #toma #orlok #dante falzone #nicola francesca #yang #gilbert redford #Henri Lambert #otomate

[nerdyfangirl67]

Home for Christmas - Criminal Minds Reader Insert (12 Days of Christmas)

Pairing: Hotch x fem!reader, Jack Hotchner x reader (maternal relationship

Warnings: angsty at the beginning, lots of Jack x reader moments, fluff ending!

Word count: 2431

A/N: Y/F/C/M stands for your favorite Christmas Movie and Y/N/N stands for your nickname. I also believe that Aaron is the kind of person who texts with correct grammar, although he may use sentence fragments if he is short on time, so that is incorporated into this one-shot. This one came to me while listening to a Christmas song, called “Home” by Blake Shelton and Michael Bublé (linked below). I really enjoyed the idea of this one (it may have gotten away from me a bit!)

Home by Blake Shelton ft. Michael Bublé

So here it is, hope y’all enjoy it! If you’re looking for another Christmas fic to read, check out my Mini-Series masterlist, where the rest of my Christmas one-shots are. 

I know there aren’t any Aaron x Jack moments in the story but this was the GIF I thought fit best :)

“Y/N, it 's Aaron. I, uh, I won’t be making it home in time for Christmas. We have yet to get a break in the case, so it could be another week before I’m home. I know you had a lot planned for Christmas, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to celebrate with you. I’ll try to call, but I can’t promise anything. I love you. Tell Jack I love him.” Aaron’s voice crackles in your ear as you listen to the voicemail he’d left you earlier, as in 3 am, that morning for the eighth time.

It had been the first time you had heard his voice in almost a week and part of you was overjoyed. The other part of you was exasperated. You knew he was dedicated to his work, you had known it since the two of you had started dating, but it still hurt. Every time he worked late and didn’t let you know hurt. Every time a case went longer than expected, it hurt. Every time you went to bed alone, his side of the bed untouched and cold, hurt. And it didn’t hurt any less now, despite your suspicions upon hearing the team had taken another case, so close to Christmas, that he would miss the holiday altogether. 

You let out a sigh as you stand up from where you had been sitting on the couch, wrapped in a Christmas throw blanket. You take your empty glass, which had been filled with your favorite holiday drink, into the kitchen and place it in the sink. You double-check the apartment door, making sure it was both deadbolted and locked (something Aaron had ingrained in you to do while he was away), before making your way towards the master bedroom. You stop at the door to Jack’s bedroom, cracking it open and using the light of the hallway to look at him. 

Jack was sprawled out in his bed, fast asleep. Tiptoeing into the room so as not to wake him, you reach his bed and pull the discarded comforter up off the floor, placing it on top of Jack and gently tucking him in. “Your daddy loves you Jack, and so do I.” You say softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, giving him a long look, before making your way back out of his room. 

Upon reaching your bedroom, you head to Aaron’s dresser. You find one of his sweatshirts, well-worn and baggy, grab it from the drawer, and pull it on as you climb into bed. You didn’t typically wear his sweatshirts while he was home, but whenever he was away, it helped ease the ache created by his absence. After getting settled underneath the covers with your nose pressed into Aaron’s pillow, you soon fall asleep.

---

You are up early the next morning, quickly climbing out of bed before you realize that you have the next few days off, the 23rd (today) through the 26th for Christmas. You had used a few vacation days to extend your Christmas ‘vacation’, as you and Aaron (who had thought he would have had Christmas case-free) had wanted to spend time with Jack, as a family.

You couldn’t bring yourself to climb back into bed so you head downstairs, the idea of making breakfast for Jack coming to mind. Even though Aaron wouldn’t be home for Christmas, you still wished to make this Christmas special for Jack, just as you had planned to with Aaron. After going through your email and having a cup of your favorite morning beverage, you head into the kitchen. A few minutes of looking and you find your recipe for gingerbread waffles, a favorite from your childhood, and start gathering the ingredients.

Fifteen minutes later and you have your first batch of waffles made, bacon sizzling in a pan on the stove, and orange juice in glasses on the table. Christmas music is playing softly in the background when a small voice has you whipping around.

Jack is standing in the middle of the kitchen, his hair standing up at different angles on his head, and one of his hands sleepily rubbing his eyes. “Good mornin’ mama.” Despite not being his birth mother, Jack had been calling you mama since you had moved in with him and Aaron, over a year ago now. And every time you heard it, you were still overcome by joy.

You pull the boy into your arms, giving him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Hi bud. How’d you sleep?”

“I slept good mama. What are you making?” He asks curiously, peering around you to look at the stove. 

You stand and briskly stride back to the stove to flip the bacon and check on the waffle you had cooking before you turn back to Jack. “Gingerbread waffles and bacon.” You answer, plating one of the waffles and some bacon before bringing it to the table. “Here buddy. Eat up.” You said, placing the plate next to the glass of orange juice. Jack bounces to the table, sitting down and quickly digging in.

---

After breakfast, and a few games of twenty questions, you decide to take Jack to the ice skating rink not too far from the apartment. The two of you bundle up and hail a cab to the rink. You spend the five minute ride to the ice plex with Jack in your arms as the two of you play a game of “I Spy.” 

The cab reaches the ice rink, and after paying the driver you and Jack venture inside. You let out a laugh as he exclaims in excitement at all the trophies, fancy ice skates, and photos of skaters in the lobby. You rent a pair of skates for the two of you, before leading jack out to the seating around the rink. It takes you a few minutes to get skates on, and to help Jack with his but a few short minutes later the two of you are out on the ice. 

It is apparent that you are out of practice and try as you might, you fall several times. Jack is actually skating better than you and soon he is ‘teaching you’. 

“Mama, make sure you aren’t leaning backwards. That might be why you’re falling.” The nine, almost ten, year-old’s advice was helping you to stay on your feet for longer than thirty seconds. You had even started to move cautiously along the edge of the rink, with Jack skating confidently in front of you. The two of you stay out on the ice until Jack tells you he is cold. Admittedly, you were starting to get cold yourself, but you didn’t want to end Jack’s fun early. 

After ice skating, the two of you go to Jack’s favorite pizza place, a little Italian place (the boy had developed sophisticated taste buds, thanks to a certain David Rossi), within walking distance from the apartment. The two of you have a lunch filled with cheesy pizza, endless breadsticks (which both you and Jack enjoyed thoroughly), and lots of laughs.

Then, upon returning to the apartment, the two of you cuddle up on the couch and watch Christmas classics. You share with Jack some of the movies you had grown up watching (Y/F/C/M and Y/F/C/M) and he shares some his favorites with you (The Grinch and Santa Buddies).Your movie marathon only stops when you whip up a quick dinner, which the two of you eat in about ten minutes at the table, and when you get up and pop some popcorn for one of the movies. Jack stays up way past his bedtime, but knowing that neither of you have to get up early the next morning has you being more lenient with his bedtime. 

The next day passes in much of the same fashion. You and Jack take a walk, intent on finding the best Christmas decorations within walking distance. Although you had found some pretty cool decorations, Jack definitely won when he spotted the house decked out with a 12 Days of Christmas theme. Then the two of you stopped for lunch at one of the sidewalk vendors, something that Aaron probably would frown upon. 

After lunch, you and Jack went to a Christmas pop-up village, where you watched the ‘elves’ wrap presents and people take pictures with Santa. The two of you ordered deluxe hot chocolates and sat on a bench, listening to a choir sing Christmas carols. Jack sang along to the ones he knew and he even convinced you to sing along with some too. 

You two return to the apartment in late afternoon, shortly after which, the two of you start making Christmas cookies. You roll out the dough, while Jack stamps the cookie cutters into it, creating a variety of Christmas themed cookies. As the several batches of cookies bake, Jack reads to you from the kitchen’s small island as you follow the recipe for a sugar cookie frosting. When the cookies, and the frosting, are finished, you and Jack set to decorating the cookies. 

Three hours and an order of takeout later, and you have four dozen frosted cookies scattered across the kitchen counter tops, three bags of mostly eaten takeout, two empty mugs, and one frosting and crumb covered boy fast asleep on the couch.

You can’t help but smile as you look at the plate of cookies Jack decorated, not for Santa, but for Aaron when he returned from the case he was working on.There were several Santas, a Rudolph reindeer, a present, and a Christmas tree. As you cover the plate in plastic wrap, you can’t help but think that you would give just about anything to talk to Aaron for a while. It had been two days since he had left the voicemail, and since then all you had gotten were a few short texts. 

“Case progressing. Miss you and Jack.”

“Finally developed a profile. Love you Y/N/N.”

“Thought we had an unsub, but looks like we were wrong.”

“I love you and Jack. Wish I could be holding you both in my arms.”

You heave out a sigh and get to work doing the dishes from dinner and your baking escapade with Jack. The dishes, and tidying up of the kitchen, takes far longer than you want and it’s close to ten before you are gently waking Jack from the couch. You tenderly guide him down the hallway, making a pit stop in the bathroom to help wash some of the frosting off of Jack’s hands and face. After Jack is frosting free, with freshly brushed teeth and clean pajamas, you get him settled in bed. You read him “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” and listen to him sleepily tell you about the gifts he thought might be under the tree, after which you tuck him in and give him a kiss good night. 

You take your time getting ready for bed, wishing the entire time that you would be crawling into bed with Aaron, where you would spend the rest of the night in his arms. But, alas, you are greeted with a cold, empty bed, which you reluctantly climb into as you shoot Aaron a quick text, wishing him a happy Christmas Eve and adding a short ‘I love you.’ You try to read a few pages in your latest book, but your mind isn’t into it. Instead you stare at the softly blinking Christmas lights shining in from the hallway, through the small crack between the door and the door jam, letting the rhythmic changing of the lights lull you to sleep.

---

You wake up to what sounds like the heavy apartment door swinging shut and the floorboards creaking, followed by a low thud and a muttering voice, which you can’t quite make out. Your heart is thudding wildly in your chest as you anxiously climb from the bed and tiptoe to the door of the bedroom. You can’t see any figures in the hallway, so you creep across the hall, placing a hand on the doorknob to Jack’s bedroom and noiselessly start to turn it open. You are so focused on opening the door and getting to Jack that you don’t notice the figure coming down the hallway towards you. A soft hand on your shoulder has you whipping around, landing a heavy hit with the heel of your hand to the intruder’s face. 

“Son of a-” You immediately recognize the voice as Aaron’s, which makes you gasp in shock.

“Aaron. I didn’t know it was you. I’m so sorry.” You say, as you start to fuss over him. You try to guide him to the bathroom, in hopes that you might be able to help him there, but his hands stop you. 

“Y/N, I’ll be alright. All I need is you in my arms.” His words, albeit a bit slurred (probably from the present throbbing in his face) bring a warm, fuzzy feeling into your chest and a cheesy grin to your face. You start to move towards the bedroom, but he pulls you close, scooping you up and easily carrying you back to the bed. The heat created by his body only leaves for a moment as you watch him, in the dull light, strip off his suit jacket and tie, before returning to your side. He pulls you incredibly close, his face in the crook of your neck breathing you in.

You don’t say anything, rather you just take comfort in his presence as you play with the small hairs at the back of his neck. “Gosh, I missed you.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your collarbone before looking up into your eyes. One of his hands comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles on your cheekbone. 

“Merry Christmas Y/N.” He says, giving you another kiss, this time on the lips. His kiss is slow and tender, as if he wanted to savor the moment and make it last as long as possible. 

Once you pull back, and catch your breath, you whisper, “Merry Christmas Aaron.”

He smiles at you, pressing another, much shorter, kiss to your lips. “I think I’ll wait for later in the morning to let Jack know I’m home; let it be a Christmas surprise for him.” He says, tightening his hold on you.

You smile back at him. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. For now, let me just appreciate my Christmas surprise.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reader #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotcher x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner reader insert #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch reader insert #jack hotchner

[ilooklikeididyesterday]

Prison - Massimo x Reader

Massimo x reader/you ficlet, SMUT WARNING.  Orgasm denial? Slight Edging. Curse words.

Words: 2,666. Translations done via Google, sorry if they’re incorrect.

Feedback welcomed! Also requests? It’s sort of a bigger plot/universe I have in my mind but so far this is the only thing I’ve written.

  “Massimo got arrested.”

  “He what?” 

Domenico flinched at your shriek, raising a hand discreetly to his ear as you continued shouting in a high pitch voice - “Why? How? Why?”

  “Don’t worry, signorina, it’s just formalities. You know we own the police in this town. He’ll be out within the hour. He’s probably got his feet up sipping an espresso. Don’t worry.” He added before leaving you in the library. But you couldn’t help but worry - yes, he owned the police but that didn’t make you feel any better. You sat in the library, your phone on the table in front of you checking it every 3 minutes for a call or text from Massimo to let you know he had been released. The hour passed excruciatingly - the hour in which Domenico had promised you your lover would be released.

  You found Domenico in the kitchen - as always - chopping an apple with a large knife that looked more suited for cutting people, not fruit.

  “Any news?” You asked quickly.

  “He’s fine.”

  “That’s it? He’s fine? Where is he? Is he on his way back? Is he coming back?” 

  Domenico gave a small smile. The situation with you and Massimo was one forced upon both of you, and there had been more than one occasion when the young Italian had witnessed you revealing how much you cared for each other.

  “He’s fine.”

  You screamed in frustration and returned to the library. It’s solid wood paneled bookcases made you feel safe when Massimo wasn’t at home. Plus, it had an entire glass wall overlooking a small courtyard garden that calmed you.

  Hours ticked by, you skipped dinner, watching the sunset from the comfort of the library. Your ears were trained on the front door for when Massimo returned. Sadly, you couldn't keep your eyes open and dozed off in one of the plush vintage arm chairs.

  Distant voice chatter woke you up. Rubbing your eyes and face to wake up you headed to the hallway, then followed the sounds to the living room.

  “Massimo!” you called, gaining his attention. “Are you alright? When did they let you leave?” As you stepped closer to him you took in his wrinkled white shirt and messy hair. And then you smelt whisky. “Have you been drinking?”

  “How is that your business?” He replied, undoing the buttons on his cuffs to roll up his sleeves.

  “You’re my business!” You told him. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Did you go to a club? You get let out of prison and you go to a fucking club, wihout telling me?”

  “Ti ha aspettato.” Domenico felt the need to interject before Massimo said something he may regret later. 

She waited for you.

  Massimo gave a nod of his head and Domenico left. 

  “I was worried about you,” you confessed.

  Massimo smirked. Then chuckled. “Worried?” he gave a soft laugh shaking his head. It was comical to think he’d been in any kind of danger. He owned the police for Christ’s sake. What were they going to do? It was just formalities and paperwork bullshit.

  You bit your lip and turned away swallowing the lump formed in your throat. You told him you were worried and he laughed at you. Well, fuck him. You were not a violent person, but you saw a ball shaped ornament on the mantelpiece, which fit in your hand perfectly when you picked it up. As you launched it across the room at the opposite wall it shattered into tiny pieces. Massimo didn’t look too impressed, but he wasn’t angry either. He finished pouring himself a drink and took a sip.

  “You're feisty tonight, huh? Got some Italian in you, maybe?” He waggled his finger at you, approaching you slowly. “Do you want some Italian in you now, Princessa?” he palmed himself through his trousers, sucking his lower lip between his teeth as he looked you up and down and desire spread over his face. 

  You froze to the spot, briefly wondering how he could find you attractive right now in a wrinkled top and leggings, makeup smudged no doubt from your nap earlier in the library. The anger still burned within you, something you’d felt before but not this intense. Turning back to the mantelpiece you grabbed another ornament, but didn’t even have time to turn around before Massimo's chest was at your back easily reaching his arm around you and putting the ornament back.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” he chided, “I let the first one slide, but no more. You wanna be a brat? Fine. But you get treated like one.” His hand grabbed your jaw, the other sliding around your waist and into the waistband of your leggings.

  “I-” you started to say something but then his warm hand cupped you and you lost all train of thought. He teased your clit with his thumb, pressed a finger tip to your entrance, then retreated. He nibbled on your neck with his teeth, biting your shoulder.

  “I thought you weren’t coming back.” You choked out. He stopped.

  “What?” He asked, whirling you around looking down at you. You repeated what you had said, only realising the tears had escaped your eyes when his thumbs wiped them from your cheeks.

  “Babygirl,” he whispered. “You don’t need to worry about me, hm? I will always return to you. To this.” He cupped you again before picking you up, mouth placing wet kisses on your neck as he walked you both to the sofa. He sat down with you straddling him, removing your top and bra as you ground your hips into his, feeling his cock grow underneath you. You kissed him deeply, his mouth covering yours, hand on your jaw and the other on your back. You pulled away to undo his belt buckle, he helped you by taking it off as you unzipped him and palmed him through his boxers. It wasn’t enough, you needed more. Reaching into the waistband you took him in your hand, the familiar velvet skin feeling comforting in your hand. You sighed in pleasure as his mouth latched around a nipple, tongue twirling and flicking, teeth nipping at the sensitive bud. He flipped you to your back on the sofa, pulling your leggings and underwear off in one go. 

  He sat on his knees between your legs, taking his shirt off.

  “What you did, earlier? You need to pay for that,” he told you, taking his belt in his hand. Your eyes widened. He’d spanked you a few times but only with his hand; you weren’t too sure how you felt about the belt being used. You went to sit up, but as the cool Italian leather of the belt fell against your chest you stilled, and closed your eyes as Massimo dragged it lightly down your breasts, ribs, stomach. As it reached between your legs your hips bucked towards it, the feeling of the leather on your pussy was new but felt so good. You looked up to Massimo as he pressed the leather to you, watching your hips grind against it for the friction you craved. The dark brown leather was getting wet from your juices.

  “You gonna come for me?”

  “Yes!”

  “You think you deserve to?” He pulled the belt from you, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Your hazy mind started to refocus, saw him stand up to remove his suit trousers and boxers. You turned your head to him as he knelt one knee on  the sofa teasing his head against your lips. You opened your mouth for more but he only continued to tease you, running his tip around your lips, sliding the length on your cheek. You managed to gently suck one of his balls, hand going between your thighs to find your clit.

  “No, I told you you need to pay. So you will,” he told you, grabbing your hand in his and moving it to his dick. You took the head in your mouth sucking lightly, moaning at the familiar taste of him. He was teasing you like never before, but in teasing you he was also denying himself. Usually his entire length would be in your mouth and down your throat by now, hands fisted in your hair. Each time you tried to find your clit he stopped you. You pressed your legs together, finding friction. 

  Massimo made a fist and placed it between your thighs so you couldn’t squish them together. His knuckles pressed at your entrance, getting slicker with your juice. You moaned in frustration, trying to take more of him but he kept your head still.

  He pulled out your mouth completely, moving forward so just his balls were in your mouth. You sucked on each of them like you knew he liked. There was no way he was going to keep this up for much longer. You looked up to him, finding his eyes dark with desire pinned to you, restraint evident as the tendons on his neck stood out. Oh yes, he was punishing you, but also himself.

  He took a step back, removing his hand and balls in an instant, panting heavily, chest heaving. You sat upright on the sofa making sure to spread your legs so he could see how wet your pussy was.

  He took your wrist and pulled you up, leading you across the cool marble floor down the hall and to the library. You held your arm over your breasts as you reminded him that Domenico, Mario or anyone could be walking down the hall at any second.

  “Then hurry,” was his reply, pulling you by the wrist. He slammed the door after you, the room dark apart from a desk lamp you’d left on. “This is where you were? Waiting for me?” He pointed to the armchair you’d dozed in, and you marveled at his ass as he walked to it sitting down, legs spread as your eyes focused on his cock. Erect and red and angry looking.

  “Well, now I’m waiting for you.”

  You didn’t know too much about Massimo, and your relationship (whatever that was) was not one based on emotions. You struggled to reveal yours, and Massimo didn’t apparently have any. He just had a stoic, albeit insanely handsome look on his face all the time. But, the fact that he brought you here, and was now indeed waiting for you, almost felt like an apology? Or a thank you?

  You walked to him quickly and straddled him, his large hands on your back as you kissed him passionately, lips, tongues and teeth. You felt his length on your stomach, rolled your hips to his.

  “Don’t leave me.” You breathed into his mouth, reaching between you to grip the base of his cock as you inched him inside of you. That wonderful stretching feeling began, your pussy clenching around him.

  “I would never,” he assured you, gripping your hair to make you look at him. Despite his fingers in your hair and pressing into your hips that would leave bruises the day after, you rode him soft and slow. Grinding your hips slowly down on his, leaning back to rest your hands on his strong thighs as you rotated your hips. He, for once, let you do all the work, but you knew that didn’t mean you were in control.

  “I’m gonna come,” you breathed, cupping your breast. He grabbed your waist and pulled you up, pulling out with a squelch. You growled in your throat, about to punch him as he picked you up again.

  “There.” He growled back at you walking you to a large table, which he placed you on, taking your ankles and placing them on his shoulders. He slid back into you as you gripped the edge of the table. He held your legs, kissing your calves as he slammed into you. You were on the verge of coming but didn’t want to say in case he stopped again.

  “You think you deserve to come?” he asked, feeling your pussy clench around him even though he’d stopped.

  “Yes!” you cried, on the verge of tears. “Fuck please Massimo, please,” you whined.

 He leant over you, your legs bending back towards your chest. “So do I.” He kissed you hard, slamming back into you and didn’t relent or edge you this time. The sounds your bodies were making would normally make you blush but you were too busy chasing the release you craved and didn’t care. As you came you didn’t make any sound, your legs trembled and your pussy fluttered around him, as the wave washed over your entire body. Every inch of you seemed to feel the orgasm and Massimo didn’t stop his pace. 

  “Stop!” You didn’t know you had said the words until they flew out your mouth. Massimo immediately stopped, and withdrew. He pressed his hands on the table and lifted himself up above you, giving you space.

  “What’s wrong?” his eyes sought yours, filled with concern.

  “Too much,” you mumbled, blinking your eyes to focus on him. Your leg was still trembling, the feeling so intense and unfamiliar it startled you.

  “What can I do?” Massimo asked, and for the first time since his Father died, he felt hopeless, unsure. 

  “Hold me,” you reached out a shaky hand to him. Massimo took your hand, kissed your palm gently, and brough to back to a sitting position, cradling you against his chest.

  “Like this?” He asked, kissing the top of your hair and stroking your back gently when you nodded. As your breathing steadied Massimo felt calmer too. He knew what to do now - hold you gently and whisper sweet things in his native tongue to get you to relax. He didn’t move until you did, pulling back slightly to look up at him, with an almost sheepish look on your face.

  “Intense, si?” He asked with a smirk. The main thing was you were alright, but he would sure as hell gloat about this tomorrow.

  You nodded, leaning forward to kiss his chest, realising he was still half-hard. And then you knew he had been right. He wasn’t a monster. All the times he told you that, you never truly believed it until now. You said stop and he did. 

  “I want you to finish inside me,” you told him. Your bluntness stunned him for a second, as he kissed you passionately again, and you felt him stir against your thigh. You leant back down on the table, gripping the edge, ready to get slammed into again, but it wasn’t like that.

  Massimo guided himself into you slowly, balls deep. When he didn’t move you did, rotating your hips off the polished desk. He took hold of your ankles, feet placed firmly on the edge of the desk, kissed your knees and inside your thighs as he rocked gently back and forth.

  “Oh jesus!” You called, feeling the familiar pool of an orgasm in your very being start to emerge again.

  “Stay with me, belissima,” he hummed against your leg. You reached between your legs to find your clit and came hard around him, cursing over and over, toes curling as you heard Massimo’s grunts and felt a warmth spreading within that told you he had come inside you as you asked.

  “Fuck!” Masismo cursed, pulling out and stepping back, watching as his cum slowly seeped out between your thighs. He raked a hand through his hair, then across his face to wipe some of the sweat away. He chuckled softly as he watched more of him escape you. He pressed a fingertip gently to your lower lips, smearing himself around  your slightly red pussy. You flexed your muscles, knowing how much he liked to see his cum drip out of you. You sat upright, then stood up from the table on fairly shaky legs, feeling him drip down your thigh, as he held you to him.

  “I will always return to you, babygirl.”

#365 dni #365 days netflix #massimo toricelli x reader #massimo torricelli #michele morrone #massimo toricelli fic

[cyazurai]

I know it’s okay. I know I don’t have to apologize, or anything, but I’m still gonna say it.

Sorry I’ve been kinda MIA recently. Everything’s stressful.

Below I’m gonna kinda rant, soooo if you don’t want to read it (it may be long and kinda gross) please don’t click the keep reading thingy.

Things haven’t been bad exactly, but there’s just so much going on right now, and I haven’t had any inspiration to fill up my queue and edit pictures. I have more than enough stored up, honestly probably enough to fill the rest of the season if not the whole year, but whenever things start to get better other things go wrong, and it’s exhausting.

Now that I figured out what mod was causing the issue in TS4, my computer is overheating and making it hard to play any game (thankfully I have a cooling pad coming on Friday). 

My Mom is doing a lot better, and starting to get stronger, but they’re going to be sending her to a hospital in another town to take out her gall bladder as well as the last remains of the cancerous lump (no longer cancerous) in her breast. Because this will be in another town, that is going to cost quite a bit of money to get her there, and for us to visit her, so I probably will just stay home and let my Dad be the one to visit her. This will also set back her physical therapy, because she will need that time to recover, so this probably means at least an extra month in the recovery place. Plus, her taste buds are still out of whack from the chemo and she barely eats anything. She’s lost so much weight the doctors are concerned, so we’ve started bringing her Italian cream sodas because those are fattening lol!

One of us goes and visits Mom almost every day. That’s 3-4 hours out of our day every day, because it’s an hour to drive to and from the place she’s at right now. My Dad is exhausted and Mom and I are worried because he can barely stay awake anymore, and he refuses to stay home and take care of himself. He also is still recovering from his own infection, and I’m worried it will get worse again.

Last week we realized our septic tank was backed up, so we had to call someone to clear it, and they only just got it fixed today. During that time, we couldn’t use the toilet, wash dishes, do laundry, or bathe here. Also, every time we flushed or did dishes during the time it was plugged, it backed sewage into our basement, and now the basement is covered in toilet debris, so we need to clean that up too.

Of course I also got my second dose of the vaccine recently, and THANKFULLY that went better for me than the first one did, actually. The shot itself hurt way worse, but the reaction was better, and way shorter. 

Oh and my cat has been an extra pain in the neck, but cute as he does so. He really misses my Mom, and keeps crying and whining and demanding that we bring her back, which we can’t do yet.

Plus I really need to get a job, and nothing in my area will hire someone with more education than experience, so that’s fun. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Oh and my internet keeps getting worse and worse and Tumblr is one of the worst websites to try and navigate right now, so that’s a good portion of my problem with actually being really MIA in general.

#apologizing #announcement thingy #mostly just complaining #cancer tw #chemotherapy tw #sewage tw

[fafulous]

Take Me Home (4/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Chapter Warnings: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS (BOOK Ending), Reminiscing the Loss of a loved one.

Andy soon came to realise that walking out on you was never ever really a solution. In reality he knew with his current state, without you he was doomed.

He needed you because he has no one. He needed you because it was his chance at something new; something no one would understand.

He needs you because in between all those shenanigans in these few months, he was falling hard for you.

But he did what he had to that day because he just wanted some space. In his head it seemed to be fine, but alas it hurt like a bitch.

On the other hand, Nikolai had no idea what was going on. It only took him minutes to fall in love with his new room. The lights, the colour of the room made him so jubilant, later on only to see you a bit unhappy. You were able to deflect from your son’s questions, but how on earth were you going to tell him that Andy won’t be meeting him anymore.

It hurt. So hard. All you needed was one conversation with him to settle things away but he wanted his space and so you half heartedly respected it.

Nikolai on the other hand was hitting a real low seeing you unhappy the whole day sporting stuffy red eyes. Like any other kid, Nikolai jumped to the conclusion that their mother is crying because she got a boo-boo or lost her favourite toy.

But that little brain of his pieced it slowly once he realised Andy never visited them for any of the dinner nights.

“Mommy pwese don’t cwy” his nimble fingers wiping your fat tears rolling down your cheek.

“I know peaches. I’m trying so hard to get Andy back okay. I’m sorry for crying around you like this baby.”

“B-but Wandi pwomised he neva gonna hurt you mommi…”

“Oh Niko,” you wiped the cookie crumbs around his tiny lips, “Your little brain won’t get it. It’s okay.”

“No. Not owkay. Wandi hurt you. Wandi bad. I don’t wike Wandi cahr now.”

You couldn’t help but surpass a giggle. “Niko. Andy is never bad. Never. He is just feeling sad and lonely. We just need to tell him we have him and love him okay?”

Love? Too soon. Maybe it’s more than like but it was too late to change it for your son and for yourself. You always saw how Niko’s eyes sparkled whenever Andy was around; he was soon accepting him to be a member of the household.

“Owkay,” he dug his head to your neck, “I wike Wandi and his cahr.”

–

The following week were hard for you and him. From sharing couches to kisses, now the only thing you both shared were small talks.

Yes. Small Talk. Or texts rather.

Andy told you he finally found a therapist to speak to and slowly expressed his wish to still visit Nikolai till you both figured out what was happening between you two.

Why did this have to get so complicated?

You on the other hand replied he was free to do so because to be real, the little kid missed him too. So, the next day he asked you for permission if he could take Nikolai on a car drive.

You had no idea what would go on in his head at times. From seeing Andy’s perspective, he was denied of the choice of telling you his story. It was his fucked-up childhood, his story that he wanted to tell you. Not a pity tatter-tale gossip story that was to be heard from your characterless, ex-husband.

Andy later in the evening sent a message that he was ready, and you saw the man your heart so longed for.

His eyes were back to being sunken, those blue irises not having the guts to meet yours. His hair was ruffled like he just woke up from a nap. Looking at him made you realise how much your hands were twitching to just hug him. You were reminded of the first night you spent at his house; that blue sweater he gave you while you two made out on his couch for the first time was now worn by him.

You walked towards him as you held Nikolai’s convertible baby seat to be fixed in his car and he was kind enough to open the door for you.

Andy on the other hand knew he had to- no, wanted to strike a conversation with you; but didn’t know what to say.

Hey long time huh?

Y/N. Hey, how are you?

Hey listen…

Nope nothing came out of his mouth while you fixed the seat.

He took in your appearance too; that ray of sunshine that beamed from your smile was non-existent; replaced with a forlorn look that he hated to see on you. The past few days were definitely much harsher on you than it was for him. Andy knew he couldn’t get any more foolish. He had to get back to what you two had before.

He needed it.

“Have we gone back to square one? Because of what? My ex-husband?”

Andy came out of his tiny reverie and focussed back on you. He didn’t pay attention, but he did realise you said something bitter that meant to sting him.

“Honey listen-”

“Oh, don’t you honey me Andy. How could you? How could you be so- so-“ you tried so hard to not break into a stream of tears.

How could you be so hateful to yourself Andy? Did you not trust me?

“How could you just desert me like that? D-did you think I was going to throw away my second chance at life for something you father did? Did you want to throw away your second chance at life because of your father who has no role in our lives right now?”

He sighed dejectedly, disappointed with himself. Hearing your voice break wrecked him, “I know Y/N. I was an asshole that day, leaving you without an explanation.” He found himself taking steps towards you and cupping your cheek, tilting his forehead onto yours, “I am so sorry hon- Y/N. I am sorry.”

You bit your lip and looked up at him, his eyes still closed; now content that he and you could just touch each other after a very long time.

Any other situation, you wouldn’t let a man walkover you so easily after fucking up. But this was Andy. The man who made you believe in second chances. You gave him a first chance already, and now it was again your turn to give him one more.

“You weren’t an asshole Andy,” you held on to his hands, “Its just, I don’t know…”

“I know you know exactly what you want to say Y/N. Just say it.”

You could hear Nikolai running around his circles with his unicorn plush doll behind you, “I was angry when you left, but at the same time I tried to understand your point of view, your emotions and your feelings about this whole situation. But I think or- or I know that I didn’t deserve to be ghosted like that Andy, because I liked you for you, not what your father did, especially when we had something so good going on.”

He removed his hand from your cheeks and looked down like a disappointed child. He knew he was at fault and so he didn’t say anything; head hung in shame looking at the little, carefree boy that he loved so dearly.

“It’s only had if you want it to be,”

“What do you mean?”

You saw a glint of that eagerness that Andy always had with you before, “I told that we had something good going on? It’s only had if you want it to be…“

Andy took some time to find his words. Again. It was the second time he fucked up so bad and here you were, taking him back even after he exploded like a mine. Was this woman for real?

“Of course, I want this honey. I always want us. You’re always so good to me.”

He reached out to graze your cheeks, but he was blocked by your squealing son.

“Cahr Wandi! Can we gooo?”

You were surprised that you weren’t interrupted by your son sooner, but nevertheless your son’s new founded patience was found to be a blessing in disguise.

The cutest sight unfurled before you as Andy made grabby hands at your son, only for the latter to be scooped into Andy’s arms like a cocoon.

“Come on Y/N, join us wont you? For a drive?”

You shook your head, “I think I’ll pass.”

“Y/N. I want to really make it up to you. Like real time. Please come with us?”

“I know Andy, but who will make dinner if I come along with you boys?”

Andy slowly grinned at your implications. He never ceased to be impressed by your gracious generosity and the small acts of kindness.

“I’m not mad, not as much as I was before I promise,” you dared to but tiptoed to place a kiss on his cheek, “We can talk over dinner today.” You saw how his cheek sported a cherry red tint, slowly creeping up till his ear. A teenager in a old man’s body.

“Peaches,” you turned to your son right now jumped into Andy’s arms, nuzzling his face in that soft sweater, “Be good and behave okay peaches? Don’t trouble Wandi- I mean Andy for anything on the way okay?”

Everything drowned inside a chorus of laughter when Andy realised how you had called his name. Niko had no idea what the humour was for but joined the chorus when he found his two most favourite people in the world giggling.

Were you forgoing all that pent-up sadness that this man gave you this week? Yes. Yes you were.

And you would soon realise that it was the best decision you made.

Hours passed by and the boys came back home. Nikolai was gleefully pulling onto Andy’s beard and curiously asking him when he was going to get a ‘bweard’ like him and heard both the boys animatedly inhaling; the smell of aromatic food that stirring their tummies.

“MOMMY IS MAKING PAWSTAHH!”

Andy was so confused. You always made the best Italian food for your child.

“Let’s just say after that episode we had with Chad, I was cooking boring greens and ordering takeout for the little one and me. I lost the will to cook. Thought I’ll revive the poor kid’s taste buds.”

It was always these small gestures that pulled you towards Andy; like this one. He tugged you by your shoulders and placed a soft kiss on your forehead and then cupped your cheeks so lovingly.

“Sorry Momma bear.”

“Shhh. It’s okay grumpy cat,” you winked.

Dinner on the other hand did go relatively smooth than you expected it to. Andy explained himself, his feelings and what he felt that day when he left you and tried his level best to process your emotional state that day.

The baked pasta was licked clean by your two boys and you while Andy also spoke about his past few days with his therapist, who seemed to help him more than he possibly could ever think of. Over a glass of wine, Andy held your hand promising you that he wouldn’t do any more foolish stunts that ended up hurting all of us in the process.

But as you and Andy were doing and drying the dishes, you felt that he was holding back something.

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing.”

“That thing you used to do when I used to pick movies that you don’t like.”

His grin could make your whole body mushy and soft like a teenager having their first crush “So? Is that my fault honey?” he feigned hurt, glad that he could now call you back with his favourite sweet name.

“Nah,” you playfully tapped his shoulder. “You give me that look so prominently so that I understand that you want something from me, or you want me to do something for you.”

Andy looked so lost and you knew something was biting his thoughts because he enjoyed doing domestic chores with you; his favourite being you washing the dishes and him drying them out and keeping them inside the cupboards. He didn’t reply until the last wine glass was kept inside the cabinet

“It’s just-” hesitated Andy. You waited patiently for him to find his words.

“It’s about Jacob.”

“Oh.”

For a startling few seconds, you held your breath; thinking about Andy’s son was something wrecked your thoughts and heart every single time.

“My therapist says that I haven’t, you know, fully processed Jacob’s death. Like I’m holding on to something. But parents don’t, right? They can’t move on from their child’s death right? It’s practically impossible.”

You weren’t sure what to say but you nodded, gripping on to his arm and gesturing to sit with you to the couch where little Niko dozed off with two of his stuffed dolls clenched in his hand.

“But she did say one statement that made sense to me, I don’t know. It made sense about how we can’t forget our children who are no longer with us but we can learn to accept the fact that they are no longer with us.”

Oh bub, how much have you been through? “Do you agree with this Andy?” You asked him to keep yourself strong during this conversation for him, and you did.

“Of course, yeah. Maybe. But the thing is I think I haven’t accepted it honey.”

You took both of his hands and squeezed reassuringly, “I have no idea what you are going through bub but I’m glad you are talking to me about this. Take your time; its going to be hard, but I’m right here okay? Whatever you need, I’ll do within my best ability.”

He hummed, but still hesitant.

“Andy its okay, tell me. Talk to me bub.”

He squeezed your palms even more tightly, turning towards you completely. “C-can I ask you a favour? I mean you can say no, I will understand.”

I’m ready to give you all the happiness in the world to you bubba. “Anything for you Andy? Tell me now.”

He didn’t meet your gaze, but instead shifting his focus to trace your knuckles, “My therapist told me to visit Jacob’s grave whenever I was ready, to mourn him, to accept he is no longer with me and you know…talk to him I guess. To process my emotions. And um…Oh god I am a bubbling mess Y/N.”

“Hey its okay baby take your time. There is no pressure.”

“I can’t do this alone honey…I need you there with me. Can you come with me to the graveyard?”

How could you ever say no to this solemn situation?

“Of course, honey. Absolutely anything you need.”

And what seemed like after ages, Andy Barber enveloped you into his signature bear hug. Both of you left a huge sigh of breath, relief washing over that both of you were slowly getting back on track.

Until you heard a rugged whimpers from the little boy beside Andy.

You didn’t want to tell Andy about this, but Nikolai’s nightmares were back and the little boy was finding it difficult to sleep at night. The new nursery still did not work for him, so he ended up sleeping on top of your chest; your heartbeat probably soothing him to sleep.

But Andy the experienced father he was, quickly scooped him into his arms and started cradling him, rocking him side by side with his arms protecting him, humming a familiar soft tune that seemed to calm you in the process too. You saw how Niko’s head was cushioned between Andy’s pecs and muscles, slowly relaxing and nuzzling into his touch.

Niko’s scrunched up face was now back to a peaceful baby lost in slumber. 

Andy met your gaze and blinked at you with a smile and it conveyed so much than you think.

We got this baby. We all gonna get through this.

–

The decision to take Nikolai along with you and Andy was refuted by the latter saying that a young boy like him shouldn’t be visiting such desolate place.

“Children are the embodiment of new birth, new life. And graveyards, quite opposite.”

But you knew secretly he also didn’t was your son to see him in such a vulnerable position. You were grateful for the fact that the rough patch between you and Andy was solved; for the little boy saw Andy as his new father figure with Chad gone away with a new girlfriend.

Talking about Chad, he did not make efforts to meet his son; and you didn’t bother contacting him. Better off without him you wondered.

The drive to Jacob’s grave was a couple of hours away and ride in itself was a quiet one. Andy and you were informally dressed in dull colours, hearts dull too. You knew it was a big step for Andy and you were going to support him till he thinks he is over it. Car windows were rolled down, the fresh air making efforts to refresh you both.

You could also see Andy’s urge to interlink his hands with you while your drove and you did; Gripping onto his palm or occasionally rubbing his shoulders or thighs throughout the ride would help him calm down and relax his creased forehead.

When you both got down from the car it was so hard to read Andy’s thoughts. He came over to you and interlinked your palms and made way to the place where his son was buried.

Jacob’s grave was flowerless when arrived. Andy soon fixed that after leaving a wreath of Jacob’s most favourite flowers, daisies.

A graveyard, a place of death, sprouting trees filled with life here and there. The irony of life.

You didn’t know the boy but the aura of the graveyard, the impersonal feeling towards the dead even though you have no idea who they were beneath the stones made you heart sink. It then came to your senses.

The boy was just fourteen.

Both of you sat down near his grave, not caring about the grass and mud staining your clothes. He finally took away his palms from yours.

Andy spoke some kind words, rekindling memories of his son’s favourite pastime, his favourite stories and one of his embarrassing yet kind-hearted moments. He sought an apology on behalf of his mother, trying to make Jacob understand that his mother loved him so much, that it unfortunately ended tragically.

Another thought popped into your head, how couples these days separate over trivial matters, over materialistic matters, and infidelity. But Andy? He separated because his wife- No no. You didn’t want to complete that thought.

But after a while passed and you decided give Andy some needed space. He was probably going to be anxious, but it was for the best.

“Andy, you feel a bit better?” you whispered.

“You can say probably.”

Here we go. “I’m going to leave you two alone okay?”

“What? Honey. If I can’t-”

“You can Andy. He is your son, remember that. So, don’t hold back. I know you wanted me to be here with you and I did and I’m so proud of you, bubba,” you stroked his hair. “But unintentionally you may be holding back on expressing because I’m here and that’s normal.”

Why are you so good to me?

“I’m just going to be near the parking lot okay? I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him with a peck on his cheek and made your way back.

You shed your tears while you sat inside his car, thinking about the little boy. It was difficult thinking of losing a loved one that you gave birth to. He was too young. Too fucking young.

Oh, this cruel world, how you hated it so immensely right now.

Half hour passed by and you saw Andy making his way towards the car. It was so strange to think of this, but he didn’t look red eye rimmed like you; he looked the same with much more solemnity. He didn’t cry and that slightly bothered you. Maybe you had to accept the fact that different people process emotions differently.

He got into the car and took in your red eyes. He knew you had cried. Seeing you like that made his pull your lips onto his for just a chaste kiss, the first time you two felt each other’s lips after an eon. All he breathed into your lips was that we are going to be okay and drove back home with no word exchanged. For the upcoming hours, the fresh air offered you comfort, drying out those spilt tears along with the lingering touch of his palms; interlinked like their souls.

After coming back, you took advantage of Andy’s silence and maneuvered him to your home. He seated himself on the couch pulling out his phone and wallet from his pants and placed it on the coffee table.; trying to steal a quick nap while you picked up Nikolai from your neighbour Mr. Arthur.

Andy sleeping gave you an immense sense of peace, but for the little boy in your hands; not so much.

“WANDI!!!!”

He groggily woke up thanks to Nikolai running towards him, lying on his chest like he does with you. “Hey buddy.”

“You home yaay!” Probably meant that he was excited to see the man in house like the usual dinner nights. Nikolai calling him and telling he was home pricked him and at the same time felt so right. As cliché as it sounds, he always has heard this quote where Home is never a place with four walls to cover your head; home is where the heart is.

His heart was with you and Nikolai.

After eating Andy, and you began to do your dish washing routine, this time he washing the dishes. He was slow, but that was alright, you had all the time in the world.

Niko on the other hand was singing all the rhymes he learnt from daycare in different pitches, earning a chuckle from the both of you here and there. He was also carelessly playing with Andy’s phone and wallet, both of you seeing that the little boy had dropped all the contents of the wallet on to the floor. Once they were done Andy picked up the falling things patiently without chiding the little one like any other adult would. 

He picked up his Dollar bills, receipts and then a forgotten thin strip of a photo roll.

It was him and Jacob.

The roll had four pictures of him and his son posing for the silliest pictures, the first three with their tongues sticking out in the goofiest angle possible. The last one however was so pure; Andy giving a  forehead kiss to Jacob because he was so proud of his son, remembering he had bagged the highest grade in English that term in school.

Minutes pass and he didn’t notice his waterworks brimming. A blink and they would fall down.

And they did, when he heard Nikolai nudging him by the thigh. “Why you cwyin Wandi?”

That startled you enough to stop whatever it was you were doing and went to see what was happening.

Oh bubba.

You sat near Andy, touching his thigh for comfort while your son got closer to the photo that was in Andy’s slightly quaking hands.

“Who that Wandi?”

“Th-thats my son buddy. His name was Jacob.”

“Can he play with me Wandi?”

Everything just pricked. The boy’s innocent questions and Andy’s realisation of his emotions. This was too much to bear.

“No buddy he can’t-“

A hand around his shoulder, it was you. When he looked up his eyes were blurry from the tears that were falling. He was so upset he didn’t even realise you were next to him. It was you. Only you.

It was then you realised it finally that it hit Andrew that his son was dead.

“You don’t have to answer that Andy. He’s just a kid. It’s okay.”

The little one feeling that he had said something wrong hugged his arms with his little arms. “I’m sowwy Wandi. Don’t cwy.”

“I’m not buddy, I-I’m not.” He reassured the kid, and falsely assuring himself too.

“Wandi, I’m feelin sleepy…” “Yeah, let’s get you to bed buddy,” he cooed with his quivering voice.

“Andy I’ll take him-” But he refused to and took the child. You took a few minutes to pull yourself together after witnessing Andy so vulnerable. Even in these moments, he took care of your son. When you reached the nursery, Andy was whispering a lullaby to a dozed off Niko for a good ten minutes. He even spoke to the little boy, telling him that the measly Audi car painting he did in the room was going to protect him and his nightmares; and the boy believed because Andy said so.

Few minutes later and Andy didn’t refuse to hold back.

“I held Jacob like Nikolai, put him to sleep like Nikolai. My sweet precious baby,  my innocent child Jacob. He didn’t do anything and he is away from me Y/N. Far far away-”

Andy let out a loud whimpering cry, the sound swallowed when he buried his head into your neck and your tears began streaming, him sobbing uncontrollably the next minute.

Andy and your tears began streaming; you pulled yourself together soon but Andy? He was weeping uncontrollably. You only could take him in your arms and offer him comfort. No words could heal his wounds instantly. He buried his face into your neck, his safe place, which made you remember the initial days with Andy when he lent a shoulder when you cried. Now it was your turn.

You whispered in ears how it was best not to do this near Niko and maneuvered Andy to your room. He held onto your arms as you took him to your room. You urged Andy to talk to you if the visit to the grave was still bothering him. He sought recluse in your safe place again, lying down on the bed, head tucked in your neck.

“Andy you can tell me anything. I promise it won’t affect whatever is between us.”

It was too twisted, he was distraught. He ranted about Laurie and how she unravelled into killing her own son. He slipped some details of how Laurie always kept bringing up past incidents of his son to prove that Jacob was the possible killer. He kept blaming himself that he was too weary with Laurie and that he should’ve seen her actions. Your whole body pricked; he was crying as he said all this.

You couldn’t imagine Nikolai and yourself in that situation. It brought tears to you eyes but wiped them off before he could see it. You let him talk as much as he wanted to, calming and soothing Andy in the process, running your fingers through his hair gently. You comforted him as much as you could and kept reminding yourself that this was the first time he came to his senses and realised he was crying out for his dead son; and so you were patient.

“My own wife murdered him Y/N. My Jacob. If I had been more attentive”

“Shhhhh Andy,” you cooed into his ear “Your circumstances were horrible. Don’t blame yourself bubba, none of this was your fault okay? Jacob’s death was out of your hands, it was an unfortunate accident Andy.“

Andy could stay all day in your embrace, his head on your gentle shoulders while your soft hair caresses made him doze off to sleep.

But his head felt like it was going to explode and he couldn’t let you see that.

“I’m going back home honey. I think I need to be alone tonight. I- I am not abandoning you okay, I promise, I’ll be okay tomorrow.”

“Andy are you sure? Stay with me, I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I- I think I need to be alone for sometime you know? Please don’t be upset.”

“I’m never ever upset okay? As long as you are sure bubba; whatever you think is best for you okay? This house is always open to you.”

Kisses on the cheek were exchanged before he left your home. But you stayed awake, in the hopes he’ll be back because deep down you knew, he needed you.

You would give him space, and why not?

He was your home.

–

Andy soon realised he couldn’t. Staying alone was the worst decision he made.

Yes he did get the desired space he absolutely needed for like an hour and he did try to cease his crying, but his heart, oh his heart was pounding like nobody’s business. Anxious. Alone. Not cared for.

The walls of his room closed around him, his breathing becoming rugged, the laughter of his dead son echoing in his head. But he remembered he was cared for. By you. He had only you now.

He wanted, needed your soothing embraces, your kind words, your optimism, your affection. Everything.

He just wanted you now.

He had to forget.  It was a bit past midnight, but it was you. His reliable rock; soon to become the love of his life. He had to forget what he was going though and in a moment of desperation, he texted you. His thought was confirmed, you would always be there for him.

—

Last and Final Part 5 on its way :)

#Defending Jacob #Andy Barber #Andy Barber Imagine #Chris Evans Imagine #Chris Evans #Andy Barber x reader #Chris Evans x reader #Andy Barber Smut #Chris Evans Imagines

[emptysatellite]

breaking and entering according to hy + gar-bear

Ao3

one.

“This is a horrible idea.”

“No, it’s genius.”

Hyacinth was skipping ahead in the moonlit field while Gareth just mopped in amazement. It was midnight and they were at the one place they shouldn’t be; Clair House.

They were only there because of that stupid journal Hyacinth was translating. Gareth’s grandmother, Isabella, had written it throughout her entire marriage, when she moved to England with her new husband. The journal was written in Italian, a language Gareth couldn’t understand in the slightest, leaving Hyacinth to translate for him (although, as she made clear, she was not fluent). Most of the entries centered around Isabella’s daily life, but Hyacinth discovered a secret; a little while before her death, Isabella hid diamond jewelry in the house so her money hungry and gambling-obsessed son couldn’t sell them.

Once Hyacinth found this out, she rushed to Gareth’s, demanding they go to his father’s property at once. Lucky for them, Mr. St. Clair was out of town on a hunting trip, leaving the house completely empty.

“Hyacinth,” he attempted to reason with her, “we could get in trouble for this. Like real, legal trouble. Trespassing and breaking and entering are crimes.”

“Good thing my brother’s a lawyer. Anthony would defend us, no questions asked,” she retorted, hiding behind a tree to get a good look at the dark house.

“I think there would be lots of questions asked, Hyacinth. Lots of questions asked,” he leaned against a nearby tree, although completely in sight of any passerbys.

“I don’t think so. I’m Anthony’s favorite sister.”

“I don’t think that matters in the court of law… Aren’t you studying law? Shouldn’t you know this?”

“I’m studying politics and international relations, actually,” she tore herself away from the tree, strolling closer to the house. “Do you have a key to this place?”

“No.”

“What? Why not?” she froze in place.

“I don’t live here, why would I have a key?”

“I don’t know, you used to live here so I just assumed,” Hyacinth whisper-yelled, turning back to him. She gave Gareth a pointed look, “how are we supposed to break in if we don’t have a key?”

“We could break a window like they do in all those karate movies.”

“This isn’t a karate movie, Gareth! Besides, we can’t break a window; the neighbors might hear something and call the cops!”

“Like the neighbors wouldn’t call the police if they saw two suspicious individuals go through the front door when they know my dad lives alone and is out of town.”

Groaning, she said, “well, do you know anyone we could get a key from?”

“My grandmother, maybe?” he suggested, his calm exterior crumbling upon meeting her angry gaze.

“Professor D?” she demanded.

“I’m sure. She has a collection of keys from homes and apartments she doesn’t live in.”

“Perfect,” Hyacinth gave him a wide smile of pearly white teeth. “I’ll call her tomorrow morning and get the keys by lunch so that we can both come back at nightfall.”

“Aren’t we going on a date tomorrow night?” asked Gareth.

“Oh right! Well, we’ll come here after our date, then.”

There was no point arguing; when Hyacinth’s mind was made up there was no use debating it. They’d be back tomorrow, no doubt in Gareth’s mind.

two.

“God, I love your grandmother.”

“More than me, apparently.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Hyacinth gave Gareth a light shove, playing with Professor Danbury’s key to Clair House in her free hand.

“I wore the cologne you like to dinner and you still wanted to come here to find some stupid diamonds instead of back to my apartment,” he replied.

“Okay, well, three things. First, diamonds are not stupid, they’re my best friends. Second, I love the cologne you wore to dinner, it smells so Gar-bear St. Clair. And third, I still want to go back to your apartment, but when we get the diamonds,” she explained, taking a tangle of manila rope out of her bookbag, with a (seemingly) heavy rock tied to an end.

Her whole statement was questionable. Gareth barely knew how to respond. “Gar-bear?” is what he finally managed. “What is that ?”

Hyacinth laughed, covering her mouth with her hand in order not to wake the neighbors. “It’s your nickname,” she said at last. “Isn’t it cute? I think so. I came up with it last night, when I was making this!”

She pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of the pocket of her leather jacket. “Read it and weep,” she thrust it into his hands.

“ Breaking and entering according to Hy and Gar-bear? ” he demanded. “What the fuck , Hyacinth?”

“I’ve done loads of research on breaking into houses. I’m practically an expert,” Hyacinth replied, throwing the rope up onto the balcony with a huff. “I just thought I should add your name too, even though you didn’t contribute because we’re partners. Get it? We’re partners in crime .”

“Har-har,” his response was much more sarcastic than intended, “disrupting the peace is so funny.”

“We’re not disrupting the peace,” Hyacinth rolled her eyes. She added, “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you.”

“For better or worse.”

“Little early to be saying that, don’t you think, Bud?”

“Nope, your face is adorable.”

“Damn, you know flattery gets you everywhere with me.”

“I know.”

“Climb up the rope.”

“Wait, what?” he was shaken out of the blind flirtation. “You want me to climb that?”

���Of course,” said Hyacinth. “That’s why I brought it. I thought you’d be too wuss to scale the building, so I thought the rope might help.”

“Is it even secure?” Gareth asked, glancing upwards, for any sign (or omen) he should not pull himself up the rope because it was a risk to his health. “Like, will that rock support our weight?”

“Yes; I wouldn’t tell you to do something if I didn’t think it was safe. And the rock should support us… I tried like five other rocks before picking this one.”

“You’ve… already tried this?”

“Obviously.”

“How heavy is the rock?”

“Not sure.”

“Why are we climbing up to the balcony, anyway?”

“To go through the balcony door. Duh.”

“Why can’t we just go through the side door. No one would see us.”

“No one would see us go through the balcony door, either.”

“But going through the balcony door seems more complicated.”

“You know, we’re spending all this time arguing when you could just climb the damn rope and we could find the damn diamonds.”

“No.”

“Do you want me to go first?”

“Yes, that would make me feel better.”

Without another word, Hyacinth caught the rope, pulling herself up in a way that vividly reminded Gareth of secondary school physical education class. Still, she made it to the balcony.

“See, it’s totally safe!” she called down. “Now, come on.”

“I don’t know, I’m still nervous, Hy!” he replied.

“I’m holding the rope tight,” promised Hyacinth, “I won’t drop it!”

“If you drop it, we’re breaking up and I’m suing you.”

“Noted. I won’t drop you.”

And she didn’t. Gareth was able to scamper up the rope safely to see Hyacinth’s wide grin at the top.

“I told you that’d you’d be fine,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved a hand dismissively. “You wanna do the honors?”

Hyacinth nodded, taking the key out of her pocket. Carefully, she put it in the deadbolt, twisting it unlocked, then doing the same with the door lever. “Aha!” she exclaimed, opening the windowed door. “It worked!”

three.

“Old Dicky may be an arsehole, but he has good taste in books.”

“Never once in my whole childhood did I ever see Richard in the library.”

“Well, then Grandpa St. Clair had good taste in books.”

“Right-o.”

“Hm,” Hyacinth ran her fingers along the book spines. “So much Shakespeare.”

“God, I hate Shakespeare,” said Gareth, fumbling with his flashlight.

“Literally stop. We’re breaking up. Right now,” she replied, turning her nose up. She sneezed.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I have dust allergies, just so you know.”

“Good to know.”

“Now, Isabella wrote that the diamonds ―or another set of clues that will lead us to the diamonds―should be in the place where the imagination can run wild,” Hyacinth said, “so I assumed it was the library. What do you think?”

“It could also be the nursery,” suggested Gareth, “because my brother and I would play there all the time; I assume Dick and Uncle Ed would have done the same.”

“That’s true,” she scribbled a note on her arm. “We’ll check the nursery after we finish here.”

“Hyacinth?”

“Yes?”

“It’s going to take us forever to go through here,” Gareth said, spreading his arms for dramatic effect.

Hyacinth seemed to think on this for a brief moment, tapping her marker against her chin. “Hm,” she finally replied, “it won’t take forever if we get started now.”

“Capital plan,” he commented, rolling his eyes.

“I know right,” she retorted. “Besides, even if we tear this room up, we can just leave it; we’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, too?”

“Of course. We’re not resting until we find these damn diamonds.”

“Dick is coming home in less than a week.”

“We’ll just have to be very thorough and efficient then,” she replied. “Now, do we want to start by ripping the books off of their shelves? Or go through all the drawers and cabinets by the desk?”

“I’ll do the desk and you do the shelves.”

“Works with me.”

They went to work, flashlights glowing in the dark library. They didn’t talk, concentration ruling their motions.

“I think I found something!” Hyacinth called, after less than an hour of searching.

“What?” Gareth replied, looking up from the stack of dust-covered papers he was flipping through.

“Hold on, I’m translating,” she paused. She looked up at him, saying, “basically, the hint is that the diamonds are in a washroom.”

“There are five washrooms in this house!” he groaned, collapsing onto the nearest chair.

and four.

“We’re literally going to jail. We’re going to spend the night ―and probably quite a few nights―in jail! ”

“It’s okay, Anthony will defend us in court. Simon will too, I’m sure; I’m his favorite sister-in-law. He got me a miniature pony for my sixteenth birthday, you know.”

“Hyacinth, I’m glad you and Simon and Anthony have good relationships, but we’re still going to jail! ”

“Lower your voice, you’ll upset the cop,” Hyacinth shushed Gareth, placing a finger on his lips.

“I think the cop is already upset,” he replied, grumpily, “because he just arrested us for breaking into my father’s mansion and we didn’t even find the diamonds.”

“Okay, to start, Richard is not your father ―” she started, waving her hand dismissively.

“Believe me, he’s made that clear―” Gareth interrupted.

“But Edward is.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Edward is your dad.”

“Edward? As in my uncle Edward ?” demanded Gareth.

“No, as in your dad Edward,” Hyacinth replied.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am.”

“Uncle Ed was my dad?”

“Yes, didn’t you hear what I said?”

“I did,” he breathed in amazement, “I just―it’s hard to believe.”

“You can come to therapy with me, if you want,” Hyacinth suggested. “I have my weekly sessions on Wednesdays.”

“Honestly, I might have to take you up on that offer…”

“There’s no shame in it. My therapist is the best, I’ve been working with her for years.”

“Nice, nice.”

“Oh! I forgot to add,” she reached into her jacket, pulling a trinket ―no not a trinket, a necklace, bracelet, and set of earrings―out of her pocket, “we did find the diamonds.”

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Gareth.

“Shh, the cop will hear,” she mumbled, untangling the jewelry from one another.

“I just… Hy, you’re amazing!”

“I know,” she flipped her hair with her free hand, “I’m told all the time.”

“Where did you find it?”

“In Clair House. Duh.”

“No, I meant , where in Clair House?”

“Under a floorboard in the nursery washroom. When we split up and you were in the master washroom.”

“We’re here, hooligans,” the policeman peered at the couple through the rearview mirror.

Hyacinth locked eyes with Gareth, slowly putting the diamond jewelry back into her jacket. She smiled at him and he returned a favor.

Still, they spent the night in jail.

#hyacinth bridgerton #gareth st clair #bridgerton #bridgerton fic

[lallyloo]

Limoncello

When Rhett first mentioned making his own limoncello, Link had mostly tuned him out. Rhett was constantly talking about cooking, or brewing, or smoking various meats – all so he could throw parties and impress people. The idea of infusing lemon peels in vodka for a month just to impress people seemed a bit stupid to Link.

But when Rhett showed up at the creative house on a Thursday night carrying a fresh bottle of limoncello, Link’s interest was finally piqued. It did look tasty. It was bright yellow and syrupy looking and when Rhett popped open the bottle, the lemon smell was so strong Link swore he could already taste it.

“MY LEEEMONCHELLAAA!” Rhett exclaimed as the scent filled the air. He sounded like an old Italian grandfather, and he brought the fingertips of his right hand up to his mouth to do a chef’s kiss. “IT SMELLA SO GOOD-AH!”

Link just stared at him with mild amusement.

“LINK-AH WOULDA YOU LIKE-AH SOME OF MY LEEEEEEMONCHELLAAAA.”

“Sure.”

“I WILL GETTA SOME FOR YOU,” Rhett pointed to the kitchen door, gesturing for Link to leave, “YOU-AH GO SIT-AH. I WILL BRING-AH IT TO YOU.”

“Do you want me to get some glasses?”

“NO-AH!” Rhett carried on with his ridiculous accent, “YOU GO. I SAID I WILL BRING-AH IT TO YOU. GO! GO!”

Link laughed as Rhett shooed him out of the kitchen.

By the time Rhett joined him, with the bottle resting in a bowl filled with ice, his over exaggerated accent had mellowed a little.

“You need-ah to keep it chilled-ah. Cold. Like, with-ah some ice!”

He handed Link a small stemmed glass and Link held it still while Rhett poured.

“You can put-ah some mint-ah leaves in too, but I did not think-ah you’d like-ah that.”

“I appreciate it,” Link replied, “but your Italian accent needs work.”

“You hate-ah my accent?” Rhett grinned at him, “Link-ah! You hurt-ah my heart with your words!”

Link rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep from smiling.

Rhett settled in beside him, poured his own glass, and they got to work.

They sipped the first glass slowly while brainstorming ideas together, and Rhett was too distracted by their latest Instagram sketch idea to continue with the accent.

By the second glass, Rhett had slipped back into his accent a little, just when he took a sip from his glass, “mmmm that’s a good-ah leeeeemonchellaaaa.”

A warm, comfortable feeling had settled over Link and he was leaning into Rhett a little more than usual. They were still writing, and their thoughts were flowing freely, but both suspected their ideas might seem less ingenious the following morning in the sober light of day.

They probably should’ve stopped at two glasses. By the end of their third glass, Rhett was stuck in a full-on Italian accent, and Link was giggling so much he was crying.

It was stupid, but the more Link drank the funnier Rhett seemed to get, and by the time he was finished his third glass he was pretty sure Rhett had never been so hilarious. Link couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much, and he could only stare at Rhett with fondness as Rhett overemphasized every word and movement. Rhett was laughing too, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and even though it was all ridiculous, Link couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Rhett kept it up, if only to keep Link laughing. He loved seeing Link laugh, it made him look younger and happier, and Rhett would do anything to keep him smiling.

“ARE YOU DRUNK-AH?”

“I think so,” Link grinned, “are you?”

“AH YES. I AM DRUNK-AH AS A SKUNK-AH.”

Link giggled in response.

“IT’S TOO BAD WE ARE DRUNK-A. I WOULD LIKE-AH TO TAKE-AH YOU FOR A RIDE-AH ON MY BEESEEKLETTA. “

“Your what?”

“MY BEE-SEE-KLETTA. ELECKTRIC A-BEE-SEE-KLETTA.”

“Your electric bicycle?” The force of Link’s laughter propelled him forward on the couch, and he wriggled next to Rhett, overcome with a fit of giggles.

“YES-AH.”

“You wanna take me for a ride on your electric bicycle?” Link was laughing so hard tears were coming to his eyes, and he wiped at them as he gasped for breath.

“AH YES. MY BEESEEKLETTA FOR YOU MY LINK-AH.”

“Rhett,” Link choked out, “you can take me for a ride anytime.”

Rhett gasped, feigning shock. “LINK-AH. SO FORWARD. I’D TAKE-AH YOU FOR A RIDE.”

“Would ya?” Link stared at him, almost like it was a dare between them, and neither one was quite sure what Rhett’s reply was because suddenly Link was tugging his shirt off, swinging a leg over Rhett’s thigh, and climbing onto his lap.

Rhett didn’t stop him, he just looked at Link with a surprised sense of awe.

“What’re you..?” Rhett attempted to ask, his accent suddenly gone, but he didn’t mean it. He wasn’t looking for an explanation, or for Link to stop.

Link answered by leaning in and kissing him.

Link’s mouth tasted of sugared lemons, and Rhett’s mind suddenly slipped back to warm summer days at the river, when they’d swim for hours and then sit on the banks and drink homemade lemonade. He remembered water droplets on Link’s sun-kissed skin and the sugary mustache over his top lip, and the one time Rhett couldn’t resist it any longer and he kissed Link, tasting the tart lemon on his tongue and the sweetness of his mouth.

Rhett swore he’d never tasted anything sweeter, but Link’s limoncello mouth came close.

“My leeemonchellaaa,” Rhett whispered in a weak attempt to get one last joke in.

“Oh god, Rhett,” Link laughed, tugging Rhett’s shirt up over his head, “just shut up and touch me.”

He claimed Rhett’s mouth again, sliding his tongue over Rhett’s lips, coaxing Rhett’s tongue to lick at his, effectively quieting any verbal response.

Rhett settled his hands on Link’s hips, touching hesitantly for a second before grabbing more forcefully, pressing hard, holding Link down and pushing up against him. Rhett’s cock swelled and he was overcome with the desire for Link to know it, he wanted Link to feel it as he thrust up.

Link rutted down into him, urgent and needy, letting Rhett know he felt him.

Rhett brought his mouth, still sticky with liqueur, down to Link’s chest and licked over a nipple, and Link groaned, grabbing Rhett’s hair and holding him there. Rhett licked and sucked until Link guided his head over to lick at the other side. Rhett took the hard bud in his mouth and flicked over it with his tongue until Link was groaning and writhing in his lap.

Link pushed him away gently, and Rhett watched as Link unzipped his grey jeans and took out his cock, giving himself a hard squeeze. The head of his cock was already wet and more precum pooled at the tip and dripped down his shaft.

“Look.” Link gave himself a slow stroke. “You got me so hard.”

Rhett watched Link touch himself, his hand sliding slick over his dick as he stared at Rhett, and then Rhett reached to pull him closer. Link arched his back as Rhett’s arms went around him, and Rhett slid a hand down the back of Link’s jeans, slipping past the waistband of Link’s boxer briefs. He touched the soft skin there, smoothing over Link’s ass before slipping a finger between his cheeks, and Link let out a shaky breath as Rhett’s fingers ghosted over his hole.

“Rhett, yeah..”

Link arched his back further, pushing his ass into Rhett’s hand, encouraging, wanting, begging Rhett to touch him there, really touch him, more than just a tease.

Rhett pulled his hand out, slicked his middle finger with saliva and slipped his hand back down Link’s jeans, slicking over his hole and pushing in just a bit, just enough to make Link close his eyes and sigh “yeah, Rhett, finger me.”

Rhett’s cock strained under Link as he slid his finger in further, up to the second knuckle, and he eased it in and out a few times, gently finger-fucking Link’s hole.

“Aw fuck,” Link moaned, “just like that.”

Link leaned over suddenly, grabbing the limoncello and taking another drink directly from the bottle. Then he kissed Rhett again, sloppy, wet, sticky, sweet.

He tasted like tart lemons and sugar syrup and Rhett couldn’t get enough of him. He licked back into Link’s mouth, trying to find and savour every last taste of him as he teased him with his finger.

Link’s hand moved frantically over himself, his cock trapped between their bodies, as Rhett’s finger slid in to the last knuckle and he curved it a little, just enough to make Link moan again. Rhett continued, teasing, touching the heat inside Link’s body, easing in and out until Link was gasping against his mouth and coming between himself and Rhett, wet warmth pooling between them as he fucked himself on Rhett’s finger.

Rhett remained in awe about it all, easing his finger out carefully and watching as Link regained his bearings – his own sense of awe settling gently across his face as he looked at Rhett. Then he smiled, and he looked so beautiful Rhett couldn’t do anything but pull Link’s body up, leaning down to meet his cock and suck him in. Link gasped at the overstimulation, but he just watched as Rhett licked him clean.

When Rhett was finished, Link slid down Rhett’s body, trailing sticky kisses across Rhett’s chest and over his stomach, licking the last streaks of his own cum off Rhett’s belly until he was on the floor between Rhett’s thighs. Rhett’s cock was tenting his jeans and Link nudged his face against it before pulling at the denim covering Rhett’s thighs.

“Unzip, get these off.”

Rhett unzipped and lifted his hips as Link yanked down his jeans, pulling Rhett along too until he was nearly on his back, his cock resting heavy against his thigh, and his legs jutting out from the couch. Link left Rhett’s jeans bunched around his knees, and crawled over him to reach his cock.

Link grabbed the bottle again, taking another swig of limoncello, and then put his mouth on Rhett’s cock, sucking over him, his lips and tongue all sticky and cool from the alcohol. He tongued at the head of Rhett’s cock, licking into the slit until Rhett’s hips were jerking from the overstimulation.

“Link, it’s too much” Rhett groaned.

Link pulled away for a second, “you just taste so good.”

Link tongued at him one more time and curled his lips around the head of Rhett’s cock, and then he pulled back to take another swig of limoncello. He brought his lips together over Rhett’s dick and let some of the alcohol spurt from his mouth, trailing down over Rhett’s shaft, cool and sticky.

Then Link took him in again, sucking hungrily, tasting every inch of Rhett’s cock with his tongue. Rhett wanted to make it last but he couldn’t. Link’s slick, sticky mouth was too much and Rhett could feel his orgasm rushing up quickly.

“Link, I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah, do it,” Link pulled his mouth away for a second, licking down Rhett’s shaft, “you should come in my mouth.”

“Link,” Rhett breathed a final warning, and Link brought his mouth back up just in time to take him in, sucking over him sweet and sticky, swallowing down every shot of Rhett’s cum.

After a moment, Link moved up to settle in beside him, both of them still half-naked and Rhett’s jeans still around his knees. Link brought the bottle up to Rhett’s mouth and tipped it, giving him a little taste, and then Link brought it up to his own lips to take another sip.

Rhett sighed, “ahh my leeeemonchella.”

“Your leeemonchella,” Link echoed with a grin. “So good, my Rhett-ah.”

Rhett smiled quietly to himself, and then nearly choked when Link spoke again

“But I still wanna ride your beeseekletta.”

#rhink #fic #rhink fic #my fic #i'm sorry #this is absurd #i apologize to any italians out there #i don't think you speak this way #i offer you smut as an apology #limoncello

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 122

Annnnd WE’RE BACK!

Thank you so much for your patience during the hiatus. Work is still crazy, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel there *crosses fingers*. And I was able to build back up my cushion of chapters, so that was a huge win for me.

As a reminder, this is a skip forward roughly 4 years from chapter 121. So, if you read a bit and start to wonder “wait, did I miss something?”, you probably didn’t and it’s most likely something I am going to circle back to.  Don’t be a afraid to shoot me an ask, however, if you are just really thrown off by something! I’ll gladly clarify unless it’s something plot-specific.

Thanks, as always, go to @baelpenrose, @raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog.  By the way, Raven is working on a podcast of The Miys, which I am incredibly stoked about. Please follow @glimmeringfeatherspodcast for updates!

I carefully adjusted my glasses as I suppressed a giggle at Noah, who was swarmed with small yellow puffs of fuzz.  In the last seven years since their discovery, Else’s hyper-fast evolution hadn’t slowed down much, although Grey did promise that it had slowed down. Noah buzzed at the puff resting on one of its vomu, eliciting a purr. “I believe they learned this behavior from Mac.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I admitted. “I caught him playing with several of them a couple days ago.”

“I have observed them together on frequent occasions.” Reaching up, it plucked another puff from the top of its head. “I cannot hear if you sit on my sensory organs, podling.”  Soon after Else evolved to the point they could live outside of a habitat tank, Miys had developed a tendency to treat them like its own young, and generally had several of them perched somewhere.

“How many of them are there now?” I asked, reaching out slightly before stopping myself from petting the closest canary-sized fluff. “Else, can I pick you up?”

In response, it bounced onto my hand.  I’d noticed how little they spoke now, but Miys had assured us it was a normal stage in hive-being evolution - once Else became too large to actually fit in our bodies, it wasn’t able to communicate through the translator chip.  At this stage, it could still hear us, but communicating back was a work in process.  Mostly, they just trilled and chirped.

“Currently, there are five hundred and seven thousand, six hundred and twenty-three.”

“They’re very adaptable,” I observed.

With the one free vomu it had, Noah made a nodding gesture. “Most species that reach sentience are. We are able to observe Else’s evolution on a much shorter time scale than most, as well. Consider humanity’s evolution, and imagine seeing it take place in years rather than over the course of millenia.”

“I know,” I laughed. “But seeing it is way more incredible than imagining it.” I adjusted my glasses again, eliciting the buzz that usually meant Noah was exasperated with me.

“Why do humans insist on using those instead of having their eyes repaired?”

“My eyes aren’t damaged,” I reminded it. “And you did repair my eyes. I’m wearing these because my eyes are working right. You know this.”

“In principle, not in practice.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Our eyes evolved to work in a specific kind of light. Earth’s sun is yellow, I think? But Von’s sun is more blue.” I gestured at the light emitters in the corridor. “When the light is in the twilight cycle like this, some humans can’t see as well as we could in Earth-twilight. Hence the glasses.”

“Sight is so inefficient.”

I just shook my head. I couldn’t exactly argue. “Between the light and the gravity, it’s been a huge adjustment.”

“You have all adjusted in quite - innovative ways,” Noah replied. “My kind have done many of these relocations. Not all species adapt well.”

“What was it you called it?” I squinted, both from trying to see what was ahead of me and from thinking. I’m going to have to talk to someone about some flashlights, I swear… “We ‘persist’?”

“Humans are remarkably stubborn, yes,” it confirmed. “As Arthur Farro seems to prefer explaining it, your species began space travel by attaching chemical ignition drives to your posteriors.”

Even after so long, some things just did not translate. “Yep, we very much strapped a rocket to our asses to achieve spaceflight,” I laughed. “Everything on Earth kind of evolved and adapted like that. We learned what wouldn’t poison us by watching others die from eating it, that kind of thing. Even our superstitions, and later our laws, were basically ‘hey, let’s not do this, it kills people’.” A liw made its way into my line of sight, rocking to mimic a confused head-tilt. “You rescued us for our sight, not because we are a particularly bright species.”

“I understand that the polite thing to do, according to your customs, is to object to that statement, however I have been told on several occasions that I lack any skill in falsehoods.”

“We bombed ourselves back to the Stone Age the second we hit our highest peak in technology.” I reached out and patted what would have been a shoulder on a human. “You don’t have to lie about that. Arthur has studied an absurd percentage of human history. Even from a scholarly perspective, I am assured we are a singularly idiotic race. Besides, we’d already ruined an entire planet at that point...”

“It has evidenced itself to be a lesson well-learned.” It returned the pat, gently. “For a species historically inclined to warfare, those on the Yjq have demonstrated a profound proclivity toward peace.”

“Trying to keep it that way, bud,” I admitted.

Removing yet another puff from its sensory organs, Noah continued. “Please be assured, also, that Terrans are far from ‘singularly’ idiotic.  There are many species in the Galactic Community that are demonstrably lacking in what you refer to as ‘common sense’.”

Noah was still a terrible gossip. “Do tell,” I asked, crossing my mental fingers that we weren’t the worst out there.

“Preeyar,” it listed immediately.

“The rift-valley avians?”

“The same. They experience terrible reactions to liquid water, and yet they are fascinated by fountains and insist upon touching them!” Startled chirps erupted as all six appendages on Noah’s upper body flung out in frustration. “Any vessel transporting Preeyar has specific instructions on how to treat the resulting burns.”

I had to admit, that was pretty bad. “Terrans at least learn not to touch things that will burn us by the time we can speak, usually.” My nose tickled as several little Else-puffs migrated over to me, upset by the grand gesture from my friend.  I was almost glad it was so difficult for humans to see in the corridor, because I probably looked absurd.

“Shalt’krii are somehow just as difficult,” Noah confessed. “As a species that have what you term an ‘allergy’ to sonic waves - they develop painful rashes and can have seizures when exposed. Yet, it is entirely inevitable when transporting a large group that several will have forgotten or neglected to bring dampeners.”

“Oh my gosh,” I gasped, trying not to laugh and upset Else again. “How?”

“It has eluded the Galactic Council since they joined. The dampeners are far less barbaric than what the So-K’nor do to resolve a similar concern, but I must privately admit that the So-K’nor are at least more consistent and effective.”

Well, yeah, deliberately deafening yourself permanently when you go off-world tends to be that way, I thought to myself. I knew I didn’t need to say it out loud, but I also knew that Noah would not address my thoughts out loud. “Okay, maybe we aren’t that bad,” I granted. “I think the worst we do is ingest mild poisons.”

“On an alarmingly frequent basis, yes. Including plants native to your world that actually attempt to digest you as you eat them.”

I shook my head. “Not this girl. I don’t like pineapple.”

“And the number of humans on the ship who willingly consume lactic acid, knowing it will cause them digestive distress?” If it had eyebrows, they would be arching, I just knew it.

“You have pointed out several times over the years that you can’t taste,” I pointed out. “So you have no idea how tempting cheese can be.”

Noah shook one vomu like a head. “Incorrect. Having witnessed the sheer amount of it that Tyche consumed once she realized that you were not lactose intolerant, there is empirical evidence to support your claim.”

Unconsciously, my hand jumped to touch my left ear before I could force it down. “I remember the spicy food,” I said carefully, stroking one of the fluffs on my arms. “But I didn’t know about the cheese. Come to think of it - “ I stopped in my tracks and turned to face Noah directly, “Why weren’t the consoles just adjusted to make all the food… I dunno, lactose-free, I guess?”

Two liw reached to pluck several yellow beings from my arms and head as Noah used one vomu to start ticking reasons. “One, because I was specifically asked not to by Grey Hodenson and Xiomara Kalloe, the consensus being that bovines are, in fact, in the genetic database. Two, because that was attempted several weeks before you were brought on board, and I was tempted to damage my sensory organs to block out the sheer number of complaints regarding how everything tasted.”  Thankfully, its vomu was still empty when it flung outward. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to accommodate requests regarding something you do not experience?”

I felt slightly ashamed. “Not entirely, no.” Trying to lighten the mood slightly, I felt the need to point out “Besides, I really like goat cheese.”

“Something about chetter and mootsareeleh,” Noah grumbled.

“Ohhhhh,” I whispered. “Eyeah… do not mess with Italians’ mozzarella, I have learned. And cheddar does have a very specific flavor. I can see those being very loud complaints.”

“In eight Terran years, I am still confused why the color of the chetter is a determining factor, as well as how something so soft can be compared to an edged weapon.”

I felt like I was going to explode from suppressed laughter. I had to stop, tears streaming down my face, and catch my breath. “Oh, Noah… I honestly don’t know if I can explain that, but I can try…”

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#the miys #humans are weird #found family #humans baffle aliens #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #original science fiction #science fiction #sci fi #original sci fi #my writing

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

Love at First Bite

Rayla is taken by a client to eat at the Italian-Korean fusion place in town and falls in love with the food, and later, the chef.

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

Rayla smiled at her client as they waited for their server to come.  Her boss had told her that they had to keep the contract with the client’s company no matter what, and if that meant going to a Korean-Italian fusion restaurant that would probably be too spicy for Rayla’s Scottish, fried-food-loving taste buds, so be it.  The client, Ms. Danvers, had been hyping the restaurant up all evening.  “You said you like potatoes?  This place as amazing kimchi-style potatoes and potato pancakes.”

Rayla nodded.  “My grandmother is Irish and there are always potatoes cooking in her house.”  Rayla subtly looked around the dining room. The walls were mostly white with a few panels a beautiful red.  There was artwork on the walls, ranging from sceneries to portraits.  They all looked to be done by the same artist but Rayla couldn’t place a name to them.  The air was warm and smelled of spices and herbs and cheese.  Rayla could see a row of cheeses on one of the shelves.  “Do they use a lot of cheese here?”

“Korean food pairs wonderfully with cheese.  There’s a rumor that all the vegetables here are from the local farmer’s market as are most of the cheeses.  It’s fusion, but it’s as domestic as possible, too.”

“You’ve really been talking this place up.”

Ms. Danvers flushed.  “It’s my favorite restaurant.  I come here for lunch once a week and get take-away whenever I’m having a bad day.  This place is known for Korean-Italian fusion, but they make a delicious Thai laksa and a vegetarian Tom Yum that is to die for.”

“Really?”  Rayla didn’t know that much about Asian food, but she knew that Tom Yum was common in Thai eateries.

“The chef is a quarter-Thai and a quarter-Korean, his grandparents being from Thailand and South Korea.  He knows the flavors well and plays with them, but when he goes authentic, he’s the best in town.  He will also make almost any dish vegetarian if you request it.”

“How accommodating.”

A server came up, a smile on their face.  “Good evening and welcome to Sarai’s Place.  Any wine to start this evening?”  Rayla shook her head, surprised when Ms. Danvers asked for Thai iced tea for the both of them.  “And what can I get started for you?”

“Ms. Burrows?”

Rayla looked down at the menu again.  “Hmm.  I’m not sure what to get.  I don’t have a very high spice tolerance.”

The server nodded.  “Scale of 1 to 10?”

“Maybe a three.”

“Do you like kimchi?”

“Never had it.”

“Then I recommend trying the kimchi potatoes, if you like potatoes, or the risotto, which features chopped kimchi, sesame oil, and garlic.  The chef makes two kinds of kimchi, one mild and one spicy, so he’ll use the mild for you.  For the main dish, if you enjoy cheese, a pasta dish that has mussels, a Korean chili paste and tomato sauce, and fresh parmesan.  Everything that can be local, is local and if you eat vegetarian, the mussels will be taken out and instead you will get mushrooms.”

“My grandmother is Irish so I’m very snobbish with my potatoes.”

“I would rate his potato pancakes a ten.  He takes the traditional Korean recipe and adds parmesan cheese and some rosemary and its cooked with the house chili oil, so when you cut into it, it’s cheesy and subtly spicy.  The house chili oil is made with both gochugaru and the type of dried chilis usually used to make olio di peperocino.”

“I’ll go with the pancakes and the mussels pasta you suggested.”

“Excellent choice.  And for you?”

Ms. Danvers smiled.  “Did he make Tom Yum or laksa today?”

“Laksa.”

“I will take a bowl of laksa while Ms. Burrows is eating her pancakes and I will also take the mussels pasta.  Can we also get an order of garlic bread?”

“Of course.  I’ll get your Thai iced teas ready.  Anything else today?”

“What’s the dessert of the week?”

“Since it’s summer, mango pudding, Thai coconut pudding, and strawberry-lime cheesecake.”

“We’ll each take a slice of the strawberry-lime cheesecake.”  The server nodded and walked away after reading back the list.  “I hope you don’t mind me ordering dessert for you, but he only makes that cheesecake when the strawberries are in their peak season and it’s worth it.”

Rayla nodded.  “No problem, Ms. Danvers.  I wouldn’t really know what to order otherwise.”

They chatted while they waited, pausing when the garlic bread came to the table.  Rayla had been expecting the kind of garlic bread Americans seemed to adore, buttery and almost artificially garlic-y.  Instead, they got small, fresh loaves that had pieces of roasted garlic and thyme baked into it, served with the house chili oil and garlic that had been cooked until it spread like butter on the bread.  Rayla was impressed with the flavor and how the pieces of garlic were not overpowering.

When the potato pancakes came, Rayla could smell the spice but trusted the server had not led her astray, eyeing her glass of Thai iced tea just in case.  One bite and she was in heaven.  The cheese and the heat from the chili only enhanced the potato flavor as did the light smattering of soy sauce and vinegar-based sauce.  Rayla almost ignored Ms. Danvers when the pasta came, inhaling the dish.  At the end of the meal, once the excellent cheesecake had been finished, Rayla was in love with the food.  “Well, Ms. Danvers, I suppose I should be thanking you for introducing me to my new favorite restaurant.”

Ms. Danvers chuckled.  “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I would marry the chef in a heartbeat if I got to eat like this every day for the rest of my life.”

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

Rayla brought all her clients and her coworkers to Sarai’s Place in the following months.  She tried almost everything on the menu, though she was still mildly terrified of the spiciness of the laksa if the smell alone was anything to go by.  Every Monday and Thursday, she got take-away and ordered the dessert whenever she ate in on Saturdays.  She was thankful she was single or else she would have to come here every week with someone and she liked dining alone in the quiet restaurant.

Sometimes, they played classical music, other times K-pop, and Rayla would always remember the night they had played an opera medley when several people with the Katolis Opera Company had dined that night.  The chef seemed keenly aware of who came to his restaurants at what dates and times and played music to fit their tastes but also made sense with the theme.

It was a popular spot with not only Foodies and high school kids, but a lot of Asian-Americans dined there.  Rayla had looked up the reviews and had seen it was highly recommended by the Katolis Korean and Thai communities, the Katolis restaurant circles, and the Commission for the Promotion of Local Ingredients and Farmer’s Markets.  No one said anything bad about Sarai’s Place without at least ten people defending the restaurant’s choices.

And now Rayla was sitting with her boss, Ahling Patel, and having to stop herself from inhaling the food in front of her.  The risotto was so satisfying and paired with chicken breast stuffed with kimchi, perilla, and ricotta.  “What do you think, Mr. Ahling?”

“It’s delicious.  I’ve always felt that fusion was a gimmick, but I’m sold by this young man’s food.  Young lady,” Ahling called the server, smiling good-naturedly when she nodded at him and finished up with her current customer.  When she came up to their table, she greeted them again.  “Is there anyway we can speak to the chef?”

The server blinked before nodding.  “I’m sure I can arrange it.  Dinner service is almost over and there are only you and two other tables.  Can I bring you dessert while I’m talking to him?”

“What do you recommend?”

“Our pastry chef made yakgwa, which are little honey pastries made with pine nuts, ginger, and sesame oil and they also made a yuja polenta cake and a play on Italian lemon cake, but with yuja.”

Rayla ordered the yakgwa and Ahling got the polenta cake and waited for the news.  Rayla couldn’t recall having ever seen the chef even though she came there at least twice a week, closer to three.  She hadn’t seen any pictures of him, either, surprisingly enough.  He was said to keep to himself and shunned the limelight, which is why he never made TV appearances.

A few minutes later, it wasn’t their server, but a man who looked be about 26 arriving with their desserts.  His green eyes were striking, as were his cheekbones and sharp jawline.  He gave them both an awkward smile as Rayla noticed his ring finger was bare and didn’t seem to have a tan line.  Was this the chef?  His coat would seem to say so.  “Nice to meet you both.  I’m Callum Evans, the owner and executive chef here at Sarai’s Place.”

Ahling smiled.  “It’s nice to meet you, young man.  I’m Ahling Patel and this is my employee, Rayla Burrows.”  Rayla nodded her head in acknowledgement.  “Your food is delicious.  How on Earth do you even think of this?”

The young man flushed, looking down at his feet.  “Um, I’m not that special.  Many people before me found that Korean and Italian food go well together.  Most of my recipes are riffs on family recipes and all my Thai dishes are family recipes.  I was originally going to go traditional Korean or Thai but there were no fusion places in the area and I’m part Irish and German on top of being a quarter-Thai and a quarter-Korean.  It felt…right, I guess.  I’m mixed and grew up with a variety of food cultures in my house, so why not do fusion?  Korean and Italian just made the most sense, so…”  He looked embarrassed at the praise, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rayla leaned forward a bit.  “I’ve eaten here at least twice week for the past six months.  I can tell you, without a doubt, it’s my favorite place to eat.”

“Thank you.”

Ahling cleared his throat.  “Are you single, Mr. Evans?”

Callum flushed even deeper.  “Ah.  Yes.  Being a chef requires long hours and running a restraint requires even more.”

“You need a good partner to help you find balance in your life!”

Rayla remained quiet as she watched them talk.  The only thing going through her mind was ‘I’m going to marry this man for his food.  I’ll eat well for the rest of my life.’  She stayed when Ahling said good night and while the restaurant emptied out.  Callum stayed at the table, fidgeting under her gaze.  “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“A date.”

Callum blinked.  “We have a sticky rice made with dates-”

“No.  A romantic excursion.  An outing.”

He gulped, looking her up and down.  “A date?  Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I fell in love with your food almost immediately after I tasted it and would like the chance to know the man who cooks it.”

Callum blushed.  “OK.”  They exchanged info and Rayla smirked as she left with his number in her cellphone.  There was no way she would be letting this one go.

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

After four months of dating, Rayla could confidently say that she was now just as in love with Callum the man as she was with his cooking.  Learning that his restaurant was named after his mother who died when he was in high school had endeared him to her, as had the knowledge that all the art on the walls were his paintings.  Was there anything he couldn’t do?

They were currently in Callum’s kitchen, him developing a new recipe while Rayla took down notes for him.  Even on his days off, he was always thinking about what he would do next and Rayla admired his passion to his craft.  When he brought her up to try the dish, she groaned.  “I will marry this man if it’s the last thing I do,” she muttered.

“I can hear you, you know,” Callum chuckled.

Rayla raised a brow.  “Then why haven’t you accepted my proposal?”

“Because you proposed to my food?”

“I hardly see the difference.”  Callum laughed at her, shaking his head.  “Hey, move in with me.”

“We’ve been together for four months.”

“Is that a problem?  Too short?”

Callum stared at her.  “You’re serious.”

“I told you; I fully plan on marrying you to eat your cooking ‘til the day I die.”

“So, it’s my cooking you love?”

“When have I hidden this?”  Rayla reached for his hand, pulling him closer.  “I’m serious.  Move in with me.”

“Why?”

Rayla shrugged.  “I’m happy when we wake up next to each other.  I like the idea of coming home to you or you coming home to me.  I don’t like sleeping alone, and, for the past month, the two of us have been alternating sleeping at each other’s places and it doesn’t make sense to pay rent on two places when we could be happy together?”

“That and I’m the only person willing to put up with your stubborn ass.”

Rayla gave him a mock offended looking, giving his arm a playful smack.  “You love my stubborn ass.”

“I do.”  Callum leaned down and captured her lips, letting her taste the dish he had been working on for the past hour.  When they pulled apart, he looked down into her eyes with his bright green ones.  “I think I love you.”

“That’s good, because I think I love you, too.”

Rayla would take that for now.  And in two years, when she would be standing next to him in front of their new house, matching rings on their fingers, and a very pregnant belly, she would remind him that he had his food to thank for their relationship.  “I fell in love with your food first.”

“I’m glad you did, because you kept coming back.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”        

#moonbase fanfics #rayllum #rayllum fanfic #the dragon prince #au #love at first bite #this was just for fun

[iridescent-hallucinations]

When the Night Comes

Mildly Angsty Jemily Fic

Summary:  Emily Prentiss finds comfort in the darkness. Jennifer Jareau is a shining beacon of light. Can their worlds ever really collide?

Pairing: Jennifer “JJ” Jareau x Emily Prentiss 

Word Count: 1921

Read it on AO3

Nightfall is easier. The cloak of darkness wraps around her body, concealing as well as comforting. People are usually afraid of the dark, but not Emily. She embraced the darkness a long time ago, specifically, on a mild Italian evening, just 15 years old, when the light was too much to bare and the hand wrapped around hers as they walked through church was pulling her from the depths of despair.

No, there’s safety in the shadows, the shadows don’t expose the secrets buried deeply in ones soul. Maybe that’s the reason this job came so easily to her, she didn’t even flinch at the horrors presented to them on a daily basis. Maybe that’s why she took so naturally to profiling; she already chose to dwell among the darkness.

With the daytime comes the scrutiny, people can gaze and the trauma is harder to hide. That’s why she buries herself in her job, so the stares are averted from her, onto the monsters and the demons that walk this Earth. It’s easy to lose oneself in the false sense of security created by the sun light, that’s why she strives to push it away, waiting until night comes to truly show herself.

As she sits in her apartment, drinking alone, she has to admit that the days have been easier since joining the BAU, Penelope, Derek, Spencer, JJ, they break up the danger. Learning to trust them has been a difficult road to walk - there’s a sense of dread that swells in the bottom of Emily’s stomach at the thought.

None of them really knew her, she felt a sense of bereavement at this thought, the little girl inside of her was screaming for her to just give in, be known, be seen, be heard. It had been too long since she’d felt any sense of commitment to another human being.

The second she felt a pang of belonging Emily knew she was in trouble. If she belonged she risked being hurt, all those years of moving pillar to post had given her enough rejection to last a lifetime. The last time she belonged anywhere were the darkest moments of her life, pretending to play house with a mob boss; a killer. But that wasn’t her, that was Lauren, she once again reassured herself, that life had been a constructed reality. It wasn’t real.

So then why did it hurt so much? If it was all just make believe, why did she risk it all to protect that little boy? Surely the affection she felt for Declan was real? But if so, was there some part of her that actually felt warmth towards Ian?

The thought sharply slammed her back to reality. Sighing to herself Emily shifted, standing from the single seater she’d been lounging in to pour herself another drink - Gin and Tonic. If her mind was going to do this tonight, she needed the liquid confidence to take the edge off. Watching the clear liquid fill her glass, Emily tried her best to think of something, anything, other than Lauren.

Picking up the glass with both hands, Emily made her way back to the chair. Resuming her position, she drank deeply, wincing at the way the alcohol strummed harshly at her taste buds. She knew this wasn’t productive, she should have just gone to the bar with everyone else, but when Derek had asked if she was joining, something in her knew what tonight would bring - and it was not going to be the night she unravelled to them. Night time can only bring cover if you let it.

Alarm bells and the way she saw disappointment flicker across JJ’s face told Emily she was making the right choice. Her thoughts had wandered from her old life, she was pleased to be thinking of something else. Jennifer. Emily mouthed the word, no noise coming out, testing how it tasted on her tongue. Like honey. Sweet, but with the potential to be sickening.

Emily had been struggling with her feelings for the younger woman for a while now, she blamed herself, it was typical of her to read too much into things. The looks, the comments, the touches, Emily had documented every single one, logged them into some sort of database in her brain to be over analysed when she was alone. It wasn’t the fact that JJ was a woman that was throwing Emily off, she had found out quite quickly into adulthood that she had a preference for women, it was the tugging in her chest and the tightening at the pit of her stomach.

If Emily didn’t know better she would have thought she was in love. A preposterous idea. To be in love was not part of her plan. If she was in love, she left herself exposed to all kinds of pain, she left herself open, vulnerable to attack. All of this seemed perfectly logical to the brunette, who had almost drained the last of her drink, staring into the glass, watching the ice clink against the side.

Sighing again, Emily swallowed the last of the liquid, waiting for the coolness of the sharp alcohol to hit her stomach. As her head span slightly from intoxication, the darkness settled in, it’s where she belonged, and Jennifer Jareau was not darkness. JJ was light, bright, stunning, she was everything that Emily longed to be when she was young.

The blonde was graceful, strong but subtle, she illuminated any room she walked into, and Emily was very aware that this caused her to retreat. Jennifer Jareau could single handedly unravel all of the hard work Emily had put in to remaining unseen, in the shadows.

The cover of darkness could only do so much when the younger woman was around, the brightness she emits had the potential to eradicate even the most stubborn of shadows that Emily longed to remain hidden in.

A rap echoed from within the apartment causing Emily to jump at the sudden sound. Immediately on high alert, she stood, quickly reaching for her weapon she kept in the drawer of the living room. How sad that she felt so wary in her own home - the thought was passing - but a split second, before she made her way to the front door. Another knock, louder this time, but Emily had braced herself for it, the sound didn’t pierce the silence like it had the first time. Creeping quietly to the door, Emily looked through the peep hole.

Exhaling a breath she didn’t realise she was holding, Emily relaxed, lowered her gun and placing it on the chest next to her keys. Blonde hair and blue eyes greeted her on the other side of the door. Why JJ had decided to show up at such an hour puzzled her briefly, had something happened? She was sure she’d had her phone on loud. The third knock caught her off guard, startling her but grounding her back in the moment.

Swinging the door open, Emily couldn’t hide the obvious confusion knitted in her eyebrows. JJ saw it immediately, and chuckled slightly at the brunette before her. Engaged in an accidental stand off, the two women just stood there, blinking at each other for a good few seconds before JJ finally spoke.

“Hey, you gonna let me in or?”

Realising she was still blocking the doorway with her body, Emily’s mind raced through a hundred different scenarios in a fraction of a second, stepping back and allowing JJ in.

“Gosh, of course, sorry - I, I hadn’t been expecting anyone this late.” Emily offered, closing the door behind the blonde.

Finally settling on an emotion, Emily was not thrilled to realise it was panic. JJ’s presence was already filling her apartment with a soft but bright hue, this was not part of the plan, this was not part of the plan; she repeated the thought as if it were a mantra.

“So what can I do for you?” The brunette finally managed, stepping further into the apartment, cautious not to get too close to the blonde and her ethereal glow, who was stood in the middle of the room.

“Can’t a gal just stop by to say hi?” JJ laughed, still finding Emily’s rigidity amusing. “Actually... there was something I wanted to talk about.”

JJ had obviously also had a drink, she wasn’t drunk - Emily could see that in her piercing blue eyes - but she was loose, looser than usual. Emily checked herself quickly, noticing her hard stance, and dropped her shoulders that she hadn’t realised she was tensing. Taking in JJ’s words, Emily realised it was normal for friends to visit each other out of the blue, it saddened her briefly to think she had never had anyone to stop by unannounced before joining the BAU.

“Of course, you’re always welcome here, can I get you a drink?” Emily asked, ignoring the way JJ’s eyebrows had lifted at her casual comment. Friendship was as foreign to Emily as Russian was to the average Americans.

“If you’re offering - I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” JJ answered, attempting to hide her nerves by deflecting attention away from herself and pointing to Emily’s discarded Gin glass on the coffee table.

“Oh, I was, uh, just having a nice G&T, takes the edge off after a long day I find, makes for a good night cap really, although it’s bitter as hell, they didn’t have any pomegranate tonic at the store,” Emily cursed at herself for being so awkward, why did she say so many words? No one asked, she was better at communicating than this. Making her way to the kitchen counter to pour JJ a glass, she blamed the mild intoxication.

JJ followed Emily into the kitchen, bringing the discarded glass with her.

“You might need this if you’re going to have one too,” JJ said, placing the glass down next to Emily.

Looking up to meet JJ’s stare, Emily dropped the cap of the gin bottle onto the floor, the brightness JJ exuded was getting dangerously close to the shadow Emily was trying to lurk in.

Bending to reach for the cap, Emily took a deep breath to compose herself, and thankfully, by the time she returned to pouring the drinks, JJ had wandered back into the living room.

“Pull it together Prentiss, this was not part of the plan” she muttered to herself, she grabbed the glasses and made her a way back into the other room silently praying the cover of night would disguise the way her heart was racing and her hands were shaking.

Unbeknownst to Emily, JJ was having her own internal conflict. It had been a long time coming, but sat in that bar, watching her closest friends flirt, dance, and laugh with other people, JJ couldn’t shake the picture of a certain brunette from her mind. Clouding the edges of the image, JJ always saw a shadow creeping around the outline of Emily. Whatever was hiding there, JJ decided she was going to find out. After all, isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? Shine a light on the darkness and hold your hand?

Shaking her head, JJ knew she was kidding herself. Emily Prentiss was more than a friend to her, she just hadn’t worked out how to express this in a way that wouldn’t ruin everything if it all fell apart. Instead of shining a light on Emily, maybe it was time to find her in the darkness.

#Criminal Minds #Jemily #Emily Prentiss #Jennifer Jareau #Angsty-ish #I wrote a thing #I just needed an outlet today #it's been a rough one lmao #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #my fic

[yespolkadotkitty]

If you are taking requests. Reader is a chef that does at home cooking classes. Henry's family hired her to do a private cooking class for Henry's birthday. Henry decides that he needs more classes so books her for the month. Then takes her to Italy to source ingredients and wine.

Sweep Me Off My Feet, pt 1

“Dance, sweetheart?”

You looked up from your after-dinner macchiato to see Henry standing before you, hand out in invitation, his radiant smile showing just a hint of shyness. He cut a fine figure in his linen shirt, open at the neck, no tie. 

Rose-gold street-lights lit the Venetian piazza, casting long shadows and an air of romance over the entire area, cloaking it in mystery.

The two of you had spent a dreamy day together, exploring the picturesque Island of Sant Erasmo. The biggest island in the lagoon, Sant Erasmo was famed for its delicious local produce and its wine. After meeting the local farmers and hearing about their lives and crops, you had enjoyed a private vineyard tour and wine tasting. It had been such a leisurely, beautiful day. You had tamped down your annoyance when dinner time came. You’d wanted your time with Henry to last forever.

Helplessly, you suddenly felt this idyll slipping through your hands, sand through an hourglass.

Too much, too fast.

The anxiety of it all had churned in your stomach all through dinner – a delicious seafood risotto, littered with fat, garlicky prawns and butter-soft scallops, with a side of freshly baked, herbed breadsticks.

“Really?” You asked, nervous. You were an excellent chef but an awful dancer. “Why?”

“Because we can. Everyone else is,” he insisted, a grin tugging at his lips. It occurred to you that you had seldom seen him so carefree. “I do love to dance, you know,” he added, cheekily, and the mischief dancing in his blue eyes drew you in, irresistibly.

You shifted, trying to fight the battle between your wish to dance in Henry’s arms, and your intense discomfort at doing anything that involved co-ordination in public.

Finally the hopeful, boyish look on Henry’s handsome face won you over and you took his hand. His fingers closed around yours; warm, reassuring. He pulled you towards him, spun you around for a second. Giddy, you leaned into him as the string quartet outside the café started to play a gentle waltz. You breathed in the now-familiar scent of him, the tang of coffee and a kiss of woodsmoke and cedar.

“This is absurd.” But you rested your free hand on his broad shoulder just the same, and let him lead you in the steps. Heat radiated off his body through the pale, grey linen shirt he wore, and you looked down at your feet. “When was the first time you waltzed?”

“I Capture the Castle rehearsals. They didn’t use the footage in the end.”

You looked up into his eyes. They looked almost blue-black in the half-light as he met your gaze.  “Shame.”

He laughed softly. “It wasn’t. I was twenty-two, all gangly limbs.”

You’d seen the film. His character, Stephen Colley, was so beautiful in the flush of youth that it had hurt to breathe, looking at his rosy cheeks and lean build. “I sometimes – and it’s ridiculous – forget that you’re so…. Famous,” you breathed as he swayed you gently, confidently.

“Good.” His gaze dropped to your mouth, and that gorgeous tumble of chocolate brown hair fell into his face, a little long, a little messy. The way you liked it - that errant curl that teased his forehead was your favourite. “That’s what I wanted.”

The expression on his arrestingly handsome face – so naked suddenly, not a trace of artifice – made you bold suddenly. Or perhaps it was the alcohol. But you were in Venice with a man who made your heart turn over with joy with your chest. You were dancing a waltz in a piazza. Rose-gold light kissed everything, bathing the city and your heart in a kaleidoscope of fuzzy joy, and just for now, you would be brave. You would believe in magic, and you would believe in happy endings.

And you wouldn’t think further than this beautiful, vibrant, kind, man in your arms. He was solid and real and right now, he was yours.

Tears burned your eyes as your heart constricted. Right now, he’s mine. Yes, you would be brave.

And you would pay whatever cost would be levied later. And it would probably be high, but you suddenly couldn’t care.

“Is that all you want?” You tucked his tumbled hair back behind his ear. It felt so soft. That unruly curl sprang forward.

You’d surprised him. You knew because he held still for a long moment before continuing with the waltz. Someone else might not have noticed the slip, but you did. In some ways, you had never stopped noticing everything about him, ever since the day you’d met.

“Oh, sweetheart. You know what I want.” His words were so soft, they were nearly carried away by the notes floating off the nearby violins. But still you caught them. “You.” He swallowed and you watched the movement of his throat, transfixed for a second. “Any way I can get you. Any way you’ll have me.”

His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you a fraction closer. You pressed your face into his neck, loving the rasp of his stubble against your skin, knowing you had reached a tipping point. 

He wanted to make love to you. 

“Tonight?” Your words came out squeakier than you’d hoped. You wondered if Henry would laugh.

He didn’t.

“Tonight,” he confirmed, his voice dropping half an octave.

You stopped dancing, and he mirrored you . You both held still for a long moment. You closed your eyes, knowing that your decision was about to change everything between you two. Maybe forever.

Breathing in, you opened your eyes again. Henry stood before you still, so solid and real. And yours, for now anyway.

And you would take the now, for as long as it lasted. “Henry.”

“Yes, love?” He brushed his lips over yours, gently, a simple kiss without pressure, but a question all the same. He tasted of bitter black coffee, and of rich, sweet chocolate.

“Take me back to the hotel. Right now.” Before you could lose your nerve.

* * * * *

The rosy streetlights of Venice winked at you both as Henry navigated the maze of little streets. People gathered here and there, but the late hour meant it was mostly quiet. You could smell the salty edge of the lagoon, the heady scent of wine, the richness of chocolate and cream. Snippets of indistinct Italian reached you from far away windows.

Henry paused in a quiet alley to get his bearings. Behind him, the moon shone down on you both, bright and silent, hanging like a lightbulb in the endless black fabric of the night sky.

You slipped your arms around him as he pulled his phone from his pocket, bringing up Google maps. “Hmmmm. I swear it was just the next street along….”

The alley was silent and dark. And really quite nice, as alleys went. Closed shop windows were lined with flower boxes, the wooden containers bursting with campanulas, ivy and heliotrope. Their perfume filled with the air, mingled with Henry’s intoxicating cedar scent. 

You felt…  brave. Bold. Aroused.

“What if we didn’t wait until we found the hotel? “ you asked.

Henry’s gaze shot to yours, his mouth opening slightly in surprise. “Sweetheart, we shouldn’t-”

All the pent up desire you’d felt for this man in the months you’d worked together bursting out of you like a dam breaking. You grabbed the lapels of his button-down shirt - Henry, chic and casual in a linen shirt with no tie and the sleeves rolled to his elbows just about killed you - and pressed your mouth to his.

Dimly, you heard the clunky thud as his phone fell to the street floor, unnoticed. He slid his hands around your waist and pressed you to him, and you thrilled to the evidence of his need for you pressing urgently against your stomach. “Oh my God, Henry,” you murmured, aching already, wet under your pretty dress.

“Are you sure, love?” he bit off against your mouth, and you thought he sounded like a man on the edge of control, his words guttural and raspy. “Be. Sure.”

He pulled back and gazed into your eyes, and you saw something just a tiny bit feral in the blue depths. It made the pulsing need inside you kick up several notches.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a low growl in his throat, Henry scooped you up. You scissored your legs around his waist as he ravaged your mouth, the day’s growth of whiskers on his cheeks scraping at you pleasantly. He moved his attention down to your neck and you arched to give him better access. 

Henry moaned your name throatily as you squeezed a hand between your body to cup him through the denim of his worn jeans.

“Want you, now,” you murmured, impatient, your heart hammering. 

Henry deftly leaned you against the brick wall, keeping you held up with one arm whilst he undid the fly of his jeans with the other. You tugged his shirt tails out of the denim, covering him a little, and then you let yourself play.

He fell into your hand, no underwear barrier, hot and heavy and large, better than you’d imagined, all steel in velvet, and you savoured the stuttered, shuddering breath he let out when you palmed him, stroking until you found a rhythm that made him chant your name like a prayer in that gorgeous accent. 

He boosted you up a little higher, easy with his upper body strength, and you used your free hand to pop open the buttons of your shirt dress so he could lavish attention on your breasts. Your nipples peaked at the kiss of balmy breeze of the Venetian night. His tongue was warm and wet and his touch there sent a direct spiral down between your legs.

“Now,” you whispered urgently. You kept one arm around his neck, teasing the hair curling at his collar anchoring yourself as he reached down and toyed with you, working your thin cotton panties aside to feel how wet you were. You knew what he’d find and your heart raced as he groaned against your neck. 

“Baby girl, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

You mewled a response and a hot rush of pleasure filled you as he circled the tight bud at the apex of your body. And the sudden, sharply delicious orgasm made you gasp out loud. You were beyond caring if you were discovered, the pleasure eclipsing any small doubts you had.

Henry brushed a gentle kiss over your mouth before he slid slowly, painfully slowly, inside you. You tilted your hips up just a little, and he pushed right into the hilt.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, and the expletive in that cut-glass British accent just destroyed you.

Then he started to move, bottoming out each time he thrust back in, and all coherent thought flew out of your head. His pelvis brushed your clit with each thrust and you bit your lip, trying desperately to be quiet, and only partially succeeding.

It was over quickly, both of you too aroused to last long. Your muscles convulsed around Henry’s cock, and you bit down on the curve where his neck met his shoulder to keep from crying out. Moments later, Henry followed you over the cliff, groaning into your hair, his chest heaving with the effort of being quiet.

You wound down slowly together, floating back to Earth. Henry gently set you back on the ground, frowning.

“I meant to have you in a bed, the first time.”

You grinned, feeling like a goddess, leaning up to kiss him, your body still trembling from the tiny aftershocks of really good sex. “No, but now we can enjoy round two at our leisure in the hotel.”

His delighted laugh echoed into the balmy Venetian night, and you held hands and walked the rest of the way back together.

******

Two months earlier

Your boss called your name and you looked up from the day’s menu to be prepared. Cooking was your calling, no doubt about it, but even working as a sous chef in a five-star hotel could be a drag when the clientele could be so exacting.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

Your boss beckoned you into his office and you crossed the kitchen briskly in your chef’s whites.

The best-looking man you’d ever seen waited in the tiny manager’s office, all dark hair and smouldering blue eyes, broad shoulders and lean hips.

“Mr Cavill, this is the best sous chef I’ve ever had,” your manager began, adding your name.

The stranger held out a hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t wait to work with you.”

To be continued....

Tagging some folk who may like this: @chamomilebottom (thanks for the gifs!) @brexrif @mary-ann84 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @hnryycvll @henrythickcavill @henry-cavill-obsessed @ohjule @iloveyouyen @summersong69 @ly--canthrope @the-soot-sprite @littlefreya @dancingwendigo @fishcustardandclintbarton @gardensofwhimsy @wondersofdreaming @dr-kayleigh-dh @mrsaugustwalker @andahugaroundtheneck @pinkzsugar @geralt-of-baevia @radaofrivia @princess-of-riviaa 

[bitterlikesweets]

Love Bites Ch 1

This is the first chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on AO3. 

Next

Eren doesn’t know why he let Mikasa and Armin convince him to come out tonight. 

As much as he would’ve loved to eat in a restaurant like Kuchel’s Kitchen a few months ago, he can’t help but be appalled as he stands like a traffic cone in the doorway, large and obviously out of place and in the way of everyone nearby. It looks nice enough from the outside—a little brick building squeezed between the local bookstore and a discount department store—but the inside smells like cheese and herbs and garlic, and Eren simply cannot believe his friends thought this was a good idea. 

His nose is already burning, but Mikasa has apparently grown tired of his hesitance and tugs on his arm.

“Come on, Eren, you can’t stand there all night,” she says, yanking him hard enough that he’s forced to stumble inside. 

“Can’t we eat somewhere else?” he asks, casting a wary glance around the restaurant. 

It’s close to closing, and most of the tables are empty. The white and yellow tiled floors even look freshly mopped. Eren winces when he makes eye contact with the red-haired waitress across the room and lowers his voice, quickly shifting his gaze away from her curious green eyes. 

“Anywhere else,” he hisses. “I mean, seriously, Italian?”

“You love Italian food,” Armin pipes up from behind Mikasa’s shoulder.

“I know, but—”

“You said you wanted to try being normal again, and this was our normal,” Mikasa says sharply, though her face suddenly twists and her dark-eyed gaze drops to the floor. “As close as we can get, anyway.”

When her grip on his arm loosens, Eren’s stomach painfully knots itself together, and he places his hand over hers. Armin comes closer, his hand coming to rest over Eren’s, and Eren heaves a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as they begin to burn as badly as his nose, though for different reasons. He lets himself take a deep breath for a moment, and he allows the smells to really hit his sensitive nose. Though the restaurant seems fairly new—Eren’s certainly never been here before—there’s familiarity in the smell of freshly-cooked food. 

“Okay,” he says after a moment, “let’s try to be normal.”

The waitress who watched their strange display of affection comes towards them, menus in hand, when they finally settle down at a table. Her gaze lingers just a bit longer on Eren, and he stiffens, pulling up the collar of his turtleneck, wondering if something has given him away. Did his sweater slip down and she saw the scar? Is it the turtleneck itself? It is the middle of summer, but it’s late and beyond its covering aspects, the sweater helps him deal with the way his body now runs cold. Surely, the night time chill is a good enough excuse.

The redhead walks away with the promise to bring their drinks—waters all around—without a word to Eren, but that gaze has him pulling his long hair out of its bun, hoping to cover whatever he can.

“Eren,” Mikasa says, nudging his foot under the table, “relax.”

“I’m trying,” he says. 

Trying to be normal again. That’s what they were going for. Trying to pretend that Eren hasn’t upended his entire schedule, changed jobs, switched all his classes to their evening sections, dropping them when it wasn’t possible. Trying to pretend that his family was okay, that there isn’t something burning within him, something that he hasn’t been able to shake for months now. 

Trying to pretend that the smells don’t hurt his nose, that his teeth aren’t too big for his mouth. That he’s not thirsty in the way the water won't fix. 

Yeah. Perfectly normal. 

He keeps himself busy with the menu and tries to think. Tries to pretend that he doesn’t notice when Armin and Mikasa sneak nervous glances in his direction.

The red-haired waitress is back within a few minutes, and Eren makes a point to not meet her gaze; he instead focuses on her messy pigtails, her short stature, and the movement of her hands as she quickly writes down their orders.

He completely averts his gaze when it’s time for him to make his special request. 

“With the lasagna,” he begins, and he feels like his neck is burning, like she’s staring right where his scar is, even though he knows that it’s covered. “Can it be made without garlic? I have… an allergy.”

“Uh… I’ll ask?” 

Eren makes the mistake of looking up and catching the funny look she sends his way before she walks back to the kitchen. He drags his hands across his face with a sigh. 

“I shouldn’t have let you convince me to do this,” Eren grumbles, glaring at his friends between his fingers. 

“We didn’t want you to continue rotting in your bedroom,” Mikasa says. 

“When you taste the food, it’ll all be worth it!” Armin adds with a smile, but Eren just sinks down in his chair, sipping at his water with a frown.

They’re silent until the waitress returns with their orders, and the sight of the steaming dishes does allow Eren to perk up for a moment. He pulls himself up to sit up straight, inhaling the steam rising off of his plate of lasagna. He notices when Mikasa and Armin smile at the sight of his actions, and he smiles back at them, grabbing his fork. His nose is still aching and twitching, but he puts it up to being the scent of the restaurant, or probably because of the close proximity to Armin’s shrimp and pesto pasta.

That thought is what makes the instant burn in his mouth such a surprise. He feels it, feels the way the forkful of lasagna seems like its burning through his tongue, like the sauce is acid. And then he hears it, hears the unpleasant sizzle, and it’s his body's instincts that make his teeth feel too big, too long, too sharp in his mouth. He nearly swallows the thing before Armin practically lunges across the table and presses a napkin to Eren’s mouth, reminding him that he needs to spit the thing out, not attempt to digest it. 

Eren feels like a kid as he spits into the napkin in Armin’s hand, wincing as that little bite slides across the expanse of his tongue, leaving a burning, painful trail across his taste buds. He coughs and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, startling himself when part of his breath comes out in a puff of smoke. Even with the food out of his mouth, the pain lingers, and he hears the flesh in his mouth sizzling and popping, like his saliva is carbonated. 

So much for normal. 

Mouth aching, but the immediate danger decidedly passed, he finally looks across the table at his friends. Well, friend, Eren notices with some confusion. Armin has gone back to his seat, staring miserably at the little napkin that he’s folding around the lump of just barely eaten lasagna, but Mikasa is suddenly nowhere to be found. He twists around in his chair, about to scan the room for her and then—

“What part of garlic allergy do you not fucking understand?!”

And like that, he’s found her. She’s cornering the waitress by the door to the kitchen, towering over the red-headed woman. Her hands are clenched into fists, and she’s practically shaking with rage. Eren can’t see her face, but knowing her for as long as he has, he can imagine the glare, the murderous intent in her eyes. 

“Sorry,” Eren hears, but it’s Armin’s voice, not the waitress’s. “I… I wanted to… Because I thought it’d be a good idea to let you have something similar to Mrs. Jaeger’s cooking—” 

“It’s fine,” Eren says quickly, struggling around his injured tongue and enlarged teeth. 

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not on their failure of a normal night. 

So Eren is grateful when Armin falls silent. 

Desperate to distract himself—both from the pain and from Armin’s guilty expression as the blond continues to wrap the lasagna lump in napkins like it's a little gift—Eren hurries to his feet and rushes over to where Mikasa is still bullying that poor waitress, though she has at least bothered to lower her voice a bit. 

“I swear, I thought I wrote it down—” the waitress begins.

“Well, either you didn’t, or your chef’s a selfish asshole who doesn’t care about his customers.”

Eren watches as the waitress's attitude suddenly shifts, green eyes narrowing into a glare. 

“Don’t talk about Levi like that,” she says, her voice low. 

“I’ll talk about him like that if he’s the idiot who fucked up my friend’s order,” Mikasa snapped back.

“Mikasa,” Eren warns, reaching out to grab her by the shoulder, to pull her back. 

“I said don’t—”

Whatever the waitress was going to say devolves into a screech as the door she was leaning on is abruptly pulled open, sending her toppling to the floor. The man with his hand on the handle looks down at the woman now sprawled on the floor with a frown. His gaze slowly rises to Mikasa and then shifts to Eren. Something instinctual, something he doesn’t quite understand makes Eren straighten up once that gray-blue gaze settles on him. 

“What’s going on?” the man asks, his gaze dropping to the waitress again. 

“Levi!” she exclaims, “I can explain—”

“One of the two of you nearly killed my friend, even though we specifically told her that he can’t have garlic,” Mikasa snaps, shaking off the hand that Eren forgot he still had placed on her shoulder. 

“Nearly killed is a bit of an exaggeration,” Eren says because they’re already making enough of a scene, and he seriously doesn’t know how he’s going to explain that his garlic “allergy” nearly burnt a hole through his tongue.

The man—Levi—wipes his hands on his apron, and Eren takes in his appearance. He’s a short man, black-haired, and despite the situation, Eren is distracted by the fact that the man is also wearing a turtleneck. Eren's grateful that he’s not the only one, that the stupid worry that he was sticking out like a sore thumb because of his clothes was probably just that—a stupid worry.

“Isabel,” Levi says to the waitress, “I don’t remember seeing a note that one of the dishes couldn’t have garlic.”

“I wrote it down, I swear!” Isabel quickly gets to her feet, careful to keep her distance from Mikasa all the while, and then she quickly pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket, presumably what she wrote their orders on. 

She leans closer to Levi, pointing to a spot on the page that he gazes at impassively.

“Isabel, that’s says ‘no gar.’”

“Yeah,” she replies, frowning up at Levi. “No gar. No garlic.”

Levi heaves a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. 

“You can’t just make up new abbreviations without telling me—”

“I thought it was obvious!”

“Well, clearly it wasn’t. Why didn’t you just write out the whole word?”

“It’s not my fault that—”

Levi silences her with a heavy hand on her head, forcing her to dip her head in apology, and Levi quickly does the same. 

“I’m sorry for the actions of my employee,” Levi says, and it’s robotic, rehearsed. Eren wonders how many times the man has had to say these same words.

“It’s okay,” Eren says quickly, taking the chance to step in front of Mikasa and gradually nudge her away from the two restaurant employees. “Sorry about the fuss.”

“How bad was it?” Levi asks suddenly, his head still lowered. “The allergic reaction.”

Eren immediately turns to glare at Mikasa, who grows pale. How the hell is he supposed to explain? He doesn’t have any real allergies. He has no idea what they’re supposed to be like, but he’s eighty percent sure the trouble usually starts after the food’s ingested, not right when it hits a person’s tongue. 

“Not too bad,” Eren says after a moment, even though his tongue still feels raw and when he’s not careful he brushes the sensitive flesh with the sharp points of his teeth, which are still too fucking big, goddammit. 

“We’re lucky we noticed quickly,” Mikasa pipes up from behind Eren.

“I’ll compensate you,” Levi says, raising his head finally, and Eren doesn’t miss the way Isabel tries to shift her head and get the man to meet her gaze. A silent question that the man seems to pointedly ignore. “Are you old enough to drink?”

The word “drink” makes Eren freeze up, even though he’s sure that the man doesn’t mean it that way. He knows that there’s no way the man would know. But Eren's body goes rigid, and Mikasa’s nervous fingers clutching the back of his sweater don't ease his suspicions. He tries to swallow his nerves, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth and now there’s too much saliva and it just feels like he’s quietly choking. 

“Drink…?” he asks hesitantly.

“Are you of age?” Levi asks.

“I-uh, yeah, I’m—” Eren clears his throat, trying to get his mouth to catch up with his mind. “I’m twenty-two. So yes.”

Eren isn’t sure what part of his answer makes Levi raise a thin black eyebrow at him, but he’s just relieved the man was talking about alcohol. 

“Head back to your table,” Levi says, and he glances sidelong at Isabel. “I’ll serve you myself.”

The man turns on his heel and marches into the kitchen without another word, and Isabel quickly follows behind him, though she throws a final glare at Mikasa before closing the door behind them. Eren rubs his eyes with his cold palms and barely holds in a frustrated groan. 

He’s tired and he’s frustrated, and his injured tongue is not helping his thirst. If anything the pain is activating his body's desire to heal, and it's realizing it has nothing to work with. 

“Sorry,” Mikasa mumbles as they walk back to the table. 

Eren waves his hand at her dismissively, no longer in the mood. He’s just grateful that the restaurant was practically empty; he has no idea what he would do if there were even more people around to witness that disaster. He wants to go home, but he sits at the table and buries his face in his hands. He doesn’t know what would be more suspicious at this point; staying after Mikasa was so clearly upset, or leaving without getting whatever drink Levi is offering as compensation. 

“What just happened?” Armin asks, and Eren reluctantly raises his head out of his hands. “I couldn’t really hear from over here. What are we doing? Are we leaving?” 

Mikasa looks at Eren, which makes Armin look at Eren, so Eren stares at the table. He notices that Armin has tidied up their table, piling their utensils and barely touched plates. He’s already laid out cash to pay for the food too. Knowing Armin, he probably already calculated the tip. Eren sucks in a breath. They could probably leave now, with everything prepped for their quick departure like this. 

He tentatively presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and immediately flinches from the pain. His mouth is still hot, and although he’s concerned that alcohol might aggravate the injury even more, he would love something to cool his tongue down. 

“We’ll wait for the drink,” Eren says, “and then we leave and never come back.”

Armin nods, and Mikasa pulls up a chair, and the three friends wait in tense silence. Levi arrives within a few minutes with a glass of wine that he places in front of Eren. 

“I hope it suits your tastes,” Levi said, but his tone is surprisingly cold in comparison to the polite words. 

Eren slowly reaches out for the glass, not at all thrilled to have waited just for wine, which he’s never been particularly fond of, but when he feels the cool glass beneath his fingertips, he quickly changes his tune. 

As he pulls the drink to his lips, he catches the scent, and he can’t tell if he’s been smelling too many herbs or if the wine really does smell as delicious as Eren thinks it does. He takes a greedy sip without another thought, at first surprised because it’s a bit thicker than he remembers—

He chokes.

Mikasa’s on her feet in a second, and Armin is hurrying to Eren’s side of the table to see what’s wrong, but Eren’s too focused on Levi because he can’t believe—there’s no way that this man, this stranger, has willingly handed Eren a glass of blood.

Levi doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move a single muscle in his face, even as Eren stares up at him incredulously. 

“You’re not going to finish?” the man asks after a moment of tense silence. “That stuff’s not cheap.”

Levi rolls his wrist, and Eren’s gaze is drawn to the movement, and he notices that there’s something beneath Levi’s sleeve, a lump that circles around the man’s wrist and extends a bit towards his forearm. 

Eren’s tongue is cool and his teeth are big and his mouth is dry even though that’s the first drink he’s had in months. He slams the glass down on the table, still half full with blood, and he gets up quickly, not even flinching at the screech of his chair dragging across the tile floors. He tries to wipe at his face with his sleeve but now that delicious smell is just smeared on his face and on his sleeve and Eren wants to down the rest of the blood in the glass but he also wants to vomit the amount that’s already in his stomach.

“Thanks for the food,” he says curtly, pushing past Levi. 

For the briefest of moments, Eren thinks he sees the man’s eyes widen, but it doesn’t matter because Eren is grabbing Mikasa by the arm and leading her out, and Armin is following and Eren never wants to set foot in this fucking place ever again. 

#Ereri #ereri riren #ereri fanfic #fanfiction #riren fanfic #riren #i'm not sure if'll post more chapters on here or just stick to a03 #we'll see