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julesthequirky · 5 months

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The Choice: Chapter Two

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben.

Warnings: Language.

W/C:1,579

Dean Winchester. In your kitchen. Looking equally baffled and confused just as you did. He placed the container down on your kitchen counter. A selection of pie slices sat on paper plates inside a tray box. Your stomach dropped. The pie fest.

“Thought you were the cat.”

You grimaced, instantly regretting your words. Idiot. Your hands tightened on the broom, and you felt your cheeks and neck heat up from your dumb words.

His brow raised, and he stepped closer. His mouth opened, but before he could say anything, another crash came from upstairs, and a loud curse emitted.

You spun around to see your black cat sprinting down the stairs and into the living room. Another crash, another gruff curse. From behind, Dean moved forward, taking out his gun and stepping towards the stairs.

From upstairs, you heard, “What the fuck!”. Something about it sounded so familiar. You’re not sure why, but you rushed ahead of Dean, hand reaching for the bannister.

“No! Wait!” Dean called out as you swung your body around to rush up the stairs. You took three steps up, gasping when a figure stood at the top. The shield glinted, and the bulb above his head created a halo effect, shining down on his head.

Soldier Boy.

What the Hell was happening?!

A hand gripped your shoulder, and you jumped out of your freaking skin.

“I said wait—what in the Freaky Friday…”

Soldier Boy stepped down each step, head cocking, curiosity in his eyes.

Pressure built in your chest. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on edge as these two characters met for the first time. You could feel the heat from Dean behind you. He shifted to step beside you. Soldier Boy peered down at Dean with his signature look of disgust. A constant stank up his nose.

Your heart thudded in your chest as the two stared at each other.

Then his icy stare turned to you. Your brain scrambled to find something to say. Your breath caught in your throat.

Those darkened green eyes glared at you, hair flopping over his forehead. Up close, you could see the dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose and under his eyes, you could feel the warmth in his breath and hear the raw grunt in his throat. He always seemed perpetually pissed.

“The fuck is this? I’m heading to Vought Tower one moment, and the next, I’m here. You got some ‘splainin’ to do, woman.”

Your stomach quivered as unease settled. His intense stare made you feel like you were about to be reamed out by the school teacher. He wanted an answer. Right now. But you had no explanation for this. Whatever the Hell this was.

“Hey, kitty.”

Your head snapped in the direction of the living room. No way. And you were running down and skidding into the living room to find Beau Arlen crouching, fingers in your cat’s fur. You could hear the purrs as he rubbed up against Beau’s leg. For as long as you’ve known him, your cat has never liked any man in your space.

“Eric!!”

The feline ignored your voice and flopped on the ground, showing Beau his belly. Beau looked up at you.

“Sorry, darlin’, he just slinked up to me.”

Never in your life had someone addressed you as darlin’ so casually. Warmth flooded your system, and you fought back a smile.

Beau stood up to his full height and surveyed his surroundings—your living room.

“Not entirely sure how I got here. One moment, I was in my office; the next, here I am. Where am I?”

“Harmony, Vermont.”

Beau’s brow furrows, and he tenses, hand reaching to the back of his pants. Upon his reaction, you turned to see Dean and Soldier Boy entering your living space.

To find Dean and Soldier Boy inspecting each other was weird enough, but for them to discover another ‘doppelganger’ and observe each other was just surreal. You watched as they all pulled their guns on each other, reminding you of that Spiderman meme. All their movements, their micro-expressions, were so indicative of Jensen. They were all so different yet so similar.

“Why the fuck do we all look so alike?”

“Am I in bizarro world again?”

They all turned to you, and three tall men staring intensely was more than enough to make you crap your pants. You glanced off to one side, hands fiddling with the zipper of your warm sweater. Up. Down. Your stomach fluttered, and your mouth went dry. What the Hell were you supposed to say? That somehow they were, what?…summoned? No, that wasn’t quite right. They weren’t summoned. You had no damn intention of them turning up. It was supposed to be just for your admiration. Something pretty to look at.

You glanced at them again, and Dean raised an eyebrow, waiting. His attention turned to the frame on your sideboard. He looked at you before moving to check out the frame.

“Where’d you get that?”

You were distracted by Soldier Boy—Ben. He was looking down at his feet, lip curling. Eric was at it again, slinking around legs. Fuck. You would have to have a stern conversation with him about that. What the Hell happened to the cat who would raise his hackles and hiss at any man who would come within your vicinity? He wasn’t exactly protecting you right now. Bad guard cat.

Ben shifted his foot, pushing the cat away from him. But, it was like he was magnetised because Eric wouldn’t leave Ben alone.

“Your pussy likes me.”

Ben smirked and plonked his shield down against your couch. He tucked away his gun and knelt down.

Fingers tugged at your sleeve, and you turned your attention to Dean and Beau. Beau had the frame in his hands, turning it around.

“Where’d you get this?” Dean inquired again.

You looked at the hunter, and butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Shit. You last experienced those when you first saw your husband – now ex. It was stupid, school girly feelings. Feelings you could happily ignore. Until they got in the way.

Your eyes turned to the frame. Beau was unlocking the back of the frame. You reached out to stop him, but Dean grabbed your arm, intent on letting Beau do his job.

“At an antiques store.”

“Anything unusual about this antique store?”

You shook your head. “No. It did come with a box, though.”

Dean scrubbed his hand down his face.

“What’s this box look like? Any intricate markings? Foreign text?”

You glanced away again, hesitating. Your palms were getting clammy. You scratched the back of your neck, glancing back at them.

“Darlin’, you ain’t in any trouble. We just need to gather some information.”

Damn, there’s that warming sensation again. That Texas accent definitely did things to you.

“Lemme see this box.” Dean’s voice held an authoritative tone. He was all business. Hunting mode.

Nodding, you excused yourself and took one more look at Ben playing with Eric. Eric turned his cute little head to you. He purred loudly, not looking one bit sorry at all. In fact, the little bugger closed his eyes. You shook your head, walking off.

The box was in your room, stuffed right at the back of your closet. It was a real pain in the ass to get it up there too. You trudged up the stairs and headed to your room.

Your ex had wanted to sell the house, as he was sure you would both get a fifty-fifty divide from the sale. Still, you made a case to your lawyer, stating that it was an inheritance from your father. Your ex was out ruled on the house, but everything else was split. This house meant everything. This house held so many memories. Good and some bad. Your mother had been pissed during the reading of the will. Finding out she wasn’t getting the house cemented that tumultuous relationship.

Your bedroom was how it was left this morning. You didn’t have the energy to check the other rooms and hoped the damage wasn’t extensive,

You opened the closet door and then dragged the armchair from the corner. Behind you, a floorboard creaked. You whipped your head around. Ben stood. For someone heavy-footed, you sure didn’t hear him as he came up the stairs.

“Your cat sure is friendly.”

Okay. He was making conversation. You smiled faintly.

“Actually, he usually hates men. Typically, he’ll hiss at them. It’s weird he’s so…docile around you and the other two.” You said as you stepped up on the chair, turning your back to him.

Why, oh, why did you have to put it up this high? Out of sight. Out of mind had been the thought. Well, right now, it was backfiring.

“Fuck you lookin’ for?”

“A box.”

Ben snorted. “I only came up to tell you I’m heading back to New York.”

You almost fell off the damn chair, your fingers had the box in their grasp, but his words had you rushing down, almost crashing down, actually.

“You can’t!”

His pissed expression was back.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because Vought doesn’t exist! You, you shouldn’t exist. Fuck, you’re a character on a TV show.”

You fumbled through, flustered, trying to find the right words. Words that would sink in his head and make him understand.

“Fuck you, I’m real. And I’m going to New York.”

Tags: @deans-spinster-witch

#The Choice #julesthequirky's fics #spn fanfic #reader insert #dean winchester #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #big sky

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gennyanydots · 2 years

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Kindergarten Failure

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader

Companion piece to “Spitfire”

part of the ‘spitfire universe’

An: the jealousy fic nobody asked for!

Phoenix has been getting on Jake’s nerves. Always asking about the next time you’ll come out with the pilots. When she can come over. Why you actually don’t come out all the time. (Apparently you telling her he needed to be the prettiest wherever he is wasn’t a good enough answer) Truth is you’re not one to go out much. You keeping your bar fights to once a month was because that’s how often you went out. Sure you go out more with Jake like to dinner and things but out out is a different thing entirely.

Jake is the extrovert out of the two of you. Quite obviously. He loves being out. He thrives off the attention. He loves being in public. He also loves you and knows that you need to stay in more than he does. He respects that. He always offers to bring you places with him just in case but often you decline. If he stays out late he tries to DoorDash you some treat to make sure you know he’s thinking of you. He knows the way to your heart. He’s had it long enough.

It was Friday night once again and now that Penny was back everyone had resumed their normal routine. After a long day of work going out and getting a few beers while playing pool and darts is exactly how the dagger squad liked to unwind.

Jake had told you they were going out. He never wants you to worry where he might be. He’d also told you about Phoenix needing some more girl time. Halo is nice and all but even two girls compared to ten guys still skewed the ratio.

You hadn’t had a bad day. You were feeling pretty good so you figured why not give Phoenix what she wants so badly. You headed home after work to jump in the shower and get ready knowing the pilots were just heading straight to the bar after work. They all showered at work and you didn’t have that luxury. You threw on a cute but casual outfit and got in your car to head towards the Hard Deck.

As soon as you walk in you hear the call of your name from the pool tables and you smile and wave at Phoenix who looks practically giddy as you walk over.

“Hangman didn’t tell me you were coming!”

“Yeah well I don’t tell him everything. Gotta keep him on his toes.”

You feel a hand brush against your waist as it settles on the opposite hip pulling you into a hard body. A kiss placed on the crown of your head as you snuggle into your husband’s side.

“Well shit. Now I’m not the prettiest at this bar anymore. Guess I gotta go find a new bar,” Jake says with a chuckle.

You look up at him, “Is it hard being in second place? I wouldn’t know.”

“When first place looks this good? I’m surprised I even made second place,” he says with a wink.

You playfully roll your eyes and bump your shoulder into his side. He leans down to kiss your head once again and squeezes you once as he lets go to head towards Coyote who is standing near the darts board looking around.

“Okay so now you have to tell me all about being married to Hangman!” Phoenix says excitedly. “Is he cocky all the time? Has he always been like that? Are you late to everything because you have to drag him away from the mirror?”

You laugh, “Yes. Yes. And no if we’re ever late it’s my fault because I can’t be on time to save my life. Most often he tells me we have to be somewhere a half hour before we actually have to be there because that’s usually the only way I’ll be on time. If he had it his way we would be there the half an hour before we have to be there that he tells me. He likes to be early everywhere. All that ‘if you’re early then you’re on time. If you’re on time then you’re late.’ bullshit.”

Phoenix nods her head, “Yeah the Navy will do that to you. Do you want to grab a drink?”

“Yes please!”

You both head towards the bar and grab a drink, on your husband’s tab, then head to a high top table and sit chatting.

After some time the bar gets more crowded. More and more bodies are packed it. You catch Jake’s eye a couple times to check in with each other, you always smiling at him to let him know you’re fine and he always winking at you as he grins. This time he holds up his beer bottle and mouths “Another?” and you nod. He heads towards the bar and waits his turn patiently.

“So why did Coyote only know about you?,” Phoenix asks when you turn your attention back to her.

You shrug, “I met Javy a long time ago. Back when Jake and I were just dating. I met him first when Jake graduated from the academy and then again when they were both at Top Gun originally I had come to visit and stayed the week they graduated. Javy came to our wedding.”

“I am insulted that I wasn’t invited,” Phoenix teases.

“I didn’t know you! It was also pretty small. And rushed. Jake and I were sick of being long distance so we quickly got married so I could stay with him when he’s stateside.”

“Well I’m sure even if it was rushed it was beautiful,” Phoenix says.

You smile remembering the day, “It really was. You’ll have to come over soon and look at pictures. You’ll love the one where I smashed cake in Jake’s face.”

Phoenix grins, “Now that I have to see!”

You grin back and look over towards your husband seeing if he had made any progress at the busy bar. You raise an eyebrow as you see a woman talking to your husband. You can tell by Jake’s body language he doesn’t want to be in the conversation but the woman doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“So we going to handle that or let him flounder for a minute,” Phoenix asks.

You chuckle, “Give it a minute. If she continues then I guess it’s time to party.”

Phoenix nods and you both continue to watch the scene unfold.

The woman takes her hand and places it on Jake’s chest. His hands immediately go up in surrender.

You’re on your feet in an instant pushing your way through the crowd.

You come up behind Jake wrapping an arm around his waist and shoving the woman’s hand off his chest, “Hi. Did you fail kindergarten? You don’t touch things that aren’t yours. Thanks.”

The woman smirks at you pulling her hand back, “You sure you didn’t fail? Sharing is caring. You weren’t here. Clearly your man was lonely. I’m more than happy to keep him company.”

Jake whistles lowly and says to you, “You promised once a month.”

“I know what I promised but that was before this,” you hiss back at him.

“Trouble in paradise? I can promise you, sweetheart, that I will never be a problem. I can be so good for you,” the woman says towards Jake.

Jake chuckles and looks back towards the woman, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The woman looks confused, “My loss? What do you mean?”

You smile and side step away from Jake, “He means this.” Your hand shoots up to the back of the woman’s head as you grip her hair tightly and pull her head back. “You’re going to leave this bar and you’re never coming back here. You’ll regret it if you do. Now we are going to walk nicely outside and you’re going to leave.”

The woman winces, “Okay!”

You pull her along towards the door then shove her outside.

“Fucking bitch!” the woman says as she stumbles outside.

“You’ll be smart to remember that!” You call as you watch her walk to her car then turn around heading back inside.

You see Jake at the bar holding your drink which he hands to you when you reach him. He uses his now free hand to pull you towards him then wraps his arm around you.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re possessive?” Jake asks with a chuckle.

“Anyone ever tell you to shut up?” You quip back.

“Every goddamn day of my life.”

#jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #Jake hangman Seresin x reader #spitfire #hangman x female!reader

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helix-studios117 · 1 month

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Halo Reloaded: Armor Up

The Spartan-II training facility's halls were usually the kind of place where silence went to die, punctuated by the constant march of boots and the stern commands of instructors. But today, they echoed with a different sort of rhythm: the slightly off-kilter stride of John-117.

Decked out in the Spartan equivalent of "casual Friday" attire – which, to be honest, still looked like something you could parachute behind enemy lines in – John was a study in youthful determination, albeit with a side of lingering awkwardness unique to 14-year-olds. The Spartan augmentation process had been a rollercoaster that none of them were eager to ride again.

Most of his fellow super-soldiers-to-be treated the ordeal like a mildly inconvenient flu, bouncing back in four days with little more to show for it than a new ability to bench-press a warthog. John, however, had been on the receiving end of the cosmos’s sense of humor, enduring a grueling two weeks that left him wondering if someone had swapped his augmentations for a particularly nasty case of space mono.

Stepping into the conference room felt like walking into a surprise party where the guest of honor is a military secret. The usual sterile, buttoned-up atmosphere of the room had been swapped out for something that could only be described as "expectant tension with a side of Spartan." His fellow Spartans, a collection of 16-year-olds who made the average Olympic athlete look underdeveloped, were all buzzing with a mixture of excitement and the kind of jittery energy usually reserved for kids on a sugar high.

Dr. Halsey stood at the front, her demeanor that of a professor about to unveil a breakthrough that would either win her a Nobel or get her a stern talking-to from the ethics committee. "Gather round, Spartans," she said, her voice a blend of command and conspiratorial glee. "What you're about to see is the result of years of blood, sweat, and an ungodly amount of government funding."

The Spartans shuffled closer, their usual poise momentarily replaced by the universal human reaction to being told they were about to get a present: unabashed eagerness.

John, finding himself amidst a sea of towering figures, couldn't help but let a wry smile play across his lips. The situation was absurd - a group of teenage super soldiers, giddy as school kids, all because of what? A new toy?

As Halsey pulled the cover off the object with a flourish, she might as well have been a magician revealing her final trick. "Behold," she announced, stepping aside to reveal not a rabbit, but the next generation of Spartan armor. "Your second skin."

The room erupted into an odd mixture of awe-struck silence and muttered commentary that sounded like someone had crossed a sports commentary box with a tech expo. "Would ya look at that," one of the Spartans whispered, voice tinged with reverence and a hint of disbelief, "It's beautiful."

"Bet it could make me run faster," Kelly chimed in, her comment floating over the crowd like a challenge.

John stood there, taking it all in – the armor, the reactions of his peers, the palpable excitement in the air – and couldn't help but think about the road ahead. The grueling training, the augmentations that felt more like an exercise in masochism than enhancement, and now this... it was all leading to something bigger. Something dangerous. But as he looked around at his fellow Spartans, their faces alight with anticipation and a touch of youthful naivety, he felt a surge of camaraderie.

"Yeah," he finally spoke, his voice cutting through the chatter with the ease of someone used to being heard, "But can it do laundry?"

The laughter that followed was a rare sound in the Spartan-II training facility, a moment of genuine human connection amid the relentless preparation for war. In that laughter was an acknowledgment of the absurdity of their situation – teenagers, turned into super soldiers, preparing to don armor that made science fiction look quaint.

The atmosphere had shifted from one of eager anticipation to cautious intrigue, thanks in no small part to Dr. Halsey's next revelation. "As part of our development process for the Mjolnir suits," Halsey began, her voice steady, betraying none of the drama that her next words would unfurl, "we conducted an initial test with a volunteer from the Marine Corps."

A collective breath seemed to be held among the Spartans. Volunteer work within the UNSC often ranged from the mundane to the suicidal, and given the context, guesses on where this story was going veered towards the latter.

"The marine was a seasoned veteran," Halsey continued, her gaze sweeping across the room, locking eyes with each of the Spartans as if to underscore the gravity of her recounting.

"Decorated. Experienced. And, most crucially, willing." Murmurs of respect whispered through the ranks. To volunteer for unknown, potentially lethal testing was a mark of courage—or recklessness—that every Spartan understood intimately.

"Upon activating the suit," she pressed on, "the marine's initial response was of exhilaration. The Mjolnir's capabilities far exceeded anything within our current arsenal. However," here, Halsey paused, allowing the word to hang in the air like a guillotine's blade, "the suit also responds to neural impulses at the speed of thought."

A sense of foreboding crept into the room, a shadow that grew with Halsey's every word.

"Regrettably, the human body, unenhanced, cannot withstand such instantaneous, powerful responses. The marine... suffered extensive injuries."

"How extensive are we talking?" a Spartan interjected, the question hanging between curiosity and concern.

"Every bone in his body was broken," Halsey answered, her tone clinical but not without a hint of regret. "He survived. Recovery will be... extensive. And yes, his career in the field is effectively over."

A heavy silence followed her declaration. The implications were clear and chilling: the Mjolnir armor was not just a tool, but a titan that demanded respect, and a certain genetic fortitude, to wield.

"Will he be alright?" another Spartan asked, the question voiced softly, a rare crack in the façade of Spartan stoicism.

Halsey met the question with a nod. "He will recover, physically. He's been recommended for an honorable discharge and will be offered a position away from the front lines. His sacrifice has provided invaluable data."

The room settled into a contemplative quiet, each Spartan wrestling with the story's implications. The line between human and superhuman, it seemed, was drawn not just in ability, but in the very capacity to survive their own strength.

Then, breaking the silence with a resolve that seemed to push back against the room's growing somberness, John-117 spoke up. "He knew the risks?"

"He did," Halsey confirmed, meeting John's gaze with an unreadable look.

"And he volunteered anyway," John mused aloud, not a question but a statement—a reflection of understanding, perhaps, or a glimpse into his own unwavering resolve.

"Yes, John," Halsey replied, her voice carrying a new weight, a recognition of the courage mirrored in her Spartans. "He did."

As whispers of concern and not-so-quiet bets on who’d bite the bullet and go first swirled around, John-117 stepped forward. The runt, the Omega, the kid who was always picked last for dodgeball until people realized he could dodge, throw, and strategize like some kind of mini-Sun Tzu.

His bravery wasn’t just the talk of the town; it was legendary, bordering on the reckless. But then again, who among them wasn’t a few crayons short of a full box for signing up for this gig?

John’s choice of gear was like watching someone decide to bring a knife to a gunfight because they’d figured out a way to make the knife shoot bullets. The Mirage armor core he selected was the equivalent of choosing the sleek sports car in a lineup of armored tanks. It was built for speed and agility, the kind of suit you’d wear if you wanted to dance through bullets rather than walk off getting hit by them. Its plates were thin, flexible, more akin to the elegant armor of a futuristic knight than the hulking exoskeletons of its brethren.

Tossing aside the standard-issue Mirage helmet with a flick of disdain, John opted for the MK-VI—a headpiece that looked like it had been designed for a BMX rider destined to joust in a post-apocalyptic world. With its pronged visor and compact design, it was less about shielding your identity and more about making a statement: Here I am, come and get me.

As the suit’s pigmentation shifted to a forest green at John’s command, it wasn’t just the armor that changed. The mood in the room took a turn from anxious to awe-struck, as if everyone had suddenly remembered who they were and what they were training to become. This wasn’t just about surviving a suit; it was about mastering it, becoming one with it.

Strapping on his bandolier like he was accessorizing for the end of the world, John’s machete sheath and radio clamp weren’t just tools; they were statements. I’m here to fight, and I plan to win. His readiness was palpable, a physical thing that filled the room and reminded everyone exactly why they were there.

Dr. Halsey, ever the ice queen with a heart of, well, maybe not gold, but perhaps a sturdy alloy, regarded John with a look that might have been pride or might have been calculating the odds. "How do you feel?" She asked as the room held its breath.

John, surveying the sea of faces—his teammates, his rivals, his family—cracked a grin that was all cocky assurance and youthful bravado. "...Like I'm ready to take on the whole damn world."

The armory erupted, not in laughter, but in a shared release of tension, a collective acknowledgment that, yes, this was insane, but if John-117 was leading the charge, then maybe, just maybe, they had a fighting chance.

Dr. Halsey, allowing the faintest smirk to grace her lips, simply nodded. "Then let’s see if the world’s ready for you, John." This wasn’t just a test; it was a declaration. John-117 wasn’t about to enter the arena. He was about to redefine it.

@ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @authortobenamedlater, @empresskadia, @makowrites, @makowrites, @killer-orca-cosplay, @ageless-aislynn.

#halo #halo fanfic #halo fanfiction #master chief #john 117 #master chief fanfiction #master chief fanfic #halo headcanon #halo au #halo reloaded #ultimate universe #Ultimate Halo #helix studios117

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 9 months

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Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 10

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC New as of 7/31/2023

SUPPORT YOUR CREATORS. REBLOGGING & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: “Didn’t I run into you the other day at the smoothie place?”

I woke up the next morning feeling anxious. I decided to start the day off with a workout. It helped calm my nerves and get rid of the excess energy. Afterwards, I jumped in the shower to get ready for the day. I kept the makeup light, added some products to my hair and let it air dry. I had been doing that a lot more. Embracing the curls and fluff that tended to result.

I spent a little more time cleaning up. The weather was nice today, so I figured we could eat out on the back deck overlooking the pool. That area needed some attention before I considered it to be acceptable. After I was finished with that, it was time to start cooking. I settled on manicotti. It was one of my specialties. As I started pulling out ingredients, Lauren came strolling in the front door with two bottles of wine. She was wearing a blue maxi dress, sandals, and a cute hat. This wasn’t her typical look for a Friday gathering.

“You look cute.”

“Is it too much? I mean the guy is famous. I didn’t want to look like a bum.”

I laughed at her and assured her it was fine.

“You look cute too, in a very casual and effortless way. Like you didn’t spend an hour trying to figure it out, but I know you did.”

I gave her an annoyed look and went back to what I was doing. She started digging for the wine opener. She poured us both a glass as I went over dinner plans. She was excited because it was one of her favorites.

A few minutes later my phone buzzed on the counter. It was Dieter letting me know he was on his way. I told him the front door was open and to come on in because I was about to be wrist deep in ricotta cheese. I twisted my fluffy curls up in a messy way and stuck a hair chopstick in it to hold it up. It fanned out in a halo around the back of my head. A few wavy strands fell around my face. Then, I got to work measuring ingredients out and started slowly mixing them together with my hand a little at a time.

I heard the door open a few minutes later. I yelled for Dieter to come to the kitchen. I turned to see him standing in the entryway wearing a white t-shirt with sunglasses stuck in the collar, navy shorts, and flip-flops. His hair was messy and hanging down over his eyes. It was a little longer than it had been in New York I noticed. It had a slight wave to it and suited him. I realized he was holding flowers and my stomach did a little dance.

He walked over to see what I was doing as I mixed the ricotta cheese filling with my hand, standing extremely close to look over my shoulder. He asked what I was making. I told him and he made a face like he was impressed while shaking his head up and down. Then he gave me a small kiss on the cheek and said he couldn’t wait to try it. He snuck in a comment about my hair looking nice today and I smiled up at him. I could feel Lauren’s eyes on us. He hadn’t noticed her yet. She was at the table chopping and mixing things for the salad, but had stopped when he came in.

I turned to ask her to get the meat out of the refrigerator so we could get it going. Dieter turned, realizing she was there, then paused to stare at her oddly. A line forming between his eyes as his brows knitted together in recognition.

“Didn’t I run into you the other day at the smoothie place?”

She stilled, her eyes shooting to mine in panic.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t drink smoothies,” she said stiffly.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said through laughter.

“You caught us. Yes, I saw you and avoided you. I’m sorry,” I said to him. He laughed.

“I had a feeling something was going on. She wasn’t very smooth about it. Don’t worry, I’m not mad. It’s actually kind of funny looking back on it.”

He walked over to Lauren, “I can’t believe you didn’t give her up though.” He was laughing as he presented her with a small bouquet of sunflowers. Then he gave her a brief hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard all the stories,” he said, still smiling, then winked at her.

She briefly looked dazed. Clearly affected by the charm of Dieter Bravo. He turned to me, motioning toward the four white roses he still held in his hand, indicating they were for me and asked for something to put them in. I thanked him and told Lauren where to find a vase.

“Interesting choices on the flowers, sir. Care to explain?” Lauren gave him a raised eyebrow. He smiled.

“Well, you sounded like a ray of sunshine, so I felt like the sunflowers suited you, and the white roses are a personal favorite of mine.”

“Why four?” Lauren asked. The interrogation was starting.

“It seemed like a good round number?” he replied with a questioning tone. Lauren stared at him for a minute, gauging his response.

“I don’t believe you,” she concluded as she handed him a vase. He looked slightly stunned and wasn’t sure how to respond. I rolled my eyes at her and told her to take it easy since he had just walked into the door.

After he put the flowers in water, he washed his hands, then brought the meat over to the stove. He asked me what he could do to help, and I told him where the pan was so he could start browning the meat while I continued to mix in the other ingredients with my hands. Lauren went back to chopping things for the salad.

Seeing him in my kitchen cooking was making my mind wander. It was strangely sexy and not something I could really recall ever seeing my ex do. He always expected me to do it all myself. Dieter pulled me out of my thoughts when he asked how long the meat needed to go for and if it was broken up enough. I leaned over to examine it and told him it was good. He took it off the eye and set it to the side to cool as instructed.

He turned to ask Lauren how her day had gone. He wanted to make sure to include her, which I thought was sweet. He was so effortless when talking with her. I wasn’t sure he ever actually met a stranger. I had a feeling he was like this with everyone.

They seemed to be getting along well. I stood there waiting and listening with my hands covered in the cheese mixture, occasionally joining the conversation. They were both already making jokes and laughing with each other, which I loved. He seemed like he would fit into our little circle quite nicely.

After a few minutes, he turned to check the meat, indicating that it was cooled off. I had him drain the grease, then pour the meat into the large mixing bowl I had been working on. He was standing extremely close while doing this. I could feel the heat radiating off his body and smell his musky scent. I continued mixing as I instructed him on preparing the manicotti noodles, trying not to be too distracted by his proximity.

“I didn’t know I was gonna get a cooking lesson,” he said laughing as he watched the water start to boil. “I can’t cook at all, so this is kind of educational.”

I looked at him, “Seriously? You don’t know how to cook?”

“I mean, I can do simple things. Nothing like this. It’s kind of fun. Do you all always cook together on Fridays?”

Lauren walked over to put the salad in the refrigerator, then tried to stick her finger in the noodle filling and I smacked her hand away. I turned to answer him.

“Yes, more times than not we do. Sometimes we order from a restaurant. It depends on how the week has gone.”

Lauren chimed in, “You should start joining us. We always try to do something fun or relaxing too. We’ve been talking about doing a wine and paint night soon,” she said matter of factly.

“That sounds like fun, I’d love to do that,” he said as the pot of water started to boil over.

“Oh shit…” he froze, unsure of what to do. Lauren stepped in to take over the noodle boiling while we both laughed at him.

Once I had the filling mixed, I scraped it off my hands the best I could, then moved to the sink to wash them. Lauren started laying the noodles out on cookie sheets to cool so we could stuff them. I pulled out 3 large freezer bags, clipped the bottom corner off one side of each of them, then spooned the filling into each. I showed Dieter how to use it like an icing bag to fill the manicotti noodles. The three of us made quick work of it, filling up two pans with stuffed noodles. I covered them with different cheeses and sauce before throwing them in the oven.

We sat around the table chatting and drinking wine while we waited for the food to finish. Lauren told Dieter about her new age themed art shop and about the classes she teaches there. He seemed really interested in it and asked if he could attend some. She even offered to do a private one just for us so he wouldn’t have to deal with the people that might make it a less than enjoyable experience for him. She also made sure to let him know that she often sells many of my “works of art” in her shop too. I had to roll my eyes at her. She was trying to be a wingman, but really, it was just embarrassing. Of course, it caught his attention, and he started bugging me about seeing some things I had made. I told him I would show him later, hoping he would forget.

Once the manicotti was done, I pulled it out of the oven to cool off and put the garlic bread loaf in for a few minutes to heat up and melt the cheese and butter. Lauren got a head start on taking things outside. After a few minutes, I pulled the bread out and started to slice it up. I could feel Dieter’s eyes on me. I looked up at him and he seemed deep in thought. He noticed my glances and decided to break the silence.

“You know, I must say, I never would have guessed you were into cooking fancy meals.”

I glanced up at him again, not sure if I should be offended or not.

“Why is that so surprising?”

“I don’t know, you just seem so busy, I am surprised you would take the time to do all this extra work.”

“Honestly, it sort of became my escape when I was still married. My ex wouldn’t step foot in the kitchen out of fear he’d be asked to do something. So, I started spending more time there. Just to have some peace and be away from him. He didn’t complain because he still got to reap some benefit from it by eating whatever I came up with.”

“That’s really sad and also his loss. Not sure what he was thinking, I rather enjoy watching you cook…” He smiled as he admitted to his newly discovered hobby.

“I kind of like you teaching me how to cook too,” he said as he gave me a sly half smile.

I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how to take that. Was he flirting or just making a statement? It was so hard to tell with him sometimes since he had that type of flirty personality anyway. I raised an eyebrow at him and smiled back.

“Well, I’m happy I can provide entertainment, I guess. Anyway, this Friday thing that Lauren and I do is kind of new. Just something we picked up the last few months as I’ve been trying to get my shit together. A routine is good for me and it’s something to look forward to at the end of the week. We kind of just stuck with it.”

“I appreciate you letting me join in. I think it might be good for me too. Especially if it teaches me how to cook in the process,” he laughed as he took another drink of wine.

Lauren came back in to let me know everything outside was ready. We made our plates then went out onto the patio to eat. Dieter absolutely loved the manicotti. Lauren chimed in to say it was her personal favorite meal.

“Well, since you both love it so much, please take some home with you or else I’ll be eating it for a week.”

“I will not argue with that offer. Gosh, if you keep feeding me like this, I’m gonna have to do double time at the gym,” Dieter said.

“Talia has a gym downstairs and I have a key for a reason,” Lauren replied with a laugh.

“You have a home gym? Damn, I’m kind of jealous. I still go to the local one that my trainer owns,” Dieter said.

“You can join us weakling girls at any time,” Lauren replied.

“That might be mildly entertaining,” he said with a laugh and Lauren feigned offense.

After a couple hours of conversation, Lauren announced that she had to leave because she had to be at the shop early due to the employee with a sick kid being out. I gave her a look. I couldn’t tell if she was just trying force alone time or if it was a legit reason. She said her goodbyes and Dieter gave her a small hug and kiss on the cheek. She returned the gesture and thanked him for the flowers. The smirk she gave me as she was walking out the door said it was a ploy to get us alone. I rolled my eyes at her.

After she left, Dieter helped me clean up from dinner. He started washing the dishes as I was putting the food away.

“Oh, seriously, you don’t have to do that,” I said to him. He turned to me.

“I most certainly do. You just fed me and gave me enough leftovers for like three days. I’m washing the dishes. It’s the least I can do.”

I suddenly felt a little emotional. I had to fight it back as I looked at him. Every second spent with Dieter made me realize how big of an ass my ex was. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I really needed to stop thinking about that stuff.

Dieter noticed the shift in my mood. He dried his hands on his shirt and walked over to me, studying my face. His brows knitted together in concern as I continued to give him a blank stare.

“Where do your thoughts go when that happens?” he asked quietly, touching my cheek.

“What do you mean?” I asked him, not realizing how obvious my wandering thoughts actually were to the casual observer, or maybe he just sensed it better than most.

“You just kind of space out and go somewhere else for a second. It’s not that noticeable, but I can tell, your mind is on other things. Did I do something?”

I raised my eyebrows at him, and my breath hitched a little. I looked down.

“No. No, you didn’t do anything. Uhh, sometimes I just…things trigger memories. It can literally be the most random stuff. It doesn’t happen as often as it used to.”

“What were you thinking just then?” His tone was gentle and caring.

“I…you don’t want to hear about this stuff.” I tried to turn away, my face strained, but he gently put his hand on my arm to stop me.

“I actually do. If you don’t mind sharing. I wanna be able to help you work through this stuff.”

I was surprised at the sincerity in his voice. I leaned back against the kitchen counter and looked at him. Trying to decide how much I wanted to share. I kept my expression neutral.

“I just had a thought of the few times I had asked Justin to help with the dishes after I made dinner. Some of those times were when I wasn’t feeling well. He called me lazy for not cleaning up my own mess. I know it sounds ridiculous that a small comment like that would mean anything, but eventually all of that added up to breaking me down and making me feel like shit about myself. I think about the things he used to say to me, and it still makes me question everything I do sometimes.”

Dieter gave me a sympathetic look, but I could also see the anger flash in his eyes.

“What was the purpose of saying stuff like that to you? What did he gain from it?”

“He’s a narcissist. Mental and psychological abuse is just what they do. It was his way of controlling me. He broke me down then molded me into his perfect little stepford wife. I was expected to always act and look a certain way. He succeeded for a long time until I finally snapped out of it and realized how unhappy I was.”

“Did he ever physically hurt you?”

“Toward the end… when I started standing up to him, he would shove me around some. He did slap me once when I threatened to leave. I eventually caught him cheating and it was such a fucking relief. I wasn’t even mad. He tried to turn it around and say it was my fault for not taking care of his needs, but it was finally something he couldn’t talk his way out of. I didn’t let that one go. It was my excuse for leaving.”

Dieter closed the distance between us and wrapped me in a tight hug. I couldn’t help burying my face in his chest and inhaling his scent as he laid his head on mine.

“Thank you for telling me that. It helps me understand you a little better. I’m sorry he treated you that way. No one deserves that,” he said quietly into my hair.

We pulled away from each other and I gave him a small smile.

“Now, I am going to wash the dishes. No arguments,” he said sternly, then smiled.

I continued cleaning up as he did the dishes. We worked in comfortable silence until we finished. He eventually spoke up and asked to see the “works of art” that Lauren had mentioned earlier. My shoulders dropped as I gave him an annoyed look.

“What?” he asked, laughing at me.

“You don’t need to see any of that. There are no works of art. It’s just hobby stuff to keep my mind busy.”

“Awww come on. Pleeeease,” he said as he gave me a sad puppy look. He knew what he was doing. How could anyone deny his big beautiful brown eyes. I pointed at him with a mock disbelieving look.

“Stop that. You’re too good at it,” I said through laughter. He continued to lay it on thick. I rolled my eyes, giving in. I ended up giving him a mini tour of the whole house before we continued downstairs to the basement area where my craft room was.

My craft room is fairly large. One full wall is made of glass with doors that lead out back to the pool area, which helps with lighting. One wall is lined with floor to ceiling shelving. A large craft table with underneath storage sits in the middle of the room surrounded by large LED floor lamps. There are other smaller workstations lined against the open wall. The space is in constant disarray, but it’s one of my favorite places to be. There are always several projects in progress sitting around the room.

As soon as we walked in, Dieter was like a kid in a candy store. He walked around looking at everything, asking me all sorts of questions about the supplies and tools. He seemed genuinely interested. Once he got over to the shelf where a lot of the miniatures and figures I had sculpted out of clay were, he stood in silence. Looking at every little detail. My stomach was in knots from nerves as I watched him look over my work.

He eventually stepped back, and that’s when the painting I had been working on got his attention. It’s one of the first few paintings I have ever done. Just a reproduction of a picture I had found online of an abandoned flower garden. I thought it might be good practice with layering and blending colors. I walked over to him, watching his face as he looked at it in silence. Some type of emotion was playing under the surface, but I couldn’t decipher what it was. He took a deep breath and quickly blinked a few times before turning to me.

“I love art. Have I told you that?” he asked as he eyed me with a small smile on his face. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“No, you haven’t.”

“I love this. You’re really good. You’ll have to paint something for my house, it could use some color.”

“That is literally like the third painting I’ve ever done. I mean, I paint the figures and stuff, but picture painting is new. Lauren has been teaching me the techniques and tricks. I sit and watch her paint all the time.”

“Well, clearly you have some talent then, because I love it.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. I always felt warm and fuzzy when he complimented me. Once he seemed satisfied from looking at every little thing, we moved on to the workout room. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was roomy and had a decent amount of equipment, a mirrored wall, a large tv, and surround sound Bluetooth speakers. There was also a small bathroom with a shower.

“Dang, I’m just going to start coming over here,” he said as he walked into the room.

“You’re more than welcome, anytime you want.”

“Seriously, I might. Paparazzi have been hanging out outside my regular place. It’s starting to get on my nerves.”

I knitted my brows together and shook my head at the absurdity of this information. I walked over to the key hooks beside the door that had access to outside, pulled a key ring off and tossed it to him. He almost didn’t catch it because it took him off guard. He looked down at it, then back at me with a raised eyebrow.

“It goes to this entry door. It has a separate key from the rest of the house. You need the lock code to get in through the other door to the inside of the house,” I said as I motioned to the door we had just come through.

“So, come use it anytime you want. Even if I’m not here. Also, you can park next to this door if you use the second driveway entrance that goes around to the back and there is a motion sensing camera outside the door. Just FYI.”

“For real? This is awfully trusting of you,” he said with a small laugh. I shrugged.

“If it saves some of your sanity, I’m willing to help.”

I will admit, I may have had ulterior motives with this invitation. Watching a sweaty Dieter workout seemed enticing. I did want to help him out though. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to have someone shoving a camera in your face all the time, especially when you may not look your best.

We called it a night soon after that. As he left, he grabbed his leftovers then gave me a quick side hug and peck on the cheek.

After he left, I immediately started getting ready for bed. I was tired from the long but pleasant day. As I was settling in for sleep, my phone pinged with a text from Dieter.

DIETER: I had a great time tonight and I enjoyed spending time with you (and Lauren). Thanks for having me over. Sleep well.

I read his text a few times before responding. I always felt like he had underlying meaning to his words, but then I stopped myself. Surely, I was trying to read too much into them.

ME: I had a great time too. Good night.

Next Chapter Tag List: @rhoorl, @bitchwitch1981

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alrightbuckaroo · 2 days

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Fic Pride Friday

Happy Friday, everyone! I missed this last week so I thought I'd make up for it this week! I don't have in me to go through 40+ works as of late, so I just pulled some from my long form work. Thanks to @carlos-in-glasses, @vineofroses, @bonheur-cafe and @literateowl for the tags!

Rules: Post your favorite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

tender eyes that shine:

TK’s thrusts are in rapid succession; the only thing keeping up with the rhythm is Carlos’ heartbeat. It’s as if TK, right now, in this moment, is a lifeline that Carlos is tethered to that’s born out of nothing more desirous longing and trust.

TK calls him “Baby” and the last thing Carlos thinks is that he can only hope Heaven will be half as sweet as the way that word sounds rolling off of TK’s tongue. Suddenly, the darkness that’s gripped him seems to ease itself. Darkness ebbs away as the light becomes something more tangible, something just out of reach. He opens his eyes, and he sees both TK and his father. Carlos isn’t sure if he’s been brought back from death or if he’s been left to his own devices in Heaven. He’s always thought that TK has the beauty of an angel that’s come down to Earth, one that’s replaced his halo with a fireman’s cap. When he sees his father standing above him, it comes as no surprise. Carlos has always considered him to be a martyr, fighting the good fight until the very end. With the warm golden hue surrounding the both of them, he thinks this must be the highest the sky can go.

summer slipped us underneath her tongue:

TK leans down, causing a dip in the bed as he leans in to give Carlos a kiss. He tastes like last night’s raspberry tart and all of Carlos’ dreams come true. He pulls away and says, “I’ll be back before you have the chance to miss me.” Carlos smiles, his face still cupped between TK’s hands. “It’s hard not to miss you. I love having you around.” There’s that word again: love. Love is a word that’s always tossed around casually, even by them; but the way it sounds rolling off of Carlos’ tongue causes TK’s heart to skip a beat. As if it’s a rock being thrown across a once still pond. Ever since TK realized that this, this thing with Carlos is no longer casual but something very real; the word love has hit his ear differently each and every time. He loves Carlos, and all he wants to do is tell him.

Carlos is spiraling well beyond his control. He’s trying to piece where he went wrong but then TK is grabbing his hand and saying his name like it’s the only word he’s ever know.

29 Going on 30

TK’s a little disheartened at the realization. He used to know this city like the back of his hand; now he feels like he’s wearing a glove.

“I think that part of living life is finding new ways to left love in,” Carlos continues. “Learning that love can be an afternoon serenade, a hideous sweater that you still found a way to look good in or the realization that the love that feels too good to be true is the love that you’ve been deserving of all along.” TK is quiet for a beat; a medley of mixed emotions overtaking him. Love that feels too good to be true is the love that you’ve been deserving of all along. Maybe Carlos is right, maybe he needs to let himself finally feel comfortable with the idea that this type of love isn’t meant to crumble. He won’t have to dig through the remains of what’s left to restore himself. This love has a foundation that’s meant to last. Quietly, he asks, “You still think I’m a dream?” “So much I almost can’t believe my eyes,” Carlos replies with a smile. “You deserve an everlasting love, Tyler,” The words are a declaration, a phrase that gives no room for argument. “I’ll always be here, wanting to be the one that gives it to you.”

come and take a walk on the wild side

It’s 4:02 a.m. and TK is standing on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. For the most part, the party has thinned out except for a couple of stragglers and those that had decided to spend the night. He holds the phone close to his ear; hearing the other line ring, once, twice, three times. He’s about the end the call before it can even start when a voice answers on the other line. “Hello?” The voice sounds groggy, and aged. TK still recognizes it all the same. TK doesn’t respond, feeling the words anxious to grab purchase. “Hello? Is anyone there?” TK doesn’t reply, and it’s not soon before the person on the other line hangs up. He brings the phone down, and whispers to himself, “Happy Father’s Day, dad.”

“I’d ask you to save the attitude for dinner, but,” Sam finally breaks eye contact, looking back down at his phone, knowing he’s about to win this back and forth between them. “We both know you’ll hold me to that.” TK hears the unspoken command: knock it off. He knows he should, just make the rest of the night easier for both of them; but there’s something in him that wants to fight against that feeling. Relieve himself of the weight that he’s holding for both of them. “Yeah? And give your dad another reason to hate everything about me?” TK decides not to think about the fact Winston brings out the worst in both of them. Sam doesn’t look up from his phone, wanting to treat TK’s response like it’s nothing but a low brow tactic. “He doesn’t hate everything about you.” TK snorts. “Oh yeah? What doesn’t he hate?” Sam looks up from his phone and stares directly at TK, giving him his undivided attention. His words drip with a scathing sense of frustration, “The way you know how to get under my skin.”

I'm a week late to this so I'm sure everyone has already gone, but if you haven't and want to share, consider this open tag for you :)

#come and take a walk on the wild side really is that girl when she's updated #fic: tender eyes that shine #fic: summer slipped us underneath her tongue #fic: 29 Going on 30 #fic: come and take a walk on the wild side #tag you're it #my writing

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tsuki-sennin · 7 months

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Two years have past since the end of the war with the Bugnarok Empire. Under the guidance of its new King, Jeremy Brasieri, the Bugnarok are now recognied by the other five kings as their own sovereign nation. However... centuries of pain cannot be undone so soon. Not when the world faces ever greater peril.

And... after that... Freaky Friday x 3.

Spoilers, I guess...

-Oh.

-He dead.

-Kamejim's an alien, huh?

-Ohhhhhhhh, that's a lot of bugs.

-Well, his majesty King Gira certainly looks older.

-Everybody seems to be resting on their laurels.

-Rita would be ashamed.

-"Oh... I see... Well, that's not the least bit surprising."

-What the hell happened to our worldwide government?

-"Please stop crying, it's not your fault! D:"

-The aliens are coming! We've been compromised!

-"I do, yeah!"

-Dugden Dujardin...

-"Right, here's the deal. You're all gonna hand your planet over to me.

-THEY THREW THEM IN JAIL?

-WHY THO

-RITA YOU RUN THE JAILS HOW-

-"Hey buddy, you lied to me, y'know?"

-Ohhhhhhhhh

-Holy shit

-This guy is just Bug-type Evolt.

-Oh my God.

-Y'know, I can't say I expected intergalactic genocide from this show.

-"Wow, you're right! I am mocking you."

-I have to say, the green screen halos add a lot to how surreal and terrifying he is.

-Hey, wait a fucking second, that's America on that earth model!

-All that with a flick.

-He nearly destroyed all of America.

-Racules you motherfucker

-Gira says "Up yours, Dugdump."

-Whoaaaaaaaa, who is that?

-J

-Jesters.

-Gorma...

-Man's got his own roster.

-Jimmy, of course, was here the whole time.

-I suppose God's sitting this one out.

-The Tyrant King returns.

-Ohsama Sentai! King-Ohger!

-Lovin' the new hair, Yanma.

-Kaguragi seems just about the same as he always is.

-Ran, on the other hand... Absolutely serving.

-Oh, short hair Rita. Love it.

-Rita's one gray eye...

-We are so back. ...even though really it hasn't been that long.

-"Freeze, stinkbug."

-Oh great, Jimmy slipped away.

-Oh

-Oh my god.

-What kind of fucking PC needs global power siphoning?

-HIMENO CAUSED A WILD FIRE

-KAGURAGI CREATED A FARM TANK

-RITA WOULDN'T FUCKING TAKE A VACATION

-Yes, kings are back, I saw last episode.

-Intergalactic clown bugs.

-We traded Dezzy for this jhkhkl

-Gorma's already come up with a perfect scheme~!

-Kaguragi's a flasher I see.

-Oh wait, no Himeno???

-Goddamn, Kaguragi's living it up.

-Yanma, you're in the middle of a tundra, why the hell did you take Rita's shoes off?

-There is literally no episode premise better for an ensemble cast like this than a Freaky Friday plot.

-Ohhhhh, I noticed that Rita covered Yanma's eye. It must be blind.

-The actors are absolutely nailing each other's mannerisms, holy crap.

-I'm glad Kaguragi and Jeremy are enjoying themselves :)

-Himeno's still absolutely serving in Kaguragi's body.

-"Yanma... please... hurry up, I need it."

-"Dude, c'mon, you're already making yourself home in my body, at least-"

-"GIVE!"

-My current theory as to why Rita covers their mouth so much is because they have an oral stim they view as particularly embarassing. I imagine it must've hurt a lot when Gira laughed so hard.

-It is so weird hearing Rita's voice speaking so casually.

-Apparently Ran's not built enough for Kaguragi's liking.

-"Oh, trust me, Mantis Lady! You gotta knead your dough and feel the burn to make a nice, extra crispy bread."

-Gorma Jumpscare.

-Gorma Rosalia...

-Ninpo! Body Swap Art!

-"Beat me, and you'll be heading right home."

-Ohgai Busou!

-Oh, right, just because the minds switch around doesn't mean the authorization does.

-Nin!

-Oh, Rita smiled, that's nice :)

-"Jeremy, you're thinking a little too generously..."

-And this is Gira saying this, so you know this is gonna be a geopolitical nightmare.

-Jesus Christ Himeno jkjhjkmnhl

-Well at least Kaguragi's employing a bit of aid.

-SEBAS WHAT

-"No fighting."

-C

-Cross-brained fox.

-"I'm arresting each and every last one of you bastards!"

-Yanma, Yanma, Yanma, Yanma!

-Aw, Jeremy :)

-Not the least bit surprising that Gira and Jeremy are taking this the best.

-"Whaaaaaaaat? Nooooo, nooooooo, I don't think the Bugnarok are responsible for this, nooooooo!"

-Huh

-I have to disagree Jeremy, that was insanely quick, considering.

-Heat stroked out.

-Having a bit of a wild day.

-"Suppose we've spent a bit too much money on healthcare..."

-There's a certain elegance in Kaguragi's interpretation of Kamakiri Ohger.

-That's a really cool way of tying the body swaps into the fight scene though, I won't lie.

-They mad.

-Bang!

-That's our Jeremy.

-We won! Technically!

-Now to remove the Ninja

-OH FUCK

-Ohhhhhhh, you're one tricky son of a bitch, aren't you Gorma?

-Oh man, shit's getting real now.

#Rejoice O Swarming Evil! You're My King!#ohsama sentai kingohger #king ohger #kingohger #ohsama sentai king ohger #king ohger spoilers

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corutown · 11 months

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Vita Times: June Newsletter

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Lore | F.A.Q. | Masterlist | Pinterest »»- Server Link -««

Happy Pride Month, Vitans! We hope you're all enjoying yourself so far! If you're on Summer break like a lot of our members are, this is a perfect time to hop into our server! The Summer months tend to be more active since more people are around. We'd love to meet you!

Unfamiliar with our group? Realm of Vita is a casual multifandom roleplay group based in a solarpunk-themed setting. Our 16+ server its complete with its own in-depth lore, fleshed-out setting, and original species. We welcome canon characters, fan characters from your favorite series, or completely original characters! Any species, origin, or power level is allowed.

Some of our features include:

- Responsive staff available to answer questions at most times - In-depth guides on how to start new roleplay interactions - In-character events, such as city-wide holiday celebrations, plot events, and user-made events - A ticket system for feedback and member conflicts - PluralKit availability for systems - A layout that uses minimal unicode to keep things accessible to screen readers

With that, let's move onto the news!

»»————-　❈ 　————-««

UPCOMING EVENTS

While no solid date has been announced just yet, look forward to our upcoming Total Chaos event! Inspired by "magic anons" from the Tumblr RP community, this event will see your muses finding strange artifacts littered throughout Vita that grant some pretty crazy effects. What effects, you may ask? That's up to you, and the sky's the limit!

We also have the Summer Solstice coming up on June 21st! Get ready for some fun in the sun!

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MUSE OF THE MONTH

For May, our Muse of the Month is...

Otoji Arisato (OC), played by Neo/Essent!

Every month, we'll randomly select a character to feature on the newsletter. Join now, and your muse could be next!

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CHARACTER WISHLIST

Every type of character is welcome in our server, from OCs to canons to kinsonas! However, these are the characters our members are currently searching for. "Any character" also includes OCs from these media!

from DC Comics... Any character!

from Devil May Cry... Any character, but especially Dante or Nero!

from Fate... Any character!

from Friday Night Funkin' (and its AUs)... Any character, but Hazy River Annie or Minus Annie!

from Halo... Any character, but especially Master Chief!

from Honkai: Star Rail... Any character!

from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure... Any character!

from Marvel Comics... Any character!

from NieR: Automata... Any character, but especially 2B, 9S, and Adam!

from Omori... Any character!

from Persona... Any characters, but especially Zen or Persona 3 characters!

from Psychonauts... Any character!

from Samurai Jack... Samurai Jack!

from Star Trek... Any character!

from Street Fighter... Any character!

from ULTRAKILL... Sisyphus Prime or Mirage!

from Undertale/Deltarune (and its AUs)... Any character, but especially Sans!

from Welcome Home... Any character!

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That concludes our newsletter for this month! Thanks for reading! We hope to see you soon!

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little-miss-moonshine · 1 year

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flying too close to the sun

(tiny note, I wrote this in late february and didn't post it. a month later, I wrote about the flowers again, but I think I should validate my initial emotions and post this. )

the flowers you gave me on tuesday stand straight and proud on my desk, in the apple juice bottle you bought me on thursday, rinsed and dried on friday. their purple petals glare down at me as I cry at my desk, loud sobs and soft whimpers permeating the stale air of my room. I have often given, but never gotten, flowers. in our relationship, you gave me many things, but never flowers, and never your heart.

the flowers, like you, are slightly oxymoronic. someone once told me that when flowers are given with love, they take longer to wilt than ordinary flowers. the flowers you gave me rest atop dried, crumbling, rotting stems, but the flowers themselves are as perfect and purple and pristine as the day you gave them to me. the colors seared themselves into my memory when you handed them to me, the fallen angel: skin shadowed, blue eyes alight, golden hair made into a halo by the lamplight. like the flowers, simultaneously dead and alive, you are simultaneously beautiful and terrible. my greek god, a force of nature, a being of kindness and cruelty in equal measure.

indeed, that is how I loved you: as something to be awed by, to be worshipped. I worshipped you like holy light, loving you without condition, without limit, and without expectation. you looked down at me from the pedestal I raised you on, something like pity in your eyes. you protected me, I cherished you, and we called that enough. that, in itself, is an impossibility; people go where they find love, and rarely love without receiving it in equal measure. as such, my love, although I treasured you as a crown jewel, it is now your turn to treasure the nuggets of gold, of my love, in your memory, as the world treats you the same way that you treated me. indeed, I still love you, but now, I open my arms and embrace the hellfire of your gaze. you know what they say, the hottest fires burn blue.

so what do your oxymoronic flowers have in common with you? like the flowers, you show me love and care right alongside your casual indifference. holding me, caring for me, forehead rested against mine to calm me down, but telling your friends that I was just another girl. brushing the hair from my face, kissing my cheeks while I called out your name in nightmarish sleep, yet scrolling through bumble as I clung to you for dear life, seeking you even when unconscious. you kept telling me you weren't ready for the commitment of love, but that you care for me so, so much. here's what I think: you loved me silently. subconsciously. you can push it down, run away from it, and hurt me in the process, but you can't escape it. no matter now incapable of commitment you think you are, you can't deny how you feel. the sad part is that it was enough for some time, but just as you're starting to understand, I'm starting to lose hope.

you left this morning without a word, just wrapping me in your arms for the briefest of moments. some would call me stupid, in the throes of illness, coughing blood onto my floor, calling you in the night just to ask if I can sleep on your floor, knowing full well you'd come to check on me out of concern. call me if you need anything, and I'll be there, you said, and you probably meant it. I hate seeing you hurt, you said, but why would you do as you did if that was true?

I hate to be helpless, my love, but I love being with you. I wish you'd throw me a lifeline, tell me everything I want to hear, but I know you won't. doesn't stop me wishing, though.

I wish it ended there. I wish I was the kind of person who could get closure like that. yet, here I am, at midnight on a sunday, unable to move because of the pain in her legs and stomach, and I am calling you.

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micro-expressions · 13 hours

Link

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: "3 Little Birds" Sparrow Gold Dainty Pretty Bohemian Hippie Peace Gift Necklace.

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frostingjewelry · 7 days

Link

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 14K Gold and Pearl Bracelets - Set of 2.

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essenceofkel · 6 months

Link

Check out this listing I just found on Poshmark: ❤️ NEW 💎 Elegant 925 Sterling Silver Earrings and Necklace Set Heart. , , , , ,

#garifunamother #thelaughingscorpions #laughnscorpions #Torrid #Adidas #garifunabusinesses

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hannahsmusings · 2 years

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Renee

,fri*I had never been so bored in my entire life as I was right now, sitting in an empty room with my ‘manners’ teacher, staring out the large open window and thinking about how much nicer it was out there than it was in this stuffy room* *the manor I lived in was massive and yet some of these rooms barely got any air circulation, it just feeling stifling and hot and it distracted me during these ‘classes’ my parents were forcing me to take as soon as I turned 20 the week before* *the teacher says something to me and I don’t respond, too busy watching a bird land on the windowsill of the room, snapping out of my daydreams as she smacks my desk with her hand, forcing me to pay attention* *as soon as the lesson was over, I was hopping up, thanking her, giving her a sweet smile as she bowed as I quickly made my way out of the room* *it was Friday and that meant I had a riding lesson, my stomach fluttering at the thought of getting to see Finn, him being my best friend and the only person who I actually got along with, us having grown up together since his father worked at the stables since I was little* *I all but run through the huge manor, saying hi to butlers and maids as I pass them, going into the kitchens and grabbing the secret picnic basket I always stored in there for our lessons* *Finn’s father passed away a little under a year ago and now he was the head of the stables, but he still gave me my ‘lessons’ weekly, neither of us wanting to give up that time together* *I walk out the back door of the kitchens, it always being my route to avoid my parents or my personal butlers, them always asking too many questions, everyone here seemingly looking down on our friendship but I had made it clear that my friendship with Finn was here to stay* *I carry my picnic basket down to the stables, my sundress and curled hair flowing in the wind as I walked down the massive gardens and paths, a giant smile spreading on my face when the stables come into view, starting to walk faster, eager to get to Finn* *I walk up behind him, smiling to myself as he was brushing one of the horses, leaning against the railing as I admire him, biting my lip before announcing myself* She’s pretty.

___________________________________

*Friday's were my favourite days of the week because of our riding lessons, seeing you a few times throughout the week as you always came down to the stables but Friday’s were my one guaranteed time to have you to myself and actually enjoy it, loving this job and so grateful for it but I did feel out of place here and the more I spent time with you the more I noticed the disapproving frowns from the other staff, the little whispers and glances, not sure if you saw them like I did but now that we were older and not little kids anymore, the gaps between our upbringing and lifestyles seemed to grow* *stops myself before I spiral down that thought patter, just looking forward to seeing you as I glance at the clock and grin to myself as I’d knew you’d be down any minute* *brushing one of our new mares, knowing you’d not met her yet but she was gorgeous and well tempered, knowing she’d be your favourite in no time* *Not noticing you approach as I hum to myself and continue brushing her coat, my shirt slung over my shoulder and nuzzling her nose a little in a kiss before looking up as I hear your voice, breaking out into a bright smile and my heart skipping a beat as I see you leaning against the stable so casually haloed by the sun, you looking like a fallen angel and I was momentarily stunned* Pretty horse for a pretty girl. *mumbles with a smile as I approach you, wiping my hands on my trousers* She’s our newbie, what do you think?

#renee plot

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nkhrchuwuya · 2 years

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tease

bungou stray dogs | T | 810 words nakahara chuuya x reader/oc

chuuya’s got you feeling a certain way. you really don’t have to try any harder, but you’ve got other tricks up your sleeve to drive him insane.

the addicting thing about casual sex with nakahara chuuya is that it does not, for even one second, feel casual.

every move feels purposeful, with meaning, not just a casual flicker of fingers in the chase and haze of pleasure. you can feel him in every nerve in your body when you make love—because he leaves that impression on your body. it’s never just a fleeting touch, never feels like a one-night-stand kind of fluttering away.

maybe that’s just because chuuya never just does “casual”—not when there’s an option to give it his all.

the unfortunate circumstance? how hard you’re falling for him.

of course, his kind nature and his brash personality matched with his loyalty is quite the potent mix to make anyone fall in love with him, his sharp tongue aside. but there’s a certain delight in being in the center of his attention, one that remains unmatched in your experience.

so you get back at him by being a tease instead.

“i know we said friday,” chuuya says, from the other end of the line, on a dreary wednesday evening. you’ve just gotten home from work. “but something’s come up and i won’t make it. saturday?”

you tsk. “i don’t think saturday’s gonna be great…” you murmur, voice lowering into a dip. eyeing your black number hanging by your closet, you say: “i know this is a little rushed, but why not tonight? i’m even wearing something pretty.”

there’s a silence on the end of the line, for only a moment. if you listened close enough, you’d hear the deep breath chuuya takes before clearing his throat.

“better be pretty enough,” he jokes, and you flatter him with a laugh. “won’t be able to book it at where we planned, so—”

“yep, the usual,” you confirm, the restaurant downtown where he’s got himself a seat at the back reserved. “i’ll see you, chuuya.”

“i’ll see ya, pretty.”

“not trying to sound unappreciative,” chuuya says once he gets you to your doorstep after dinner, “but that was a little underwhelming.”

“what? the date?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “did you not have fun?”

“no, you were great, splendid,” he says. “just wondering if you oversold me on your outfit.”

the smirk that’s been waiting to cross your face finally gets there. “oh, you think this is what i’m talking about?” you ask, running a hand lightly over your tight number, where it accentuates your curves. “i was talking about underneath.”

a red flush fills chuuya’s face in an instant. still, that doesn’t stop him from grinning, a cackle at your playful words. “you could have just asked me directly,” he says.

“that’s exactly what i’m doing,” you say. you lift his hand and press a kiss onto his knuckles over the glove, a mimicry of his own favorite gesture. “come with me?”

the red, lacy pair you’re wearing underneath is enough to send chuuya to his knees. you take off his coat and his hat, let him sit in his vest and gloves, the half-undressed, “nearly there” state so exquisite. you make him sit on the bed, make him watch as you undo the buttons and zippers and you unwrap yourself like a lovely little gift.

you give him a little spin so he sees the full effect of it, and he leans forward to give you a closer look (or maybe to hide something from view.)

“did ya get this for me, princess?” he asks, as you saunter toward him with a smirk on your face. “gotta say, you’ve figured out my style.”

you put your hand on his knee. “just a lucky guess, actually.”

“and looks like i’m about to get lucky too,” chuuya says, grinning. “just don’t know how i’d like to have it.”

his hands are hot on your body as he pulls you close to him and then wrestles you onto the bed, your hair fanning like a halo around your head on the pillows. you smile as he nuzzles his face in the valley between your breasts, inhaling the perfume you’d so purposefully sprayed in there.

he lifts his hands to his mouth and tears his gloves off his hands with his teeth so he can play with the lace with his bare hands. you let him, intent on just watching as he caresses over your flesh, enjoying the contrast of the red fabric against your skin. he tugs at the ribbons; snaps the straps; thumbs at the lace.

he slips his fingers into the band of your underwear, fingers grazing the soft hair there, when he looks up at you with red-hot desire in his eyes.

“made your mind up yet?” you ask—ever teasing, ever keeping him on the edge of his seat.

he tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. “we’re keeping this on.”

#nakahara chuuya #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #bungou stray dogs imagines #bsd imagines #bsd x reader #💌 chuuya lovemail #genre:wank #rating:T #timeline:casual #i know it's like wank saturdays but this is the best i've got #work took out all my smut energy

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Note

Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

#pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x you #narcos fic #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories

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memxntomxri · 3 years

Text

𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚕𝚎

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - bisexual!hinata shouyou x gn!reader, hinata shouyou x miya atsumu

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 - angst, break up

𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤 - hinata shouyou is trustworthy - with everything except for your heart

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 - 2.4k words

𝘵𝘸 - slightly descriptive nsfw?, cheating (i'm sorry to be doing my children hinata and atsumu dirty this way but this got stuck in my head 😭), major angst, break-up, no happy ending, lots and lots of crying, lots and lots of reader's internal thoughts, atsumu is an asshole

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 - this is the result of brainrot i had stuck in my head after reading chapter 18 of SabbyWrites' A Study in Depravity. HAIKYUU BOYS ARE NOT CHEATERS - I REPEAT, HAIKYUU BOYS ARE NOT CHEATERS. BISEXUAL PEOPLE ARE ALSO NOT CHEATERS. i just couldn't resist writing this lmao

also, i'm doing my best to make this a gender-neutral reader, but it might lean more towards AFAB/non-binary readers since i'm both ashelkgjkdlkjf male-identifying readers i'm sorry

thanks @meiansmistress, lou (LouEve_094 on ao3), lena, and emmy (Noisy_Emmy on ao3) for betaing! your feedback helped me a lot

𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙙𝙣𝙞 - there are some descriptive scenes of smut in here 👀 shoo, shoo

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

You know this.

It's the reason you met, after all.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The summer you moved to Miyagi, following your father's dream of teaching in a little town similar to the one he lived in as a child, you were unhappy. Who could blame you, after all? You had a comfortable life back in Osaka, and unlike your father, you were a city dweller at heart. It was also the middle of your first year of high school—who wanted to transfer schools, let alone across prefectures, in the middle of a school year?

It was hot in Miyagi, and when the moving truck broke down on the side of the road, the entire family piled out and sat on the curb. Just your father (who you were still mad at), your mother, and you. That was what it had always been. Sure, you had friends, but somehow the friendships never got too deep. You were willing to bet that within a month, there would be no texts other than the occasional New Year's greeting or "happy birthday" from your so-called friends back in Osaka.

And don't even get you started on romantic relationships. It wasn't that you weren't attractive, or that you weren't easy to get along with—it was just that there was never anybody. Yes, you had liked people before, but nothing had ever come of it.

Your mother piped up, saving you from your dark thoughts about the state of your relationships with other people. "Y/n, love, can you go back down the hill again? I think we saw a konbini a bit that way, please buy some cool drinks." she says, depositing coins in your outstretched hand. Oh well, something to do, you supposed.

You strolled casually down the road, sweating buckets. When you pushed open the doors of the konbini—Sakanoshita Store, you noted, it definitely didn’t look like a konbini—opened, you basked in the cold air of the air conditioner for a bit. As you stood there, looking a bit dumb with your arms outstretched, you felt a weight barrel into you from behind.

With a bang, you fell forward, the weight landing on your back. "Ow!" you cried, rubbing your right wrist, which had unceremoniously made contact with the ground, pain shooting up the limb. You twisted around to glare at whatever had so unceremoniously bowled you over. You were met with the sight of wide, brown eyes and flushed cheeks. "Sorry!" the boy squeaked, getting off of you quickly. "So sorry!" You frowned and got up.

"Watch where you’re going, okay?" You were a few centimeters taller than him, you noted.

He started blabbering, talking about how he needed to get the first-aid kit because a "Stingyshima" had "accidentally" ran into "Bakageyama" and this "Bakageyama" now had a bleeding knee and that he was the fastest runner in their volleyball club (he was strangely emphatic about this point). By the time he was finished rambling, you were chuckling slightly. It was obvious that he hadn't meant anything by running into you, and it was actually kind of endearing how earnestly he was trying to explain himself.

You held up a hand, stopping him from continuing to ramble. "Y-you aren't mad, right?" he asked anxiously. You smiled and shook your head slightly. "It seems your team trusts you to help take care of your friend, so why don't you grab the first-aid kit and go help him?" You suggested gently.

He nodded quickly and darted behind the counter, grabbing a white box. As he jogged away, he seemed to remember something and turned around to holler at you. "My name's Hinata Shouyou! I'm a first year!" he introduced himself in a bright voice.

Just inside the konbini, a small smile slipped across your face.

Hinata Shouyou, huh. He seemed nice.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason you fell in love with him.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The first day of school, you meet Hinata Shouyou again. And again. And again. He somehow seems to pop up everywhere you go—not that you're complaining, he's entertaining and nice—and soon, you think you can count yourself as his friend.

You go to his game against Aoba Johsai, then Shiratorizawa, then you're hugging him as he jumps up and down, celebrating their win. That’s the first time your heart jumps when you look at him, haloed by the lights of the gym.

Slowly, you feel yourself falling in love with him. Not just falling for him, no, because Hinata Shouyou will not let anyone do anything in halves, especially not falling in love. Shouyou, to you, (because by then you were on first-name basis) is someone you can rely on, someone that is always there, like the sun, trustworthy.

And because he is always there, it's also easy to confess to him in your second year. You know him well enough by now to know that even if he doesn't feel the same, nothing would change about your friendship except for the addition of unspoken words. And you think that he might love you back, if the lingering glances and brighter smiles are any indication.

Your guess is right, and by New Year's break, the two of you are a happy couple.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's why you let him go, if only for a little bit.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When Shouyou left for Brazil, you took a break from each other. To be honest, it was your idea.

It wasn't that you didn't think that you couldn't trust him ten thousand kilometers away—it was that you knew you would hold him back. He was going to Brazil to chase his dream, and having a tether to his hometown would only slow him down. It hurt, having to say goodbye at the airport, but somehow the two of you got through it.

You still talked—a little more than "just friends" should—but you were careful not to let him think that you were together.

Shouyou was meant for greater things, and back then, as an insecure, just-barely-adult going into medical school, you weren't sure if you fit into the picture.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason why you let him back in.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When Shouyou returns from Brazil, the first person he visits is you. You, all the way out in Osaka, pushing yourself to your limits as you study for med school. When you open your door and see him standing there, smiling as bright as ever, you fall into his arms—both literally and metaphorically. It turns out, even two years later, you trust him to catch you.

It was all too natural for you and Shouyou to get back together, and by a stroke of luck, he joins the MSBY Black Jackals, right there in Osaka. You move in together, his slightly larger salary allowing the two of you to rent a bigger apartment.

Yes, it's hard work being in a relationship again, but you like having Shouyou to return to every night after your shift is over. You wake up early every morning to make the two of you breakfast and lunch, and Shouyou always has dinner waiting for you when you step back in the door, often also staying up so that you can talk.

You're content.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason why you think nothing of his closeness with his teammates.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Shouyou has always been a people-magnet. Even back in high school, everyone loved him. Shouyou is bisexual. You know this. He’s always had more than enough love to give back, too, and his bisexuality had never impacted your relationship. Why should it, when you’re every bit as queer as him? Your relationship was strong, and you believed in it. That's why, at every team dinner that he takes you to, when someone else inevitably takes the seats next to him instead of you and you're relegated to a corner, you don't worry about it. Shouyou loves you, and it doesn't matter where you sit for a couple of hours.

Yes, Miya Atsumu is a bit aggressive whenever Shouyou compliments him, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at you triumphantly, but you chalk it to them being good friends and Miya-san wanting to get to know you better by having a little friendly competition, and that's okay.

Yes, Shouyou starts going out with his team more and more, but they're his team. He's supposed to be close with them.

Yes, you start to feel a little neglected, but it wasn't as if you were the most attentive back when you were still struggling through med school.

And anyways, Shouyou always makes time for the two of you on Saturdays, your designated date nights. You have trust in your relationship, in its rock-tight foundation built upon years of knowing each other.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's why you believe his words.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

One Friday, after an especially busy shift at the hospital that got cut short for you when a coworker unexpectedly came in to fill in for you, you decide to head home early and get some rest, maybe cuddle with Shouyou while watching those romcoms you both enjoy.

You had told him that you'd be home late that night, and you hoped that you could surprise him with some dinner. So, you swung by his favorite yakitori place and ordered dinner, driving home as fast as you safely could.

As you open the door to your apartment, you hear the distinctive sounds of sex, skin slapping on skin, grunts and moans, high keens. You frown. Maybe Shouyou was watching porn? He sometimes liked to get himself ready (the two of you enjoyed the occasional pegging) before you got home. You drop the food on the kitchen table and put your jacket on the hook.

"Love, I'm home!" you call out softly. No response.

Frowning deeper now, you move towards the bedroom door. Just as you're about to open it, you hear something that stops you cold.

"A-ah, Atsumu!" It's distinctively Shouyou's voice, and suddenly, you can't move anymore.

Shouyou, who told you you could make it through med school.

Shouyou, who made you yakisoba and miso soup whenever you were stuck studying.

Shouyou, who whispered sweet nothings in your ear every morning as the two of you made breakfast.

Shouyou, who is currently in bed with Miya fucking Atsumu.

You want to get up, you want to slam open the door, you want to demand answers, but somehow, you can't get your legs to budge from the spot in the ground they've rooted themselves to.

Then,

"Who do you love, Sho?" Atsumu growls.

Your heart skips a beat.

No.

You pray to all the gods you know that what's about to pass Shouyou's lips will miraculously stay trapped in his throat, but it seems like the gods don't feel kind today.

"Y-you, Atsumu, you!" you hear Shouyou cry.

Your heart shatters into a million little kaleidoscopic pieces. Tears start running down your face, hot, involuntary, painful, because they represent the six years of a beautiful relationship down the drain, because nothing will ever be the same, because Shouyou is cheating on you.

Finally, your legs decide to move again. It seems like someone else is controlling your body as you walk towards the door, opening it with a shaking hand.

Shouyou is pinned down by Miya-san on the bed, legs thrown over his shoulder, as he slams into him.

The door bangs against the wall.

Shouyou looks up, and when he sees you, his face floods with guilt.

You don't say anything. You just stand there, tears flooding down your face, betrayal evident in your expression.

"Y-y/n!" he says. "I-I- I swear, this isn't-" he begins.

You cut him off. "I don't want to hear it, Shouyou." you spit.

Miya-san chuckles. "Who are we kidding, this is exactly what they think it is. What, did you think that you would be enough to satisfy Sho? You, with your infinitely busy schedule? You, who has no clue about volleyball?" he says, cutting into you.

"Atsumu, stop!" Shouyou says, frantic. He can tell that he's going to lose you, but he's not going to go down without a fight. "Babe, I love you, please-" he says, getting out of Miya-san's embrace and moving towards you. You sidestep him, holding a duffel bag with a change of clothes.

You stand there, looking at the scene, chuckling darkly inside your head. Just a scorned lover, a man, and his side-piece. You take a deep breath.

"You know, Shouyou, if you fell in love with someone else, you should've just told me. I trust you to be honest. I'm leaving—because even though you might love me, you're in love with Miya-san." you said.

Shouyou looks stricken with guilt, but you know it's from lying, not because he loves you anymore. Your laugh is broken and rough on the ears. "You think I didn't hear you? Oh, Shouyou, I heard more than enough. Have a nice life, and I hope that you remember how you broke me. I hope it fucking haunts you to the day of your death," you hurl at him.

Because even though at that moment you're screaming at him, you know that you still love him, that you’ll always will love him, and that you will carry this scar for the rest of your life. And even though you love him enough to leave now, to let him be with the person he loves—you still have enough love for yourself to hope that he bears some of the weight of this horrible, messy end too.

And with that, you walk out the door.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

But you're wrong.

Hinata Shouyou might love Miya Atsumu, but he still loves you more.

Years later, looking back, he comprehends that he didn't just break you. As he stares at his empty apartment, devoid of a lover—because what you said was true, he still carries the guilt, the memory of your tear-stained face, the recollections of your golden time together that ruined any relationship he might have had before it started, the echo of your absolute trust in him,

—Hinata Shouyou realizes he ruined himself too.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #hinata x reader #hinata shouyou x reader #atsuhina #canon universe #angst #haikyu angst #cheating #no happy ending

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