#one of those characters you love all the more after you finish the series and let it sit in the mind like yeah i do like him a lot actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adelheidvonschicksal · 5 months

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ It's Like That *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You decide to accept Itadori's invitation to the movies. It turns out better than expected.

Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader

CW: Fluff, SFW, hand holding, potential friends to lovers, it's technically a date 💕

“Do you guys want to see Human Earthworm 4 with me?”

The three of you minus Itadori, who posed the question, share a lukewarm look. You’re on the edge of the shopping district, trying to decide what to do after your mission, if anything, and that’s the first idea that floats out amongst the group.

“What’s it about?” Nobara asks.

After Itadori explains the horror romance, there’s even less enthusiasm amongst the group to watch the movie with him. Sensing this, he ups the bargain.

“I’ll pay.”

You wince when you see Fushiguro pull out his phone. “I don’t really have the energy to sit through a movie,” he excuses himself, fingers going a mile a minute to escape the situation of friendship for today. “I’m going home.”

Your broody classmate holds his ringing phone to his ear and briefly glances at Nobara.

“I’m going to hit up the shops," she responds to his silent question.

Megumi leaves the three of you behind in no time flat. Nobara only stays behind long enough to ask if you want to go shopping with her. While you normally love to go with her and are in dire need of new shoes, you notice a lonely sullen shadow building over your slit-cheeked classmate and throw up an apologetic smile to her.

“I think I’ll go with Itadori-kun today.”

You miss the way his head perks up as you wave her off. Before you have a chance to collect your thoughts, Itadori is already on top of you, his fists drawn in front of him excitedly and chestnut irises filled with happy stars.

“You’re going to love it,” he tells you. It’s cute how he nearly shakes with excitement, you can even hear it growing in his voice and shining in his eyes. “It’s such a good series! I mean, I know it sounded weird, but it’s so much better on screen that— forget any of what I said, you gotta see for yourself!”

He wastes no time taking off in the direction of the theatre, and you jog to keep up with the speed of the Tiger of the West. It isn’t until he notices you lagging behind that he slows up to grab your hand and pull you with him.

“Come on, come on, we don’t want to miss the opening.”

“Is this one of those movies where I need to see the first three to know what’s going on?”

“Well, there’s a few returning characters, like Dr. Richter, but I can fill you in on the important stuff so don’t worry.”

When you get to the theatre, Itadori immediately jumps in the ticket line, huffing in relief when there are still seats available. You begin to pull out your wallet but pause when he hands you a pink paper ticket.

“I told you it’s on me,” he reminds you before going down the line and ordering a large popcorn, two drinks, and beating you to grab a packet of candy that you were staring at for two seconds too long.

He hands the bag of sweets to the cashier to scan. “And this please,” he asks before handing the candy to you.

“That’s okay,” you tell him, but he laughs it off.

“It’s fine. That’s your favorite, right?”

You shyly nod and hold onto the envelope of overpriced candy like it’s the most precious thing in the world causing the cashier to smile at you as she finishes preparing your items.

“Aren’t you two the cutest,” she comments.

You squeak quietly at her comment, crumpling your candy in surprise. It’s not a big deal she mistook you as a couple, it’s not like Itadori was someone you didn’t like after all, and it’s not like there was any need to correct her but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about the situation.

Curiously, you look at him, waiting for him to make the decision on the matter. Surprisingly, he blurts out a quick and happy, “Thanks!” before moving on to fill his drink.

As you watch him, you fight the urge to ask why he didn’t correct her; and when you notice that he’s way more interested in finding the right theater, you decide he must have said it because it wasn't worth a fuss.

The two of you get seats at the back of the theater, and you shift over people carefully to avoid falling into Itadori’s back as you find your seats. You can finally relax as he sets the bucket of popcorn on the armrest between you.

Soon enough, the movie begins to play.

It starts off like every normal horror movie. A mad scientist, a hapless victim, and an escape followed by a romantic subplot of the human earthworm discovering that the woman he met indeed loves him even if he is a worm.

That’s about as much as you can keep up with. There are too many easter eggs that keep flying over your head and too many callbacks to the previous movies in the series. Itadori does his best to try to help you whenever you whisper questions at him; but eventually, you’re too distracted by the couple in front of you making out to pay attention to the movie.

It’s so obnoxiously grotesque, their arms wrapping around each other and a soft moan every so often that’s drowned out by the guttural sounds of the earthworm children. You can’t really believe they’d do that in public, and why did they have to be so close to you out of all people?

Itadori looks at you and then finally catches on to what’s making you squirm. When he does, a faint hint of red starts to coat across his nose, and he becomes equally uncomfortable.

Deciding to make it a little better for the both of you, you nudge him then make a silly disgusted face with your tongue stuck out to mimic a gag. You’re rewarded with a snicker from him and his own silly face in turn, and it makes the awkwardness of it a little easier to take as you try to focus back on the movie.

It’s another half hour in before you wonder exactly how the hell are they still going at it.

“Society really needs to bring shame back,” you think before a warm breath hits your ear and fans down your jaw.

You nearly jump before the smooth sounds of Itadori’s voice greet you.

“So, that guy—” he begins but you’re way too focused on how close he leaned into you this time, how low the timbre of his voice goes to keep from disturbing those around you. It makes your feet curl in your shoes and your breath catch in your chest when his shoulder connects with your arm.

You feel heightened to his presence and the heat of him so close. It wasn’t like this earlier, but your heart is racing and your skin tickles the more he whispers. You think he’s so close that he could almost kiss your earlobe.

It’s a path that you didn’t know you had in your mind, and it leaves you rattled as the smallest brush of pink hair hits your skin as he straightens back up and reaches for another handful of popcorn.

Every time he touches your arm after to get your attention or your hand scoops by his in the popcorn bucket, you start to become flustered and jittery like a child after too much sugar.

It lasts until the movie reaches its apex.

There’s a combined scream that fills the theatre, and you tense at the splatter of blood hitting the camera, leaving the few remains of your popcorn scattered across the floor as you unwittingly knock it over and squeeze Itadori’s hand tight.

Your fingers slot with his and your fingertips bury against his palm, and it’s the only thing keeping you from bursting into a scream.

When the lights flash back on, you notice how pink his hand looks under your tense hold and mumble out an apology.

“Oh, that?” he asks followed by the same charming laugh as always. “It was pretty funny. You should’ve seen your face, like a blowfish,” he comments, teasingly mocking your blow-eyed expression as everyone around you begins to exit. “I never took you for a scaredy-cat.”

“You’re one to talk. You screamed in my ear at least a dozen times,” you remind him as the two of you also make your way towards the exit doors. “Sounded like you were on fire.”

“Don’t say fire in a theatre!” he scolds with a hiss.

“You said it louder.”

“To remind you not to say it!”

You giggle at how offended he sounds as you break out into the light of the late afternoon. You walk with Itadori back to your pickup spot on the edge of the shopping district. It’s surprisingly quiet especially considering who you’re with, and it makes you worry a bit.

You thought Itadori would be more excited after watching the film and practically forcing you to run 500m dash to get there, but he’s barely said two words about it since leaving the theatre, briefly mentioning how he’s still glad they used a real costume for the main earthworm instead of CGI.

But since leaving, his mood seems to have dampened. You thought about bringing something up from the movie, but you couldn’t really catch more than a few bloody scenes and a little evil monologuing from Dr. Richter outside the moments when Itadori would have your attention, with his voice in your ear or his hand excitedly clasping around your wrist each time he enthusiastically info-dumped a scene to you.

“Hey, um,” he begins piquing your interest. He seems to lose his nerve when you catch his eye; his gaze flutters to his feet before nervously picking back up to glimpse at your face but only for a few seconds. “Thanks for coming with me.”

You smile. “Don’t mention it. It was…different.”

“Yeah,” he agrees but he still seems down.

“Itadori-kun? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah…It’s just…I could tell you didn’t really like the movie. I mean I knew from the start it wasn’t really your thing. You and Nobara usually like to shop together more than watch horror movies. But still—” he breathes in deep, a shy color blossoming across his face. “It’s been a while since it felt like I did something normal, so it was really nice having someone to come with me. I appreciate it.”

There's something about his explanation that makes your heart hurt. He hasn’t been a sorcerer that long yet; and coming from being a normal kid to the world you were born into was probably scarier than you all could understand.

“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it! I just couldn’t really follow the story between that annoying couple smacking the whole time, and I felt like I barely follow anything at all!” you reason with him, but he still has that kicked puppy look on his face.

You sigh with soft empathy before offering him a reassuring smile.

“Hey, Itadori-kun, you know I think I’d like to come back and see it again with you. After we watch the first three movies of course."

He gives you a curious look, his eyebrows raised with disbelief.

“Really?”

You give a cute and short nod. “Mhm! I can’t really give it a fair chance if I haven’t seen the ones leading up to it. Besides, I want to know why Dr. Richter was trying to kidnap the baby H.E.s in the first place? Couldn’t he make more Enhanced H.E.s from the DNA left from the original experiment victim like he did at the beginning of the movie?”

It’s like you open the skies back over him when your words sink in, and he moves so happily, speaks so fully, and it makes you happy to see him simply be happy.

“They explain it so good in the third movie,” he says, unable to hold in his excitement. “I know a great site, it has subtitles and everything, and a special director’s cut at the end of the second movie.”

You laugh. “Sounds good!”

“We should pick up some more snacks; the original is actually pretty long,” he warns and starts to lead you towards the convenience store. Your smile only breaks when you feel the tug on your arm and look down to notice his hand still fastened around yours.

You freeze, feeling your face warm a bit when you realize he’s probably been holding it since before you left the theater. This makes him pause and turn towards you.

Softly, he calls your name and asks if you’re okay, making you drop your head bashfully.

“Oh, it’s nothing really but you’re still holding my hand,” you point out.

Itadori looks down between the two of you and confirms that his fingers are still locked with yours, a comfortable fit.

“Huh, oh, I guess I am,” he states matter-of-factly before he blushes. “Oh, it’s probably all gross and oily right? Yuck.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not actually,” you correct, making no move to force him to let go because you honestly don’t want him to stop this good feeling pouring from him into you through the simple act.

Your soft expression makes his cheeks warm for a different reason this time.

“Oh, well, w-we should probably hurry,” he stammers out, and your hand tightens around his hand just a little bit more as you agree and find the closest convenience store to prepare for your first movie night.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Nobara stops outside the convenience store, hand to the glass as she stalks back and forth, trying to catch glimpses down the aisle.

She could have sworn she just saw the two of you walk in from the other side of the street, and she was going to come to say hi – partially to ask how the movie went and partially to make Itadori carry her shopping bags if the two of you were done – that was before she noticed how close the two of you looked.

Weirdly close.

When she finally catches you in the foggy glass, hand in hand, looking at the mini gacha inside the store, she gasps and quickly shuffles her bags around in search of her phone.

Kugisaki quickly scrolls through her contacts, impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for the line to pick up.

“Fushiguro get here quick,” she harshly whispers into the device.

There’s a lazy voice on the other end asking what she wants, and she vaguely explains the situation to be met with resistance.

“Well then have Ijichi drop you off again! What do you mean ‘No’?" she growls. "Shut up and listen to me. They just went into 7/11. Ugh. Fine, fine, I’m sending you some pictures,” she argues.

Kugisaki quickly starts to snap some pictures through the glass and frantically sends them off before bringing the phone back to her ear.

“That’s what I’m saying so hurry up and get here! Yes, it’s like that!”

#itadori x reader #yuji x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #yuuji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuji fluff #itadori fluff #gender neutral reader #tbh i love horror movies and wouldve honestly went with him #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuji

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forbidden-sunlight · 3 months

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yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario: A Wendigo's Violent Love Part Two

Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], violence, OOC, spoilers for the first season of the 2024 show, possessive and obsessive behavior, Alastor is in denial of his feelings, possible angst.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your phone or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Part One

Part Three

Salutations everyone, good to be back on the air~! :)

I understand it’s been a while since I wrote anything, but due to how busy I’ve gotten in real life, updates will be a bit slower until perhaps the summer. Nonetheless, I am committed to writing the best Hazbin Hotel fics for the community so that everyone can enjoy them to their heart’s content!

Special thanks to @witch-of-the-writing desk for collaborating with me on this chapter and helping me bring these fantastic characters to life on the page, and @vikkirosko for being an awesome beta reader alongside @illuminaresblog.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on in tonight's broadcast with Hell's one and only Radio Demon!

The reconstruction of the hotel included the kitchen being entirely remodeled.

Gone were the cabinet doors that hung from its creaky hinges, the marble floors that never shined bright no matter how many times Niffty scrubbed them, the mice’s squeaking and an ice box that couldn’t fit all of the foodstuff to feed several people. Dark matte cabinets held the dining ware and bowls, stacked up in neat little rows and protected by glass doors on either side of a large wrought iron stove top and the range hood. The cedar countertops glowed under the lights, stretching from the island in the middle of the room to the small dining room table stationed on the right side. Copper pots and pans were suspended in the air above the island, so whenever it was time to start cooking, Angel or Lucifer would have to pull out the ones needed and put them away after the meal. The icebox was now bigger, stainless steel with a bottom drawer to place frozen items in.

Overall, it was a massive improvement from the previous one with additional space and a little footstool for Niffty to make the midday meals. Alastor…he was usually in charge of the evening ones, though the others have recently started to contribute to making their own dishes. The successes of those evenings varied, though they all tasted delicious to you.

Niffty had all but pushed you into a chair at the dining table as soon as you entered the kitchen with Husk. You watched her tiny frame skitter across the marble floor, plating stacked sandwiches held together with toothpicks stabbed through the middle and potato salad and two other side dishes before it appeared in front of you. She must have prepared some tea for you as well, seeing an ivory teapot and a cup already filled to the brim, steam rising and emitting a fragrant aroma that tickled your nose.

You thanked her graciously for the meal, even though you were quite sure that you were not going to be able to finish it all before you had to leave for Alastor’s radio station. Twenty minutes was not what Charlie would qualify as a proper lunch break.

The tiny housekeeper repeated the same ritual with Husk though she directly handed his plate to him before she gave you an annoyed look that clearly said, finish your meal, all of it, and got distracted with the sight of a roach and began to chase it down with her needle. Husk merely shook his head and sat down next to you on the right side of the table. He picked at his food, clearly not in the mood to eat because his mind was on something else. However, you did not pry. Vaggie had spoken to you about respecting people’s privacy in your first week of arriving at the hotel; just because someone doesn’t seem happy, it didn’t mean you had a right to address it. Talking about it might help, and sometimes it doesn’t. If anything…just let the sleeping dogs lie.

You eyed the clock. Ten minutes left, and you were only halfway through the meal. You ate the sandwiches, and only had a spoonful of the potato salad. You were about to take another bite from a different side dish when Husk spoke up, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth.

“I saw what happened in the greenhouse.”

You blinked. Husk….he had seen the confrontation between you and Alastor? You carefully lowered the spoon down the plate, tapping against the porcelain. “There’s nothing to worry about, Husk.” You replied calmly, your attention entirely focused on the meal in front of you. “He will not harm me. He simply wants to talk about my performance on the job.”

“That’s bullshit.” Husk hissed. “We both know it ain’t just ‘cause he’s the facility manager of this place, or that you’re slackin’ off, it’s ‘cause he hates it when people question his authority!” He slammed a fist against the table, causing the silverware and glassware to wobble momentarily before righting themselves again. “[First Name], I saw. I know what he did, and you really have no idea who you’re gonna be alone with in what, five minutes?”

“Seven. And I know who Alastor is. He is a serial killer, a cannibal, and an overlord who broadcasts his carnage on the radio.” you said, raising the tea cup to your mouth as you took a languid sip, placing it back down the saucer a moment later with a clink. You looked at him. “He is also in a weakened physical state. He will not admit that he has not fully recovered from the war.”

“I swear to God, do not make me go to the princess and Vaggie about this, because I fucking will -”

“Telling them what he did will not change his tactics. He will simply find another way to intimidate me.” You cut off. “You know him better than anyone else, Husk. He is clever, manipulative, and will do anything to get what he wants.”

Husk shot a baffled look at you, eyebrows raised and yellow irises narrowed slightly. “You really don’t see how he looks at you, do you?”

You blinked. “As an enemy? Yes.” Hostility, anger, shock, humiliation. You had seen those expressions many times on that battlefield when you charged across No Man’s Land with the Major’s battalion, cutting through the enemy lines with anything in reach and at your disposal. A weapon of war, a loyal dog to the Major. You watched Husk’s face fall into disbelief, then aggravation before he slapped a paw across his face. You tilted your head to the side. What was wrong? Why was he upset? Is it something you had said? You watched the bartender stand up from the table, walk towards the lower cabinets, crouching down and pulling out a hidden bottle of whiskey. He uncorked it, and took a swing from it before turning back towards you, frowning.

“Ya might have been a soldier, ya might have things that would turn shit white and ya not be scared of Alastor…but you should be. He’s been gone for seven years, and no one knows why, but I can say with certainty that he’s much stronger than before. If you’re gonna talk to him, just….just don’t mention….he’s no different than I am, all right?” That was all he said before almost bolting towards the door, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

No different than what Husk is. You thought, picking up both of the half-eaten plates from the table, throwing the reminder in the trash, washing and rinsing them off under the tap before setting them down in the dish rack. What does that mean? Alastor does not drink nor does he gamble. Husk is under his commanding unit, a soldier. Your brow furrowed. Did Husk….knows something about Alastor that he doesn’t want others to know? How did Alastor rise to power so quickly and overthrow the overlords who had been dominant in Hell for centuries?

You would have to think about this possibility later, because when you looked at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall, you realized you were already late for your meeting with Alastor.

Shadows were handy little helpers to have, Alastor notes. Not only could they provide protection to the staff when he had other matters to attend to in the Pentagram but they were excellent spies. To be his ears and gather all of the delicious secrets he could uncover from enemies that were actually some semblance of a threat to his plans, or just because he was bored and liked to keep tabs on the latest bits of gossip. He loved to share this information with Rosie over tea-time when the subject of their discussions was not revolved around the ornery old bitch, Susan.

Although they have proven themselves to be useful time and time again, these little helpers were also sentient and created their own discord, much to the frustration of their creator. As much as you can say you’ve been keeping a distance from Alastor, he unfortunately can’t say the same. His shadows as of late have found themselves almost constantly attached to you. Through darkened hallways to under your leaves at the greenhouse, they were always at your side. Ready to step in and assist you in any way they can, even if he won’t lift a finger.

Regardless of how annoyed he has been with them recently, they had repeated word for word of your conversation with Husk. They know you are late but have said that you are walking towards him and not from way to him, whispering how you were turning right at the end of the corridor and about to come across the staircase leading up to the radio station. They adored you, much to his annoyance. It had already been difficult to even comprehend the idea that he had feelings for you, and his shadows, unfortunately, reflected the darker parts of him that he wished to be locked up for all eternity. The weaknesses that were a threat to his own goals.

He could not act like an altruist or a lovesick fool. He hungered for power. He craved freedom. Nothing should stop him from carrying out what he wants. If he wrangled the truth out of you, to know that you despised him and did not care about him in any capacity….he will be satisfied.

Will he though?

His train of thought was soon interrupted by a knock at the door. Putting on his best smile and straightening out his bowtie, Alastor walked across the room and opened it. He looked down, and saw you staring at him. Your appearance wasn’t as ruffled as he had suspected it to be from being late for an appointment, just a few [Hair Color] strands loose from the hairstyle you wear every day ... .but he supposed he can let it slide this time. He’d rather not hear Niffty complain to him about how you aren’t eating your meals.

“Well, well, there you are~! And here I was wondering if you had forgotten! Come, come, take a seat!” He said, gesturing to the couch sitting adjacent to the soundboard where he sat. He did not even want to look at you, not at this moment. He could feel the shadows purring in delight under his feet, no doubt staring at you with such adoration that it made him gag. He reigned them with a pulse of his power just before a slippery fellow tried to crawl towards the couch and perch over your shoulder.

He took a seat, and so did you after smoothing out the skirts of your dress. You looked at him straight in the eye, spine straight and gloved hands folded neatly in your lap.

“So, you are aware as to why you are here, yes~?”

“...I am.”

“And why is that?” He pressed.

“Because I questioned your authority. You tried to frighten me, and you had failed.” You replied. “In my defense, you were in no position to exert yourself when you are still possessing an injury that you will not speak about to the others. I have no intention of saying that to anyone here. I only ask that you do not harm Charlie or the others here in the hotel, or I will keep the promise I made to you less than an hour ago. You will be killed by my hand or I will die trying. People keep secrets because it is necessary for their survival, and the others around them. How can I be sure….that you will not raise your hand and strike us down as soon as your wings are unclipped?”

Alastor’s eyes widened slightly as a wave of high-pitched radio static left his teeth and bounced off the walls before he quickly recollected himself. Goodness, always the blunt one, weren’t you? Inhaling sharply through his nostrils, he made sure his grin stretched all the way to his ears, never showing you what is really going through his mind. Annoyance. Frustration. Adoration. Amusement.

“Well, those words are the very reason why you are here, my dear.” He stood up from his chair, slowly walking around the soundboard, running a finger across the polished wood. His eyes were fixed on yours and you did not look away. Good. Keep your focus on him and nothing else.

“By meddling in my affairs, even if it was unintentional on your part, is putting the rest of the hotel in danger. I cannot be compromised under any circumstances, lest I anger the one whom I have an agreement with.”

“The one who is responsible for your rise in power?” He blinked, stopping in his steps for a moment. Ah. You caught on without him having to spell out to you. Unless dear old Husk had said something to you? No. The shadows have told him that he merely mentioned the seven years that the Radio Demon was gone, nothing beyond what everyone else already knew.

He nodded, swiveling on his feet and because he felt like it, a jaunty little spin before he sat on the coffee table, right in front of you and crossing his legs with such elegance that it would make a French girl jealous.

“Indeed. And trust me when I say they are much more powerful than Charlie’s dear father. That is to say, not even Lucifer can protect you or anyone else from what is about to or could happen should I be compromised. And I know how much you care about the staff here, even sweet little Niffty. Which is why…I want to make a deal.” He held out his hand towards you. “Keep what has happened at the radio station and anything else beyond these four walls to yourself. Never share what you know, not even to Charlie. In exchange for your silence, I will not harm anyone here in the hotel unless we know for certain that they are a threat. Well?” He tilted his head to the side. “Do we have a deal?”

You stared at his hand, then raised your own to your lips, carefully tugging off the glove with your teeth until it fell into your lap. The adamantine skeletal fingers curled around his own, solidifying the deal between the two of you. Alastor felt a burst of power course through him, felt the stitches on his mouth and eyes tugging, the walls turning emerald and the shadows danced around them in celebration. Then the magic subsided, yet the warmth, the burning sensations from your prosthetics seeping through the leather gloves did not. A chirping of radio static left his mouth upon feeling his hand being squeezed to an almost painful degree. When he looked at you, he saw emotions swirling in your eyes that he had not seen from you yet.

Anger.

Disappointment.

Resentmentment.

These were emotions he had caused. Him, the one who was holding your hand tightly because he made a simple deal for yourr silence, and not her soul. So why does he feel conflicted? He had gotten what he wanted, to push you away from him, to banish these uninvited feelings from his chest. But this deal did not give him any satisfaction. It caused him…pain. The kind of pain that he cannot explain. It was not the pain he felt when he missed an opportunity to have an excellent dinner, and not even the pain that…that Adam had given him.

For whatever reason, he could not stop himself from bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss across the knuckles even when the angelic steel instantly burned his mouth upon contact. When he realized what he had done, he pulled away as if he had been struck again by his drunken father and promptly left his office, disappearing into the darkness and subsequently from the hotel altogether.

He did not like this. He did not like these feelings. He did not like how he never had the opportunity to ask him if you cared about him, loved him…yet why did your opinion matter? Why did he want to hear you say, out of your volition, that you love him too? To a man who is supposed to feel nothing at all?!

Times like this, there was only one person who could provide light on this precarious situation without daring to judge him. The Pentagram’s most delightful, daring, and dangerous overlord of Cannibal Town. Rosie. His oldest and dearest friend.

He supposed it had been long enough since the two of them had tea together, hasn’t it?

Alastor inhaled a shaky breath, allowing himself to materialize on the streets near the Jazz District and smiled brightly as if he wasn’t having an existential crisis, humming a merry tune under his breath that made nearby demons tremble in fear.

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#forbidden-sunlight #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #fem!reader #violet evergarden!reader #character!reader #vivziepop #yandere x reader #yandere #ns.fw #cw obsessive behavior #tw obsessive behavior #cw obsessive love #tw obsessive love #a wendigo’s violent love

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art · 2 years

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Creator Spotlight: @tinypaint

My name is Michelle Fus. I’m a Jewish, non-binary artist. I graduated from the School of Visual Arts for Computer Art and Animation in 2011. I’ve interned at Pixar and worked for a few years at Dreamworks Animation. Over the past ten years, I’ve self-published two books and have run three successful Kickstarters. I now work with Skybound (The Walking Dead, Invincible) in developing my webcomic, Ava’s Demon, as a physical book series for stores. I like hiking, cultivating plants, caring for my cats, and hanging out with my beautiful husband. You can read my webcomic at avasdemon.com.

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

How did you get your start in art, and more specifically, with Ava's Demon?

I’ve always been into art since I was very young. I started to gravitate towards it in first grade, where we were required to keep a daily journal. I found myself drawing in it more than actually keeping entries. From there, I got more and more interested in honing my skills as an artist. I started making my own comics for fun. I signed up for classes outside of school and put together a portfolio for the School of Visual Arts, where I majored in Computer Art and Animation. After getting my first job in the field, I realized that it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. After working my day job, I would come home and work towards building a career in comics for myself by creating and uploading my webcomic, Ava’s Demon.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Looking things up to learn more before I make art or write. For instance, how many livable planets are in a Galaxy? What does a black hole actually look like, and can it give off light? How long would it actually take to travel through space if you had the fastest ship possible? I look up all of these things and then ignore most of them for the sake of writing a fun story and making fun art.

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

It depends on the feeling I want to convey. Sometimes I’ll work for a whole week on a drawing and then delete it because I just don’t feel good about it. Other times I’ll make something in a day that I absolutely love from beginning to end. Some drawings I never delete nor finish, and instead, the files just kind of sit in a folder. The time it takes varies a lot.

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I really love good stories. So movies and books with captivating stories usually motivate and inspire me; stories that stay with you permanently, with twists and turns that you can’t stop thinking about. I also love finding characters whose struggles I can deeply relate to. I try to hold onto those feelings and emulate them through my art.

What is the hardest part of your process?

Actually finishing a drawing. The anxiety of it piles on me sometimes. I’ll work for a while on a drawing and constantly ask myself, “Is this drawing really finished? What terrible things about it am I not seeing?”. My desire to avoid making something terrible can sometimes put me in a mental prison where I keep chipping away at a drawing until I no longer know what I am looking at.

What is one interaction you had from a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

In general, I like letting young artists in middle school, and high school know that I wasn’t very good at art at their age (I really wasn’t, I didn’t have the same resources they have now, and I didn’t have any perspective on what it takes to have a career in art, it’s a different world). Kids have come to me at conventions with their work for critique and advice, and I have to tell them that they’re already miles ahead of what I could make at their age. I have to tell them that it’s okay if they can’t make what all the professionals make online, to know that they have SO much time ahead of them to work at what they love. If you love making art, do it often, study art throughout history, and over time you’ll be able to create everything your heart desires.

What is something other people find hard to draw that you find enjoyable?

I have no idea. Sometimes it feels like drawing anything is suffering, even if you like what you’re making.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@loish has been consistently inspiring me since my days in high school. Every new painting has so much grace and power and is so excellent to look at. Her skill in shape and form seems limitless, and I hope to someday achieve even a small fraction of her understanding of art. Seeing her new work on my timeline also makes my dopamine spike, so I’m always looking forward to updates from her.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @tinypaint and follow their webcomic, Ava’s Demon, over at avasdemon.com.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #webcomics #michelle fus #ava's demon

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gazkamurocho · 20 days

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“The year is 1988. The young Goro Majima is a prisoner in Sotenbori and is forcefully working as the manager at the biggest and most successful cabaret in the city: The Grand.

During his captivity he discovers a way to momentarily forget his predicament. By freeing himself as ‘The Queen of The Night’, Goromi.

Together with his new-found love, Kazuma Kiryu, the two of them have fun and enjoy each other’s company as much as they can because their time together is limited and it’s almost coming to an end.

Kiryu will make sure to give Goromi and Majima a night they will never forget.”

It's finally here! The first look on the opening sequence of 80s Goromi doujinshi ❤ (title still in the works~)

More info about this project under the cut!

Different from my usual comic strips, this is a long doujinshi and the total page count will be something around 40~50 pages. Besides Kiryu and Majima, we will also have characters like Sagawa, Yuki-chan, Youda and the Sunshine Club girls making an appearance. The plot, script and scenes are all ready and I’m storyboarding and drawing the pages as I progress through the script!

This is also a R-18 adult doujinshi. There’s a lot of fluff, angst and fun interaction with the other characters but a good chunk (mostly half) of the comic will be dedicated to hentai (so rejoice you horny ones fdsjkfhdj). (For those who are curious about the spicy parts, it’s my established 80s Goromi and Y0 Kiryu’s dynamic: Goromi is the top and dominant one and, as a good and obedient boy, Kiryu will obey all of her orders and will do anything to please his queen. 👀 So basically, Goromi will destroy Kiryu dhsfksd)

I’ll be sharing the first 4 pages and then some random ones to the public, but after those, all new pages will be exclusive to my patrons on Patreon! I’m gradually posting over there WIPs, behind-the-scenes and new pages as I make them. I’ll always let you guys know on my social media when I post a new finished page on my Patreon!

I expect half a year or a year for the whole doujinshi to be finished. But the more support I have on Patreon, the faster I can make this doujinshi!

Once finished, I’ll make the complete doujinshi available for purchase in one of my online shops! Yes, this will be a paid comic. I’m pouring all my love for Kazumaji and 80s Goromi in this doujinshi but it also takes a lot of time and dedication to give life to this project so I hope you guys understand that decision. ❤ Of course, all the patrons who support the comic on Patreon will have the whole doujinshi available to them from the get-go.

It will first be available as a digital PDF but I’m also planning to release it in physical format down the road.

Making long comics has always been my true passion, ever since I was a little kid. And I also have other long adult doujinshi planned. If everything goes smoothly, this comic will be the first one of a series of Kazumaji doujinshis! ^^

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quinton-reviews · 4 months

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Hi Quinton!! I have been a HUGE fan of your stuff since a friend sent me the Tobuscus Fallen Titans (I used to watch him back in high school and was like "huh, wonder what happened to him after those allegations") and I gotta say, it is REALLY FUNNY every time my fiancé and I watch the iCarly videos again, because when you cover Gibby's stunt double breaking his ribs, you cut to a clip of The Official Podcast. I used to play D&D with one of the main dudes from the podcast, so when he talks during that clip I do a goddamn double take literally every time.

Anyways, I remember an original Patreon stretch goal being a Fallen Titans on Homestuck! I was really big into Homestuck in my early 20s, and was wondering if that's still on the table at some point? If not that's fine, I understand plans change! I just love Fallen Titans lol, the Fred episode and the Neil Cicierega unFallen Titans are some of my favorite videos of yours!

That's a real funny story!

So here's the rundown on the Homestuck video. When I first started making long videos, they were actually inspired by the relationship I had with other YouTubers at the time. I used to watch, like, H3H3 and Filthy Frank, etc; and I'd always see people obsessed with the versions of creators from the past. Like, "Oh 2015 H3 was the best" and "Oh 2012 Frank was peak." So I had this idea that it would be crazy if H3 posted, like, a video he spent a decade on and you got a new video with 2015 H3 10 years on. (I don't watch H3 anymore ironically)

So the original idea for the "long video" format was that it would be cool if, throughout a long, analysis/review/recap video, you kept noticing someone get older. Maybe my months, maybe by years. That's why I always like to get a haircut when I start one of these videos. If you scrub through and you see my hair get longer and messier as it goes on I think that adds something magical you can't fake.

So... My pitch to the Homestuck video was that it would be funny to work on it just once per year. To record one segment, say "That's it for 12 months", and then come back around to it. And when I was making the iCarly and Victorious videos I actually recorded a few minutes of the video! I think it was two segments in total. But then I had a bunch of personal stuff happen and my work drive has been much lower, so any "back burner" video hasn't gotten much attention since then.

Now that the iCarly mini-series is done with, I want to focus on some short one-off videos I can make before April. But once that's done with, I would REALLY love to start work on a few more long-term projects which will take months or years to finish. I think returning to work on the Homestuck video, to at least get the first 20-30 minutes done, would be a great idea this summer.

Now, if you want to know my pitch for that video, here it is. The video is not a recap of the creative history of the franchise. I do not get into drama, community hell, lawsuits, or other YouTubers. My idea is this: you always hear about Homestuck as an outsider but you never hear about the actual content. Most franchises on Earth I know something about, even and especially if I've never been interested in them. I can tell you a bunch of facts about wrestling and MLP and the Fast and the Furious simply through cultural osmosis and having friends who are into those things.

I can't tell you the plot of Homestuck, who the characters are, what the themes are, nothing. I've known a lot of people who were into Homestuck but nothing about the series!

So I thought it would thus be funny to make a video about a bunch of people who know nothing about the series starting from the beginning and giving their reactions, even if it's been years since it all started. I call this part of the video the "Homestuck Book Club." So the next step is me picking out the members (who all have to have no history with it) and making sort of a podcast setup. We'd then read and record every six months or so, IDK.

This is why the video has been stuck in production hell! Everyone who wants to work on it and messages me about it already knows the franchise. I don't want spoilers, I don't want people writing for the video who get it already. I want to capture the "what the fuck is this" energy of three dudes just getting in the middle of it.

Also, I think that I really like the theme of the video capturing our lives as they go by, capturing us aging and changing. If you came back from the future and told me this video comes out in five years, I'd say great. If you told me it comes out in ten years, I'd say awesome. Until then, the latest edit will always be on Patreon, even if you have to dig a little.

#homestuck #quinton reviews #long videos

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thefiresofpompeii · 2 months

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death and the queen is the one of best series 4 episodes that never was. well, it does exist in audio form, but it’s so well made that i could practically see david tennant’s sad wet eyes in my mind’s eye. peak doctordonna comedy, peak doctor loneliness and vulnerability moments, peak strange aliens and cool pseudo-historical pseudo-mythical setting… although i believe it may have worked even better with eleven and amy (s5 roryless, obviously — she wouldn’t marry a random prince if rory was around) considering the sacrificial bride theme, the emphasis on marriage equaling death, and the fairytale atmosphere in the kingdom-that-shouldn’t-be which is a major theme during amy’s arc… eh, we can’t have everything we want. on the plus side, it definitely wouldn’t have been as funny.

and the drama!! that goodbye donna was heart(s)shattering. ten making the same mistake that he did in the sontaran stratagem; believing that no matter how close he gets to his companions, he will always be their second choice and they’ll abandon him whenever they happen to inevitably fall in love with another human. he doesn’t even let her finish talking, just assumes it’s a goodbye. grumbling in a jokey tone about the universe never giving him a break, “a chance to lick his wounds, maybe a spa day but no, giant cloud of alien death… just one more thing, so many more things”. god.

also, despite being an audio (so-called inessential material) it slots really nicely into fourteen’s character development and later conclusion — the chance to wind down finally came, after all those years, in the form of a home with donna noble. married to a man she truly loves, no ulterior motives or murderous plots. living with her best friend and beautiful, talented daughter. she got to be 1700s royalty for a few months, crown and all, but the only real kingdom worth reigning over consists of people who care about you.

^ listen to this ^

#jamie catches up #dw #doctor who #doctor donna #donna noble #ten #tenth doctor #catherine tate #david tennant #death and the queen #big finish #audio drama #doctor who audios #jamie.txt

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Blind Offer 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that's too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note: Loooooook. I was gonna restrain myself but this all just got outta hand. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won't reveal which one right away because it'll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You keep your slippers just away from the edge of the puddle. The sheet of water extends almost completely across the kitchen. You hug yourself, still slightly groggy from your early and rude awakening. The washing you put in last night hadn’t finished and instead the sudsy mess had leaked out around the door.

There’s a sigh and a clank as your landlord pulls his arm out of the machine. Your sopping laundry is in a bucket by his feet. His shirt is visibly wet from his struggle to stem the steady flow dripping from the brim of the washer door. You worry you may have overloaded the compact stacking unit.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you say as you sway guiltily.

“Don’t be,” he puts his hands on his hips and blows out. A golden strand dangles down his forehead, “it’s not you. My own fault. I thought these things might hold out for a while…”

“Oh?”

“Not the first time I’ve had to fight the beast but it worked. I should be sorry, I should’ve just replaced it.”

“Well, uh, what are you gonna do now?” You look at the wet tile, the scent of laundry detergent thick in the air as the water creeps closer to your slippers.

“Uh, yeah, well, obviously you can’t stay here.”

“I can’t?” You raise your head, running your hand up the front of your robe and clutching the fluffy fabric.

“No, bylaws say you need to evacuate until I can get a new unit in here. And clean up. Leak like this can leave mildew and mold,” he combs his large hand over his head, “I feel bad enough, I couldn’t let you live in this.”

“Okay… um, I have to work in a couple hours–”

“Oh, geez. Well, er, maybe just pack up a few things and I can take you over to the new place? You can always come back to grab more if you need.”

“I guess…” you chew your lip. His blue eyes fixate on the gesture so you stop. “How far is it?”

“Not very, about twenty minutes east by car.”

“East?” You utter dully, “that’s a bit far. I work up near the metro area.”

“There’s some bus stops that way but I could give you a lift tod–” There’s a sudden gush and he looks back to the machine, a bubble of water flowing up over the brim. He shuts the door, stemming much of it. “You won’t even be able to cook in here,” he says, “look, bylaws say I have to relocate you. I have a property free which means I don’t have to splurge for a hotel. If you prefer somewhere closer, then it’s on you.”

You frown. He’s not the worst landlord you’ve had but he definitely talks like one. He’s only really worried about his liability. Yet, most others wouldn’t have even brought up that clause and left you to wallow in this puddle of dirty laundry water. You shrug, hopefully the other place isn’t too bad.

“Right, uh, I guess I’ll go get dressed,” you relent.

“Great,” he says with blatant exasperation, turning back to face the trembling washer, his voice deflating to a hoarse rasp, “goddamn.”

You hesitate as you stare at his back. The gray fabric of his jersey henley strains across his shoulder blades as the back of his forearms clench, veins pulsing out. He rolls his head on his neck and heaves out again.

You turn on your foot and slowly pad out of the kitchen. You hear his sole squeak subtly but refuse to glance back again. You can’t help but feel that it’s all your fault. You’re sure he’s too nice to say so. Or too distracted by the chaos you’ve caused.

🖤

The new apartment isn’t an apartment at all. It’s a walkup townhouse with a sleek black and white exterior. The neighbourhood is far out of your range but you won’t complain. You suspect Steve is already aware of the deferential.

“Wow, this place is really nice,” you say as he holds the door for you. You step inside and take in the space; a narrow staircase to the next floor, black frames around grayscale photography, and minimalist decor in the form of a standing geometric floor vase and a coat rack with bent arms.

You stop to take your shoes off on the mat as Steve squeezes in behind you and shuts the door. You trip away from him, surprised by the friction of his body against yours. You’ve always been overly aware of yourself and how much room you take up. Your size makes it hard to not feel crowded, still the close brush rattles you.

He swirls the keys around a finger and stills them in his fist. He looks around emphatically and waves a hand.

“Well, this is it. It’s my only vacant property at the moment, so, it’ll have to do. Fully furnished, at least.”

“It’s great,” you assure him as you step further in, your duffel hanging heavy from one arm, “wow, it’s…”

“A lot bigger than your place. Yeah. New development. Invested at ground floor. You’ll be the first tenant, at least for the time being.”

“Ah, right,” you go to the narrow bench of black acrylic and place your bag atop it. “I’ll try not to mess it up.”

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

“Uh, yeah, but obviously it’s above my paygrade,” you scoff, “I appreciate it and sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it. Really. Dropping a couple hundred on a new washer woulda saved us both trouble. I only got one person to blame,” he holds out his hand, “you don’t need a tour, do ya?” He offers the keys and you step up to take them, “I’ll be back around noon to get you to work but I got running around to do.”

“Um, I should be able to figure it out–”

“Oh, wait,” he puts a finger up, “the door code. Just in case. Also, you’ll wanna override the security system when you get in.” He turns and points to the sleek black box mounted beside the door, “I got it on my phone but you’ll just need to pop it open and put in the number.” He slides out his phone, “I’ll just text it before I forget.”

“Right,” you nod as you clutch the keys tight, “got it. I think I can manage.”

“Anyway, you got my number, you need anything, you know how to reach me,” he checks his watch, “noon,” he repeats as he points at you, “I’ll be back.”

He spins and opens the door, swiftly stepping through before swinging it shut behind him. You’re left slightly stunned and don’t move right away. You cross the floor and twist the latch of the door, a cautious habit likely unnecessary in this neighbourhood.

You turn back to your new abode and let your eyes rove. Wow. All this just for you. You wonder how much one of these places go for. Your monthly pay probably wouldn’t even cover a single week.

You shuffle forward, uncertain, expecting for Steve to come back through and tell you it’s all a mistake.

You peer around at the immaculate decor. Each piece is perfectly set and carefully curated. The long leather sectional and the matching square backed armchairs before the artificial fireplace in the wall. A low coffee table on a rug patterned in black and white, a touch of red in the throw pillows and the curtains.

Then the kitchen, white, pure marble, and pale silver appliances. The tile is marked by subtle dove grey diamonds, and a table sits against the wall with two chairs. You go back into the hallway and down towards the front of the stairs. You peek up at the top as you pass the small half-bath embedded on the other side.

Upstairs, you find two bedrooms, a full bath, and what appears to be a study, along with several spacious closets. It’s truly a dream. Who knew a broken washer could get you a stay in heaven.

Well, you should get settled in. Enjoy it while it lasts.

🖤

As promised, Steve shows up just before noon. You have your uniform on but feel less than ready to go. The abrupt awakening, the displacement, and the typical dread of the overcrowded box store. Your job is less than glamorous and the townhouse underlines that even more as you bid it a reluctant goodbye.

Steve’s car is sleek and red and overpriced. You don’t know much about cars but you can just tell. The interior is squeaky and so clean you’re sure it must be right off the lot. That new car smell fills your nose and threatens to inspire a migraine.

You put your purse in your lap and buckle up as he turns down the volume on the stereo. You recognise the song, surprised by his taste. He didn’t seem the angsty type. As far from grungy as you can imagine.

“Smashing Pumpkins?” You comment.

“You don’t like them?”

“Don’t mind em,” you shrug, “just figured you were more into… I don’t know, just not them.”

“When I’m not unclogging toilets or changing smoke alarms, I actually do have fun,” he scoffs.

“Oh, I didn’t mean–”

“Kidding,” he assures you as he pulls away from the curb.

You watch the townhouses pass by as he slowly rolls down the street. It’s eerie. There are no other cars lined up in the spots parallel to the pavement. In fact, you don’t see anyone else around. Not through windows, not coming or going, no one so much as walking down the cul-de-sac. It is oddly isolated from the suburbs all around.

“Not like I have great music taste, I’m a disco junkie,” you try to laugh off the tension.

“Fun,” he muses dully.

You don’t respond. You’re on your phone checking Uber prices for the way back. Eek. You pull up the bus routes for the area; at least two transfers to get there. Shit.

“So…” Steve begins, “who you chatting with? Telling them about your tight-ass landlord or what?”

“Uh, no,” you put your phone down and black the screen, “I was just… tryna figure out how I’m getting home. Sorry. Did you say something?”

“Nothing important,” he assures, “what time are you done?”

“Nine, closing,” you explain, “it’s fine, there’s buses. I’ll just have to remember not to go to my usual stop.”

“I can come get you,” he offers.

“That’s… that’s fine. You don’t have to. You’ve already done enough–”

“Really, I don’t have much else going on. Besides the washer but my buddy’s taking care of that for me. I’ll be available.”

“If you don’t mind, but really, I’m gonna have to learn the route. Actually, when do you think I’ll be back at my apartment?”

“Couple of days at best. After we left, the water got into the motor of the dryer– to spare you the whole spiel, the dryer needs to be replaced too. And the floor might need to come up, water’s done a number on the laminate–”

“Oh,” you grimace, “I… that sounds bad.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed. Look, I know it’s probably not ideal for you to be all the way out here. I’ll keep you updated,” he speaks with one hand as his other remains on the wheel.

“Oh, no, I appreciate all your help. It’s just…” you cross your ankles and nervously wiggle your foot, “I’m just anxious.”

He hums and a thoughtful silence rises between you. He turns a corner and clears his throat, “about the apartment or work?”

“What?”

“What are you anxious about?” He asks.

“Oh, uh, yeah, uh, work, sure. Work always makes me anxious. Lots of angry customers and we’re headed into that season, you know?”

“Makes sense,” he nods, moving his hand low on the wheel as he sits back and steers lazily with the clogged flow of the city traffic.

“And the apartment,” you admit, “I’m not the best with change.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he agrees, “I’m a bit of stickler. I like order, you know? Everything has its place. Everyone has their role.”

You mull his words. It’s a strange way of putting it but you get it. You find your life erratic this time of year, when your schedule goes from predictable to hectic and fluid. Everyone wants to switch shifts and all the managers are trying to fill the schedule with as few bodies as possible.

“I mean…” he breaks the lull, “you know, I keep a pretty strict schedule with myself. Try to. You never know when you’ll get a call at 5am.”

You suck in air and look at him from the corner of your eye. His allusion isn’t subtle. The pit sinks further in your stomach. You don’t need one more person disappointed in you, not when you’re about to face Gwen the manager and her omnipotent clipboard.

“Yeah, uh,” you bend your arm and rub your neck, “sorry…”

“You apologise a lot,” he interrupts, “I’m not mad.”

“I know, I just feel bad,” you move your thumb to chew it.

He glances over at you before quickly refocusing on the road. He laughs, a hollow, gristly chuckle, “trust me, if I was mad, you would know.”

You blink. What? You’re not sure what he means. Is he joking? Maybe it’s that he’s such a nice guy that the change would be unmistakable or maybe he’s being sarcastic and you’re too stupid to pick up on it. Either way, you just want this car ride to be over.

“Right,” you eke out, “I’ll, erm, be sure to stay on your good side then.”

He slides his hand around the wheel to the top, squeezing until the leather squeaks. He shifts in his seat and exhales, “girl like you, I can’t imagine you being too much of a handful.”

His remark sticks in your ears. Again, you’re confounded by him. You can't read his tone as it's quickly washed away by the sudden blare of music as he cranks up the volume.

“This is a good one,” he calls over the music, “I’m sure you know it.”

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Someone will say, "What is lost can never be saved" Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage

Now I'm naked Nothing but an animal But can you fake it For just one more show?

The creaky tones of Billy Corgan’s lilt surrounds you as Steve bobs his head. The swirl of noise and the shadow of tension mingle and suffocate you. You’re starting to look forward to work.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #corrupt-a-wish #au #multifandom #captain america #avengers #marvel #mcu #more characters to be added #blind offer

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works-of-fanfiction · 9 months

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The Love of Another - Part Two || Cillian Murphy x actress!Reader

< Previous

Summary: After meeting on the set of Peaky Blinders, Cillian and Y/N struggle to keep their relationship professional.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, angst. Some (pretty cringe) fluff at the end.

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: thank you so much for the lovely feedback on the first part of this! I haven’t written anything multi-part in literal years, but this was fun. some chunky sections of dialogue here, hopefully easy to follow! enjoy x

(Paul is Paul Anderson and Sophie is Sophie Rundle (if that wasn’t obvious already). Y/N’s character in the show is not canon/replacing any of the actresses, just feel free to use your imagination and slot her in somewhere! it is yourself after all.)

“Would you rather have Tommy teach you to ride a horse, or Arthur teach you to box?” The interviewer asked, smiling at the actress in front of her. Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, tapping her knee as she thought about her answer. “That’s a hard one, because both could end up with me on the floor!” She joked, looking past the camera at the crew who were essentially getting paid to laugh at anything she said. “I have to go with Tommy on this one. It’s probably the least dangerous! Plus, who doesn’t love watching Cillian ride those horses?” The two women laughed together before swiftly moving onto the more serious questions about Y/N’s debut in the series. “I’d have gone with Arthur.” Y/N’s husband sneered, lowering the volume on the TV. Behind him she was sat at the table, re-reading the new scripts she’d been sent and familiarising herself with the lines.

“They pay me to say stuff like that, you know.” She declared casually, not bothering to look up from the page. He turned around and watched as she scribbled down some notes, mouthing words to herself quietly.

“They pay you to brown-nose Cillian?” He scoffed, leaning on the back cushion. Dropping her pencil with a sigh, she finally looked up with raised brows.

“Yes. Just like I got paid to brown-nose every other man I’ve worked with.” She quipped sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and twirling the pencil between her fingers. She waited for him to respond, but the snarky comeback never came. A smart choice on his part.

Despite her only having met Cillian once, her husband still had this bizarre idea that they’d spent every waking moment together during filming. Y/N had become too exhausted to argue about it. Her career and her future in Peaky Blinders was a lot more important than her husband’s petty jealousy, and she certainly wasn’t going to throw away the role of a lifetime because of him.

“Y/N… Your line.” The prompter called, waving the script in the air and tapping the page with her pen.

“Oh, sorry. Can we go from the top?” Y/N asked nervously, looking around at the crew that were becoming increasingly impatient. What was supposed to be a quick and simple scene was turning into an hour of do-overs with Y/N forgetting small details on every take. “I’m really sorry everyone.” She addressed the room, some mumbling back, others just rolling their eyes and whispering among themselves.

Stepping forward off his mark, Cillian turned to the director. “I think we can pick this up next week. Don’t you?” He asked quietly, eyes flitting to Y/N and back again. “Long day…”

“Alright. We’ll set up for this scene first thing Monday morning, but I want it finished and perfect by lunchtime.” He spun in his chair, ordering everyone to go home and rest up on their rare weekend off.

Sighing, Y/N tugged at her hair, freeing it from the clips holding it tightly in place. Paul patted her shoulder sympathetically before leaving set, shaking Cillian’s hand on the way out. Cillian sat down beside her quietly, waiting for everyone else to filter out. Once the room was empty, he scooted closer, slipping his hand in hers beneath the table. “I had it, Cill, I had it.”

“I know.” He soothed, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “I did it for my sake, not yours. This suit is itching.” He joked lightly, pulling at his collar. Looking up, she felt a smile creeping onto her face. There he was, being cheesy, always trying to cheer her up.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“I think the guest in your trailer might have something to do with it.”

Nodding, she looked down at their hands, at Cillian’s gentle fingers dancing along her veins. She thought about her husband; how he’d travelled all this way and spent the entire afternoon waiting for her. Yet here she was, comfortable in the arms of another man, betraying him for the thousandth time.

Cillian could see the cogs turning in her head. Forgetting to blink, she stared down at the tabletop, studying the cracks in the brown paint. He squeezed her hand softly, reminding her he was still there. “What are you thinking?” He whispered.

“I have to tell him, don’t I?” She asked, not really seeking an answer. For months she’d tried to plan a way to tell him, to come out with the truth and end her marriage for good, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wasn’t something she could do over the phone, but she also couldn’t bear to see him in person. She continued to pretend everything was OK, smiling through their FaceTime calls and sending love hearts whenever she couldn’t answer. ‘Couldn’t’ meaning when she was with Cillian.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it, or when, or where, but I know I have to. I mean, it’s been a year already, and I think I just lost track of time but then – “

“Hey, hey.” Cillian grabbed her face gently, putting a pause to her rambling. “You don’t need to go making any grand declarations today.”

“If I leave it any longer, it’ll just make it worse.”

Y/N seemed to stare straight through him, her jaw tensing beneath his fingers. Part of him wished he could fix it for her, that he could go to her husband himself and tell him the truth to save her the burden. He feared how her husband could react, knowing he had a habit of getting jealous and suspicious whenever she got too friendly with a man. He knew he could handle it but wasn’t sure she’d be able to.

“Y/N!” A voice shouted from the entrance; it was Sophie, looking for her so she could drag her to her birthday night out. The pair separated, Cillian standing awkwardly. “There you are. Come with me, I’ve found the perfect dress for you to wear tonight!”

“I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He smiled, giving Y/N one last reassuring smile before leaving the building. The last thing Y/N wanted to do was go out, but she didn’t want the crew hating her even more after her earlier fiasco, so she dragged herself to the wardrobe department and let Sophie show her the dresses they were going to ‘borrow’ for the evening.

“A vision in red! Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Paul beamed, hugging Y/N tight as she joined the group, her husband in tow. Paul made the effort to greet him - the man lucky enough to steal Y/N’s heart - as he put it. She laughed along, the pang of guilt inside her chest doubling in size. He may’ve had occupancy of her heart once upon a time, but that space had since been filled by someone else, and that someone was currently sat in the corner looking as handsome as ever. Cillian raised his glass to her, smiling, his arm flexing in his t-shirt. She nodded back, the all-too-familiar rush of heat spreading up her neck and to her face.

It was the perfect night for it, considering the football match just a few miles down the road was keeping most of the city occupied for a couple of hours. Everyone chose to pack out the pubs, leaving the majority of the bars fairly empty and ideal for the star-studded crowd to hide out and enjoy their night. It wasn’t often they all stepped out together like this, but birthdays were an exception.

“Drink?” Y/N’s husband asked, throwing his arm over her shoulder. Leading her to the bar, he gushed about his conversation with the Arthur Shelby, and how much of a nice guy he was. She wondered if he’d speak so highly of Cillian, or if his strange vendetta would get the better of him. “Shots for the birthday girl?”

“Oh, not yet. Let me ease myself in.” She laughed weakly, drumming her fingers on the bar.

“Not even one?”

“Why? Are you trying to get me drunk?” She raised a brow, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Well, you always were fun after a few drinks…” He purred, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. She grimaced at his words, but luckily he didn’t notice as he was too busy waving at the bartender.

He ordered, yelling obnoxiously over the music. Y/N’s eyes wandered across the back of the bar as she absentmindedly bobbed her head to the song playing, mouthing some of the words. “Oh, I’ll get these.” They both turned to see Cillian standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets, a friendly smile on his face.

“It’s alright, mate. I promised I’d get the birthday girl her first drink.” Her husband’s hold on her tightened as he spoke, his fake grin wide enough to blind a man.

Y/N stood there between the two men, her heart pounding as she felt Cillian’s stare on her face. He’d had good intentions coming over, wanting to keep an eye on her, but she wished he’d stayed put at his table. She already struggled to act normal around her husband, and her lover’s presence only made things ten times more difficult.

“Perhaps some shots then? My treat?” Cillian rested his arm on the bar, catching the attention of another bartender.

“She doesn’t want – “

“Shots sound great. Thanks, Cill – ian.” She stuttered, correcting the nickname before her husband noticed. He looked down at his wife, then back at the man beside her who calmly ordered, leaning over the bar so he didn’t have to shout. Funny how she suddenly agreed to shots when he was the one paying…

Cillian passed Y/N and her husband a shot each, and they downed the drinks together. She winced as it burned her throat, sticking out her tongue as she groaned. “Tequila! Are you trying to kill me?”

The Irishman laughed, nodding a last thank you across the bar. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He smiled sincerely, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. He left the bar, rejoining the cast and crew and instantly slotting himself into a conversation. She watched him fondly, almost forgetting about the man stood behind her. Stretching his arm over her shoulder, her husband placed the drink into her hand.

She turned and took a sip. “Thank you… Wait, you didn’t take your shot?” She asked, pointing at the full glass on the bar. He shook his head, taking a swig of his beer. “Why not?”

Swallowing with a loud ‘ah’, he shrugged, his expression blank. “I figured it was a moment to be shared between the two of you. Here. Why don’t you have mine?” He slid the shot towards her, tapping the rim of the glass twice. “Go on. It’s your birthday after all.”

“You’ve got some nerve. Can’t you go a day without starting this bloody argument?” She hissed, pushing the shot back to him. Some of it spilt over the edge, leaving a sticky sheen on the bar. “Drink it, and let’s go join my friends.”

“I wouldn’t drink it if you paid me to.” He leaned down to her level, trying to intimidate her, but it didn’t work. She wasn’t scared of him; she just saw him as a pathetic, jealous little boy. When he behaved like this, it made her wonder why she ever felt bad for cheating on him at all.

“Fine. You want to be a child? Then two can play that game, babe.” She spat, turning on her heels and heading towards Cillian. She slipped herself into the group between him and Sophie, linking arms with the woman on her left. “Which one of you is going to dance with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Sophie squealed, taking Y/N’s drink. “Look after this, will you?” Thrusting it into Cillian’s free hand, she then dragged Y/N into the nearest space, throwing her arms in the air and whooping to the music. They joined hands and spun around like two girls in a playground, shouting the wrong lyrics to the song and giggling uncontrollably.

Y/N twirled around and set her sights on Cillian, beckoning him over with her finger. “I’m not dancing!” He laughed over the music, keeping a firm grip on their drinks. “I’m guarding your drink!”

“No, go on. It’s her birthday.” Her husband goaded, appearing behind Cillian. Y/N frowned as she watched the two men speak, unable to hear what they were saying. Sophie grabbed her and spun her around, putting her back to them.

“Shouldn’t it be you dancing with her?” Cillian asked innocently, gently placing the drinks on the table.

“Oh… I don’t think she’s my friend at the moment.”

Watching his wife dance, he got the sense he was losing her; that she was slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He’d noticed how Cillian watched her, that lovesick puppy dog smile pasted on his face and eyes following her every move. He had attended many an event with her past co-stars, and none of them had ever looked at her like that. To him, Cillian was showing off, gloating that he’d lured his wife away from him. He wanted to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face if it was the last thing he ever did.

Y/N stumbled out of Sophie’s grasp, dizzily making her way back to the table. “Everything alright?” She asked, out of breath and reaching for her drink. “It’s a workout dancing with her.”

“Don’t you worry, love. Everything’s fine. I was just talking to Cillian here about you. About the two of you, I mean.” Sniggering behind his glass, he gulped down the remainder of his beer and wiped his mouth, clearing his throat. Cillian’s face contorted in confusion, his fingers gripping the edge of the table, toes curling inside his shoes out of frustration.

“What’s he said to you?” She asked, directing her question to Cillian. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be rudely interrupted.

“So quick to jump to his defence.”

“We’re not doing this here.” Y/N snapped, dropping her glass with a thud. “You are not showing me up in front of my colleagues, my friends.”

“Pick a place then, love. It won’t make a fucking difference.” Her husband could be nasty when need be, but she wasn’t about to stand and take it, especially not with an audience.

“Right - “ Cillian started, cut off by Y/N barging past them both and towards the doors. This caught the attention of her cast mates, which Cillian quickly fed a lie to before speeding after her.

He found her outside, stood against the wall and hunched over, hands clutching her knees. “Y/N, I’m so sor - “

“Cillian, don’t you dare apologise for his behaviour. Do you hear me?” Her voice shook as she spoke, the sudden rush of anger overwhelming her. She slid down the wall, sitting on the pavement, her exposed shoulders flat against the cold bricks. “Who does he think he is? Acting like that in front of everyone? I could lose my fucking job.”

“You wouldn’t lose - “

“Yes, Cillian. I would. If the studio… If the writers found out about this - “

“They won’t.” He asserted, kneeling down so they were on the same level. “They won’t.”

She took a few deep breaths, Cillian’s presence calming her down as he crouched opposite her, his fingers resting lightly on her knees. “You know, for months I have felt like the worst human being in the world. Looking at myself in the mirror and seeing the cheat staring back, the lousy fucking cheat.”

“So, you’re not perfect. You’ve done some, admittedly not great things, but I don’t think anyone in there would blame you.”

“Somehow I don’t think they’d praise me for fucking my co-star behind my husband’s back.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temple with her fingertips. “God, I’m sorry, Cillian. I’m not trying to… You’re so much more than that, I – “

“It’s alright. You’re upset… And I can handle whatever you throw at me.” He joked, reaching out to pinch her chin.

Hearing the doors swing open, the two flinched, Cillian rising from the ground instinctively. “Well, isn’t this cosy?” Y/N’s husband drawled, sauntering towards them. “So… I was right, yeah? You and him?” He pointed between them, his words directed at Y/N.

“Please…”

“Just answer me. Put me out of my God damn misery.” He threw his arms in the air in defeat, letting them fall to his sides, hitting his thighs with a loud slap.

Pressing her palms against the ground, Y/N pushed herself up, adjusting her dress as she steadied her feet. She approached her husband, and Cillian put his arm out to try and hold her back. “It’s OK, Cill.” She stood looking up at the man she once loved, her hands balled into fists at her side, thumbs picking at the fabric clinging to her legs. “You’re right. You figured it out.”

He exhaled a laugh, kissing his teeth. “I knew it.” Turning away, he ran his hands through his hair, looking up to the sky and sighing deeply. “How long?” He looked back, hands on his hips and brows furrowed. “Y/N, how long?”

“Since my twenty-ninth birthday…” She said shyly, realising just how much worse that made everything look. It had been exactly a year, pretty much to the hour, that she’d shared the first kiss with Cillian that started it all.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Well, I am sorry for interrupting your little anniversary night…” Exasperated, he took a deep breath and exhaled the air with puffed cheeks. “You know what? You are not the woman I married.” He pointed his finger in her face, but she didn’t react. Folding her arms over her chest, she stepped back until she felt Cillian against her, his hands supporting her upper arms. He whispered comforting words into her ear and her eyes began to water as she continued to stare at her husband, distant and unblinking.

Silence fell upon them, and Y/N expected more to be said, but was surprised to witness her husband turn and walk away. Anything else he had left to say was muttered under his breath as he disappeared around the corner. She and Cillian waited a few seconds to see if he would come back, but the street stayed unusually empty and quiet. “It’s alright. He’s gone.” Cillian whispered, and she spun in his arms, clinging onto him desperately.

Her thoughts felt like they were drowning in a whirlpool, like she couldn’t take control of them no matter how hard she tried. The heaviness in her heart had dissipated, but the ache in her stomach and throbbing in her head persisted. “Can we get out of here, please?” She begged, her head buried in Cillian’s chest.

“Shall I tell the others we’re leaving?”

“Just leave it. Please, can we just go?” Her voice cracked as her hold on him tightened, pieces of his shirt screwed up between her fingers.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Lying on the bed, Y/N stared at the ceiling, her fingers ghosting over Cillian’s as he laid beside her. A strange mixture of relief and dread washed over her body, making her feel weak yet incredibly alive at the same time. She wanted to jump up and down, to declare her feelings for Cillian from the highest rooftop she could find. However, another part of her wanted to hide, to burrow under the covers like a scared child until it was safe to come out. She was too afraid to check her phone; it was probably already blowing up with messages from her family and friends.

How could you?

Who was there for you when you were starting out? Did the fame get to your head?

He’s heartbroken! You should be ashamed.

The mere thought of it all made her head spin, and it was far easier to leave her phone on do not disturb and pretend no one else existed for a moment. Her thoughts felt so loud, and she wondered if they both held their breaths for a moment, would Cillian be able to hear the gears twisting and turning inside her brain? Or the steam coming out of her ears?

“Some birthday this was.” She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Am I supposed to feel bad? Like… Is this the point where I’m supposed to cry and scream about how terrible of a person I am?”

“You can if you want to.” Cillian turned his head to the left, and she looked over at the same time, their eyes meeting in the middle.

“No… I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just can’t. I don’t feel bad, not anymore. Is that horrible?”

“How do you feel?”

This was a new feeling for Y/N, for the both of them in fact. Throughout their relationship they’d spoken about everything from their favourite albums to their very particular pet peeves. They’d even spent a whole night debating the existence of aliens, sitting out on the balcony of a hotel room and bickering with each other beneath the stars. The thing they hadn’t really spoken about were their feelings, including their feelings for each other. Those three fateful words were still dangling from the tip of Cillian’s tongue, and there was so much Y/N wanted to say in return.

“I feel… Relieved. I feel free.” Clasping her hands together, she tucked them under her head. “That’s awful to admit, isn’t it?”

“It’s better than pretending.” He rubbed her shoulder soothingly, his thumb slipping beneath the strap of her dress. “Paul was right, you are a vision in red.”

Y/N giggled, swatting his hand away and adjusting the strap. “You are such a flirt!”

They stayed looking at each other, studying each other’s faces as if there was something new to see. Y/N counted the little flecks in Cillian’s bright blue eyes, watching his pupils twitch and change sizes with every few blinks. He added up the freckles on her face, imagining how they’d look if they were connected like tiny constellations across her cheeks. He smiled to himself, his tongue poking out to swipe across his bottom lip. “What?” She asked, eyes squinting with playful suspicion.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” His voice was gentle and quiet, barely reaching above a whisper. It wasn’t necessary in the room they were in. Not a single sound could be heard around them, except for their breathing and bodies shuffling against the sheets. He swallowed his words, assuming that perhaps she wasn’t ready to hear them. It had only been an hour since she confessed to her husband in the street, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her with a big declaration of love. He’d know when the time was right, he was sure of it.

Rolling off the bed, Y/N pressed a kiss to Cillian’s forehead and went to take a shower. Whilst she was gone, he looked around the bedroom, spotting various bits of his belongings scattered from the many times he’d stayed over. Filming for the series was almost complete, and it would soon be time for them to pack up their rentals and head home, wherever that may be. He thought about how things might change now that they technically didn’t have to sneak around anymore. Would people start to notice? Would they be victims of some derogatory Daily Mail headline by morning?

Returning in a towel, Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, combing through her damp hair in the mirror. Cillian knelt behind her, balancing on the mattress as he ducked his head down to press a soft kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the birthday you deserve.” He murmured against her skin. She closed her eyes and hummed, enjoying the feeling of his lips moving across her shoulder blade.

“I think it was exactly what I deserved.” She whispered, turning her head to catch a glimpse of him. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gazed up at her through his lashes.

“There’s still just under two hours left of it. Do you think we can turn it around?”

“What do you suggest?”

Cillian scrambled to his feet, hitting the carpet with a clumsy thud. Clicking his fingers, he pointed to Y/N, a goofy smile on his face. “You still have that wine in the fridge?”

“You really trust me to drink wine after last time?” She raised a brow then mimed throwing up, clutching her stomach with her arm. “After last time…” She fake gagged, making him grimace.

“OK, OK! Bad idea!”

He stood with one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. Cocking her head to the side, Y/N admired the view in front of her, pinching her bottom lip with her teeth. There was something oddly appealing about Cillian in regular clothes with the signature Tommy Shelby haircut. He wore a crisp white t-shirt with dark jeans, which just happened to be one of her favourite looks on him. It was simple, yet he somehow made it the most attractive thing she’d ever laid eyes on. Her eyes followed the trail of his veins down his forearm, where they reached the hand that sat just above his waistband.

“I’m gonna be honest, that was my only idea.” He laughed, resting his cheek in his hand.

“Cillian…” She said softly, shuffling to the edge of the mattress. “Come here.”

As he approached, she parted her legs, giving him enough room to stand between them. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked down, his eyes meeting hers. She looked so beautiful like this; just wearing a towel with unruly wet strands of hair stuck to the sides of her face. Her cheeks blushed a light pink, decorated in a couple of stray droplets of water from the shower.

“Closer.” She whispered, reaching up to grab his shirt. He lifted his knee and rested it on the mattress beside her, using his hands as support as he hovered over her, lowering her until she was laid on her back.

“Is this close enough?” He breathed, his palms flat on either side of her head.

“Almost…”

He lowered himself further as if he was performing a press-up, using the strength in his wrists to steady himself above her. “This will do.” She smiled, bringing her lips to meet his.

Dropping to his elbows, Cillian weaved his hands into her hair, tugging gently at the root. She moaned softly into his mouth, arching her back to inch herself closer to him and press their chests together. He groaned, a shiver coursing through his body as the towel around her dampened his shirt.

Pulling away from the kiss, they each opened their eyes and gazed at the other, panting quietly with heat-flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Their faces were just close enough to still be able to see one another properly without their vision blurring. Y/N sighed, her forefinger tracing the curve of his cheekbone. “Are you OK?” Cillian asked, running the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip.

“Yeah, I just…” She couldn’t concentrate with his fingers under her chin, featherlight and careful across her skin. Blinking slowly, she relaxed into his touch, relishing in the feeling of the goosebumps that prickled her cheeks.

“We can stop if you want.”

“No, no. That’s not what I want. Quite the opposite, actually.” Her words weren’t exactly a lie, but they didn’t seem to match the look on her face.

Worried, he flipped onto his side and laid next to her, his right hand finding a loose piece of thread hanging from the towel and twisting it around his finger. “If you need a bit of space for a while – “

“No, Cillian. Please don’t say that.”

“Alright, I’m sorry…”

“I just don’t know what happens next. Am I supposed to announce it to everyone? Do I file for divorce on Monday? How does this all work?” She laughed slightly, mostly at herself for being so clueless. “I think telling everyone my marriage is over will be the easy part. How do I tell them about us?”

“Well, the divorce stuff can wait for a bit. You don’t need to rush into anything.” He patted the bed, searching for her hand. She turned her palm upwards, letting his slide over the top and their fingers entwine. “As for telling anyone…”

“What?” She rolled onto her side, mirroring his position. “Do you think we should tell people?”

“I was going to say, is there really any need in telling anyone yet? I mean, we’ve kept it between the two of us for this long already and – “

“Yes, but that was because we didn’t have a choice.”

“I know... but just think about it. I think it would be weirder if we charged into work next week and announced it to everyone.”

She stared at a crease in Cillian’s shirt, daydreaming about how things were going to be. He was right. They didn’t need to shout about it, and Y/N certainly didn’t want to draw any attention to herself just yet. She already knew what people were going to think of her and label her as, and she wanted to delay the backlash for as long as possible; whether her husband was going to allow that was another story…

Cillian opened his arms for her, scooting higher onto the bed so his feet were no longer dangling off the edge. She followed, snuggling into him and tangling her legs with his. The silence between them was heavy, like there were a million words going unsaid. Y/N knew that Cillian was everything she wanted, but a small part of her worried about what would happen to her husband. Being married to someone for four years was going to leave a stamp on her forever, but she sincerely hoped he’d be OK, and that he wouldn’t try to inflict a war on her and Cillian. She knew in time that things would smooth themselves out and feel normal, but for now, she was content to sit in her little confusing bubble, just as long as Cillian was in it with her.

“Cill?”

“Mhm?”

“When we met earlier in wardrobe, and I spotted that box, what was in it?” She smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“You really wanna know?” She nodded. “OK… Well, that box wasn’t actually for you.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what was in it! It was already there.”

“Cillian!” She slapped his chest playfully and he huffed, feigning hurt. “Why did you say it was for me?”

“Technically, I didn’t! You just assumed.” He laughed, watching her cheeks redden and brows knit together. “Don’t look so disappointed! Listen, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow when I give, or rather take you to your real present.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

“That’s all I’m saying! I’m not going to spoil it.”

“Fine…” He hugged her tightly, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. She listened to his heartbeat, counting the thumps in sets of eight. Looking up from his chest, she was surprised to see him already looking at her. “What about my other present?” She whispered.

“What do you – Oh, right. That.”

She sat up, kneeling beside him so she could see him better. He rotated onto his back, folding his arms across his chest, and tucking his hands under his arms. “Y/N – “

“No, wait!” She turned her head, fixing her messy hair and readjusting the towel around her body. Turning back with a flip of her hair and a dramatic flailing of her arms, she gestured for him to sit up.

“What are you doing?”

Awkwardly crawling closer on her knees, she ran the back of her hand over his cheek, leaving it to rest below his jaw. “Cillian.”

“Y/N.” He chuckled, and she immediately hushed him. She tried her best to be serious, but laughter threatened to burst out of her. “Whatever you’re doing, please get on with it because you’re freaking me ou – “

“Here it comes…” She spoke in her best attempt at an Irish accent, cringing at herself.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” He threw his head back, belly laughing, and she grabbed him by his shirt to pull him back. Composing himself, he bit his cheeks to refrain from laughing any more. “Sorry… Go on.”

“I love you.”

He was silent, staring at her as he ran his fingers along his upper lip nervously. He knew it was coming, yet it still caught him by surprise, hearing those words come out of her mouth. He’d heard her say them plenty of times when they were in character, but this was different. They sounded so sweet when they finally meant something, and feeling her eyes on him made his heart pound in his chest. “Too cheesy?” Y/N asked, dropping the terrible accent.

“Cheesy, but I liked it.”

Sitting down cross-legged, she reached her hand out for him which he gladly took. He kissed her knuckles softly, keeping his lips there as he looked up at her. “I love you too.” He confessed. Both their bodies seemed to slump as if a weight they’d been carrying had been lifted, and despite everything that had happened, or rather gone wrong, that night, this moment felt right. He kissed her again, before slotting his fingers between hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And we’re going to be OK.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy oneshot #peaky blinders #cillian murphy

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devildom-moss · 3 months

Note

How about MC returning the favour and giving roses to the others?

Okay, so I thought it would get a little boring if I did roses all over again, so I picked different types of flowers for each character. I hope that's okay and that you'll like what I came up with. (part of me wanted to add pictures of each flower but I don't know... so I didn't.) This took a long time. I will eventually get to the brothers, but it'll be a bit.

Flowers for them (the others)

Kind of a part. 2 for the Roses for You series (links here)

(Suggestive for all except Luke)

Word Count: +6,100 longest post yet?

Diavolo

red freesia

“The Young Master should be finishing up his work shortly,” Barbatos spoke as he escorted you to Diavolo’s bedroom, eyeing the vase of flowers in your arms. He chuckled and teasingly added, “I suppose I should make myself scarce for the night.”

You could tell from the mischief in his tone that he was insinuating your gift would charm Diavolo straight to bed – which wasn’t necessarily your intention. With a soft huff, you teased back, “You pervert.”

“If so, I’m in good company – My Lord, for instance.” Barbatos smirked at you, following your movements as you set the vase on Diavolo’s coffee table. “He’ll love them. It’s a lovely pick.”

With that, Barbatos left you alone in Diavolo’s room, waiting. Your fingertips gently ran over the length of bright red blossoms that sprang up from the stem like an offshoot of a branch, with the largest flower sprouting at the bend. As the minutes passed, the sweet, heady, citrus aroma of red freesias – the most potent variety – filled the room. It was that distinct scent that welcomed Diavolo as he returned to his bedroom, to you.

Diavolo’s lips parted in hesitation before a smile graced his face with a chuckle. “Barbatos told me I had a present waiting for me in my room. I wasn’t expecting two gifts.”

“Two?” You knew what he was hinting at, but you wanted him to say it.

“Such beautiful flowers, and you.” Diavolo made his way to the couch where you were sitting, tossing his jacket over the arm of it. He tilted your chin up and brought his lips to yours with a softness befitting a delicate petal. When he pulled back, his eyes were pleading for something he could not speak of – a need that escaped detection in his mind after a long day of work. All he knew was that it involved you. “What have I done to earn this thoughtful gesture?”

“You didn’t need to do anything to earn them, but I suppose I wanted to return the gesture – when you gave flowers to me.”

Affection swelled in Diavolo’s chest, and he pulled you up into his arms so that you might feel his heart pounding for you. His eyes fell to the flowers on the table. He was no expert, but he was nearly certain that you had procured them from the human world – which only delighted him more. Red was typically a romantic color for flowers, but he was eager to know more, to make you say it.

Diavolo released you from his grasp and asked, “what type of flowers are these? Can I assume you picked them for a specific reason?”

“They’re called freesias, and yes, you can,” you admitted with a grin. “They usually carry a meaning of friendship, thoughtfulness, and trust; but the red ones, in particular, symbolize love, passion, admiration, and appreciation. There is also an association with strength and perseverance. When I think about you – you’re so dedicated to your goals. You have so many obligations, and you show so much courage, rising to meet those challenges. I want you to know how much I admire you, and I’ll be by your side, loving you through everything to come.”

Diavolo’s eyes were wide, stunned into silence. He couldn’t find the words to thank you. Instead, he kissed you with the urgency of a man on the verge of tears – who would burst if he didn’t express his love for you that instant. He gently pushed you down onto his couch and began to sneak his fingers beneath your clothes.

“Diavolo,” you muttered his name sweetly.

“Shh, just let me unwrap my other present,” Diavolo hushed you affectionately, peppering your neck with tender kisses. Barbatos was right.

Barbatos

pale purple and pink aster

“A little demon told me I would find a handsome butler baking in the kitchen,” you announced your presence with a sultry affection that caused Barbatos to freeze up ever so slightly. He turned from his spot at the counter, still holding a piping bag in his hands. His cheeks were slightly pink, but you were generous enough to consider it a symptom of his proximity to the oven. “You don’t mind that I showed up unannounced, do you? I won’t stay long if you’re busy.”

“Not at all,” Barbatos laughed and set the piping bag down. “I’m delighted to see you. May I be so bold as to assume you came here just to see me?”

“You may – in fact, you should – because I did.” You kept the bouquet of flowers tucked behind your back as you took a few steps closer.

“What are you hiding?” Barbatos tilted his head with a joyous curiosity. “I’ll have no secrets kept from me in my kitchen. If there are secrets, I’d rather they be between us.”

You couldn’t ignore the seductive hint in his tone, but you gathered yourself to instruct him, “close your eyes.”

“That’s not a new one, but we haven’t tried that in this particular room yet.” Barbatos followed your command. You knew he was turning up the charm to distract from the fact that you had flustered him by showing up today. He was overcorrecting to maintain his composure.

“Stop flirting; I’m trying to be sweet here.” You sighed and thrust the flowers out towards him. The light floral scent – previously masked by the cookies he had baked – finally hit him. Before you could give him the okay, Barbatos furrowed his brows and opened his eyes.

“Did you get me flowers?” His words were filtered through a grin. You nodded. Of course, he had expected as much, but the heat rushed to his cheeks at your confirmation. It had been a long while since he received flowers, and getting flowers from Luke and Diavolo – as sweet and precious as it was – elicited an entirely different feeling than the one that filled him now. Although there were traces of affection and gratitude in all three cases, only you could make his blood rush. He studied the flowers you held out for him, noting the combination of both blue-ish purple and pink blossoms, before slowly bringing his hands up to the bouquet, cupping over yours gently. “And where, my dear, did you get human world flowers – asters, I believe?”

“Sorcerer’s – well, apprentice’s – secret,” you teased, pulling your hands back. “How did you know what they were?”

“Oh, please don’t tell me Solomon was involved in their procurement.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Wonderful. That would ruin the mood,” Barbatos flashed you a smile – almost threatening with its undertones of envy. “And as for how I know that: the Royal library is vast. We have a good number of books on human world horticulture. But perhaps you could give me a brief floriography lesson.”

“You don’t know?” A part of you was shocked – as it often seemed that Barbatos knew everything.

“I could fathom a guess, but it would be far less accurate than hearing the words directly from your lips.” Barbatos held the bouquet in one hand, using his free hand to pull you closer by the waist. He leaned into your ear and whispered, “Now, please enlighten me.”

“Asters are associated with traits that remind me of you: patience, elegance, and wisdom. The purple asters represent that wisdom – as well as your grace, nobility, and mysterious beauty. The pink ones are for your sensitivity and kindness. You’re always serving others and thinking about them, and you’re so sweet to me. Of course, pink is also a symbol of love – lest you forget how much I adore you.”

“Oh my.” Barbatos lowered his eyes, flushing a pale pink. “You’re too kind, MC.”

“You asked me to enlighten you.” You pressed your lips sweetly, albeit momentarily, to his. “Now you know.”

“Close your eyes,” Barbatos whispered. Feeling you owed him the same trust, you shut your eyes. “Now, open your mouth.”

Again, you did as he asked, only for him to bring one of his bite-sized, fresh-baked cookies up to your mouth. A delightful sweetness flooded your tongue. His fingers grazed your lips and lingered, waiting for you to swallow before swiping his thumb across you.

“It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, my dear. I’m afraid that will have to be a suitable reward for your kindness until I’m done here. Then, I’ll repay you properly.”

Luke

pink and yellow hibiscus

It had been raining in the Devildom for five full days, with another three days of rain ahead in the forecast. The slow shift from a gentle pitter-patter to a heavy pounding on the RAD windowpanes played in the background of each class you attended. This would be fine, if not for the fact that Luke’s gloomy face was haunting your mind. He had been sulking since the third day of rain. Even a happy, sweet little angel like Luke can’t keep his sunny disposition forever. He clearly missed going outside without the threat of damp clothes and discomfort. You had to do something – he was practically your adopted son.

“Luke,” you caught his attention at the end of class, “are you free tomorrow?"

“Yeah,” he admitted sadly, “there’s not much I can do in this weather.”

“Great! What do you say we have a picnic?”

“What? We can’t sit outside and eat when it’s raining like this! We’ll get sick. Besides, I think the parks are starting to flood.” Luke groaned quietly.

“Let’s have an indoor picnic, then. We could prepare some snacks together, lay a blanket down in the living room or maybe make a blanket fort, and play some games. What do you think?”

“That sounds like so much fun!” Luke perked up immediately – the first genuine smile he had had all day gracing his sweet face.

“I’ll meet you at Purgatory Hall at noon tomorrow, okay? I’ll pick up some fruit and ingredients for sandwiches or something – just let me know if there’s anything you’re craving.”

“Let me think about it after I check the pantry at Purgatory Hall, okay?”

“Of course.”

“I’m so excited!” Luke’s grin widened as dozens of snacking options crossed his mind.

Luke contacted you later that day with a short list of ingredients to make grilled cheese sandwiches and a few fruits – including an array of berries. You stopped by the market, which was pleasantly quiet, on your way over to grab everything, placing the grocery items in a large picnic basket you decided to bring along. Inside that basket was also a pitcher of cold brewed sweet hibiscus tea you prepared the night before and a bouquet of human world flowers you had magically crafted. You didn’t have time to pop up to the human world and purchase them, and you were certain you couldn’t obtain them at a florist here, so hopefully these would do.

Luke greeted you eagerly at the door and ushered you towards the kitchen. He had a bright smile on his face, and you were certain this was the closest thing to sunshine as the Devildom would ever know. You spotted a loaf of fluffy-looking bread on the counter, and Luke confessed happily, “I baked some milk bread before you came over, and we have a variety of delicious jams and spreads to go with it. We also have all the ingredients to bake cookies later if you’re up for it.”

“That sounds wonderful, Luke. You’re so sweet.” You began to pull the ingredients out of the basket, careful to keep the bouquet tucked away. “I have a surprise for you. Have you ever tried hibiscus iced tea? It’s made from human world flowers.”

“I don’t think so.” With that, you pulled the pitcher out of the basket, revealing a bright red liquid. Luke was enamored. “It looks so pretty! Can we try it right now? I’ll get some glasses and ice.”

Luke’s smiling face as he took his first sip told you everything you needed to know. He loved it.

The two of you set up your blanket fort – complete with multiple comfy pillows – in the living room before preparing your grilled cheese sandwiches and a platter of fruit, spreads, and the bread Luke made earlier. Luke brought a few games into the fort while you brought the tea and the basket. With everything in place, you were ready.

“Actually, Luke, I have one more surprise for you.” You reached into the basket and pulled out the bouquet: a mix of hibiscus flowers – some a bright yellow and others a soft pink. Luckily, it was still in pristine condition.

“For me? These are the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen!” Luke brought his hands up to his mouth. “What are they?”

“These are hibiscus. I couldn’t get them from the human world, so I had to recreate them with magic, but I wanted you to have them,” you admitted, handing the bouquet over so he could inspect them further. “The pink ones symbolize friendship and platonic love while the yellow ones mean joy, happiness, and sunshine – which I felt like you needed more of recently.”

Luke’s smile faltered briefly before resolving itself. He hugged the flowers close to him. “Thank you. You’re right, I think I did need this. If you ever want to become an angel, I think you’d make a great one.”

Simeon

(Original game lesson 76 spoilers)

red and white variegated tulip

Simeon wouldn’t tell you how he had convinced everyone to let the two of you go on a weekend trip to the human world together – and he had no plans to, either. Perhaps the others felt bad about Simeon losing his angel’s blessing; if anyone could cleverly use guilt to get his way, it would be Simeon. Then again, who knew what tactics Simeon had in that mind of his – what he could stoop to. He was a human now, and that offered him an excuse to be devious; there was no need to feign innocence when he wasn’t held to an angel’s standard. Simeon would do a lot for you, and perhaps it was best that you were not made aware of every detail of his schemes.

Still, he had gone through the trouble of planning everything. The first day was delightful; Simeon led you through a beautiful town, packing as many fun activities into your time together as he could. He even booked a nice hotel room beforehand that “incidentally” only had one bed. You wanted to thank him somehow.

So, you forced yourself to wake up early, crawling out of bed quietly to avoid disturbing Simeon. During your previous outing, you noticed a flower market, along with several bakeries and cafés. It wasn’t much, but breakfast and flowers seemed like a good start to show him your gratitude. Besides, this was a rare opportunity to spoil him a bit.

It was still early by the time you returned to your hotel room – flowers, coffee, and an assortment of pastries in hand. Luckily, Simeon was still peacefully asleep. You worked quickly, rearranging the flowers in a nice vase that you were fortunate enough to find at the market and plating the pastries. Some – a huffy, grumpy old demon, for example – would probably frown at your use of magic to summon up some decent serveware, but with Solomon as your teacher, you figured you had every right to use magic frivolously. You had just finished up by the time Simeon began to stir, letting out the softest little moan.

The sweet combination of smells filled his senses – although he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. It could have been a café nearby for all he knew. Simeon stretched his arms out to the empty side of the bed, and upon feeling your absence, he decided to open one eye and investigate.

“Morning,” you greeted him.

“Why did you get out of bed?” He sat up with a yawn.

“I wanted to thank you, so, ta-da.” You brought a tray to the bed and set it next to him. Simeon’s eyes, still adjusting to the morning light, looked over the hot coffee, pastries, and a vase of red and white variegated tulips. A smile slowly formed on his lips.

“Just how long did you leave me alone in bed?” Simeon chuckled. “Thank you, MC. This is so sweet.”

“You deserve it.” You brushed his hair aside to kiss his forehead. “Did you know that variegated tulips mean beautiful eyes? They’re ideal for giving to someone you admire – although admire isn’t nearly strong enough to describe my feelings for you.”

Simeon’s face warmed, and he nervously took a sip of his coffee to calm his desires. The drink was perfect, as if you had thought about him in every detail. It only made his heart race more. He set the cup down. “Tell me more.”

“About the flowers – or are you asking me to praise you more?” you teased.

“Either sounds nice. Just kidding, you can tell me about the flowers.” Simeon was quick to retreat from asking for praise.

“The flowers first, then. Well, the florist – farmer? The person selling the flowers told me that these are called Grand Perfection Tulips. They start out a light yellow and turn white as they mature, but the red streaks stay the same vibrant color throughout. I wanted to get the mature ones because I wanted to convey the meaning of both red and white tulips. Red tulips are probably easy to guess the meaning of, right? They represent love, devotion, sacrifice, and lust.” Your voice dropped at the last word, and Simeon nearly choked on the pastry he had bitten into. You continued, “But white symbolizes purity and new beginnings. They’re also used to tell someone ‘I’m sorry.’”

Simeon caught the shame in your voice and stared at you, confused. “What do you have to apologize for?”

“It’s at least partially my fault that you’re a human now.” Your heart sat heavy in your chest and the weight of your words anchored Simeon to the bed. “You sacrificed a lot, and now you’re living this new life, and it’s not fair that you were punished for protecting the people you care about. All I can do is tell you that I’m sorry, and I love you, and thank you.”

“No.” Simeon’s voice was unusually stern – as was the look on his face. He moved the tray onto the bedside dresser and pat his lap. “Sit on the bed with me.”

You took a seat at the edge of the bed, but Simeon shook his head and grabbed your hand, pulling it to his side.

“Closer,” he insisted. You took the hint and climbed over his lap. He stared at you affectionately, his fingers dancing up your sides. “Better. Now, listen closely: I don’t blame you. Even if I had to fall as far as becoming a demon, I would – and I’d do it just for your sake. You don’t have to apologize for the actions I chose to take.”

“But –”

“Don’t feel bad, or I’ll be tempted to take advantage of you and be greedy,” Simeon admitted. “I’ll ask you to stay by my side forever and love me more.”

“I can do that,” you whispered, trying to digest your guilt.

“Then don’t say you’re sorry. I’m okay with living as a human alongside you. Now,” Simeon gently rolled over with you in his arms until he was on top of you, “while I appreciate your precious gesture of breakfast in bed, I have something different in mind. Can I?”

Solomon

black poinsettia (Devildom) and red poinsettia (human realm)

You were finding it hard to focus on Solomon’s lessons. Between his lingering gazes, the sly way his body pressed to yours as he glanced over your work, and the anticipation of the surprise you had planned for him, you could barely maintain your composure.

“What’s on your mind, my sweet apprentice?” Solomon picked up on your tension. “Am I distracting you?”

“Not exactly.” Solomon pouted slightly at your response and clapped his book shut in his hands. “I’ve been working on a new spell in secret. I think I’ve got it now. Can I show you?”

Solomon burst out in melodic laughter. “How studious of you. Of course. Show me what you’ve got.”

You had practiced this nearly a dozen times before in preparation; you could do this. All you had to do was take a deep breath and concentrate your magic into your hands. With a flourish, you summoned a large bouquet of black and red poinsettias and held them out for Solomon. Bowing slightly, you added, “for my adorable teacher.”

Solomon’s cheeks flushed pink, but by the time you looked up to gauge his reaction, Solomon’s surprise had melted into a tender smile. He chuckled and reached over the bouquet to pat your head. “That’s certainly something. Good job.”

“I chose these flowers specifically for you.”

“Oh?” A faint pink glow reappeared on Solomon’s cheeks. He wasn’t certain you had put any thought behind the flowers you summoned; knowing that they were chosen with intent warmed his face and made his heart ache. Suddenly, he recalled the bouquet of black and red roses he had given you. Barbatos had once told Solomon that black poinsettias – native to the Devildom – had a special meaning for couples, but despite poinsettias being his birth month flower, Solomon didn’t know much about their symbolism. The question on his lips fell out shyly, “What do they mean?”

“Black poinsettias represent the bond between two people. Red poinsettias are associated with cheer, rebirth, and good wishes – but, more importantly, with love, passion, and strength. I think that reflects our bond, don’t you?” You smiled at him softly. “And there’s something else: I wanted to combine flowers from the Devildom and the human world. It’s because Diavolo decided to try to bring the human realm and the Devildom together that I was able to meet you, and I’ll always be grateful and happy about the new life I have here – with you.”

“My adorable apprentice, you’ve outdone yourself,” Solomon praised you. He took the bouquet in one hand, removing it from the space between you, and pulled you close until your noses nearly touched. He dropped his voice to a seductive whisper, “I’ve never witnessed such a powerful seduction spell.”

“It wasn’t a seduction spell.”

“Then why am I so enamored with you right now? I can hardly contain myself.” Solomon crashed his lips against yours with overwhelming neediness. The kiss grew heated quickly, and you were both left panting by the time he pulled away. “Let’s conclude your studies early today. I think I need to spend the rest of the night studying you, instead.”

Thirteen

pink spider lily

“Thanks again for treating me today – you really didn’t have to.” You squeezed Thirteen’s hand as you walked together towards her cave.

“Well, you deserved a little reward for agreeing to meet me at Café Lament. It was a last-minute invitation, and I’m just happy you were able to join me. I think their new dark hell mocha pudding parfait tasted better because I got to eat it with you.” She bumped her shoulder against yours casually. A faint vanilla scent hit you; how did someone so involved with death smell this good?

“I didn’t expect them to top it with bufo eggs. I liked it, though.”

“Right?”

Part of the reason you had so readily agreed to accompany Thirteen – other than wanting to spend time with her – was because it gave you the opportunity to surprise her. As someone so often involved with setting up traps and tricking people, you figured she’d appreciate an unexpected present. All you had to do was get her out of her room for a bit.

Just before your date – when you knew she had already left – you used a bit of magic to leave flowers on Thirteen’s bedside table. She was far enough away to not sense your magical delivery, too, so by the time she arrived home, a small present would be waiting for her. Of course, you could have summoned them while she was at RAD, but you wanted to see her reaction, and there was a good chance Thirteen would invite you back home with her after your date. Besides, leaving school with her was likely to draw the attention of at least one of the brothers, and neither of you would have any peace if that occurred.

As Thirteen led you to her bedroom, anticipation grew in the pit of your stomach. You were excited to see the look on her face. When she opened her door, the faint remnants of your magic lingered, but her focus was concentrated on you. She dragged you into her room, walking backwards until you both crossed the threshold. Thirteen let go of your hands, wrapped her arms around your neck, and kissed you tenderly. Lips still locked on yours, she shut the door behind you and pressed your back gently against it. Your hands landed on her hips. A soft sigh left her as she pulled away.

“I was looking forward to that,” she admitted. The light floral scent and your magic finally got through to her, and Thirteen turned in your hands. She was startled by the appearance of a vase of pink spider lilies next to her bed. Her brows furrowed and she looked back at you, a smile fighting its way through her attempt to find the right words. “Did you – when? What?”

“I did,” you started, coolly. “Right before our date, and they’re pink spider lilies – or resurrection lilies.”

“They’re beautiful, but are you trying to be funny, giving a reaper something called resurrection lilies?"

“No, of course not. While it’s true that the most common color for resurrection lilies is red; and they symbolize death, corpses, and blood; the pink ones don’t have those same associations. I don’t think of death when I think of you – not usually, anyway. The pink flowers represent beauty, love, passion, and desire.” You brought a hand up to caress her cheek. “And you, my love, are so beautiful and passionate. I love being around you – and I love you.”

“Well, how can I get upset over such a precious explanation?” Thirteen chuckled through her smile and left a soft kiss on your cheek. “What if you weren’t here when I found such a lovely gift?”

“I had a feeling you’d want to take me home with you – and if you didn’t, I would have told you about the flowers over the phone.”

“You’re a confident one, aren’t you?”

“Nah, I just know you like me.”

“Okay, smarty-pants.” Thirteen rolled her eyes playfully. “Then tell me this: what am I going to do now that I have you in my room?”

“I think we’re going to take this to the bed.”

“Such a smart human. No wonder I love you.”

Raphael

lavender

Raphael: I’m almost done mending your sweater. You can pick it up tomorrow if you want. I embroidered flowers along the hem of your sleeves where it tore. It will suit you, so I hope you like it.

Raphael offered to mend your sweater after he saw how upset you were over it tearing – especially since it had caught on a shelf while you were out shopping with him. He had been offering to do more sewing specifically for you recently, which made him all the more comfortable asking you to take off your clothes the second you got back to his room. You knew what he meant, but sometimes his straightforward approach flustered you. If it had been anyone else, you had no doubt that there would have been more sexual undertones. Although perhaps if Raphael wasn’t so concerned about your disappointment at ripping your sleeve, he might have thought to add another meaning to his words. But alas, he was solely focused on mending an item you clearly cherished.

You appreciated the gesture, and you knew you would only adore the sweatshirt more now that he had helped to fix it. Raphael could be quite sweet when you gave him the opportunity – and, if you weren’t mistaken, he seemed to have only become kinder after coming to the Devildom. You weren’t certain how much he would appreciate the gesture, but you wanted to get him flowers.

The following morning, before you left for Purgatory Hall, you read over the spell you had found in a book Satan was nice enough to lend you. All you needed were a few herbs, your magic, and a Devildom equivalent of the human world flower you wanted to recreate. You stopped by a florist – one Raphael had taken you to before – to get the last ingredient for your spell.

The demon working the shop looked up from the counter, a wicked recognition in his eyes. “Aye, if it ain’t the little human again. Been a while. Your angel cut ya loose? Or maybe you got a taste for demons now, hm?”

“Have we met?”

“Why I –” he huffed, releasing his anger, “y’know, I guess we didn’t get a chance to meet last time, cuteness. I’m Stolas, and you are?”

You gave the aggressively friendly demon your name. “I’m sorry, but I’m in a bit of a rush today. I have to go see ‘my angel’ soon. Do you happen to have any acid lavender in stock?”

“Shame,” he sighed. “But yes. Right over there.”

Stolas motioned towards an aisle with his head, and your eyes followed. There was a small selection next to some filler plants – what you assumed constituted Devildom “greenery.” You picked out a pretty, fragrant bunch and returned to the counter with your wallet in hand. “How much for this one?”

“Tell ya what, you show that sweet little face ‘round here more often an’ I’ll letcha have ‘em for free.” Stolas leaned over the counter and gave you a wink.

“I’d feel better if I paid. You’re running a business, after all.”

“For you, 100 Grimm.” He wrapped your flowers up nicely and handed them back to you. “See ya ‘round, MC. Tell your little angel I said hi, would ya?”

You nodded, with no intention of following through on that. On your walk to Purgatory Hall, you performed the spell, and by the time you arrived, you had a bouquet of human realm lavender in your hands.

Raphael was the one to greet you at the door, and you quickly hid the bouquet behind your back. He smiled at you softly. “Oh good, you’re here. Come with me.”

Raphael led you to his room. Now that you were alone, you pulled out the bouquet and presented it to him. His back was still turned as he walked to his desk and makeshift crafting table.

“Uhm, Raph, I hope you don’t mind, but I got you some flowers,” you admitted, still holding out the bouquet. He turned around immediately, surprise evident on his face. Your sweater was folded neatly in his hands.

“Me? What for?”

“To thank you. I’m really grateful – not just for the sweater, but for everything.”

Raphael inspected the flowers in your hand, slightly confused. They looked familiar, but not quite like any plant he had known. The color was off. Acid lavender was a deeper, darker shade of purple – almost black – while its counterpart in the celestial realm was a pastel blue. However, the pleasant aroma was quite similar. “Is this human lavender?”

“Yes. Although I had to use magic to get this from acid lavender. I think lavender suits you.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because lavender is associated with purity, silence, and calmness. It represents personal growth, and,” you paused, inching closer to him, “it’s a symbol of love and devotion.”

Raphael made no efforts to hide his smile. He unfolded your sweater to reveal leaves embroidered with pastel blue lavender flowers. “What a pleasant coincidence.”

Your lips parted in astonishment. Not only was it a coincidence, but Raphael had done a beautiful job repairing your clothes. He handed you the sweater and took the bouquet in his hands. The only ones who had ever given him flowers were Luke and Michael – and the latter case usually annoyed him more than it delighted him.

“Thank you, Raph. This is lovely.” You clutched the sweater close to your chest. Raphael shook his head, setting the lavender down carefully on the nearby table.

“I don’t know if these flowers suit me. They smell nice, and I appreciate them, but if you’re going to be so nice to me,” Raphael paused to pull you in, flush against his body, “neither of us are going to be pure or silent. . . just teasing.”

You waited for him to let go, indicating that he was, indeed, teasing, but his grip remained firm. “Are you?”

“Would you like me to tease you?”

He was impossible.

Mephistopheles

red wallflower

You knocked politely on the door to the RAD Newspaper Club room. It was getting late and the only students you had run into were those who had stayed behind after club activities to chat or do who-knows-what. Mephisto, shouted from the other side of the door. “Come in but make it quick.”

“Serun told me you were going to be here late.” You walked in and set the overly sweet pastry you had bought on Mephisto’s desk, still hiding a bouquet of flowers behind your back. “I figured some sugar might perk you up.”

“Oh, MC, I thought you might be a club member.” He added that to strike his comment about making it quick from the record. If it was you, he didn’t mind a bit of company. Mephisto glanced up at your face quickly before returning his gaze to the stack of articles he needed to edit. “First, why would Serun tell you if I’m staying late? And second, was that last part supposed to be a euphemism? Should I push my chair back?”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “They told me because it’s apparent that I’ve taken an unfortunate liking to you, and someone has to keep an eye on you.”

“Then the sugar?” Mephisto questioned you, flipping the page. You laughed again, which bothered him. “What?”

You pushed the pastry closer to him until it entered his line of sight. The soft “oh” from his lips made you chuckle. “Oh, you are so cute when you’re serious.”

“Get out,” Mephisto scoffed to distract from his warm cheeks and his desire to smile.

“Aw, are you grumpy? I’ll leave, but I have a gift for you first. Look up from your work for one minute, please?” You sweetened your tone to entice him further, but you couldn’t miss the exaggerated roll of his eyes. He set his pen down and gave you his full attention. “Good boy.”

“I will bite – I mean fight you.” Mephisto’s heart raced.

That exasperated look on his face melted as you pulled out a bouquet of deep red wallflowers in a smooth black vase and set them on his desk – out of the way of his paperwork. It wasn’t easy obtaining them, but you wanted to do something nice for Mephisto beyond your usual small gifts and kind words. He chewed on his lower lip to hide the threat of a smile.

“What are these for?” he asked.

“I wanted you to feel loved,” you confessed.

Mephisto let out a soft, affectionate groan. “I don’t recognize these flowers. What are they?”

“They’re from the human world – wallflowers. They represent faithfulness in adversity, and resilience. Red ones, specifically, signify love. It makes me think of you. I really admire your unwavering loyalty to Diavolo – I mean, you’re here now, this late, because you want to support him. I want to give you my loyalty, too – romantically.”

“I –” Mephisto took a second to gather his words. “I’m going to be another hour or two here tonight. You should take a nap on the couch while I finish up. I’ll take you home when I’m done.”

“I’d much rather stay up with you, but if you’re busy, I can go home now,” you offered, slightly disappointed. There was a silver lining, at least. “I’ll see you tomorrow, anyway.”

“Oh, you misunderstood. I’m taking you home with me. And I want you to get some rest because I’ll be keeping you awake all night.” He smirked and got out of his seat to usher you towards the couch. Mephisto laid you down sweetly, smoothing his hand over your hair before walking back to his desk. He cleared his throat, trying to force his feelings up to the surface. “And MC, thank you. I – I haven’t felt this cherished in a while. I love you, too.”

This was a bad idea, he thought. How was he going to concentrate when your precious sleeping face was right across the room? Once you fell asleep, he was determined to get a picture – or ten.

A/N: Happy (possibly be-lated) Valentine's Day. I hope even though it's late, this one fills y'all with love. If you're single or something, then you automatically have my love now (unless you don't want it). Also, we are never going to talk about how long I spent on this, okay? Okay.

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boredwrites · 6 months

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Albert Wesker x gn reader

A little something for @mrs-m-wesker. Just a list of small scenarios.

Please keep in mind that I am not familiar with the Resident Evil game series. Most of what I'm going off of is from Dead by Daylight. Plus maybe a little modern au stuff.

Masterlist

~~~

Sometimes Albert would come home so late in the night that you would already be asleep. And on these nights, he would find you on his side of the bed which is the side closest to the bedroom door. After he finishes his nighttime routine, he would slide in bed behind you, wrapping his arms around your body and squeezing just enough to wake you up.

"You're on the wrong side of the bed," he would say. He would then turn over, taking you with him so then his back was facing the door and you were facing the wall.

Albert would claim that it's just a preference, but really, he does it because he's protective. If anything should happen in the middle of the night, he will be closest to the door and fastest to take action and keep you safe.

~~~

While it's sometimes difficult for him to show it, Albert is a very romantic person when he's with the right one. He has his own way of showing his love.

Whenever you're working on something, or just standing, he loves coming up behind you and kissing your hair, getting a good whiff of it while doing so. Sometimes his arms stay hanging by his side, only his lips and nose touching you. But sometimes he places a hand or two on your waist, his pinky going under your shirt just to get the slightest touch of your skin.

Sometimes, when he's in the right mood, he dips his head a bit lower to your neck. Soft kisses litter your neck, along with a few little nips here and there. Nothing too extravagant. He prefers the more intimate acts to remain in the bedroom.

~~~

Though he may seem disinterested, Albert loves it when you talk about your interests. Whether that be a TV show, a video game, or your favorite animal. He loves the way you brighten up whenever you can talk about it. He also remembers almost every detail because it's, y'know, you.

"Yes, dear, I'm listening," he would let you know, and then prove that he was listening. "You said that you went against the least played killers in the game, which happens to be your friend's favorite characters. Did you tell her this happened?"

He just loves hearing your voice and he pays attention, even though it may not seem like it. He's starting to teach himself the habit of nodding and humming to your rantings to let you know he's listening.

~~~

Albert doesn't compliment you all the time, but when he does, it's one you will remember.

"The universe is envious of your beauty."

"Those garments are a painting on you, my love."

"Darling, you put the light from the stars to shame."

He is very romantic with his compliments and he intends on leaving you flustered after every one.

~~~

Albert loves kissing you. Your lips, forehead, hair, hands, neck. Anywhere he can reach. He's a gentleman, so his favorite place to kiss you when you're in public is the back of your hand, along with the occasional peck or two on the lips. But in private, he's everywhere where you'll let him. Especially insecurities.

He will always kiss your insecurities away, no matter how much it will take. He will never tolerate you being insecure or self conscious of any part of your body. If he hears you talking bad about yourself or sees you looking at yourself in the mirror with unhappiness, he will be at his knees. Literally.

"Please, my darling. Please see yourself the way I see you. You're more beautiful than a thousand moons."

#albert wesker #wesker #albert wesker x reader #wesker x reader

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lowkeycasanova · 3 months

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Valentine's Day- what he does for you

Headcanon

Characters: Monster Trio + Usopp and Law

Luffy

He assembled a gift basket. To someone else, it might have looked like he just grabbed a bunch of random items that he thinks you would like. But no. Each item he picked out held special significance, and he's picked up on things over your time together. See? He does listen.

His little basket predominately boasted an array of candy, but he did make a point to get those cookies you said you really like, along with some of your favorite fragrances and a plan to revisit Sabaody Park, a place you reminisced so fondly about. He vividly recalled your excitement as you spoke about the park. Bringing you back was a no-brainer for him; after all, he too wanted to relieve those moments.

Nami helped him make your gift look more presentable, but he'll never tell you that. Your face it up when he handed it to you, as did his. His smile was probably bigger than yours to be honest. He was so proud and he was happy that his efforts brought you joy. You weren't the type of person that needed anything extravagant. Your appreciation was geniune as you examined each item. You couldn't help notice the container of cookies. The sticker sealing it closed had been tampered with.

"Did you eat one?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know I get these all the time? I know how many are in here." You proceeded to count them. One, two, three...

"Luffy!"

"What?!"

"You ate three of them!"

Sanji

Valentine's Day has swiftly become his second favorite holiday next to your birthday. Yes, he considers your birthday a holiday. You should have known he would be over the top on the actual day because his enthusiasm for the occasion mirrored that of a marriage proposal when he asked you to be his valentine.

With cooking being his main love language, he got up extra early this morning to prepare three meals and a dessert for the day. The effort was more than a gesture. He did it so that he would spend less time cooking throughout the day and savor every moment with you.

Your presence occupies his mind incessantly, the anticipation of being together heightened his excitement. The mere thought of spending this day together induces a joy in him that sends him into a fit of giggles and has him kicking his feet with the same exuberance of a teenage girl who has her first crush.

The aroma wafted through the air, and you found yourself drawm to the kitchen where Sanji, with his classic cigarette, was putting this finishing touches on breakfast. The table was set with meticulous detail and a bouquet of flowers took center stage. Ever the gentleman, he pulled out a chair and gestured for you to sit. His eyes never left yours, his unwavering gaze conveying a depth of emotion that words could scarcely convey.

Zoro

When you told him you didn't want anything, he raised an eyebrow. Surely, this was a trap. It wasn't. You were being serious. You weren't big into Valentine's Day and you didn't want him to feel obligated to do or buy anything. He simply shrugged and said “okay”. When the day came around and you treated it like normal, he can admit he’s still puzzled by your lack of expectations. But decided to honor your wish nonetheless.

You two did a workout together on the deck of the Sunny like you normally did. The the crisp sea breeze provided a refreshing backdrop as you lifted heavy weights. Sweating side by side, the two of you engaged in a series of exercises. No words spoken as you simply basked in the comfort of each other's prescence.

Afterwards, Zoro suggested something out of the ordinary- a relaxing hot bath. The thought of indulging in a calming soak together appealed to him as a way to unwind after the physical exertion. You filled the tub as steam rose around. Zoro joined you, easing himself into the borderline hot water. With his arms wrapped around your waist and your back pressed to is chest, he stole glances at you, appreciating the way the water droplets clung to your bare skin. There was something a little more vulnerable about him this way. Despite telling him you didn’t want a gift, you could tell he was loving up on you a little more today. You'd be lying if you said you didn't love it.

Usopp

He talks a big game leading up to the 14th. He doesn't mention any plans in detail to keep it a "surprise". With each mention of "It's gonna be awesome" and "You're gonna love it", it stirred a sense of excitement in you. But to be honest, he wants it to be that way. However, deep down, he grappled with the challenge of living up the expectations that he himself had set. While he reveled in the thrill of anticipation, the truth was that his imagination seemed to hit a roadblock when it came to the actual gift. He didn't want to succumb to the cliche arrangement of flowers, candy, and a card.

As the pressure mounted, his creative spark finally mounted. He would devise a plan that blended the cliche gift with his storytelling and touch of uniqueness. The morning of, you received a map illustrated with details that only he could conjure up. Nami helped him draw it, lets give her credit. The map led you on a journey through various locations on the island, each marked with a clue or riddle. You followed the trail, anticipation in each step, with the promise of an extaordinary surprise at the end.

The first stop revealed a bouquet of flowers carefully hidden behind a statue accompanied with a note that read, "A bloom as resilient as our adventures". The second clue guided you to a candy shop where he had arranged for a selection of your favorite sweets, each with a personalized touch. The final destination unfolded at a scenic spot overlooking the ocean, where he awaited with a heartfelt card expressing his love.

Law

The metallic hum of machinery echoed through the corridors of the Polar Tang as Law moved about, seemingly engrossed in his daily tasks. As mid-morning approached, a subtle feeling of anxiety gnawed at you at his apparent oversight. Did he…forget? Was it wrong to assume that he’d do anything for today? You wanted to give him your gift by now, but it seems silly and kind of embarrassing given the fact that he hasn’t acknowledged anything yet.

Casually striking up a conversation, you probed him with careful questions, trying to discern any hints. His nonchalant demeanor remained. He responded with indifference, giving away nothing. Disappointed clouds your features as you observed his apparent obliviousness. Guilt tugged at him because not only did he feel terrible, but he was also wrestling with his own impatience. Behind closed doors, he was diligently crafting his gift. During the process of creating it, everything that seemed to go wrong, went wrong and it has taken him much longer to perfect it. The realization that he’s upset you weighed on him but he still wanted to keep it a surprise.

The hours ticked by and it was finally completed. Upon entering the bedroom later, your heart rate picks up at the sight of a small box on the comforter. You tentatively open it to reveal a handcrafted necklace that probably took him forever to make. In that same moment, Law silently appeared in the doorway before speaking. “I’ve been working on it for some time. I’m sorry I couldn’t get it to you earlier.” He says, confirming your thoughts. “It’s beautiful.” You breathe with tears forming in your eyes. You gave him and he steps closer, taking it gently from your hands, turning your back to him, and securing it around your neck.

happy valentine’s day ♡

#one piece headcanons #one piece fanfiction #one piece monkey d luffy #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #one piece usopp #one piece trafalgar law #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #sanji x reader #trafalgar law x reader #usopp x reader #one piece #op fanfic

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sixpennydame · 11 months

Text

Make. Believe. ❖ Act 1

Actor!Levi x Fem!Reader

It’s your first sex scene as a leading actress, and it’s with none other than Levi Ackerman. But you both can stay professional….right?

Warnings / Content: NSFW, Minors do not interact, oral sex (fem receiving), vaginal sex

A/N: I've been working on this one shot since April and it's finally here! There will be a Part 2, written from Levi's pov, available now!

Act 2 | Act 3

“Oi, you ok? Ready to do this?”

Levi stands naked before you. It’s nothing new - you’ve seen his nude body several times already while shooting this film. But today is the day that you shoot the main sex scene with him - the first you’ve ever done as a professional actress.

And despite all the preparations you’ve done, you’re nervous as hell about it.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah…I’m ready.”

The Camera Assistant raises the slate, “Scene 24, Take 1…” *Clap*

“Action!”

When your agent told you about the role you knew you were perfect for it. An ingénue role: innocent, pure, but headstrong, and when you finished the audition, you knew you’d gotten it.

The movie is set in the 1920’s and tells the story about a woman who had been married off to an older, powerful man who owns a large estate. She has an affair with the quiet, mysterious groundskeeper. It’s all about class, duty, and desire.

You knew the role would require several sex scenes, and quite risqué ones at that. But that didn’t bother you. You’d been nude on stage while in acting school and you took your craft seriously.

What made you nervous was that you would be doing the sex scenes with Levi Ackerman.

You’d had a crush on him since your teenage years, when you saw him in the Attack on Titan series. You, and every other girl that saw him in that show. Ten years later, he was still one of the most sought-after actors in film and television. He excelled in dramatic roles and was a skilled physical actor, even doing most of his own stunts. In interviews, he was always cool and quiet, letting the other actors take the spotlight. He also kept his private life particularly private, and this gave him an air of mystery.

You weren’t sure what to expect when you met him for the first time with the rest of the cast at the first script table reading.

“Mr. Ackerman, I’ll be playing the part of Anna. It’s an absolute honor to be working with you.”

His grey eyes give you a once over, then he shakes your hand. “Please, call me Levi. I hear this is your first leading role.”

Just shaking his hand, you’re already blushing. How will you react when you actually have to touch him romantically?

You shake those thoughts out of your mind right now. “Y-yes, it is. I’d appreciate any advice you can give me.”

“This director is pretty strict about sticking to the script. I’ve worked with him before. But with love scenes, he’s going to give us a lot of freedom to kind of just do what we want.”

Oh god. He’s already bringing up the sex scenes. And he calls them love scenes. You feel your face getting even hotter.

He notices. “I’m guessing you’ve never done a love scene before.”

“I uh..” you were going to try to think of something witty to say, but it feels difficult to talk suddenly, “I haven’t, actually.”

He smiles. “It’s normal to feel nervous. The most important thing is for you to trust me, and for us to respect each other.”

The room is filling with more cast and crew as the table reading is about to start. Levi gestures for the both of you to have a seat. “Why don’t we start by getting to know each other after the table reading? When we’re not shooting we can get together and help each other with lines and maybe eat together during breaks. That way, I won’t feel like such a stranger.”

“That would be so nice. Yes, let’s do that,” you reply, feeling better and more comfortable with him already. He just seems so…normal. Not at all the broody, rude character he’s made out to be in the tabloids.

After that, you spent most of your free time with Levi. You’d hang out with each other in your trailers, working on memorizing lines or just talking. The director insisted on shooting most of the movie on location and not in a studio, so you were all left to basically live in a small town in the countryside. Levi would invite you out with other cast and crew friends. He was friendly - much friendlier than you’d imagined him to be - but you noticed that the larger the crowd got, the quieter he became. You much more enjoyed the time when it was just the two of you.

Leading up to your sex scenes, you and Levi were required to meet with an intimacy coach. She was pleased to hear that you and Levi were already getting to know each other, since trust is key. The three of you talked over the scene and the movements required.

“There will be moments where you two will have to be naked with each other, but when you two actually recreate sexual activity, you can use intimacy barriers and skin colored thongs and underwear,” the coach suggests. “Levi, I know you’ve done sex scenes totally nude in the past.”

That’s right..the independent film he was in a few years ago. There was a lot of controversy about the very explicit sex scene in that movie. So they were completely nude during that scene? Why do you feel jealous?

“Whatever Reader is comfortable with. I’ll follow her lead,” he says, matter-of-factly.

The coach looks at you. “And you’re comfortable being nude with Levi?”

You’re trying so hard not to blush and look professional, as if this conversation isn’t giving you butterflies in your stomach. You feel Levi’s grey eyes on you. “Yes, it’s not a problem.”

Later that afternoon, your words were put to the test. You were to shoot a scene where your character catches Levi washing outside his cottage. It’s a short scene but you’re nervous. When you arrive on set, Levi is already in a robe waiting.

The scene is set, and Levi takes off his robe. His body is even better in real life. He’s toned, and he has a perfect six pack with a deep v shape on either side. A black trail of hair leads down to his..

No, you shouldn’t look, it’s unprofessional. But you want to so badly.

“Reader, go to your mark,” the Director’s Assistant says.

“Y-yes, of course.” You take your place by the wall that surrounds his character’s cottage. When the director yells action you walk along the wall until you get to the entrance, but before you enter his garden, you see him washing at a basin near the home. You’re supposed to look for just a moment, then turn back against the wall and blush at seeing him.

But when you peek around the corner, you can’t help but let your eyes linger for just longer than you’re supposed to. He’s washing himself, the water flowing over his beautifully toned body. His hair is wet and he pushes it back.

“Cut!” the director commands. “Reader, you were staring too long. Remember, she’s shocked at what she sees and quickly turns away, but she’s also titillated.”

You blush and look over to Levi, who you hope is far enough away that he can’t hear what the director is saying. “Got it. Sorry about that.” You take your mark and do it again.

The next day, you had to shoot some other scenes and didn’t see Levi all day. Although the day’s shoot went without a hitch, you couldn’t help but think about that perfect body of his and how you would soon be touching and kissing it.

You arrived at your trailer earlier than usual the next day. There were a few cast and crew members ambling about, but it was otherwise quiet. You knock on the door of Levi’s trailer.

“Come in,” he answers. When you enter, Levi is casually sitting, drinking his tea and reading through today’s scenes. “I thought we could discuss how we wanted to block today’s physical scenes. It’s no nudity, but since it’s their first time,I think there are some particular movements they want us to include.”

It’s strange, talking to Levi about, “me grabbing your breast,” or, “when I enter you for the first time,” as if these are the most normal conversations to have in the world. But even hearing him say these words in his deadpan way of speaking is making the blood rush to your cheeks. After a lengthy discussion, you scribble some notes in your script for later, then make your way to your trailer to get into costume.

The scene is set in a hunting cabin far from the main estate. As your character has just left a dinner party, you’re wearing a beautiful wine colored gown that everyone remarks on. Everyone except Levi. He sits in his chair and seems to be in some kind of ultra-focused state. You’d never noticed before, but maybe that’s how he gets into character.

Or maybe he’s nervous too.

Your heart is pounding when the director says action. “Please don’t go,” you say, as you grab Levi’s arm.

You’d blocked out the scene with Levi this morning, but you suddenly have an urge to deviate slightly from the plan, not because you want to, but because you now feel like that’s what your character would do at this moment.

You hold his hand and begin to kiss his palm and wrist, then you place it on your cheek. It’s so innocent, but full of yearning. Levi’s body goes tense, but then he unexpectedly moves his thumb to your lips and you open your mouth. You begin to suck on his thumb, then his pointer finger, looking at him seductively when he finally pulls it out. He lets out a sigh and then he’s kissing you passionately; you pull down his suspenders while he lifts up the gossamer layers of your dress. Your mouths crash together as he undoes his pants. He tastes like spearmint, and you wonder if he did that on purpose. He moves away from the kiss and pulls off your underwear, and then he’s on top of you and between your legs.

Although his bare ass is showing, the camera angle doesn’t necessitate him completely against your crotch. But he pushes slowly as if he is entering you for the first time and after a few thrusts, he starts getting faster.

Your character is going through a lot of emotions at this point: desire, guilt, pleasure. You look away and your cheeks begin to flush as Levi continues to move, a certain kind of desperation in every thrust. You both begin to breathe heavily, your hands in his hair and his head in the crook of your neck. One final thrust, and there’s only silence, until..

“Cut!” the director cries out. “Good work, you two. Now, let’s do that again, with some closeup shots.

“You okay?” Levi asks as he gets off of you and grabs a rag to wipe off his sweat.

You straighten your dress and a makeup assistant comes over to touch-up your makeup. “Yeah..I’m fine.”

“They way you approached me, with the kisses on the palm and taking my fingers - that was a nice change.” He looks at you as he returns to his mark. “You have good instincts.”

“Thanks.” You laugh to yourself, because the compliment makes you blush more than when he was rutting against you.

The cinematographer changes cameras and gets closer. “Alright, let’s do that again..”

——

The next day, you meet with the intimacy coordinator to choreograph the next sex scene scheduled for the end of the week. In the midst of taking notes and discussing with Levi the motivations for each movement, you become quiet, your thoughts drifting elsewhere. Because for the last few days, you’ve had trouble differentiating your feelings for Levi and your character’s feelings for his character. The line seems to be blurring between them, and that concerns you.

In between scenes, you truly enjoy spending time with Levi. He’s smart and funny. He nerds out about tea and kung fu movies, and you’ve spent many an evening just listening to him go into more detail about the two than you ever thought possible. He gives you ideas when you struggle with character notes, and even helps you to memorize lines. At night, in the privacy of your hotel room, you’ve fantasized about what it might feel like to be desired by him, to hear him say your name as he touches your body.

Then you hear your name being called by the coordinator and you snap out of it. “Is that ok with you? Being completely nude for the scene?” she asks.

“No..no..I’d like for both of us to be covered,” you answer. It’s better this way, you think to yourself. It keeps it professional.

Levi shrugs. “Fine by me.”

You both walk back to the hotel at the end of the day, but Levi stops you before you enter the building.

“Hey, you ok today? You seem distracted.”

“I’m fine. I guess I’m just nervous about tomorrow.”

“I get it. But we’ve put a lot of work into this. And I’d like to think we trust each other at this point.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

Just like that, you feel more at ease. He just has such a way with you. “You’re right, we’ve done well so far. And I do trust you, Levi.”

——

When you arrive at your trailer the next morning, there’s a to-go cup on your table.

To calm your body and mind. —Levi

Your makeup artist smiles as you read the note. “Levi just brought that by. You sure have a great leading man.”

You smile. “Yeah, I sure do.”

The scene takes place in the forest in the afternoon. Your character has snuck away from her home to meet him, far away from spying eyes. The Director has decided to film the scene in sections instead of one long scene, at least for now.

The marker board is clicked and you and Levi walk hand-in-hand among the trees. He pulls you into a small clearing, then grabs the back of your neck as he starts kissing you fully. You pull away and look him in the eyes.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Your character is a lady of high society; it’s scandalous for someone of her stature to say such a thing, but here she is, with this man that is ‘below’ her, and she wants nothing else than for him to ravage her.

You can totally relate to your character, in that regard.

He moves closer to you and begins to fondle your breasts, then he grabs the front of your white cotton blouse and tears it off of you, revealing your bare chest.

He lays his chore jacket on the ground. “Undo my trousers,” he commands, and you do so. You then lie down on the jacket beneath you while he pulls down his trousers and takes off his henley shirt. When he takes off his trousers, you look away.

“No - don’t look away. Look at me,” he says with authority. He crouches over you and easily pulls off your skirt.

“Cut! Let’s get them ready for closeup shots.” The Director and his team set up for the next shots as you and Levi sit awkwardly on the ground. You can’t move too much because you don't want to spoil the continuity of the scene, so you freeze as your hair and makeup team tousle your hair and touch up your makeup.

Both of you have your groins covered but other than that, you are completely naked, except you’re still wearing your stockings and boots. The Director tells Levi to get on top of you and he does so.

“Ready to do this?” He whispers.

“Yes, I’m ready,” you answer.

“Scene 24, Take 1..”

*Clap*

Levi is immediately kissing your lips, then moving down to your neck and collarbone. He looks back up at you and begins to thrust, each one hard and deliberate. You begin to move your hips to meet his thrusts and he breathes heavily into the skin of your neck. Even without actually having sex, the friction enough is turning you on; that, and Levi’s kisses on your body.

Then you feel it. A hardening bulge rubbing up against your clit. You look into his eyes and see a brief flash of recognition, but neither of you break character.

He pulls you up and your legs are wrapped around him. He continues to thrust into you but it’s slower now, your bodies working together as you grind. His hard cock is rubbing your clit just right, and you feel like you could come from just this feeling alone. You’ve forgotten about the hoards of people watching both of you right now and you’re completely in the moment, letting him pull you even closer to him.

“Levi..” you whisper in his ear. It slips from your mouth before you know it; there aren’t any lines scripted for this scene, and you’re hoping it wasn’t loud enough for the boom mic to pick up. It earns a look from Levi and then he smirks - you’re not sure if that was in character either.

Your hands grasp at his hair and he starts slowing down. You look up at the sky thinking about the pleasure you - and your character - just felt. Then your lips graze against each other as your breathing becomes more calm.

“And cut! Great work you two I loved how that flowed. Let’s take a 15 minute break. I’ll look through the footage and decide if we need to re-shoot anything.”

Just like that, the moment is gone. The Director and others begin to move equipment and Levi’s assistant brings him a robe. He has it on and around him before you can barely get off of him.

“Good work,” he says curtly as he walks off. Your assistant takes a little longer to get to you, so you’re sitting there, naked, trying to figure out just exactly what happened between the two of you.

Levi keeps his distance during the break and as he listens to the director’s notes. You have to re-shoot a few closeup shots, and although the energy is still there, something is different. You can feel it.

——

Levi doesn’t come out with you and the crew for dinner that night, and he doesn’t reply to your text messages. You’re worried - did you do something to offend him? Was it because you moaned his name during the scene?

That has to be it. It probably made him feel awkward. Maybe he thinks you’re unprofessional. It makes your palms cold and clammy just thinking about disappointing him, you can’t bear it.

But you can’t deny that he was turned on during the scene. You felt him against you. You couldn’t have imagined that.

You walk back to your hotel room lethargically. You think about texting him again, this time apologizing for your behavior, but before you can, there’s a knock on your door.

“Levi?”

“Hey.” He shifts one leg to the other, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” you open the door wider for him to enter, “come in.”

He enters, his body language clearly restless and troubled. “What’s up?” you question.

“About today’s shoot….I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’m always professional. I respect you as an actress.”

He paces the room and has a difficult time looking at you. You assume he’s going to reprimand you for your behavior today, so you prepare yourself. “I know you do, Levi. And I respect you.”

He finally stops in front of you. “But me getting turned on today…I don’t want you to think less of me. It’s just that you’re-“ he runs his hand through his dark hair.

Butterflies begin to form in your stomach. You’ve never seen Levi this flummoxed before. He takes a deep breath and it seems to give him focus as he moves closer to you.

“You’ve done something to me. When I had you in my arms today, I couldn’t help myself. Then when you said my name like that…”

He looks into your eyes. “I’ve kissed you countless times during this filming. But right now, I want to kiss you as myself.”

Your heart does backflips and your throat is suddenly dry. “So kiss me,” you invite, moving even closer to him.

It takes him a moment, almost as if he is checking if it’s truly ok. Then with a deep breath, he grabs the back of your neck and crashes his lips into yours. Even though you’ve kissed him many times, this time it’s different. There’s an electricity to it, an honesty, as if he’s laying bare his entire self to you.

His hand moves from your hip bone to under your shirt, his soft touch sending shivers down your spine. It doesn’t take long for his other hand to make it under your shirt as well, and soon he’s pulling it over your head and off of you.

You also start letting your hands roam, first down his back and then under his t-shirt. You grab the hem and pull it off of him, but before you can do more he’s working on unclasping your bra.

“I want you so badly.” His voice is low and raspy as he lays you on the bed.

You’ve started peeling off your leggings but he takes them and pulls them off roughly, desperately. “There are condoms in the drawer of the bedside table.” He gives you a look. “You know..just in case.” He smiles, then reaches over to the drawer. As he does so, you pull off your underwear and start touching yourself. You rub your clit in circles, watching him as he stands over you.

There’s a giant bulge in his grey sweatpants and you can see the lust in his eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.” He throws the condom packet down and dives in between your legs, kissing the inside of your thighs.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to have you like this? To take this beautiful pussy as mine?” He starts licking at your folds and you swear you’ve entered heaven. He starts flicking his tongue over your clit, alternating between fast and slow. Your back arches and your hands reach down to grip his hair.

“Yes, yes, right there….fuck…” You can’t believe this is happening. Levi is here, he wants you, and he’s eating your pussy in a way that no man ever has.

Just when you feel you could climax, he stops. He reaches down next to the bed and picks up the condom package, sticking it in his mouth as he takes off his sweatpants and underwear.

You’d seen him naked on set, but his cock had been flaccid at the time; now that he’s hard, it’s even more impressive. As he puts on the condom, you lick your lips, preparing yourself to truly - finally - have him inside you.

He can see the desire in your eyes. “Look at you - so eager for my cock are you?”

“Yes, Levi, I want it so badly. I’ve always wanted you.” You open your legs a little wider, inviting him to go between them.

He moves in and looks down on you as he touches his cock. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. I don’t know how I’ve kept myself in check for this long.”

You smile. “So you’ve been thinking about me?”

“Of course I have. How could I not?” He positions himself above you and rubs his cock on your entrance, covering it with your juices. “When I’m not on set with you, you’re all I think about.”

Before this night, Levi had always had a quiet, awkward confidence to him, as if there were a multitude of thoughts happening just below the surface; but now, he was assertive and cocky, telling you his thoughts and desires without any restraint. You loved seeing this new side of him.

He enters you slowly and you both take a deep breath, then he begins to move faster as he sees a smile form across your face.

“You feel so good…fuck…”

Your words encourage him to pick up the pace, the sounds of his hips slamming into you reverberate throughout the room. “Shit, you’re so wet, I can’t get enough of you.” He moves down to kiss you passionately, then he starts to kiss and suck on your neck.

“Be careful..I have to shoot a scene tomorrow,” you warn, halfheartedly.

“Makeup can cover it up,” he growls in your ear and then continues.

He feels so good, you can’t resist anything this man does to you, so you give into him completely as his cock rams into you and his mouth claims you.

The evening is a flurry of moans and grunts, him having his way with you on the bed, against the wall, in the shower - it was as if you were both discovering pleasure for the first time. Real pleasure - not performative.

As the sun begins to rise, you both lay exhausted and satisfied in the bed, the sheets in a tangled mess around you.

“This won’t change how we work together, will it?” you ask with a worried look on your face.

“Why would it? If anything, it’ll make our chemistry on screen more believable.” He kisses the top of your head. “And this will make the preparation for the other sex scenes much more interesting,” he says with a boyish grin.

You can’t argue with that. “I suppose life sometimes does imitate art.”

Join my taglist!

I'm tagging those who seemed interested when I wrote the drabble, but let me know if you wanna be untagged.

@thevelria @lunaeheroine18 @meltingforthatackerman @adanfore @blondebebop @levisfavoriteacup @dont-f-with-moogles @itty-bitty-baby-face @ricecrispiebirb @whorenamedbee @rec-a-fic @leviismybby @littlerequiem @satorizz @lost-in-the-daylight @nube55 @kingkonoha @mrsackxrman @youre-ackermine @luvjiro @wanderlustqueen-writes @mrsackermannx (happy late birthday present, bby, this one-shot is for you <;3)

#levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x fem!reader #levi x fem!reader #actor!levi #aot actor au #actor au!levi #aot actor au fan fiction #aot fanfiction #n.sfw #levi x you #sixpennydame one shots #sixpennydame make.believe.

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janethepegasus · 3 months

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One Random Headcanon for each OM Character

Lucifer has a small collection of non-cursed records stashed away in his room, which he sometimes listens to them when he feels like it. He used to get one record as a souvenir every time he goes to the human world, but he stopped doing that once they stopped selling records. Though he was happy that records were back in the market again, he was surprised that they’re now treated as luxury items for super fans of various artists.

Mammon isn’t the kind of guy that’s knowledgeable on animals, but he’s an expert on crows and ravens. He can tell which is which and knows a lot of fun facts about them. You could say they’re his favorite animals.

Leviathan, whenever he needs some time to himself, he dives into the aquarium in his room (in his demon form of course) and just relaxes in there. He finds the underwater sounds very calming.

Satan could’ve been a huge Warrior Cats fan if he was introduced to the series.

Asmodeus can actually glow under UV light. More specifically his eyes, horns, and wings. His horns and wings glow cyan while his eyes glow a striking magenta, almost making his eyes the center of attention while dancing under the UV lights.

Beelzebub can accurately guess someone or something’s weight just by holding them. It’s a skill he learned and mastered throughout the years, in fact he thinks his skill is more accurate than a scale. He can also tell if someone lost or gained weight.

Belphegor does NOT do well with coffee. Sure he can get energized after he drinks it, but the second the effects wear off, he falls straight to the floor and goes to sleep.

Diavolo gained his habit of sneaking out the castle due to his desire to enjoy the things he and his father has given to his subjects, he wants to experience the wonders of everyday life. He wants to enjoy as much of it as possible before he's crowned king, as he knows that opportunity would be striped away as soon as he's king.

Barbatos once teased MC by saying exactly what they were gonna say before they could even finish a sentence. The classic “stop copying me!”

Simeon has tried his hand in writing fanfiction before, but just like his writing, he accidentally predicts future events that will happen in whatever series he’s writing for.

Luke tried to prove that he’s not just a kid by renting and watching a horror movie. He couldn’t get past the first scary scene without covering his eyes and whimpering in fear.

Solomon’s very first dish he ever made was an odd combination of mash potatoes and milk, as a weird way to recreate soup. He recalls enjoying it when he made it for the first time.

Raphael’s flavor palate is completely messed up, he can hardly taste any flavor of anything he eats, even things that would usually make a person sick. But he didn’t get this from birth, he got it after a poorly executed prank. He ate a cupcake covered in magma salt and it literally burnt his tongue. But he sort of sees his lack of taste as a blessing, now he can enjoy any kind of food without any judgement on how good it is. …Though this made him a really bad cook.

Thirteen, in all her years of reaping souls, has come to hate people who risk their lives because they think whatever they were doing is cool. Why risk their lives just to do that dangerous stunt? Or do some silly challenge that’s clearly too dangerous for them to handle? She just doesn’t get it. She becomes a lecturing mother towards any stupid human that managed to live after their dangerous stunt, as a way to teach them to NOT risk their lives again.

Mephistopheles may love taking care of horses, but show him any of those horse girl shows or movies? He’ll just roll his eyes and scoff at it. Taking care of these majestic creatures is not some quirky girly hobby in his eyes, and the fact there’s a whole genre of this brings him great shame.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me raphael #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles

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thewalkingwillowtree · 1 month

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Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love.

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 25.

Xilä is my own creation.

WAIT! Please note this part contains time skips.

Part 21 - Epilogue

‘Xilä’s in labor.’

‘My wife is about to have my kid.’

‘Holy shit, my kid. Mine…’

‘I’m going to be a father.’

‘Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.’

To say Neteyam was freaking out was putting it mildly and- Oh fuck. His damn father-in-law was walking towards him. The last thing he wanted was for the man to see him like this.

The first time Neteyam had a full conversation with Jxo, he was ten years old.

To him, Jxo had always been a man of very few words. He never smiled, hated small talk and was extremely intimidating. But he was also incredibly respected throughout the entire clan, and well, Salveen liked him a lot, and so did bossy D’avi, so those were good enough reasons for the ten year old to think him alright.

Being the chief’s son brought its fair share of challenges. There was a time when a group of boys tried to bully him over his “golden boy” status. Neteyam had fought back- and lost.

He was ten, and a mess after. And instead of returning home, he ran to Sal’s but she’d already gone to the kitchens that evening.

Jxo, seeing his cuts and bruises beckoned him in and silently cleaned his injuries- a split lip, swollen cheek, scraped knees and bloody knuckles.

And when the man finally asked, “What happened?”

Neteyam broke down and sobbed. He was hysterical and mad at himself for not being strong, mad that he was even crying. He was a man for Eywa sake! A soldier! A warrior! Just like his dad.

But that day he was grateful that Jxo didn’t treat him like a silly kid- like everyone else did. Jxo calmed him. He was his usual gruff self and spoke to him straight. Treated him like an equal and imparted words of advice Neteyam needed to hear.

Flash forward to fifteen years later, on the night that he would become a father for the first time, Neteyam was hysterical just like that very day.

Xilä’s water had only broken half an hour ago and Neteyam was spiralling- or freaking out as his visiting brother had been teasing. Irritated and short tempered, he snapped at anyone who got too close to his mate who had been slowly pacing up and down the interior of the Tsahìk’s tent while her birthing room was being prepared.

And just like he did fifteen years ago, Jxo and his no nonsense- never one to beat around the bush, pulled him outside and called him an idiot- a skxawng, telling him he needed to to get his shit together and stop snarling and hissing at everyone like a “fucking palulukan”.

When he’d finished telling him off, he blew out a breath then continued- far gentler or as gentle the man could be, parting fatherly words of wisdom and advice with a comforting hand clasped on his shoulder.

Neteyam humbled himself and took it all in, and by the end he felt lighter, calmer and far more level headed.

With a final, “Don’t fuck it up. She needs you. So get in there, skxawng,” the soon to be father chuckled with a brisk nod, thanked the elder and headed towards his wife.

“Swear I’ve gone back twenty-five years,” Jake murmured in disbelief at his grandson in his arms. “He looks just like you did, son.”

Neytiri hastily wiped a tear that escaped her as she too stared transfixed.

“He’s got Xi’s eyes,” Neteyam announced proudly as he lingered closely.

“And her ears,” his mother noted with another sniffle. “He’s beautiful.” Neytiri gently stroked Sprout’s little fist. “Jake, you've had him long enough. It is my turn again,” she bossed her husband.

Passed over to his grandmother, their baby made a soft sound. He whined and twisted slightly before settling back into sleep.

Jxo pressed another kiss to the top of his daughter’s head as she rested against his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, darling,” her father told her for the third time since their parents were let in. “You did good.”

Sal nodded in agreement, her own eyes swimming in happy tears as she tucked a few of Xi’s braids behind her ear and continued to fuss over her- pouring her another cup of tea to help with the pain.

Xilä was exhausted but yet a soft smile still graced her face as she watched their parents meet their son for the first time. Jxo was the first to hold him after he’d greeted her with quiet words of praise. And just like Mo’at did, when she eased her son into her father’s arms, she didn’t miss the way his eyes glistened.

The entire moment was heartwarming, yet slightly comical to a degree. She grinned as she watched her husband hover protectively, scrutinizing every move any of them made as they held their child.

Even when Jake huffed amused, stating, “You know I had four of you right? I think I know how to hold a baby,” even then Neteyam didn’t care, he still fretted and lectured and adjusted their holds.

“Oh Eywa, you’re going to be a father just like my Jxo, aren’t you?” Sal chuckled and gently adjusted her grandson with the unnecessary aid of her son-in-law who had told her for the third time to, “Watch his head.”

“Huh?” Neteyam asked, baffled, the same time Jxo released a noise of offence.

“Yes, yes. He never liked anyone holding our D’avi. So protective he was.” She hummed wistfully at the memory, eyes never leaving the little one who had taken hold of her finger. “You are so sweet, yes you are. Hi. Hi,” she whispered softly as he blinked up at her, waking from his doze.

“This does not surprise me,” Neytiri chimed in. “Neteyam was never very good at sharing the things he loves. Xilä, and now our grandson will be included as well I’m afra- Oh Sal, look at his eyes.”

“Mom!”

But she ignored him since her and Sal’s attention laid solely on baby Sprout who was yawning, tiny body stretching in Sal’s hold.

“We’d be lucky if we ever get to see the kid,” Jake said, joining in on the teasing. “Knowing our son, he’d keep them locked away.”

Neytiri frowned at this. “My sweet Xi, you won’t let him hide the two of you away all the time, yes? I would like to see my grandson whenever I so pl-”

“Mom. Of course you’d get to see him.” Then after a long pause Neteyam continued with, “But there will be boundaries, and Xilä and I would expect that you all would… respect them.”

Jake covered his grin of amusement behind his fist and Jxo hid his in Xi’s hair- both men’s eyes automatically cutting to their wives who both had identical looks of indignation. In their heads Neteyam might as well just said they weren’t allowed to see their grandson… ever.

The women looked about ready to protest, but in the end they gave their agreement without so much as a peep. Neytiri however did reach out and pull her son- who was twice her size- into a hug with a, “Eywa, my baby is all grown up now.”

“Can I have him, mother?” Xi was itching to have her son back in her arms. It hadn’t been long but she missed him already.

Neteyam was the one to pass him over. His palm found Xi’s nape, thumb stroking her cheek as he stole a kiss from her, uncaring of their audience.

Sprout stretched with another yawn, fingers opening then curling back up before he nosed at her chest instinctively, cooing a tiny fuss as his legs kicked out.

Xi tossed a thin cloth over shoulder, covering herself and the babe. She bared one breast and guided him to her nipple. Her baby latched eagerly, little mouth suckling with gusto.

She knew it was probably a bit silly to want privacy since it was a natural thing to nurse one’s baby in the open. But she wasn’t there quite yet.

Eyes closed, she listened to the quiet conversation around her and leaned heavily on her husband who curled around her.

“What have you decided to name him?” Jxo asked his son-in-law. “Have you chosen yet?

Xilä felt smiling lips against her forehead.

“Zyden. Our son’s name is Zyden.”

Neteyam made his way towards the lively activity at the southern border of the clan- eyes roaming quickly to take in every inch of the scene.

The mission fleet that had just returned were being aided- travel packs and goods were unloaded while ikran wranglers steadied the restless mountain beasts.

After being months apart, riders were greeted with open arms by their waiting families and judging by the ease of their smiling faces, Neteyam breathed a small sigh of relief that there seemed to be no pressing worries.

Tasam who’d led said mission was already talking to the chief. Jake nodded at whatever it was he’d said then clapped him on the shoulder before making his way towards another warrior.

Neteyam had missed Tasam, he realized. Seeing him after so long filled him with nostalgia, and the memory of them meeting for the first time on their very first day of Iknimaya training played in his mind.

“‘Teyam! You look good, brother,” Tasam called out. He met him halfway, crooked smile wide at the sight of his comrade and friend. “Fatherhood suits you.”

Neteyam couldn’t hide his pride as they clasped arms in greeting. “Tasam, welcome home. My son… Zyden,” he introduced, titling so that Tasam had a better view of the three month old strapped to his chest.

A soft swear word escaped Tasam when he saw the baby. He reached out and ran a knuckle along the back of Sprout’s hand in amazement. “He favors your looks.”

Zyden’s wide silver eyes tracked Tasam’s hand. He cooed loudly then promptly shoved his little fist against his mouth, making sucking sounds as he drooled all over his knuckles.

“I can’t believe I missed so much. How’s Xi? The birth went well?”

“It did, thank Eywa and she’s great. Tired but great.”

Tasam grinned at his friend’s expression. Neteyam was a hardass and as serious as they came. He always seemed to wear a mask of impassiveness that was near impossible to discern most days. Today however, the mask was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s good to see you this happy.”

“Eywa has bountifully blessed me, how could I not be?” He jerked his head, gesturing for them to walk onwards, a large protective palm resting beneath Zyden. “Tell me, how was the trip? I’m sorry we missed you before you left. I didn’t know you’d be gone so long.”

“I share the same sentiments. As for the trip, it was… interesting. The Sarentu clan… they’re in a bad way. The couple months we stayed we managed to make some good changes, but they still need all the help they can get. I’m hoping another fleet can ride out before the end of the week.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Their clan is but a fraction of ours and they’re unable to help themselves properly. They have maybe five- six, capable hunters?” he said exasperated. “The clan is exposed. Not enough warriors to provide protection. Not enough hunters to provide food. It is a wonder they have survived this long.”

Neteyam considered his words. “It is things like this that make me glad my father reached out and started this entire initiative. Their chief said as much back at Awa’atlu. He came mainly in the hope that would help.”

With the nearest cluster of communities in sight, Tasam slowed his stroll causing Neteyam to do the same.

During their walk the father had kept periodically checking in on his son who seemed settled and content against him. Looking down, he saw that Zyden’s eyelids were slowly drooping, little mouth quivering in his sleep as though he were feeding.

“Do you think Kiri would like bellsprigs? As a gift I mean… It's kind of rare here but bountiful near this clearing I found back at Sarentu.”

The sudden topic change had Neteyam blinking in confusion.

“Um, sure? I think she’d like them. Wait, aren't those extremely dangerous to harvest?”

“They are- were,” Tasan held up his palm showing off a deep gash that was still healing, “but it’s Kiri. I’d do anything for her.”

“Huh… You really like her, don’t you?” He got no response and halted, noting his friend was no longer walking beside him. “What is it?”

“I-” Tasam looked uncomfortable now and was no longer meeting his gaze. “I-” He hesitated again and rubbed at his brow, frowning deeply, almost as if he’d forgotten what he was supposed to say.

“Tas-”

“I wish for your permission to court Kiri,” he rushed out.

A long uncomfortable silence proceeded before Neteyam found his voice again. “You- uh, well why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you be asking my parents?”

“I’m planning on it. I asked the chief if I could meet with him and your mother after I give my full report tomorrow,” he scratched his neck, “I suppose he knows what I’m going to ask. Your father gave me this weird, blank look then sort of reluctantly agreed… But I- you see…”

It was jarring and almost amusing to Neteyam to see his friend so scatterbrained and fidgety. Was he… nervous? Shit, he was.

“What I’m trying and evidently failing to say here, is- I care for your sister. She has my whole heart and… and although you are my commanding officer and my future chief and I have the highest of respect for you… You’re also my closest friend, and as Kiri’s brother, I’d very much like to have your permission in addition to your parents’.”

Eywa. Neteyam really wished his mate was here. He was not good with these kinds of situations. Not when it came to his sisters. No wonder Jxo always looked like he was about ready to punch his face most times.

Kiri and Tasam…? His sister and his- well who was Neteyam kidding, Tasam was as good as his best friend. Why did this all seem like a surprise to him though? He somehow knew it would be coming… didn’t he?

He thought back to every interaction between the two. The man was smitten with Kiri, and Kiri… well, Kiri was near unrecognizable around Tasam.

He made her happy.

That was all that mattered, no?

“You have my permission.”

Tasam’s jaw fell a little, then he straightened up when Neteyam’s face turned mildly murderous.

“But you should know, my sister is precious. I don’t care if you hurt her unintentionally or not… you know what I’m capable of.”

It should’ve been difficult to take the mighty Neteyam’s threats to heart when he had an adorable infant strapped to his chest. But Tasam still felt the sting of his words.

“Are you nervous to ask my parents?” Neteyam asked when they’d made it to the heart of Home Camp.

“Am I nervous to ask the clan’s Olo'eyktan and Olo'eykte if I could court their eldest daughter? That’s a joke right?” Tasam huffed. “Course I’m nervous. But I’ve been wanting this for Kiri and I for so long now. That and I already told Kiri I was going to ask her when you all got back.”

Neteyam laughed, accidentally waking his son who woke with a startled cry. He was quick to comfort the baby with soothing strokes and pats on the back. He also gave him his index finger to hold which of course Zyden instantly put in his mouth.

“You told Kiri you were going to ask her before you asked for my parents permission?”

Tasam back slapped his arm, careful not to jostle the baby. “If I remember correctly, you did about the same thing with your Xilä.”

“Shit, that’s right.”

“And worse… It was all the clan could talk about for months, some still to this very day. No meeting of the parents, no announcements, no ceremonies, no-”

“Alright alright, you made your poi-”

“You’re back!” a distant voice called excitedly.

Kiri’s smile was almost giddy as she made her way closer and from the look of Tasam’s he was probably- nope, definitely worse.

Ugh. Neteyam was suddenly nauseous. While the duo reunited- lovestruck gazes locked on each other, he focused on his son who was still biting away on his finger, drool leaking down his chin and along Neteyam’s palm.

“Your aunty Kiri and her new boyfriend are going to make your poor daddy sick, aren't they,” he whisper-sang to his son. “Yes they are.”

Zyden smiled up at this father as if he understood, gurgling while flashing his gums.

“Oh here, let me help you with that.” Tasam swooped in with ease and hefted the heavy basket Kiri had been straining with.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks were flushed and she bit her lip to tame her smile while she and the warrior continued to fail at being non obvious lovesick fools.

Zyden’s coo broke their spell.

“‘Teyam!” Kiri exclaimed as if shocked to see him standing there.

“Kiri.”

“And Zyden!” His sister snagged the baby right out of his carrier and held him close, squishing his cheek against hers as she rocked him.

Zyden looked slightly alarmed, eyes wide at the sudden movement but he did not cry.

Neteyam simply sighed at the pair all the while and of course, the mighty Tasam was just about melting at the sight.

“What are you up to, my love?”

The baby turned and gave his mother a cheeky grin that showed off all four of his baby teeth and it just about melted her heart.

But Xi wasn’t fooled by his cuteness, she saw the glint of mischief shining through his expression.

The determined thing waited until she was busy folding another large sheet before he went off again, crawling towards his most recent fasciation.

“Zyden.” Xilä’s tone was soft but firm. “Uh-uh. No playing over there.”

Zyden released an unhappy whine at the reprimand. And despite his mother’s warning, he still reached and held onto the bottom of the wooden shelf to pull himself up on wobbly legs.

Even though the shelf that housed her husband’s weapons was sturdy and Xi knew the baby couldn’t reach anything, she still corrected her son- letting him know it was dangerous.

His little leg tried to lift, dangling with nowhere to perch. Not getting anywhere, he stomped his foot in frustration, though it didn’t stop him from trying again.

“Zyden Sully!” Xi clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Uh-uh, mama said no. Come down from there.”

At that, his tiny face scrunched up in anger, bottom lip pouting as tears rapidly pooled along his lash line. He pointed at the shelf and babbled his displeasure.

“I know. I know. But you’re too young for those. When you’re older I’m sure daddy will love teaching you to use them.”

Zyden drew a long, silent breath then promptly wailed louder with his head thrown back. One would swear she’d just ruined his entire life.

“Aw, come here, my love.”

She could sense a full blown tantrum brewing and since Sal had told her earlier Zyden missed his afternoon nap, Xi expected her son would turn tired and cranky right around this time.

Laundry forgotten and scattered around her, she gave him her full attention, beckoning him over.

“Zyden, my heart, come here.”

Listening, he carefully fell to his butt and crawled towards her. “Mma-ma,” he cried, tiny tail flicking back and forth as he moved.

How was he so perfect?

Xi gathered him into her arms the second he was within reach and smothered him with kisses- forehead, cheeks, nose, angry twitching ears.

“See? This is why we shouldn’t miss nap time, my love. So cranky,” she cooed in a singsong tone.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned tiredly- proving her point, then impatiently pawed at the cloth that covered her chest.

“Hang on, hang on.”

Settling him against her breast, he nursed more for comfort than hunger and while he fed, Xi stared down at him in adoration. She hummed a song and wiped away his lingering tears, thumb sliding across baby soft skin.

She marvelled over his wild curls while brushing them off his forehead and laughed quietly when he offered her his little foot for her to kiss, tiny toes wiggling cutely.

Nipple still in mouth, he smiled and reached up to pat her cheek, fingers gentle and stroking much like she’d done to him.

The action caused a tiny pang of sadness to hit her. He was growing up so fast- too fast.

Every one of his milestones filled her with pride- his first smile, first laugh, first word. She may have shed a tear or two over his first tooth… and maybe over the second, third and fourth ones too. And although she was eager for all the other firsts- especially his first steps, each new milestone always reminded her that he wouldn’t remain a baby forever, so she made sure to relish every moment.

The clanking sounds of their tent’s chimes alerted her that someone was here, and then the beaming face of her husband entering their home came into view.

“I’m home!”

Meal forgotten, Zyden grappled and used her top to help pull himself seated, legs and arms kicking and flailing excitedly at the sight of his daddy, gums and four little teeth proudly on display.

“Look who’s here, Sprout. Who’s that?”

He glanced back at her and pointed at Neteyam who was hurriedly putting away his things.

Zyden prattled a garble of baby talk, tail slashing so fast, Xi thought it’d flick right off.

Unable to contain himself any longer and with a loud gleeful shriek, their son crawled right out of her lap and charged full speed across the tapestry-covered ground, towards his father- all traces of his mini tantrum gone.

Neteyam laughed while scooping him up and tossed him in the air before settling him high on his chest. “Why are you naked, huh little man?” He smacked noisy kisses to Zyden’s chubby cheeks making the baby squeal happily.

“Your son figured out how to remove his tewng this evening.” Xi adjusted her top and picked up a towel to resume her folding. “Every time I put it back on, he took it off and the game seemed never ending, so I let him win for today.”

“Oh yeah?” Neteyam grinned proudly, as if she’d told him his son had accomplished some massive achievement. “You’re so clever, Zyden. Daddy’s so proud of you.”

Xilä paused and simply stared at her two favourite people in the universe. Eywa, did she love them with her entire being.

“Mmba-Da-da.” Zyden babbled, tiny palms smacking Neteyam’s cheek and nose and mouth until he spotted and made a grab for the lone string of beads in his daddy’s hair.

“That’s right, Sprout, that’s me! I’m daddy.”

Only recently and after a lot of coaxing, Zyden had started saying dada. Xilä didn’t think she’d ever seen her husband cry that much when he’d said it, but then again she herself was a sobbing sap when his first word was mama.

Neteyam made his way over and crouched down to greet his wife. She kissed him back and they both broke out into laughter when Sprout leaned over to do the same- drooly lips open against her cheek in his version of a kiss.

As soon as he was set down, Zyden crawled off towards a forgotten toy. He tossed it away then charged after it, finding fun in doing it over and again.

“I spoke to Lo’ak and Tsireya this morning,” Neteyam said conversationally as he started helping her fold the laundry.

“‘Teyam,” she interrupted, using her “mom voice” as her husband so liked to call it. Xi had gotten distracted by the article he’d chosen to fold.

“What?” he asked in faux innocence. Neteyam snatched up another one after folding it to his best and shot her a naughty wink.

Her mate always went for her undercloths first, forever eager to handle the intimate, flimsy things. She shook her head and snickered while he continued on, telling her about Awa’atlu updates.

The pair chatted about their day- him informing of the new shipment of goods they were preparing to send to the Sarentu and Ta'unui clans, and her prattling on about her early morning lesson with Mo’at and then filling him in on their son’s fascination with his shelf of weapons.

At some point Zyden had grown bored of his toy and fussily demanded his daddy’s attention. Neteyam dramatically tossed him amidst a pile of clean furs, keeping him entertained as they fought playfully.

Later on, it was a battle to get Zyden to put his tewng back on, much less keep it on, but soon after, the little family of three made their way to the communal dinner, with their baby babbling the entire way there.

As if he belonged to her, Neytiri plucked their son out of his father’s arms the second they entered the clearing. Zyden was passed around from grandparent to grandparent before he finally settled contentedly next to his aunty Tuk who fussed over him as if she were a grown up.

It was honestly quite cute seeing her break off tiny pieces of soft root vegetables and feed them to him. She offered him sips of her water which just splashed right down his chest and scolded him lightly when he ate too fast.

Neytiri, who was nearer, kept careful watch and intercepted fast grabby hands whenever Zyden went after something he wasn’t supposed to. Neteyam chuckled from his spot when his son made a dive for poor Tasam’s teylu.

The baby was most unhappy when his grandmother lifted him away with a chiding. He even gave Tuk what looked like a glare of betrayal after she giggled saying, “Zyyyyden. You don’t even have enough teeth to eat that, silly.”

Midway through their meal, D’av and her family showed up. L’eya- toddler on a mission, plopped herself into Xi’s lap to excitedly show her a bug she’d found on the way. “It- it prewdy huh, aunty Xi? An it-it glows and eberyting too. See?”

Xi oohed and awed over the bug in her niece’s palm and Neteyam did the same- pausing his conversation with Jake when she crawled into his lap as well, before eventually running off to do the same with her grandparents.

“You’re late. You hate being late,” Xi teased her sister who settled beside her. She frowned when she really looked at her sister. “Are you unwell? You’re pale. Here let me see your-”

D’avi brushed her fussing off. “Stop that. If mother catches you she’s going to come over here and I don’t need that right now. You’re forgetting Yalnïk and I have two toddlers to wrangle, can you blame me for being la- why are you looking at me like that?”

The older woman dropped all pretense when she saw her sister’s shocked expression turn into a knowing grin.

Sighing in defeat, D’avi glanced around their family huddle to make sure they weren’t being overheard by their parents.

Their mother and father thankfully, both had their hands full. Jxo was eating while balancing Zyden on his knee- the baby focused as he chewed away on a massive piece of fruit and Sal had both L’eo and L’eya who she was fawning over and feeding out of her own meal.

“You can’t tell our parents yet,” D’avi barely whispered.

“D’av.” Xi’s tail couldn’t keep its cool, it sprung high in excitement. “So you’re actually-”

“Yep… pregnant. I’m pretty sure it happened the night when Bwiin went and snitched on us.” She scoffed. “Our party was not that loud.”

Xilä remembered that night. She breastfed so she didn’t indulge in the sweetened wines that were being passed around… D’avi however had just stopped with her little ones, so she went all out, and was pretty much the life of the party. They’d gotten so rowdy, Bwiin, their mother’s nosy and grouchy friend had gone and reported them for disturbing the peace.

Xi bit her lip. “The night you got drunk at Leati’s bacholet party? And Yalnïk had to come get you?” She butchered that word for sure- every time too.

It was a surprise that Leati even wanted to take part in the odd human custom, but Xilä realized that Ze’lu brought out a side to the woman that outshined her cold and somewhat mean disposition.

“Yeah. I jumped my mate the moment he tossed my ass in bed... Ugh, and I’ve been so, so cautious, Xi and the one time, the one time I forget to have the damn tea. Bam. Pregnant.” She sighed. “Oh Eywa, truly I pray it’s not twins again.”

“Are you happy about this though? I can’t tell.”

D’avi’s eyes turned watery. “Of course I’m happy. To be honest I don’t think it’s completely registered yet, but yes. I’m so happy, Xi. And Yalnïk, ugh. The man is so damn excited. He’s already hovering and-”

“D’av! Do you want ovumshrooms?”

“Yes, please,” she answered her mate who was currently putting out their food. “He’s the best isn’t he? I mean look at his face, and his body. I’m the luckiest woman in this entire clan, aren’t I?”

Xi smiled, she felt the exact same way about her own husband.

She turned towards her son when she heard his cry of frustration. Tuk had just taken something out of his hand when he tried shoving it in his mouth. Zyden seemed to be telling her off in his baby speech, and kept reaching for it, whines turning fussier despite Tuk calmly telling him it wasn’t food.

“Zyden,” Neteyam called from beside her.

Their baby pointed at Tuk, as if begging his daddy to make her give it back to him.

Xilä knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He was tired and cranky and fighting sleep ever since he missed his afternoon nap. She watched him struggle to decide whether to cry or not. Luckily, Zyden was distracted by L’eo’s giggle, so he crawled off towards cousins.

L’eya was all smiles for the baby. She poked his nose in greeting, mouth full as she chewed her food. L’eo offered him some of the buoyfish he’d been feasting on but Sal was quick to give her youngest grandchild a piece of a mashed bean pod instead.

D’avi’s low groan pulled Xi’s attention away from their children. Her nose was wrinkled at the meat in her husband’s leaf plate.

“Sorry, sorry.” Yalnik moved his plate around so it wasn’t too close to her and struck up a conversation with Tasam and Kiri who were on his other side.

“How are you feeling this time around?” Xi asked. She handed her sister a piece of cider root to chew on.

“My morning sickness feels more like all day sickness and I’ve got this lingering headache that refuses to go away. I’ve drank every tea possible to help ebb my symptoms and they all refuse to work. Can I come by the healer tents tomorrow? So you can check me over, make sure everything’s okay? I’ve been putting off doing that.”

“Of course, D’av.”

“Eywa. Mother will be mighty pleased. Just look at her now.”

Sal was in her element. The grandmother had all three little ones surrounding her. It was impossible to miss the happiness radiating off of her.

At home, Zyden was usually clingy with Xilä and she relished in the feeling of him being attached to her, whether it was to be carried or simply wanting her attention at all times. But she wouldn’t be lying when she said she also loved seeing Sprout socialize and bond with their family- especially with his grandparents. It was something she certainly never had growing up.

Another fifteen minutes passed before it finally happened.

“Xiiii!” Tuk groaned dramatically as she hefted and carried a wiggly crying Zyden from under his arms. The baby was already reaching out and calling for her. “Sprout wants you. Oof! He’s getting so heavy,” she half laughed, half huffed when handing him over.

“Hello, my love, are you being a naughty Na'vi for your aunty Tuk?”

Zyden didn’t waste any time, he stuck his little fist right down her top and gave a frustrated grizzle.

“Thanks for taking care of him for us, Tuk.”

The little girl beamed at Xi’s praise, and giggled when Neteyam attacked her with his own brotherly affection before she dashed off.

Xilä quickly tugged down the front of her top and Zyden eagerly found and latched onto her nipple to nurse. She smiled when his small sticky hand rested on her breast as his eyes instantly began to droop.

“I’m surprised he lasted this long,” Neteyam joked. He leaned over to kiss and nuzzle Zyden’s chubby cheek as he suckled, soft feeding sounds and breathy baby gulps making him and Xi smile at each other.

L’eo appeared not too long after, food grease shining all over his face and chest. “I all done wid my food,” he told his mother proudly.

D’avi chuckled. “Good job, baby.” She pulled him closer and wiped his face and hands despite his squirming.

When he made his escape, he approached his aunty. “I play with Zyhen, pwease, addy Xi.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, sweetie, but he’s falling asleep.” Xi caressed his cheek in apology. “You’ll get to see him tomorrow, okay?”

Poor L’eo looked so disappointed. His pout deepened when he turned to find his sister amongst their family, only to find she was already dozing in her grandfather’s lap.

“C’mere bud,” Yalnïk reached out and scooped him up and D’avi turned to give them both her attention.

Xi covered herself back up when she felt her nipple slip from Zyden’s lips.

“Oh he’s out,” Neteyam laughed. He gathered their milk drunk baby in his arms and wiped away the trail of liquid that ran down his chubby cheek and into his little neck folds.

“He’s growing up too fast,” Xi sighed, leaning against her husband to peer at their son. Their baby was sprawled without a care in the world, sticky coated skin, pudgy little tummy on display, tail curled up contentedly. “I feel like I blinked and now look at him. Gosh I’m going to miss this age.”

Neteyam nodded in agreement. He kissed her forehead then whispered, “I know the feeling all too well... But you know there’s a solution for that, right?”

“What do you mean?” she murmured, perching her chin on his bicep.

“You could always let me put another baby in you. Then another when they grow out of that age, and another when-”

Xilä pressed her fingers to his lips and snickered at his response. “May I remind you we are surrounded by our family. Don’t start with that if you’re not able to do anything about it right now,” she teased back.

A dangerous glint shined in his eyes, nostrils flaring at her words.

“I’m not teasing, Xilä. I'm completely serious.”

“Oh I know. If it were up to you you’d keep me round and pregnant for an eternity, right?” She tucked a braid behind his ear, not so accidentally brushing the tip of his pointed ear with her thumb and smiled when he gave a subtle shudder.

“You’re playing with fire, baby,” he warned but she simply gave him an innocent look and pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about.

“But on a serious note,” she whispered, “is it terrible that I just want to enjoy it being the three of us for now? I’m not saying no indefinitely, after Zyden I know for sure I want more, but he’s not even a year old yet, he hasn’t even taken his first steps. I want to give him as much attention and love as I can until we decide for sure to grow our family.”

“Nothing’s wrong with that, sweetheart. I like that plan.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He sensed a lingering sadness from her, so to lighten the mood, he teased, “And anyway I’ll get to focus on getting my practice in while fucking you senseless.”

“Neteyam!” Her face bloomed in mortification and she glanced around to make sure he wasn’t overheard.

There’s that smile he so loved to see.

True to her word, L’eo got to see Zyden the next day.

The boys played loudly with the many block pieces their grandfather had crafted for them. L’eya seemed to find them too rowdy for her, so she sat in her own little world with her toys until Tuk had come by and joined in with her.

Xilä loved the sound of her son’s laugh and she loved the sounds of her home filled with children playing.

Zyden squealed and clapped excitedly when L’eo knocked down their pile of wooden blocks and then the two went back to building it all over again- it was mostly L’eo, but Zyden sure helped by handing him each piece.

They were so stinking cute.

A little later on when he seemed to have grown bored, her son sought her out. He crawled after her and patted her calf, tiny palms opening and closing- asking for up.

The second she lifted him, he cuddled her, little face snuggled into her neck and Xi soaked it all up. It was her favourite feeling in the universe.

Neteyam looked up from his whittling and was quick to join the two. He tried burying his face on the other side of her neck, but Zyden wasn’t having it.

Their son pushed his daddy’s face away along with a mess of protesting gibberish that had sounds like mama and dada scattered in between.

“I want cuddles too, you can’t have her to yourself,” Neteyam quarrelled with the biggest grin on his face.

“Ma-ma!” Zyden argued back fiercely. He leaned his head against hers- their cheeks squished together while he kept batting away his father’s affections for her.

“Ah,” Neteyam dodged another fist. “I’ll have you know she was mine first.”

“Ma-ma!” Zyden’s both arms locked around her neck. He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on the cheek and grinned wide, and those four little teeth just about killed her.

“Alright, alright. I’m jealous now. Come here, little man, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Neteyam stole him away and dramatically rolled them around on the floor. The baby shrieked and burst into breathy giggles as they play-fought.

Feeling like he was missing out on the fun, L’eo ran and jumped in with a roar. “I rescue you Zyhen!” To which Neteyam pulled him in too.

Xilä watched on and called out “oh no’s!” from the sidelines. Through her laughs she couldn’t help feel a bit emotional. Neteyam was an incredible mate, but he was an even better father.

When he cried out asking for her to come save him, she eagerly and happily joined in until they were all a pile of giggling limbs.

Pillow muffling her screams, Xilä arched as her mate licked her into another mind shattering orgasm.

It was the middle of the night and she’d already woken on the cusp of one, finding her legs thrown over his broad shoulders with his head bobbing eagerly between her thighs, licking and sucking like a starved man… and he hadn’t moved since.

“‘Teyam.” Shuddering as she came down from another high, she feebly tried to push his head away, hips failing to escape his clutches. She was too sensitive and he didn’t seem like he wanted to stop any time soon.

Yet he only tightened his grips and spread her legs wider, holding her firm with a bossy growl. “One more.”

One more. One more. That’s what he’d said the last two times.

Her voice hitched when he nipped then sucked her clit hard, silencing her protests. He stretched her with his fingers, adding one after the other until she was stuffed with all three- digits curling and fucking her just right.

White noise clouded her ears and her eyes rolled into her head. Body seizing up as it quickly prepared to shatter again, she struggled to keep her moans at bay. Her poor knuckles were painfully white from their tight grips- one fisted in her mate’s hair, holding on for dear life while the other squeezed the pillow she was biting into.

She could just about cry when Neteyam slowed his pace. The wicked man wanted to draw out her pleasure and no matter how much she tried to ride his fingers faster, she failed.

He pushed her hand away when she dared to reach for her throbbing clit. Eywa. She was near delusional at this point.

“Mine,” he’d snapped when she tried to touch again, and then as if teaching her a lesson, he simply reduced his actions even further, fingers curling deep and dragging torturously slow while he lazily lavished her clit with his tongue.

Turned into a mewling weepy mess, she was completely at his mercy. It seemed almost never ending.

Embarrassingly loud slick sounds emitted with every motion of his fingers making her arousal drench everything- his hand, face, her thighs, their sheets- shit, she’d just changed these sheets.

Xilä’s orgasm blindsided her, making her cry out and damn near suffocate her husband with her thighs as her entire body seized up.

She was almost sure she’d momentarily blacked out too, because when she finally came to her senses, her deep, heavy panting had calmed and the strong ripples of pleasure and orgasmic aftershocks had ebbed away, leaving her with lingering tingles.

Neteyam, as if he had all the time in the world, was sucking his fingers dry. It shouldn’t have been a sexy sight, but damn if it was.

Damn him.

Then the asshole dived back down to lick her clean.

WACK.

“Baby!” His jaw dropped and he was staring at her in surprise.

Xi had actually smacked him with her pillow when he had the audacity to run his tongue across her oversensitive clit. He got the message this time. He snickered and just moved along to lick away the slick that coated her inner thighs instead.

Through their bond, tsaheylu still intact from when they went to sleep, she felt him. Like a rolling storm, he was all consuming. He was so pent up and clouded her with his intensity, she wouldn’t be surprised if he combusted just then and there. It felt good to be the cause of it, honestly.

“You didn’t come?” Shit. She’d tried to move but her legs felt like flopping fish.

He shook his head and got up on his knees. She was greeted by an angry leaking dick, throbbing and needy in front her face.

Xilä licked her lips, and between her thighs pulsed at the sight of him. Sitting up, she watched him wrap a hand around himself and give a firm stroke, thumb swiping across his tip before dragging back down again.

Although she was still a bit light headed, just like he’d done earlier, she batted his hand away to grip him herself.

At this he let out a pleased little groan and threaded his fingers through her hair. His hips gave a sudden snap and his dick twitched when she pressed a teasing kiss to the head of it- barely even making contact.

Xilä smirked when she felt his fingers tighten in her hair, pulling slightly at her roots. “Xilä,” he growled, sending a rippling shiver down her spine.

“What?” she asked cunningly, “No teasing?”

Through their bond she felt his building frustration, his impatience, his need. Tail circling her wrist, he got her moving.

So bossy.

She stroked his length and found her pace, setting a rhythm that had her mate quickly blowing out puffs of air as he seemed to be trying to keep his composure.

Cute, she thought. With her free hand she stroked his tail- its tip still wrapped around her wrist, both hands moving in tandem.

“Xi-”

Reading his mind, her eyes found his own, locked and dangerous and just what he needed to get closer to his peak.

He was practically fucking her fist by now, and damn near exploded when her other hand left his tail to squeeze the base of his dick.

Xi licked him again, tongue running up the underside of him, along a vein, then circling its head. That was it, he couldn’t control himself any longer, he came with a blinding force- a strangled endearment, falling from his lips.

Hot seed spluttered from him, painting his stomach, Xi’s hand and her pouty lips, a drop even landed on her nose.

A feeling of victory flooded Xilä. She loved seeing her mate come undone, loved seeing him lose control. A side of him she was the only one to ever see.

She stroked him all the way through, till his shudders ceased and his body grew lax and so pliant she was able to pull him down, his massive frame covering her entirely.

Their lips met in the middle for a searing, all consuming kiss. Xi could taste herself on his lips, she was sure it was the same for him.

Breaking apart for a much needed breath of air, Neteyam nipped her bottom lip. “Sorry I woke you up.”

Xilä laughed. “No you’re not.”

He grinned too. “No I'm not.”

After they basked in the afterglow for another couple minutes, they cleaned themselves up, using water and washcloths to bathe each other, mouths unable to stop stealing kisses and hands unable to stop caressing.

Returning from checking on their son, he helped her strip their hammock and fasten a clean pelt before they both climbed in- him pulling her on top of his chest immediately.

“Sprout was still asleep?” she asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Mhmm, out like a light.” He kissed her forehead and she snuggled closer.

Somewhere between sleep and wake, Xi heard a hushed whisper.

“Mama?”

She felt a familiar weight sat on top of her and the gentle pat, pat of a little palm on her cheek.

“Mama. Mama! Mommy wake up, I have to tell you something really portent.”

“Mmm, I’m up, I’m up.” Xilä blinked awake to the view of her son’s sweet face. Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, she pulled him into her arms and across her chest, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. “Good morning, my love.”

Zyden struggled a bit under his mother’s smothering, trying to wiggle out. “Mama stop,” he giggled. “Guess what?” His voice was dramatically hushed despite it only being the two of them in the room.

“What?” she asked just as quietly to match his energy.

“Daddy say I can go fishing today!” Zyden shared, tail flicking in uncontrollable excitement behind him. As if reminding himself, he made a shhhh sound and pressed a finger to his lips before continuing softer. “And- and I get to use my new bow too. You know the one mama? The big boy one granpather Jxo make me? An- an L’eo and L’eya go too but no Js’avi, cause he-he too small still and then daddy show me how to catch the fish!”

Xilä gasped dramatically as if she didn’t already know all of this. “Oh my Eywa! That’s all so exciting, my love!”

“Yah! I- I catch you a really big fish, mama. Den you cook it.”

“I like that idea. What kind of fish should I make?” She smiled tiredly and smoothed her hand over his hair. He looked so much like his daddy.

“Zyden!” Neteyam walked into their room, hands on his hips with a disappointed expression. “I thought I told you we’d tell your mama later. She just fell asleep, son.”

Zyden jumped at being caught, his sweet excited face turning into one of guilt. Brow puckered into a tiny frown, he pointed at his mother, then said as if it made all the sense in the world, “But mama awake now daddy. So I tell her now. Later is too far.”

Both parents couldn’t hold their amusement.

This kid.

“Alright little man, come on.” Neteyam grabbed him up and hung him upside down. Tickling his tummy, he made their son break out in a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“Da-ha-ddyy!”

When he set him on his feet, his father said seriously, “Go on and have your breakfast. All fishermen need to have a good meal before they set off for the day.”

“Ohhhkaaay! Bye mama!”

Neteyam blew out a breath and made his way over to Xi. “Sorry. I swear I only turned my back away for a second and then he disappeared.”

“It’s fine,” she assured, stretching her neck and puckering her lips, begging for a kiss as if he hadn’t kissed her only three hours ago when she’d gotten home.

Her husband obliged and when he pulled back he said, “We missed you last night.”

“Me too. I'll try not to make it a habit, but I was really needed for the night shift. I’m sorry it was so last minute too.”

“Stop,” he ordered, nipping her lip in rebuke.

“But it was date night… We made a promise to never miss a date night. I feel terrible. I promise I’ll make it up to you and-” She was about to apologize again so he silenced her with another kiss.

“Xilä. It’s your job, baby. You were needed. It's okay. And anyway, Sprout and I had an awesome guys night.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” His voice drew to a deep whisper, “Although if you keep insisting on making it up to me, I’d really really like to fuck you later. It’s been ages.”

Xi’s snicker was interrupted by a yawn. “You’re being dramatic. Oh that does remind me though, I need to get more Qla’ira root. I’m running out.”

Neteyam got quiet. He perched his head on her chest, golden eyes almost pleading. “Or you could… not?”

“Behave.” She batted him playfully and ran her fingers through his braids.

“I’m being serious. You know Zyden’s been asking for a sibling lately.”

“I know, but we agreed when he turned five, to start trying again, remember?”

“Technically, it’d be the same thing… If we get a head start from now, he’ll probably be five by the time-”

“Zyden will be four in a couple months,” she laughed, cupping his face.

They heard a crash, followed by a, “Daaaddy! I had a naccident!”

“Duty calls.” Neteyam lifted and hovered over her. “Get some sleep, alright? We’ll see you later. And we’re definitely not done talking about this.”

“Daaadeeeee!”

“Coming!”

Xi frowned, when he left. She didn’t know why she was even fighting this decision. She herself was ready for another child- and not just because of her mate’s pleas or their son’s little saddened face when he asked them how come he, “didn’t have a baby like L’eo and L’eya had Js’avi.”

Eywa had told her as much that she was ready as well. Her bond with the Great Mother had been growing stronger and stronger everyday.

So what was stopping her?

Later that night, during a family dinner, the kids excitedly ranted about everything that happened that day- all talking over each other and fighting over the attention of the adults.

It was a full family night. Neteyam and Xi’s home was not only filled with Jake and his family or Jxo and Sal. There was D’av, Yalnik and their three little ones. Also Yalnik’s twin and his mate along with their brood of five kids- who had also gone fishing.

Xilä saluted the men for having to take on so many of them. She wished she got to see them at it, since apparently they’d roped along Tasam and Ze’lu to get in some practice.

Speaking of, Tasam and Kiri had even joined their rowdy bunch tonight- newly mated after their courtship. Their story was incredibly sweet. They’d gone the traditional route and followed through the steps of the Omatikaya’s customs.

Their love was blinding and Xi was so happy for them. Although it had been years now, she still noticed the one or two times poor Spider would shoot them concealed glances. She was rooting for her friend to find his happiness too.

“An den I shot my bow like,” Sprout made a dramatic reenactment, “an VOOSH! My arrow went so far into the water, and- and-”

“And the same time I shot mine too!” L’eo chimed in. “And it hit a fish!”

“Oh my! You caught one, L’eo?” Sal asked, intrigued by their story.

“No,” the boy said sadly. “The fish swam away. L’eya got one though.”

The little girl blushed when the room broke out into cheers for her.

Xilä loved nights like these. Their family dinners were always a boisterous affair. She felt entirely whole- as if she belonged. A feeling she fought to find for years.

She watched her son seated in the cradle of his dad’s legs. They were both talking animatedly with Mo’at whose aged face was nothing but smiles.

Something within Xi suddenly clicked. That uncertain emotion that had been plaguing her now had an answer and a flare of guilt followed the revelation.

Stephan had taught her an expression once, “Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

It made sense now why she herself kept putting off having another baby, because that’s what she’d been doing, wasn’t she?

Waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Waiting for things to go wrong, waiting to be told she no longer belonged. Waiting to see if she and her son would be casted out.

A weight lifted off her shoulders now that she knew what was holding her back. Stupid thoughts that would bear no fruits.

She had her whole life ahead of her. One filled with the joy and love of her and her mate, and of their children. Xi stared at her son, her son. Of course she’d wanted more of him, she Neteyam truly made ridiculously cute babies.

Before she shook off her thoughts and returned to the present, she gave herself a mini metal pep talk- the reassurance that always seemed to help the times her mind clouded in darkness.

She was here.

She was safe.

She was loved.

And she had found, her Safe Haven.

Once again, my deepest thanks goes out to all of you who have taken this journey with me, to all of you who have read, and liked and commented.

Special thanks to all who gave suggestions and ideas. I love interacting and hearing your thoughts!

I poured my heart and soul into this story and the unbelievable feedback I've gotten- there's no greater gift.

Although there is one more part I'd like to put out- "a slice of life" to specify, I am officially marking this story as Complete!

Here's to more stories in the future ahead. 💛

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jtargaryen18 · 11 months

Text

His Inheritance: Chapter 29

Part 29: There for the Taking

Series Masterlist

Words: 7.8k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, strong language, physical violence, character death. (No this isn't a carryover from Chapter 28) This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve had just wrapped up his meeting with Murdock when someone knocked at his study door.

“Thank you, Matt,” Steve told him. “My driver will take you wherever you want to go.”

Murdock finished stowing his items away in his briefcase, rising from the chair with the help of his walking stick. His new consigliere paused.

“Thank you,” Matt said. “Good luck on everything.”

His lawyer opened the door to let himself out, Luca allowed him to pass before peering in. And Steve could tell from the look on the cook’s face that something was off.

“Boss, we have a situation,” Luca said. “I’ll see Murdock out first.”

“Thank you,” Steve muttered.

Steve stayed in his chair, tired. He had only spent one night away from his wife, and he hadn’t slept. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the hurt on her face when he told her they’d continue their marriage when her birth control shot was no longer in effect.

It had been a shitty way to handle the situation and he knew that. He let anger conquer his head. He tried to justify it to himself with the idea that isolating her in their bedroom would keep her safe. At least until their plans with the families were complete. Once that was done, it would be him trying to earn her forgiveness. Trying to earn his way back into his own bed.

The sooner they could deal with Barnes and the other families, the sooner he could mend things with her.

For fuck’s sake, they had to. Steve shook his head.

Women had been an addiction of his to this point in his life. A love-hate relationship. Steve loved the beauty of women, their softness, their smiles. He loved them dressed up so he could show them off, one conquest after another. Sex was his fix, the best way to get high and out from under all the things that plagued him in day-to-day life. Steve was always up for it. Any time of the day, anywhere.

Like any addiction, like alcohol or drugs, there was a dark side. The women were a problem with their needs for validation and ownership. If they tried to hold onto him, he walked. If they tried to manipulate him, he ran. And considering who he was, there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it.

When he decided to marry, his wife had everything he could have hoped for in his position. Young and naïve, sheltered. She had an innocent beauty, ballerina delicate. And for his dark world, she had a bonafide motherfucking pedigree. Steve would be the envy of every man, not just for his position but for his beautiful young bride, the daughter of the man who led before him. And behind closed doors, he’d teach her to please him…

How had it come to this?

A man could learn to live without alcohol, without a drug. It wasn’t easy but it could be done. His wife was neither of those things. Living without her now was like trying to live without air or water. It scared him and that fear pricked at his anger, made him lash out at her.

The fact that he couldn’t control her, couldn’t even contain her, made him want her even more.

Luca’s heavy tread let Steve know he’d returned, closing the door behind him. The edge of desperation on his man’s face brought his focus back to the present.

“What’s up?” Steve asked, watching Luca drop heavily into the chair his lawyer just occupied.

“Look, Nat got a call from Clint,” Luca said slowly. “Said we’ve been ratted out.”

Steve knew he wouldn’t like what Luca had to say but he didn’t think it would be that bad. “What?”

“Clint called Nat and told her we been ratted out,” Luca said again. “Told her to get your wife and go to the sewing room. They’re both up there.”

Steve’s mind spun. He checked his phone and saw he had nothing from Clint.

“He hasn’t tried to call me,” Steve said.

“Nat said things didn’t sound so good on his end. We don’t have a location on him.”

It wasn’t going well at all for Clint to go so far as to ask Nat to go to the hiding place his father set up years ago and take his wife with her.

Steve had always hated being hidden in there with his mother and sister. He felt small, helpless. The last time he’d been fourteen years old. Once they got past the feds, Steve had complained to his father about being put there. He’d loudly told his father he could have helped. His father had given him a solid beating for that outburst. His father had taken his pride down a peg or two that day.

Now that he was older, he understood why his father had placed them there when the situation called for it. His father had come from a place where he wanted to protect what was most valuable to him.

They didn’t know where Clint was. They supposedly had a rat. And his sister and his wife were in the sewing room. Nat would stay there just like Clint wanted her to.

His wife? Steve just knew she would hate it. He knew she’d be bristling before long just like he used to. Probably for the same reasons.

“Think Barnes got to Clint?” Steve asked.

“Nah,” Luca replied. “he’d let them kill him before he’d bring Nat into things in any way.”

That rang true.

“But he said Barnes knows everything now. That we’re all in danger,” Luca went on. “He didn’t say who.”

“He wouldn’t tell Nat,” Steve said, trying to wrap his mind around this turn of events. “It protects her… Where’s everyone else?”

“We’ve been trying to reach Dyson but he ain’t answering any of us,” Luca explained.

“Even my wife?” Steve had to ask.

“You have her phone,” Luca pointed out. “He ain’t answering Nat’s phone.”

That wasn’t a good sign.

“Scott’s fine. He’s on his way here.”

His cook left someone out. “Neal?”

“I don’t know,” Luca told him, his expression grim.

“You think Neal is our rat?” Steve asked.

“Your wife does,” Luca told him.

The tap at the door stopped their conversation. Luca rose and went to the door, opening it to find Scott. Steve motioned him in, Luca closing the door.

“Scott, I have a question for you,” Steve said as his men took seats across from him. “What happened that day when I brought my sister home? Specifically, what happened between Banner and my wife?”

Scott blew out an exhale, nodding. He explained that he caught Mrs. Rogers before she went down to confront the angry lawyer and tried to send her back to her room, to let him handle it. When Scott explained that she wouldn’t agree to that, Steve nodded. It was what he expected.

“I told her to stay behind me,” Scott told them. “But she really didn’t do that either. Banner came in yelling about you taking his wife. He blamed you. He blamed Mrs. Rogers. He turned a scary shade of red. Right before you came in, he reared back like…”

“Like?” Steve asked.

“Like he was going to hit her,” Scott finished. “Like he was going to hit Mrs. Rogers. I pulled her back, but it wouldn’t have been enough. Belova came out of nowhere and blocked him, got him under control.”

Scott’s story matched his wife’s so far. Steve felt his anger rise.

“And Neal? What was he doing?” Steve wanted to know.

So did Luca, he was staring Scott down hard.

Scott shook his head. “He didn’t try to protect her, boss.”

Scrubbing a hand over his beard, Steve looked at Luca. ‘What are your thoughts?”

“Dyson beat the bejesus out of him right here in this office,” Luca said.

“Because he threatened Belova,” Steve reminded him.

“You ever known Dyson to beat the shit out of someone as a warning?” Luca said. “I’ve known Dyson a long time. I’ve seen him warn people lots of times. But not like that. He has a problem with Neal just like your wife and Belova has a problem with him. If they think he’s the rat, yeah, so do I.”

“Scott?” Steve asked.

Scott nodded. “Neal doesn’t talk to me. I just know I didn’t like how he acted that day with Mrs. Rogers. I don’t like how he treats Yelena either. I could never tell if it was because he didn’t like her or he didn’t like her because of her loyalty to your wife.”

Neal had been a loyal soldier to Steve, someone he trusted. Neal had even saved his life. How could it be that everyone else in his house didn’t trust him? How?

Jesus.

“If Clint is right and we’ve been ratted out,” Steve told them, “We have to call everything off. If Neal is our rat, Barnes and whoever is working with him knows exactly what we’re planning. Fuck.”

Rising from his chair, Steve began pacing. “Dyson is supposed to be going with Neal to deal with Hansen. I thought by sending them together, they could mend fences. Bond over taking care of shit. And it would prove Neal isn’t a liability. Now… hell, Neal might kill Dyson himself for that beating. If he hasn’t already. We have to find Dyson, now.”

“Unless we have reason to believe otherwise, we have to assume Dyson will meet Neal as planned,” Luca said. “And that’s not long from now. We need to be there before Neal is.”

“Luca, I need you to dial back orders. If Barnes knows any of this, our people are walking into a trap. I need you to talk to everyone. Personally. Call it off.”

“You got it, boss,” Luca said.

“Luca, I want a small goddamn army around this house,” Steve instructed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Luca said.

“See if anyone knows anything about Clint,” Steve went on. “I want a status on him ASAP. Scott help Luca.”

Both men nodded.

“Otherwise, my sister will lose her fucking mind.” Steve thought of her in the sewing room with his wife.

Luca and Scott left his study to do his bidding. Steve went to the bar behind his desk, poured himself a scotch. He needed it for what was coming next. Pulling open his desk drawer, he fished out his wife’s phone.

Once he finished his drink, Steve headed up the stairs, passing his bedroom. When he reached the linen closet, the façade that hid the sewing room, he took a deep breath. Quietly as he could, he opened the door, pushed the button that opened the door to the hidden room within.

Nat was huddled on the bench looking miserable, physically and emotionally. Her green eyes filled with tears when she rushed to him. Steve caught his sister in his arms, hugging her tightly. She was cold, shaking.

His wife? She sat on the floor under the window, eyeing him warily.

One thing his wife wasn’t? Afraid. No, she wasn’t showing any fear.

Easing his sister back onto the bench, Steve smoothed a hand over her red hair. “Nat, I’m going to have Luca bring some blankets and a space heater up here with your dinner, okay? You’re freezing.”

Nat wasn’t letting him go. “Is Clint on his way home?”

Steve met her gaze squarely. “We’ll find him. I promise.”

Nat didn’t look convinced, but she sat back down on the bench, her hands wringing. Steve walked over to his wife, held out his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her off the floor.

“I’m going to talk to my wife for just a moment out here, okay?” Steve asked carefully.

Nat nodded. His wife followed him through the linen closet and out into the hall.

“We need to talk,” Steve said slowly, trying to keep his tone even.

“I’d like to help you, Steve,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “But we don’t resume our marriage until 29 days from now, so…”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Everything’s so fucked right now between me and you. And we will deal with that.”

“Yes, we will,” she said, way too calm standing before him.

“But right now, we have to deal with the threat to this family,” Steve told her as he would one of his men. “Were you with Nat when Clint called?”

She frowned. “No, I was locked in my room.”

“Nat came and got you,” he said. “What exactly did she tell you about that phone call?”

Surprise flashed across her beautiful face for just a second. “She said that Clint told her we had been ratted out. That Barnes knew everything and that placed us all in danger. He told her to come get me and to bring me to this room as soon as she got off the phone. And she did just that.”

“He didn’t tell her anything else?” Steve asked.

She shook her head. “I wanted to see if she had left anything out or could tell me if she heard anything in the background. She’s too upset about the fact that he’s in danger. She’s barely holding herself together right now… Have you heard from Clint? Or Dyson?”

“No,” he said simply. “Luca’s doing his damnedest to find anything on either of them.” Speaking of Luca… “You have Nat’s phone. That’s how you got Luca.”

“Yes,” she told him. “It was obvious you hadn’t heard from Clint if you were still meeting with your lawyer.”

“You didn’t call me,” he had to say it.

Her chin tipped up in challenge. “If I had known what to expect from you, I would have.”

Steve earned that. “Is there anything else you know, Sweetheart? Anything at all?”

Oh, she did. He knew that look.

“What?” he asked.

“It involves Yelena,” she said, holding his gaze.

“This is not the time to bargain with me—”

“Oh, I’m not bargaining for anything,” she informed him, anger hardening her expression. “Yelena will be back where she belongs when this is over. She’s loyal to me and it was out of that loyalty that she told Clint where he could find Banner.”

“Excuse me?” Banner was supposed to be gone. Long gone, off to the west coast.

“He was still here,” she told him. “On Stark’s turf. He needed to be dealt with and Clint deserved a go at him.”

The way his wife spoke, the fire in her eyes. It mirrored the anger he was struggling to keep down right now.

“Think about it,” she said. “Yelena gave him that information. Then he calls Nat, tells her we’ve been ratted out and Barnes knows everything. We’re all in danger.”

Steve stared her down. “You think Banner is the rat?”

She shook her head. “Banner’s involved, but he’s not the rat. He didn’t know what you had planned for tonight. And he had no access to that information unless it was from the rat who did. But he was still here. Banner was hoping for something, and it wasn’t Nat.”

She had a point. Banner had sworn to Steve he’d be gone.

“You think Stark is involved?” Steve pressed.

“No,” she said. “I don’t really know him. But from the impression I got, he wouldn’t be that stupid.”

It was his thought exactly about Tony Stark. Jesus. Who was this woman he married?

“Barnes?” She shrugged. “Well, that remains to be seen.”

“You’ve talked to Belova,” he said.

“And she is on her way to the location she gave Clint,” she explained.

“Alone?”

“No, she’s with friends,” his wife explained.

“What friends?”

“All I know is that they are friends of Dyson,” she said. “And if he trusts them, and she trusts them, then so do I.”

Not a hint of doubt or hesitation. His wife stood toe to toe with him, talking about the dangers of his world with authority.

“But we have no idea where Dyson is.” Now her expression softened. The smallest trace of fear in her eyes. “I tried to call him from Nat’s phone, Luca called. There’s no answer. He’s supposed to be going with Neal to deal with Hansen. Steve, we have to find him.”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Steve nodded. “We do. We really do… Dyson didn’t take it well that I pushed Belova out.”

“I’ll bet he didn’t,” she said bitterly.

“You got in his head about Neal,” Steve told her. “Neal said something about Belova Dyson really didn’t like. He beat the shit out of him last night, right there in my office.”

Steve saw the flash of excitement in her eyes at that. Just as quickly, it diminished.

“Jesus, Steve. Dyson’s walking into a trap between Hansen and Neal.” His wife shook her head, her teeth tugging at her lower lip nervously. “He’s dead if we don’t do something.”

Steve knew she could be right. If Neal was who she thought he was.

“You really think Neal is the rat here?” he asked.

“I know he is, Steve.”

It was then he realized something. The conviction, the certainty in her voice? It was all too familiar.

It all very much reminded him of her father. Every bit of it. And her father had been a hell of a leader in his time. He would never have found himself in the shit situation Steve let himself fall into.

Could he put aside who he thought Neal was? Did he have a choice?

Pulling her phone out of the pocket of his slacks, he handed it to her. “Try to call Dyson. One last try before I start making hard decisions.”

She took the phone without hesitation, hitting Dyson’s number with haste and putting the speaker on so he could hear. It only rang once before someone answered.

“Hi there, Princess,” Hansen drawled.

Fucking Hansen?

Steve tried to grab the phone, but his wife pulled it away, putting a finger to her lips. A signal for him to be quiet.

How was he supposed to be quiet when the slimy bastard had his mentor?

Why was the fucker calling his wife ‘Princess?’

“Are you there?” Hansen taunted.

“I’m here,” his wife said finally, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing to say?”

“Why are you answering Dyson’s phone?” she demanded.

“Dyson’s a little occupied at the moment,” Hansen went on in.

“He’s alive?” she asked.

“For now.”

“Is Neal with you?”

Hansen laughed at that. It was the moment Steve realized his wife was right.

“They’re working through a few things,” Hansen said casually. “It’s going well.”

“I want to speak Dyson,” she told him. “Now.”

“Think I’m lying to you, Princess?”

“Now, Hansen,” she said with more force.

Hansen’s sigh was loud and there was the sound of movement. Another voice mumbled in the background, Steve thought it was Neal. Then they heard Hansen say, “she wants to talk to you.”

“Hey,” Dyson said, sounding out of breath.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Dyson said slowly. “Don’t you worry yourself about me.”

“You know better than that,” she said. “But I need you to come home.”

There was a loud crash and the sound of Dyson’s yell. His wife gazed up at him wide-eyed. Now she was afraid. Steve wanted to grab the phone, but it was better for Hansen to think she was alone.

“You want Dyson back home?” Hansen’s tone was a little impatient. “Let’s talk.”

Her eyes were still on her husband. Steve nodded.

“Okay.”

“I’ll give him back to you, but I want something in return,” Hansen said.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You know what I want,” Hansen told her. “You.”

The thought that the ruthless bastard wanted his wife so badly had Steve choking on his fury.

She snorted. “And what do you think is going to happen? You’re going to show up with Dyson and Steve will make a trade?”

“Steve’s running out of time,” Hansen told her. “If he was the man you deserve, I wouldn’t have his top lieutenant, would I? I wouldn’t be so easily able to reach his wife. Steve can’t hold his own family together, much less lead the other families. When he falls, have you thought about what that means for you?”

It was all Steve could do not to start ranting at the arrogant fucker. Especially as he watched worry creep into his wife’s expression.

“How would it happen?” she asked.

“No!” Dyson yelled in the background. “Don’t you even think about—”

A sharp crack cut off the rest of what Dyson was about to say.

“Please don’t hurt him,” his wife whispered.

“You can stop it,” Hansen told her.

She looked to Steve, big eyes filled with so much emotion.

In his head, Steve narrowed down his choices. The fact that Hansen had Dyson, cut down his options. Neal was with them, confirming his wife’s suspicions. Neal would have told them all their plans. Fuck. Neal knew lots of things about Steve, how he ran the family.

If something happened to Dyson, and he had to admit at the moment that it was a very real possibility, the family would survive it. They already appeared to be struggling and that was Barnes’ intention, he knew. Losing Dyson would make them look even weaker. Blood in the water to put doubt in the minds of Odinson, Stark, and Wilson.

If something happened to Dyson, his wife might not survive. Especially with Hansen making her believe she could personally save the only father she really had. Hansen’s cruelty forced his hand. If Steve denied her now, he’d lose her.

With a fear shooting through his heart he’d never known, he nodded. His wife’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How will it happen?” she asked Hansen again, not missing a beat.

Hansen muttered his instructions in his wife’s ear. Steve didn’t catch most of it, gripped by the seriousness of the situation. Hating that he had no other choice. Hating the risk that he could lose both his wife and Dyson.

“I’ll see you soon, Princess” was all Hansen said when he ended the call.

And just like that, leading the families wasn’t the most important thing to Steve. Leading his family, having everyone’s respect didn’t matter. Not nearly as much as the man they held hostage or the woman he loved, watching him with the phone clutched in her trembling hands.

“Steve, what are we going to do?” she asked, sounding as scared as she looked.

Wrapping his arms around his wife, Steve pulled her close. She trembled in his hold, and he knew she was afraid, but she was brave. Steve was proud of her for that.

“He said I needed to be there, at his house, within the hour,” she told him. “Or they’ll kill Dyson.”

“I know,” he said low by her ear. “So we need to move fast.”

Moving past her, Steve went to the sewing room, leaning down to kiss his sister’s forehead. “I’m taking my wife with me,” he said. “Stay here and stay hidden even though I’m going to do my best to keep the fighting away from here.”

Nodding, she said, “Be careful.”

“We will,” he told her. “Luca will still be here if you need him.”

His wife hugged her quickly. “We’ll be home soon. With Clint.”

Steve just hoped his wife was right.

***

Your heart raced as Luca and Scott arrived at Steve’s office, closing the door behind them. Both of them looked startled to see you.

“What’s up boss?” Luca was still staring at you. “I’ve got the men setting up around the house.”

“We’ve had a complication,” Steve told them. “It’s Dyson. Hansen has him.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open. Luca scowled at Steve. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“With Neal’s help,” Steve said calmly. Glancing back at you, he blew out an exhale. “My wife was right.”

You couldn’t even enjoy being right. Not with someone you loved in danger.

Leaning against his desk with his heavy arms across his chest, Steve looked deep in thought.

“Barnes found out just in time that we were going to hit him and hit him hard,” Steve said. “We were going to strike his turf, his holdings. Hansen. By now, he knows we figured out we were betrayed. He’s going to do one of two things. He’s going to try to hit us here, which we’re ready for and he would know that… Or he’s going sit tight and see what our next move is.”

Luca shook his head. “Barnes ain’t going to do shit right now. If he’s smart.”

Steve nodded. Scott looked as lost as you felt.

“Why not?” Scott asked.

“We can’t prove the hits on us were Barnes,” Luca explained. “We know they were, but we can’t prove it. Then there’s the other three families. They swore allegiance to Steve. If they find out Barnes is knifing Steve in the back, they’ll rally to our side. But if Barnes can get in their heads, make it look like Steve is paranoid and weak…”

From the beginning, Barnes’ plan was to prove Steve was unfit to lead the families. You remembered the first time you met him in the kitchen, the bitterness of his tone when he spoke to Steve. The belief that he should have been leader of the families – Barnes not Steve.

“Barnes can’t just fight Steve for leadership?” you had to ask, wanting to learn.

“No,” Luca told you. “He doesn’t have the muscle.”

“Why did Barnes have Hansen grab Dyson?” Scott shook his head. “If what you say is true, that move doesn’t make a lot of sense. No one is closer to Steve than him.”

“I don’t think that was Barnes’ idea,” Steve said. “We’d planned for Neal and Dyson to go deal with Hansen. And Hansen has it coming for attacking this house and trying to get his hands on my wife.”

“But Neal and Hansen grabbed Dyson instead,” Scott said. “How is that going to play out?”

“Dyson beat the shit out of Neal right here in this office,” Luca explained. “It’s perfect really. Neal claims he’s having problems with this family and Dyson beat him like a dog. So he defected, telling Barnes things to earn a place over there. Offing Dyson would be seen as just a little bit of payback between two soldiers. That’s how that plays out.”

You swallowed hard. It was all plausible. Complete bullshit and terrifying, but plausible.

“How do we get Dyson back?” Scott asked them.

“He wants to trade for him,” you told Scott. “He’ll let Dyson go if I agree to take his place.”

Scott’s mouth dropped open again. “What?”

“Hansen called my wife. He doesn’t know I was listening. He thinks he’s scaring her into doing what he wants.” Both Luca and Scott looked to Steve. Steve cut you a glance. “I really don’t like this either but that was his condition. And we have just under an hour to decide what we’re going to do.”

“Fuck,” Luca said. “That would start a war. Barnes can’t go around snatching someone else’s wife. The families would never accept that.”

“I don’t think that’s Barnes’ idea either,” Steve replied. “Not his style. But very much Hansen’s.”

“Hansen wants your wife?” Scott shook his head. “Then what? That would start a war between the families for sure.”

“I don’t think Hansen intends on sticking around for the outcome,” Steve said. “He likely thinks he can grab her and go.”

Your heart raced in your chest. You knew Steve wasn’t seriously considering the trade. That meant coming up with a plan where Steve kept you and got Dyson back too. No matter the plan, it was dangerous.

“You up for this?” Luca asked you in a calm voice.

For Dyson? “Yes, I am,” you told them with no hesitation.

Luca grinned. “Okay then. We need an airtight plan because whether or not he can get his hands on Mrs. Rogers, he’s not planning on leaving Dyson alive.”

What?

“Agreed,” Steve said.

“And we have some friends here to help,” Luca went on. “Friends with skills that are perfect for this.”

“The ones Yelena is with?” you asked.

“I know how you feel about Belova,” Steve said, “but she’s not that experienced.”

“The ones with her are,” Luca told them. “There are five of them and all but Aisha were fucking special forces.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not trusting just anyone with her,” Steve told them.

“Well, you can’t go,” Luca pointed out.

“What?” Steve asked.

“You can’t go,” Luca reiterated. “Hansen thinks she’s sneaking out to come make the trade. They see you and they’ll know it’s a trap.”

Color rose from Steve’s collar, darkened his face.

“You have to be here, and you know this,” Luca told him.

“I’m supposed to just send my wife to Hansen’s knowing I might never see her again?” Steve was getting more upset by the second. “Entrust her to people I don’t know?”

Luca put his hands on his hips. “Or we could keep her here. Sacrifice Dyson.”

“No!” you shouted. It wasn’t an option.

“That’s where we are,” Luca told him. “But we can make this work. I’ll call Clay right now, okay?”

After a moment, Steve nodded. “Give us a minute, okay?”

Luca and Scott left you alone with Steve. And Steve looked like he himself was facing the gallows.

Yeah, you were scared. But you had to try and save Dyson. From Hansen. From Neal.

“This is all on me,” Steve said, more serious than you’d ever seen him. “I want you to realize this. Yeah, I lost my temper about that incident, but it doesn’t seem so important now. And now I know Neal was the rat. He instigated all of it.”

Sliding a hand over your cheek, he gazed into your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll talk about it when Dyson and I get home,” you told him.

You were shaking but you were holding up. You could do this.

“If Dyson trusts the ones Luca is talking about,” Steve said, “then I will too.”

“I trust Yelena too,” you told him. “And she will be reinstated when we get back.”

Steve nodded. “But I fucking hate this. This is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to avoid. I’m going to lose my mind until this is over. Until you’re back here.”

Now he’d have an idea what you went through. The play of anger and fear in his expression kept you from enjoying it.

“I need you to promise me something. I know how you feel about Dyson and Yelena. I know you love them. But if things look to be going wrong or you don’t see a way to get everyone out, you get out of there. Even if it means you’re the only one who gets out. Even if it means you have to leave them behind.”

You just stared at him.

“Hansen wants you,” Steve reminded you. “He’s not going to harm you. Remember that.”

Leaning in, he kissed your lips. A seeking kiss, gentle and slow, almost as if he were asking permission. You answered it, a kiss to remind yourself that Steve wasn’t all bad. You still cared about him.

The desperation in his kiss grew. You could taste it. Steve was kissing you like it was goodbye. You didn’t miss the slight tremor in his hand on your face.

“Come back to me,” Steve whispered against your lips. “Please.”

Easing back, you gaze up at him. “I will. And we have a lot to talk about when I do.”

Both of you smiled at that. Your usual marital fighting seemed like a happy memory next to this.

“I love you,” Steve whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back, just in case you didn’t see him again.

And just maybe you meant it. The way your heart squeezed in your chest made you wonder…

***

You scrambled down the road like a scared little runaway, trying to play the part as Luca had explained it to you. The sun was going down and according to your phone, you had just under 20 minutes to reach Hansen’s house.

A small SUV pulled up next to you as you walked. Your Uber. When the driver asked if you were Mrs. Rogers, you nodded, climbed in the back.

The driver’s blue-eyed gaze met yours in the rearview mirror. He was a bigger guy with spiky blond hair and round glasses. He smiled before turning his attention to the road ahead.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

It was a strange question.

“I’m… fine,” you told him.

He nodded, driving along.

“I’m Jensen,” he explained. “Dyson’s a good friend.”

That got your attention. “Are you one of the friends Yelena’s been staying with?”

“Yeah,” he explained. “She’s going to be there with us. We’ve got a plan. We’ll do everything we can to get you and Dyson back home shortly.”

“Thank you,” you told him. “Thank you for helping us.”

“Hey,” Jensen said. “Dyson’s helped us out a couple of times. We owe him.”

It was good to know that they cared about getting Dyson out safely as much as you did.

“We’ll be there in about ten minutes,” he explained. “I’ll pull up and you just hop out, okay? I’ll stash the car and take up my position.”

“Okay,” you told him.

“You’ll need to leave your piece in here with me,” he went on.

“What?”

“Your gun,” Jensen said. “Put it in the duffel bag back there. It’s my stuff. I’ll make sure you get it back.”

You’d almost forgotten about it honestly, pulling it free of your jeans. “Why can’t I take it?”

He smiled. “Yelena said you shot him once.”

“I did.” You were proud of that. Having the gun made you feel a little safer.

“There are too many things that could go wrong here,” he said. “I promise I’ll get it back to you.”

You nodded, knowing you had no choice but to trust these people. Dyson trusted them…

Unzipping the bag, you made sure the safety was on and carefully put your gun in. There was another handgun in there among some other ordinary looking belongings. A keyring caught your eye. On it was a small picture of Jensen with a pretty woman and the cutest little girl. On the other side the words “Best Buy” were engraved into the pewter.

“Is this picture your family?” you asked, zipping the bag again.

“Yeah,” he said with a wide smile. “My fiancée and our daughter Charlie.”

“They are beautiful,” you told him.

“Thank you. We have a baby on the way,” he told you. “I’m trying to get her to the altar before he or she gets here though.”

“Let’s make sure that happens,” you told him with conviction.

Jensen nodded.

“Is there anything else I need to know going in?” you asked him.

“Just be yourself,” Jensen told you. “You have friends. Remember that. You’ll know me and Yelena anyway. Dyson. Follow our lead. We’ll get you home.”

Five minutes later, Jensen dropped you off in front of an older house. It was an isolated location with no neighbors in sight anyway. You did just what Jensen told you and hopped out, not looking back at him. You weren’t taking your eyes off the impressive house before you.

You walked along the stone path leading to the front door. Just off to the side of the house you saw Dyson’s Cadillac, Neal’s SUV. It was surreal and you struggled to keep your knees from knocking.

Neal was the asshole you believed him to be. He sold all of you out. He sold you out.

But the worst thing he did was try to take Dyson from you. You focused on him.

Dyson was yours. Your caretaker. Your friend. Your father.

It would be a cold day in hell when you let Neal or Hansen take him away from you.

Before your foot hit the first step, the front door of that house opened. Hansen.

Well, you didn’t want your audience to be disappointed. You took your time climbing the steps, your back straight, your chin up. When you stepped on the porch, only then did you meet his gaze. You gazed at the huge beast of a man as if he bored you. As if he were beneath you.

Hansen didn’t appear to be moving from the doorway to let you in. He grinned at you.

Then you stopped.

“Planning to pat me down and check for weapons?” you asked him.

“Do you want me to?” he asked, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes. “Take me to Dyson. Now.”

Hansen stepped back, motioning you in with his hand. You walked by him, into a living room with a high ceiling and elegant furnishings. Nothing out of place in the opulent room.

Well, just one thing that didn’t belong there. A tiny purse, its purple leather standing out on the sand-colored upholstery. Why did Hansen have that?

You kept walking until you reached the kitchen. You met Dyson’s gaze first. He was bound to the chair, his face bloody and bruised. He was gagged. The steel in his gaze gave you courage. Told you without words that he trusted you.

Neal stood up from another chair at the kitchen table and he didn’t look much better. The only difference was Neal’s wounds had little time to scab over, to set in. You grinned at Neal.

“You look beaten down. How does it feel?” you asked him.

“Fuck you,” Neal spat, taking a menacing step closer to you.

You didn’t move.

“That’s some big talk for someone whose husband locked her in her room for disobeying him,” Neal said, cutting a glance at Hansen who stood behind you.

Hansen chuckled. “You couldn’t handle her any better than Rogers could.”

You flinched when you felt his hand at your lower back. Not a barely there, tentative touch. No, it was possessive. When it moved lower, you moved before he could touch your ass. You glared up at the bastard, hoping he couldn’t tell you were fucking terrified on the inside.

“The only one allowed to handle me at all is my husband,” you told him, raising your chin. “Now, Dyson goes back home. With me.”

Hansen’s grin didn’t subside. “That wasn’t the deal, princess. It’s a trade. Him for you. The only terms I’ll accept.”

“If you know me so well, you know I have no intention of ever making a trade,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Hansen cocked a brow at you. “Then what are your intentions? Your husband doesn’t know you’re here not that he ever knows what you’re doing.”

You tried your best to look bored. It was true. But having the enemy reference the fact that you didn’t appear to respect your own husband made you pause. You didn’t like it.

“Belova isn’t here to protect you,” Hansen went on. “You don’t appear to be armed. You don’t have a lot of options.”

Yelena was somewhere close. You hoped.

“We’re wasting time here,” Neal told him, his usually annoying self. You froze when he pulled out his gun, a Glock like yours, and pointed it at the back of Dyson’s head. “She goes to Barnes, we get rid of Dad here, and head over there to finish this. Rogers’ camp is in chaos right now. Let’s hit them while they’re weak.”

“You son-of-a-bitch.” You glared at him. “Steve thought so much of you. I couldn’t convince him otherwise. And this is what you’re doing?”

“It is.” Neal’s finger twitched around the trigger. Your heart raced in fear as Dyson’s gaze met yours, his gaze calm, like he was willing you to hang on. “Once we get rid of your husband, Barnes gets you and for that, he’s going to help me start my own family. I won’t be a soldier anymore. I’ll get everything I ever wanted.”

“Barnes?” You laughed humorlessly at that. “And you believed him?”

The man’s gaze moved from Dyson to you.

“That worked out so well for Banner,” you taunted him.

The gun in Neal’s hand lowered, wavered. Good. You were drawing his attention away from Dyson…

Before you could blink, Hansen pulled a gun and shot Neal in the face. Bone, brains, and gore splattered Dyson in his chair as your ears rang from the shot. Neal just dropped to the floor.

Now you were afraid. From the apprehension you read in Dyson’s gaze now, he was too.

Hansen tucked his gun away as casually as he might a phone or his wallet. He turned what he must have thought was a charming smile on you.

“Does this mean I’m not going to Barnes?” you had to ask. “Was anything he said true?”

“It was true,” he told you. “Barnes has everything carefully planned out. And he can have your husband, But he’s not getting you. That was never part of my plan.”

“How does that work with him being your boss?” you wanted to know. “Or are you betraying him the same way Neal was betraying Steve?”

That grin widened behind his mustache. “That’s just the way this little world of ours works. You’re either born into a family like you and Rogers or you make your own way like Neal here. But you’ve got to be smarter than that.”

“So where does that leave us?” You moved closer to Dyson, not turning your back on Hansen. He could have shot Dyson just as easily.

“You already know the answer to that,” Hansen told you, his gaze shifting from Dyson back to you. “A trade. You can send him home right now. But you’re mine.”

You rolled your eyes. But inside, your fear was escalating. You remember the horrible things Yelena told you. What Hansen did to her. She was brave and fierce, more so than you. You didn’t want to consider what the asshole had planned for you.

You knew Dyson’s friends were with her. But Yelena herself? She was terrified of him, and she was right to feel that way.

Could Jensen get you out then?

Here’s hoping.

“Fine,” you told him. “Let him go. The trade isn’t complete until I have absolute proof that he’s back home.”

“Fine,” Hansen repeated slowly. The look he cut you told you he didn’t quite buy your performance. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he used it to cut through Dyson’s bonds, allowing him to pull the gag away himself.

Dyson eyed you warily. “Don’t do this,” he said calmly. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing, please don’t.”

Before you could say anything, Hansen blew out an exhale, looking more annoyed than anything. When he turned to look behind him, you saw the man standing there. He was tall as Steve with broad shoulders. The man was a little older with threads of white in his dark hair, in his beard. His grin gave him a very roguish charm.

“Oh, I think it’s a pretty good plan,” the man said, his voice deep whiskey. “We’re going to have to change it up though. We’re here to take Dyson and Mrs. Rogers back home.”

“That doesn’t work for me, Clay,” Hansen told him. “Now, I’m going to kill you. Then I kill Dyson. Then I’m taking Mrs. Rogers with me. And then we call it a day.”

From behind the man he called Clay, you saw Jensen step out. Your heart swelled to see Yelena, her concerned gaze on you. Both held handguns, assessing the situation. Yelena looked so small next to the two dangerous men.

Without looking, Hansen reached for his gun. A bullet hit the floor at his feet, had him jumping slightly in alarm before moving to put his hands back up and in view.

Yelena’s expression was pure rage.

“Hey, Lena,” Hansen crooned. “Miss me?”

You shook your head at her. Don’t answer him. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

You inched closer to Dyson until you put yourself between him and Hansen. Yelena’s eyes widened on you. But you knew what you were doing. You weren’t about to let Hansen kill Dyson.

Hansen’s laugh didn’t appear to phase the trio in front of you, but it chilled your blood. “I’m not exactly alone here,” he told all of you.

A tap at the kitchen window behind you got your attention. An armed soldier in body armor was holding an assault rifle outside, his eyes cold as he gazed at you. Two more soldiers crept up the hallway from the opposite direction to the kitchen, also armed with rifles.

Clay eyed them warily as your fear escalated. What happened now?

“They aren’t alone either,” a familiar voice said from behind Jensen and Yelena.

Tears pricked the backs of your eyes to see your husband making his way into the room, his gaze on you. He didn’t stop until he reached you. The expression he wore scared you because you’d never seen that before. It was terrifying. Only the emotion in his blue eyes revealed the relief he appeared to be feeling at reaching you.

You couldn’t help it. You ran to Steve’s side, wrapping your arms around his waist, clinging to him.

“Ballsy,” Hansen told him. “Let me guess. You’ve got this place surrounded.”

Steve’s nod was curt. “We’re done here.”

The smile faded from Hansen’s face. His gaze moved over you as you clung to your husband. It was covetous, angry.

“I say when we’re done here,” Hansen said coldly.

All you saw was the large hand that pulled the handgun out, pointing at Dyson who still sat in the chair where he’d been sitting the entire time. You saw the bastard’s finger at the trigger. Fast as you could move, you jumped in front of Dyson’s chair just as the shot rang out.

The room spun around you violently, as hands grabbed you. Dyson’s. Your husband’s. You saw your blood splatter the front of Dyson’s shirt and tie, more gore on top of Neal’s, as he watched in horror. It felt like someone punched you in the shoulder really, really hard.

There was a blur of activity in that moment all around you, but you weren’t aware of anything but the pain that was starting to come on and the sound of your husband dropping to his knees behind you. Crimson bloomed at the front of his white dress shirt and his hand flew to his chest as he went down.

Yes, you’d been shot.

But fear and guilt choked you to realize your husband took the brunt of it.

“Steve!” you screamed.

PS: Just on my fic posts, I’m adding a tip function. In honor of the kitty we just lost in February, I’m donating everything to our local animal shelter. Tips are not, will never be, and have never been expected. But if you feel so inclined, thank you. 🙏

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