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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year

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Eris x Reader | I See Red

type: smut warning(s): explicit descriptions, oral male receiving, slight display of dominance, very little plot word count: 2.4k words summary: Reader and Eris are from two different courts (Spring and Autumn), you are enemies with benefits. I think the initial idea for this I got from @moonlightazriel and @bubbles-for-all-of-us, so yes, dedicating this to you <3

Missed me, darling?”

You lean against the door behind you, one leg crossed behind the ankle of the other, your hands clasped behind your back when you cock a brow. “Dream on, Vanserra. Missing you would be the last thing on my agenda.”

Eris finally deigns you a look, sitting atop his throne, pure arrogance and confidence lacing his features.

“I’ll remind you of that when you scream my name, telling me I have the best—“

“I am here for business,” you quickly snap, not wanting him to continue. Well, technically you do want him to continue but you can't let him. You already feel yourself getting wet by the sheer thought of what he has been referring to. Those tender nights, full of heat and passion, love making and fucking, till the early morning hours, after High Lord’s meeting. Once your High Lord has found out about your business with the High Lord of Autumn, he told you to stop. The High Lord of Spring wasn't too keen on inter-courtal…connections.

“Oh and I thought if you didn’t come here because you missed me, you might have come here to apologise.” You shoot him an incredulous look. Eris sits in a sprawl, leaning backwards, spreading his legs wider. He cocks his head and smirks, giving you a one over. The High Lord brings one hand up to his chin, rubbing over it. “I might consider this dress apology enough.” “What would I have to apologise for?” you snap and push of the door, strolling forward.

The throne room is empty – Eris has ushered everyone out the moment he saw you arrive because he knew this meeting with you would go one way or the other.

The rather unpleasant option would be you acting up, the two of you fighting like fire dragons, and you most likely humiliating him in front of his people and he was not going to have that, so his staff had to leave first.

Option number two would go into a whole different direction but audience was still not needed. Eris thinks about having you on his lap, on his cock, riding him, fucking as this was often how small disputes between the two of you ended – your sweaty bodies, moving against each other.

And he really does not need his staff if the quarreling between the two of you ends in that way.

“For not letting anything know from you after the last meeting?” Eris suggests and cocks his brow, pure arrogance lacing his features. You release air through your nose, glowering at him because he knows exactly why you haven’t reached out to him. Bloody idiot, you think.

Anger blooms in your chest, making your blood heat up. You were here for business, not to talk with him about anything else.

“You know exactly why!” Eris releases a mockery noise and purses his lips at you. “Seems like Tamlin has you on a tight leash, huh?”

You groan under your breath, clenching your jaw. Your hands form fists at your sides and you have to call upon all restraints inside of you to hold back from lunging at him. Also because you have an inkling of what that would lead too. The desire, the tension, the passion, between the two of you is just too strong, too poignant. There is nothing that feels like being with him – nothing can compare to him. One taste of the Autumn fire and you crave it forever, nothing can sat your hunger until you gets a taste of him again.

Your mouth waters when you have memories flooding your mind, your vision clouding with desire. But you try to channel your anger, making it reach the surface so you can focus on why you are really here.

“Speaking of Tamlin. He has sent me—“ “Is he not afraid that you will climb into my bed again?” You hold up a hand, making him shut up. “Tamlin wonders why you want to close part of the border to our court.”

Eris taps his foot on the ground, his thumb rubbing over his jaw while he ponders.

“Border through the Maple Forest,” you press, helping him to think faster.

“I have no intentions to close my border there,” Eris finally says and smiles – his stupid cocky High Lord smile.

You feel fury blaze through your veins because he is obviously mocking. “Why are the warriors then? Lining the border?”

“Because we have noticed unnatural movement from the sea, we are making sure neither Autumn,” — Eris leans forward, putting stress on the next words he speaks— “nor Spring will be affected by it.”

Oh. You swallow thickly, suddenly embarrassed about having accused him of planning something that could harm Spring or that was strange. He is actually trying to protect Prythian – he is trying to protect the Spring court.

“Oh,” you breathe, suddenly feeling so small in front of the High Lord, looming over you from his throne. “Sorry.” “You think a simple sorry will do? Did you—“ Eris halts, lifts a slender finger and narrows his eyes on you. “Hold up. Did you and your oh so amazing High Lord accuse me of something illegal? Like me being up to something that could harm you.” You bit down on your lip and give your head a shake. You know he can see right through your lie, but you stand your ground, holding his gaze. “I already said sorry.” “And you think that will suffice?”

“Yes.” “It doesn’t.”

You roll your eyes, internally planning to pierce a dagger right through his heart because he makes your blood boil and every spoken word just fuels this fire more. You wonder how it is possible how hate and desire for one and the same person can be so closely tied together. There is this heat, almost burning you to ashes whenever you just look at him, but then there is the other side of you that just wants to…punch him. In his gut, or his balls, really hard.

You cock a brow, smirking when you lace your voice in the breathiest whisper possible, knowing it will drive him crazy. And if you have to suffer, he can too. “And what will I have to do to earn your forgiveness, my lord?" Eris grows hard in that moment. He regrets having put on those tight pants that morning, now creating an awful ache in his crotch where his erection presses agains the seam.

Eris moves one hand over his groin, leaning forward. Oh, he knows your games and he is more than willing to play. Just not your game. His game, where you will do just as he tells you, because he knows you secretly love to be his good girl, love to get praised for doing so well for him.

“Get on your knees. Crawl to me.” You shoot him an incredulous look to which Eris only cocks his head and arches a brow.

“You want my forgiveness? Then beg for it.”

You draw in a deep breath, holding his heated a gaze. Feral delight spreads over his features.

“Maybe I actually don’t need your forgiveness?”

His eyes narrow in on you when his lips part. “To bad then that my cock is the only one to keep you satisfied, would be a shame if you never find that sort of pleasure again.”

And damn him, but he truly has a point and that only fuels the burning fire of fury more. You bare your teeth at him, letting the fury reach the surface which only makes him want you more. Oh, having you angered, riding his cock, bouncing on him, telling him how much you hate him when he knows it is your sweetest lie.

“Darling, we both know how much you want me. How much you want me to forgive you. How much you want to beg for my cock.”

The Cauldron have mercy on you and the Mother, oh please, may she look away from your sins. Holding his gaze, you slowly lower yourself to the ground, letting one hand slide forward on the cool marble, your lower lip sucked between your teeth, your back arched, giving him the perfect view down your cleavage and of your ass. Almost in a feline way, you make your way over the ground, loving how his chests heaves with heavy inhales, his eyes darken with desire, and his tongue pokes out, licking one slow, and long stroke over his lower lip. Gods, this tongue and the things it was capable of doing. You turn molten, feeling how your undergarments soak with your arousal. You know he can scent it, can scent how turned on you get by his words, his actions.

A purr slips through Eris’ lips, his eyes glazed when you come to a stop. Eris’ eyes darken when watches, eyes darkening, as you kneel in front of him, parting his thighs and fitting yourself between his legs. “I hope you will grant me forgiveness after this.”

Eris swallows thickly, chest heaving, shoulders heaving, his mind clouded with desire.

Trying to keep the excitement from his voice, Eris speaks lowly and says, “We shall see, kitten.”

A sigh parts your lips and you use the chance to trace your tongue over them, wetting them, preparing them for Eris. Freeing his proud and rigid sex you clasp him in both hands, stroking. A bead of liquid has already built up at the tip and you flick your tongue over it, loving how he shudders, how his right leg jerks up.

Eris groans lowly, an almost primal sound leaving him, when you fully wrap your lips around him, suckling lightly.

His head lolls back, eyes rolling back in his head. “Fuck!”

You take him deeper, loving how much control your actions give you. He thinks he is in control, oh Mother, you have him fully at your mercy in that moment.

The High Lord's hands twist into your hair, fingers digging into your scalp, pulling on some strands. You bring a hand up, playing with his sensitive balls and it is the last push he needs. Everything that is on his mind is your hand on me, your lips fastening around his length, you swallowing around him, hollowing your cheeks, taking him deeper – it is all a blur of passion, of desire, hunger and need.

Your name is a hiss on his lips, his sex twitching and he comes with a shout, hitting the bottom of your mouth, the back of your throat, until his hot release fills your mouth. Eris growls your name when you remove your mouth, swallow, lick over your lips and wipe your hand over your jaw.

Face glistening with him you grin up at him and it is beyond you how fast he moves. Pinned beneath him on the throne room floor, he makes quick work, shoving your dress up, exposing your sex to the cool air and releasing a delighted growl when he finds you already bare for him. He catches your lip between his teeth before his mouth closer over yours, kissing you in an almost ravishing way.

Your bodies come together on the floor of the throne room, his body caging yours, him moving inside you, on top of you, loving you tenderly and raw and hungry.

“Nothing feels like that,” Eris groans, his face dropping to the crook of your shoulder. He sucks on your skin when you wrap your legs around his waist, him filling you so perfectly.

“Nothing can compare to this. To how you feel. How we feel together.” “Yes.” It is the only thing you can say, every rational thought having left your mind long ago. You feel him all over your, on you, in you, and you hold onto him, knowing it is one of those fleeting moments. One moment that ends way too soon and there might not be another one following. You claw at his skin, nails biting into his hard back, letting him take you on the floor.

You move your lips over his, kissing him deeply, showing him all the emotions and feelings you cannot convey otherwise. Because saying the words….you could never.

It takes a glorious time, as it always does with Eris, until you both are fully spent, collapsing on the cool marble floor next to each other, his arm around you.

“I meant what I said earlier in the heat of the moment,” Eris pants. “Nothing feels like you. It is you and will only ever be you. No female will ever compare to you.”

You turn over, cradling his cheek in one hand, kissing his jaw tenderly. “Nothing feels like you, Eris. It is you and will always be you and nothing compares to that.”

The High Lord hums in delight, the words, his love declaration burning on his tongue, but he does not say anything, enjoys the comfortable silence. On the floor in his throne room. But with you in his arm. No it doesn’t matter where, it is perfection.

“So am I forgiven then?” you ask in a calm, teasing voice.

Eris chuckles, his chest rumbling. You love this…post sex lightness. It is always easiest between the two of you after some heated rounds in the sheets or…on the floor. And it makes you wonder if you would give it a try…would it always be like that?

“I might another round of convincing,” Eris drawls, kissing your temple. You swat at his chest, laughing loudly. He loves this, loves to see you laugh, freely, with your head tipped back, mouth wide open, eyes squeezed close.

“Alright, for now you are forgiven. Only until you decide again to show up at my court without fucking underwear on.” “Just for you.”

He smiles to himself, feeling you snuggle closer to him and decides that spending the whole night on the hard, cold floor would totally be worth it as long as it is with you in his arms.

~~~~~~~~

tags: @sunshinebingo @tarataraaaa @brekkershadowsinger @azriels-mate123 @mandziaaa @cosmic-whispers @mali22 @elsie-bells @imma-too-many-fandoms @kuraikei @ginnyweasley06 @bubnix @powerfulpantera

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #acosf

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mythicalmyles · 1 year

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A dream i had has been haunting me so here i am.

A jock any sport my dream wasnt specific just a popular jock is the reader and he is just so popular and everyone loves him and of course everyone assumes since his this big jock his the dom in the relationship between him and his boyfriend when in fact his the complete opposite.

The boyfriend can be in the band or a part of the cheer team again it depends on the sport and my dreams never clarify, He hears one of these conversations and has a brilliant idea that he was gonna put the reader in his place and everyone is gonna know that place.

I have no idea what kinks would be used, Just kinky and maybe some praise but ropes are involved or something, just use your imagination

Honestly just nerds putting jocks in their place 🤭🤭

U have in turn haunted me with this request 😤 i hope u enjoy since u didnt say who so i used toby bc hhhh i hope das oke <3 yall need to tell me more dreams ong (football is soccer) also sorry for so much toby but hes my cc and i need hims content

/tobys back story for today, put up w bullying met you, go to college together he kills his parents a couple weeks before instead leaving them in the basement and hiding their deaths, tobys already snapped but still has comprehension of who he was as a kid/

college au/jealousy kinda fic/comfort at start kind

/violence(toby gets violent too a character who doesn’t matter)blood/minor gore(?)/

You let out a gasping huff, bending over hands on your knees as your body scraped for oxygen. Sweat caused your football strip to stick to you, you dragged the wet clothing off of your sticky body, fanning it hoping to cool yourself down. “Thats it for today ladies!” The coach shouted, finally dismissing you all from practise.

You wiped the sweat off of your brow using your shirt as you jogged to the locker rooms. Mentally preparing yourself for the stink of many sweaty men crammed into one room, you pushed the door open immediately hit with the odour and cringing. You ignored it and made your way to your locker, you were convinced of the fact the cleaners had never stepped foot in here.

You all but threw yourself down into a bench after collecting your things, leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths. Your soaking hair clung to you and you brushed it away, the wetness helping it stay out of your face. A towel was thrown next to you and you cocked an eyebrow up at the intruder, trying to keep the scowl off of your face when the team captain came into view.

His cocky smirk drove you to the brink of insanity, the urge to knock it off of his arrogant face overwhelming. “Whats the deal with you and twitchy?” You glowered at him. “Dont call him that.” He had the audacity to laugh as he began stripping, the locker room falling silent as your voices bounced around the room. “Well?” He laughed armed raised and looking around as if he was confused. “You fucking him or something?” You tried not to flush, doing your best to cover any affect he might see with a glare. “If we were? So what?” You challenged, keeping eye contact with the prick.

He laughed and shook his head. “Calm down princess no need to get so angry, was just askin’.” Before you could respond your boyfriends voice had your attention to him, shock covering your face as you thought he still had band practise. “Speak of rats and they come crawlin’.” Your captain was incredibly lucky your entire life was banking on a sports scholarship.

“Fuck you want?” Toby’s deep voice always sent shivers running up your spine, the anger in his tone not helping. He sounded even hotter when he was spitting fire at someone. You took a deep breath, ready to tell Toby to forget it and to go home. “Yeah he was telling us alll about how he fucks you.” Paul chucked, arms crossed as he smirked at you both.

You could feel how angry Toby was getting at this point, dealing with his shit for way longer then you had at this point. What you didn’t expect was for Toby to lunge forward slamming straight into paul and slamming his head off of the ground, you froze completely as your teammates rushed to pull the scraping two apart, well, Toby was currently punching Paul and Paul was currently taking it while wailing for him to stop.

Toby had changed a lot recently, he seemed a lot quicker to react with anger then he use to be. Eyes holding something dark that scared you, you wanted to run and pull him off. You really did. But Toby barely looked human in that moment, blood covering his face as he continually wailed into Paul. Your team mates finally pulled them apart and when Paul stood you couldn’t deny the relief that flooded you as you quickly ran to Toby.

You ran through the corridors, your footsteps slamming against the ground and echoing off of the walls. Toby suddenly took over, dragging you instead. Surprise took over you and you tried your best not to trip as you both ran towards your home.

Luckily you didn’t live far away, having a small house your parents had left you. You both practically broke the door down and you paused to stare at the back of Toby’s head. “Yo-you could’ve killed him.” You choked out after a few minutes of silence.

“And so what?” He suddenly growled out, bloody face staring you down as his eyes bugged out. Rage was still burning through his veins, you could see his twitching worsen as his breathing got more laboured. He marched towards you backing you into a wall. His hands slamming either side of your head. “So wh-what, huh? Whu-what if i di-d-d-id!.” He slammed his palms against the wall as his stutter worsened. “What then?” His voice was normal, almost sounding hallow as he spoke. His dull brown eyes gazed into yours, you could see the unshed tears gathering in his lashes. You felt a warm heat flood inside of your chest, making a promise in that moment.

Your shaking hand came to rest on his cheek, causing him to flinch. Shock was written across Toby’s face. “I’ll always love you.” You took a second to clear your throat. “No matter what. No matter what wrong you do. I. Love. You.” You kept looking into his eyes, hoping with each word it’d work its way into his head.

Toby’s mind had went blank, his heart twisting almost painfully as he say the earnest look in your eyes. Shining, full of love for him. Toby pushed his lips against yours, tongue quick to push its way into your mouth. He gripped your ass tight and pulled you close together, grinding your hips together. His mood swings always threw you through a loop, this one happened to be the most unsettling. “You know who yo-you belong to r-r-ri-right.” He stuttered out, eyes glued to your face. You bit your lip. “I belong to Toby Rogers.”

That was all it took for him to yank your jeans down, scooping you up into his arms and press you against the wall as his tongue made its way down your throat. Moans poured out of you as he ground against you, your back scraping against the wall with the force. “Th-tha-ts right. Good boy.” He made quick work of his fly, his cock flopping out and hitting against you. All you could do was moan in excitement as Toby lined himself up, he found his way to your neck his breath tickling your skin. He licked his lips, tongue flicking against your skin and sending your body shivering.

“T-Toby.” You whined you, grinding down against his cock and moaning as he pressed against your hole. “Sti-still we-wett from this morn-morni-.” He cut himself off with a growl, slamming into you and relishing in your scream and the way your nails dug into his shoulders. Toby easily fucked you against the wall, almost acting as if you weighed nothing. You wondered whether it had to do with his disorder or not. Toby was quick to fuck any thought out of your brain, in love with the dumb mess you turned into when you had sex.

“Who ma-makes you feel thi-is good?” You kept eye contact as he used you like a flesh light. “F-fuck, Toby, only Toby. You!” You screamed out as toby railed into your prostate, eyes crossing as he fucked you stupid. Toby growled and bit into your shoulder, you let out a yelp. Pain flooded your neck and Toby pulled back to give you a bloody smile, the idea of being marked by Toby forever going straight to your heart and cock. “Do it! Ma-mark me up. Want every-on-one to know who i bel-belong to.” You moaned out, Toby’s thick cock wreaking you from the inside out.

You choked as your orgasm came quick, sending you screaming Toby’s name as you came on his cock. The tight heat of your ass was enough to make him cum, the feeling of you actually cuming on his cock is what sent him over the edge, desperately fucking into you. Part of him hoped he left a hole no one else could ever fill.

His knuckles went white as he clung to to you, deep breathing as he rode his high out inside of you. He fell into you, pushing you into the wall as you held him. Hand making its way into his fluffy brown hair, you tugged it lightly to get those beautiful brown eyes you loved so much to look at you. Everytime you looked into his eyes you felt breathless, despite the tired, cold, hardened look to them that had developed, they still made your knees weak. “I love you.” You whispered against his lips, slotting them together after he repeated his words to you.

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horseshoegirl · 1 year

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Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 10 - Let's Dance

📝 Okay, Peeps! This is pure fluff with some spice! I also love this song, so please check it out!

Speaking of songs, I made the official playlist for this fic! Not sure if you guys listen, but it's linked in the master list if you guys want to check it out!

18+ minors DNI. Ageless and blank blogs are blocked without warning.

❗+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child, sexual themes (I mean Smut, so get outta here if you ain't +18), mentions of a stalker, grieving, and shitty family dynamics.

#7k Words

Part 9 | Masterlist | Part 11

You never expected Jake to want to take you to the annual state fair for your first date. It seemed out of character for someone like him. Then you realized it didn't seem that farfetched. If he grew up on a ranch in Texas, he probably went to these all the time.

You had been at the grocery store when his text came through. Jake had sent you the flyer, along with a message.

You. Me. Saturday + Dinner ;)

And before you could reply, there was another text.

Penny was going to take Sadie sailing away.

While some part of you was slightly surprised he followed through on his ask, you had to glance down both ends of the baking aisle to make sure you were alone before squealing and jogging a little on the spot.

It had been a few days since the hallway. Jake and you spent at least another half hour tied up in each other's arms, and you practically had to peel yourself away from him. You were so giddy the rest of the morning, and then some, after you had forced yourself to go back to bed, trying to stay as still as possible with Nat still asleep next to you.

Sitting across from him at breakfast, he acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you, that he was just friendly Jake, leading you to believe maybe it had all been a fever dream caused by the discomfort of the storm.

But when he went to place his glass in the sink while you were washing the dishes, he slyly touched your hip, letting his fingers slide across the fabric of your jeans just below your waistline, whispering, "Thank you, Darlin'" roughly into your ear before he returned to the table.

Yup, definitely not a dream.

So while you were working with Penny the day before the date, she didn’t waste the opportunity to grill you about it. Hard.

“You have a date.”

You blushed. “Penny..”

“Where is he taking you?” she pressed.

“He didn’t tell you, seeing as you're now his accomplice?” you countered, trying to finish mixing a cocktail someone ordered.

“Tell who what?”

Your head shot up to see Phoenix leaning up against the bar. "When did you get here? Why are you here?"

“I’m helping Penny with something. Now spill…”

Penny beat you to it, leaning over the bar and resting on her elbows when she told Nat, “Liz has a date. With Hangman.”

Nat smirked. “Oh, so him pressing you up against the wall in your hallway didn’t do it?”

“Elizabeth Beck!” Penny gasped. You squealed, dropping to the ground behind the bar, Phoenix laughing at your antics. “I can’t believe you saw that.”

“I had to go to the bathroom,” Nat said like it was obvious. “It’s not every day you see your best friend getting rammed up against a wall like that.”

“Oh, good lord.”

"Get back up here," Penny tapped your leg with herself softly, you standing up with a blush overcoming your face. She wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you into her side.

"Tell us," she tried again. "We aren't judging. We just want details."

You relented, quickly sputtering, "He's taking me to the fair."

They oo'd in response, making you shy away from Penny and reach for the drink you made, walking over to the person who ordered it sitting on the other side of the bar.

Nat followed you, quickly asking, "What will you wear? Something sexy?"

You glowered at her once you placed the drink down. "It's the fair, Nat."

Penny wasn't that far behind, bumping you on the hip. "There's nothing wrong with showing off."

You stuttered, trying to come up with some response that wasn't your usual reply of, 'I'm not like that,’ until someone shouted for Penny, distracting the three of you. She pouted, realizing the conversation would continue without her before leaving you and Phoenix alone.

“I’m just teasing you,” Nat offered. “I said I would back you up with this, and I will.”

You paused, gripping the edge of the bar. “Does the rest of the team know?” you asked hesitantly.

Nat shook her head. “I think Coyote knows something. He’s the closest with Jake.”

It struck you momentarily that this was the first time you heard Nat refer to Jake by his first name. It was always Hangman or Bagman. His last name was even rarer. It might have been a small change, but it showed you Nat was serious about this. It brought a small smile to your face.

“As for the others, Payback and Fanboy are off in their own world half the time to notice, and Bob is too shy to let on. I can’t say anything about Bradley, though.”

You frowned. This wasn’t the first time you thought about Bradley and what he might say or do if he found out. He was so heated on New Year's. If he reacted that badly, what would be his reaction when he found out his claims weren’t exactly untrue?

"Can we not tell Bradley? At least for now?”

Nat shot you a look. “Really?”

“I’m serious, Nat. He was so angry on New Year's Eve. It was scary.”

"Maybe he has a crush on you."

You wretched, the action making you hack. “Ew, no way. He's like a brother to me.”

"Then you should really tell him."

You shook your head. "It's just one date, Nat. I have no idea if anything will come of it."

She slapped your forearm, exclaiming, "We both know that's not true. You so have it for Hangman. It's not funny."

"It's one date. Besides," you shrugged before saying, "I think it has to do with Sadie."

“Those two have a professional rivalry,” She said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s extending over to whoever is the better uncle.”

“God, I hope not,” you shuttered. It was one thing to argue about who the better pilot was. It was another to include Sadie into the mix.

At the mention of Sadie, you looked up at the time, realizing you were five minutes over your shift and late to pick her up. “Shit, I'm late. I gotta go pick Sadie up from Soccer practice.”

Natasha leaned back from the bar, ready to return to what she was helping Penny with but not before saying, “Just think about it, Liz. It should come from you rather than anyone else.”

Saying a quick goodbye to Penny, you clocked out and gathered your bag. But as soon as you walked out the doors, that damn white car was the first thing you saw.

This car always seemed to be there - it hadn’t done anything but park in the Hard Deck parking lot and was driving you insane. You strangely found yourself looking for it when you drove around town. Or in the parking lot of Sadie’s school. You thought you saw it once parked outside of your house but played it off as being paranoid.

You usually weren’t this suspicious or obsessive about these things, but it was enough to make you feel concerned. Turning on your heel, you marched back into the Hard Deck, Penny frowning from behind the bar when she saw you.

“Have you seen that car before, Penny? The white one with the spoiler on the back?”

You could tell she was thinking about it, pinching her eyebrows together before finally recalling, “Oh, it was a nice young man looking for a surf spot. He came in one day asking, and I told him about the overnight rule.”

You heard nothing beyond young man. “You remember the night I closed? You told Jake I was closing by myself?”

She nodded. “Yeah, that was a little while ago.”

“That car was there then. It would have been too early for surfers.”

But she only shook her head. “With everything that's happened with CPS and that letter, I’m sure you're just being paranoid, Liz,” she said before walking over to the other side of the bar with a drink in her hand.

If you could only believe it was just paranoia.

Jake was going to pick you up at 11, and it being 10:30, you were still stressing over what to wear. Your bedroom looked like the morning of the hike. Clothes flung in every corner, hangers hanging off random hooks and knobs.

Everything you held up against yourself to look at in the mirror either felt too plain or too out there for a state fair. You needed help, and you needed it badly. You pulled out your phone, scrolling down your contacts, stopping when your fingers hovered over Ridely's number.

But then, instantly, you remember you couldn’t call her. You slid down the footboard of your bed, back hurting with the effort as your phone dangled from your fingertips, your head hung low between your legs.

She would always ask you when you called if you had met anyone, if you had gone on any dates, teasing you and telling you repeatedly that you needed someone in your life. But now, you couldn’t even tell her you were going on a date. You couldn’t call her afterwards and talk about it like sisters could.

She’d never get to meet Jake. To give him a shovel talk like you did with her dates. The two would never sit across from each other at the dinner table, bickering with each other like you were sure they would, their personalities clashing hard. She wouldn't have approved of him initially, much like you hadn't. But she would have warmed up to him by knowing how good he was with Sadie.

But then you spiralled, admonishing yourself for thinking that far ahead. It was only a first date. By the end of today, you might come to find you had a horrible time, and any chance at any type of relationship with Jake would be ruined.

It was only a first date.

And you couldn't tell her.

The sobs worked their way up your throat before you knew you were crying, begging to be let out and heard. Tears streamed down your face, the drops pooling on your bedroom floor.

But then Sadie’s voice carried from your front door, shouting out that Aunt Penny and Nat were here. You scrambled to get up, reaching for the closest piece of clothing to put away.

Penny appeared in your doorway as you wiped at your face, attempting to fold up a sweater. She carefully walked up behind you, placing her hand on your shoulder. But her touch was too much, and you turned, pulling her into a hug, the tears you tried so hard to stop refusing to listen to you.

"I'm so sorry, Penny," you wept into her shoulder. It didn't help when you opened your eyes over her shoulder, the shoebox was the first thing you saw sitting up on the top shelf.

Penny hushed you, her voice wavering as she stroked your back soothingly, "Nope, you're not apologizing for that. Let it out, Liz."

"I just..." you gasped as another sob wracked your chest. But Penny pulled back, taking your face between her hands, her thumbs wiping away your running mascara.

"You'd don't need to tell me. We all know you miss her."

Penny let you cry into her chest for a few minutes, her own tears starting to mix with yours, before pressing a kiss to your forehead and reaching for a button-up blouse lying on your bed.

"Now, come on," she sniffed, holding it up for you. "We will find you the best first date outfit amongst this mess."

She did. Just in time for Nat to fix your makeup and for Sadie to snap a few photos of you with her Polaroid. And right at 11, you opened the door to a bouquet blocking Jake’s face.

“You got me flowers?” you said, greeting him with a smile when he lowered them to reveal his face. Jake carefully placed them into your outstretched hand, grinning when you immediately brought them to your face to smell them.

“I’m sorry they're not tulips.”

You shook your head, smiling into the bouquet. “It doesn’t matter what they are. Thank you, Jake.”

And then, in something that made you smile, he pulled out a single flower wrapped in a bow from his back pocket. “I figured I should keep with tradition.”

You stepped forward, hand pressing to Jake's shoulder as you pressed your lips to his. Letting Jake deepen the kiss, he wrapped his arms around your waist, mindful of the flowers in the crook of your arm. But you pulled back when you felt his hands sliding down your back towards your ass.

“We have eyes and ears on us from the living room,” you warned him, jerking your head towards your hallway. Not that Penny or Nat would let Sadie see anything untoward from their hiding spot behind the wall. But you could do without the teasing from them afterwards.

Jake grinned, leaning over to call out, "Bug!"

Turning to face your hallway, you spied Sadie stumbling out from behind the wall like she had been pushed. She huffed at someone, probably at Nat, then comically straightened her shirt before making her way to the door.

"Hi, Uncle Jake," she greeted him, though her voice lacked the usual cheeriness it always had. Jake let you go to kneel in front of her, holding out the flower. "Miss Sadie, will you accept this flower so I can spend the day with your aunt?"

Sadie's face remained stoic as she reached out to take the flower from his hand, bringing it up to her face as she twirled it once. Jake stood up, slightly worried about her non-reaction. But you knew exactly what she was doing, and Jake was falling for it hook, line and sinker.

In Sadie fashion, she finally grinned at him, holding her free hand up to her forehead in a salute, cheekily saying, "Have her home by no later than 11!"

You laughed when Jake saluted her back. Sadie, content with the reaction, ran back inside to find Penny so they could put her flower in some water.

"Was I just given a curfew by a ten-year-old?"

"Yup."

---

The benefit of getting to the fairgrounds a little bit earlier, you didn’t have to wait in line for rides. And boy, were you surprised when Jake dragged you around to a bunch of them. Teacups, bumper cars, going down those super long slides in a potato sack more than once, you plastered up against his chest. If the two of you could go on it, Jake ensured you did.

A part of you was slightly pleased he wanted to. It helped with the slight nervousness in your stomach, both from this morning and from being with Jake in this context. You had to remind yourself time and time again that Jake was the same as he had always been. But it became easier with each ride, the two of you laughing way harder than you should for a Saturday morning.

It took your stomach rumbling loudly enough for Jake to kiss your cheek and drag you to the food stands. After asking what you wanted, he told you to find a seat, saying there was no possible way you were paying for yourself. You had huffed at him, but he only pecked your forehead before gently turning you by your shoulders and sending you on your way.

You found a picnic bench away from the stands under a tree. It was the perfect spot, away from other seats, for you and Jake to talk. He found you easily enough, handing you your corn on the cob on a paper plate before placing his hot dog down on the table and climbing over the bench to sit next to you.

But it occurred to you, as you started to nibble on the cob, you didn’t really know that much about him. Sure, you knew he was a fighter pilot, from Texas, from a big family with troubling dynamics. He grew up on a ranch. He was a few years older than you. He had a reputation.

But you didn’t know the other important stuff.

“What’s your favourite colour?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“What’s your favourite colour?” you said again, laughing.

He shot you a look. “We’re really doing this?”

“You're the one that wanted to take me out on a date,” you shrugged, taking another bite of your cob. “So spill. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Orange.” He admitted after a second. "You?"

“Blue-Green. But not turquoise,” you were quick to correct. “The blue-green you see out in the sea.”

Jake nodded thoughtfully but didn’t say anything.

“This is the part where you ask me a different question,” you roughly whispered, leaning over to tease him.

Jake chuckled, making a show of needing to think about his question before finally asking, “Most embarrassing moment?”

You giggled at the memory. “When Sadie was born. I was rushing to leave the hospital cause I was late for my shift. The nurse told me I could use the stairwells, but I triggered the emergency exit fire alarm on the door instead.”

Jake snickered with a mouthful of his hot dog.

“Hey, they tell you you can use those doors. I was misinformed.”

Jake shook his head fondly. "Okay, your turn."

“Did you always want to be in the Navy? Flying planes?” you asked, sobering the conversation. Jake looked at you for a minute before staring down at his plate. “Remember how I said my future was more or less planned out?”

You nodded, taking another bite of your corn on the cob, listening as he continued. “My grandfather served in the Navy. He saw how much I didn’t want to follow in my brother’s footsteps and started talking to me about his deployments.”

Jake grabbed a napkin off the table, wiping away a speck of mustard from the corner of his mouth before explaining, "My dad had been pressuring me throughout college to come home and take over the ranch since I put my foot down about football. I spent a summer with my grandfather up at a Navy base in Fort Worth, learning, watching, and taking everything in. I got to see a little bit of everything, but the fighter squadron... there was something freeing in seeing them up there."

You could tell he was lost in his head, reminiscing about a time when he was trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, away from people's impressions and opinions. If you ever met Jake's dad, you'd make sure he knew what you thought about the treatment of his youngest son.

"Then he asked if I wanted to join when I graduated," He shrugged. “One of the best decisions I’ve ever made. He passed five years ago.”

Listening to Jake recount his story made your heart ache, knowing he would have been expected to live out a future somebody else had carved for him had somebody not shown him a different way. Though it brought comfort to know Jake had somebody in his corner, two people looking out for him if you considered his sister. You reached out, letting your hand graze up and down his forearm in comfort.

“He was looking out for you,” you offered kindly.

“He would have liked you,” he wondered aloud. “And he would have spoiled Sadie to no end.”

You let the silence stretch on, knowing Jake would need a few seconds to regain his composure. But then he suddenly said aloud, “You said Ridley sent your college admissions for you. What did you study?”

You swallowed hard at the mention of Ridley, a queasiness settling in your stomach as this morning was still too fresh on your mind.

“English,” you managed to say. “The bookcase in my family room wasn’t a dead giveaway?”

“Anyone can be a bookworm,” he remarked, the look on his face indicating he expected you to continue.

“I wrote a lot in high school,” you shrugged. “Fiction, poetry… short stories. Ridley found them one day after we moved, submitting a couple to a few English and creative writing programs.”

Jake took another bite of his food before asking, “You’re a writer?”

You nodded. “Trying to be.”

“Anything I can read?” He asked playfully, knocking your shoulder. You smirked, pushing back into him as you said, “Maybe one day.”

You didn’t know if asking something like this on a date you thought was going well was proper. But you were curious anyway when you casually said, “Your first kiss?”

But Jake wasn’t ashamed to answer, not that you expected him to be. The man oozed confidence. “Highschool. After my first touchdown. One of the cheerleaders at the side bench. The worst experience of my life.”

“I knew you were a jock,” you snorted.

“What about you?”

“I was a geek - in the library most weekends.”

“No, your first kiss.”

“Oh… um..” you hesitated before finally admitting, “You.”

You may as well have sucker-punched him in the gut. Jake turned to face you, shock then confusion covering his face, as if you didn’t just admit to him the kiss at three AM in your hallway was the first time you’d ever been kissed.

His reaction made you look down into your lap, blending the edge of your paper plate back and forth, before giving into the urge to fill the silence. “I’ve gone on dates. But they never went past the first one. Either things didn’t work out, or I got ghosted. It made me wonder what I was doing wrong.”

Jake cleared his throat. “So you’ve never…?”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to know what he was asking. You shook your head, your blush spreading down your neck. “Does that surprise you?”

“Someone like you, how didn’t anyone..?”

“I’ve never trusted someone enough to do it with,” you shrugged. You felt embarrassed, not that you should have been. But it was a well know fact Jake got around. That he was, for lack of a better word, experienced.

It wasn’t like the opportunity didn’t present itself while you were at college. But the parties and causal thing just wasn’t for you. And all the guys seemed like walking red flags. Your insecurities also didn’t help. But they weren’t as bad back then as they are now. And then Sadie came along, and you put any thought of dating aside.

“Does that bother you?” you asked meekly, scared of his answer.

Jake turned, his knee knocking yours as he dropped his plate to the bench, wiping his hand on his shorts before reaching out to stroke the outside of your thigh. His voice was firm when he answered, “Absolutely not. I’m just surprised.”

You didn’t know you had been holding your breath when you found yourself letting out a sigh of relief.

“Though I can’t lie, I’m thinking about all the ways I can corrupt your innocent little soul.”

You smirked, shaking your head. "You're a menace."

He returns your grin, unfazed by your response. “Now, what else did you want to ask me? Since we are doing the question thing.”

You thought about it for a second before asking, “What were you going to tell me on New Year’s Eve?”

But rather than freeze up like he did the other times you asked, Jake smiled fondly at you, hand still stroking the outside of your leg. “What? Me giving you the best first kiss of your life in your hallway at three AM wasn’t enough? Clearly, I didn’t do my job right. ”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jake leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before leaning back. “I was going to ask if you wanted to start the year off by going on a date with me.”

You gulped. “You’ve been thinking about this awhile then?”

“Since Sadie invited me on the hike.”

The uneasiness in your stomach disappeared with the mention of Sadie, and you squeezed his wrist in silent thanks before reaching for your food. But then Jake said something that made you pause.

“I think she’s trying to play matchmaker with her subtle hints and pictures…” He froze, realizing what he just said out loud. You dropped the cob from your mouth, looking over at him in shock.

“She didn’t!” You exclaimed, catching on to what he didn’t say. “Oh, that insect! I knew she sent you something suspicious with those photos!”

“Hey, I promised her I wouldn’t say anything,” he said, sounding guilty for breaking his promise. Then your mind flashed back to the video chat you had with Jake. “Wait, Coyote… at the end of our call..”

Jake closed his eyes, tilting his head back to the sky as you exclaimed, “Was I the photo in your cockpit?!”

___

Jake told you he wanted to take this slow.

You had agreed to the both of you taking it slow.

Hell, it was your first date.

But damn, he was not making it easy.

After lunch, Jake wanted to take you to the arcade on the other side of the fairgrounds before the two of you had dinner. Buying a bag full of coins, he placed them in the palm of your hand, telling you to pick whatever you wanted. But you wouldn't have that, telling him the two of you would take turns deciding what to play.

But no matter what game the two of you decided on, you were sure he was purposely trying to mess you up by making himself as distractingly attractive as possible.

It all started with the air hockey table. A few occasional glances here or there as you knocked the puck back and forth along the table. Then it was the flirty trash talk, a playful diss being said when one of you would score against the other, leading you to shout out, "Bite me, Hangman."

But he smirked and cockily replied, "I have."

The blush that came next could have rivalled Rooster's angry face.

Next came the basketball hoops. Jake went first, and despite you standing in his line of sight, leaning up against the machine to the side, Jake didn't break his focus as he made every shot. You knew it was a failed attempt from the start anyway, given how focused he would have to be flying an F-18.

Unfortunately, you didn't have much luck when it came to your turn. He came up behind you, his hands on your hips, pressing kisses to your cheek and neck, hoping it would distract you enough to miss your shots and allow him to win the game, which he did.

And out of all things, they had axe throwing. If this man could throw a dart with that much accuracy, he had no trouble with the axes. Watching him toss the axe from over his head, muscles bulging, the look of concentration on his face.

The next time you needed firewood for the pit in the backyard, you would ask Jake for some help splitting it, maybe on a hot day.

It got so bad you had to pull him back by his hand, holding on to yours, right in the middle of the crowd as he was leading you to another game, only to grab him by the back of his neck and lay one on him.

But what really got you was when it came time to redeem the tickets, Jake asked if the two of you could pick something out for Sadie - the Navy-themed teddy bear was looped tightly around the straps of your bag as the two of you walked to one of the pop-up restaurants the fair was hosting.

Jake went to find a table as you went to find the bathroom. You stared at yourself in the mirror, realizing your worries this morning and even your vocalizations to Jake in your hallway had been for nothing.

Deep down, you knew Ridley would tell you to stop being so anxious about this and go for it. Jake had already proved, each and every time, he was nothing like the guys that ghosted you or the guys you encountered at school—more than the cocky aviator type you painted him for looking for a good time. Even your lack of experience didn’t phase him and you being the photo in his cockpit? Where did that come from?

And it suddenly struck you that you were doing the same thing you had ratted the squad out for, what his father had been doing to him. Jake was more than what others painted him for. Sadie had realized it long before anyone else did. Before you did. And it took her inviting Jake to a Saturday night and on the hike for you to realize.

Who cares about what he did before he met you? Or what everyone believed he should be doing. He was here, with you, and wanted to be in Sadie’s life.

You were done worrying about what-ifs. Come what may, you thought. You trusted Jake, and you wanted to be with him. In telling yourself that, you realized it was time you allowed yourself to believe in what you refused to admit.

There was nothing wrong with being in love with Jake Seresin.

Walking back, you searched the crowd for Jake, finding him seated at a table, speaking with a waitress. You stepped forward, but out of the blue, somebody checked your shoulder, making you stumble forward. Catching yourself on a nearby empty table, you turned around, angrily calling out, “Watch where your going, Asshole!”

There was a man in a white sweater with his hood up. He didn’t turn around at your voice. Instead, he continued walking down towards the way you had come. You scoffed, adjusting your bag hanging off your shoulder before going to find Jake.

“And here I thought you might have escaped through the window.” He joked, watching as you approached. The waitress was gone, and in his hands were two menus.

“As if I’d leave you now,” you scoffed, placing a hand on his shoulder to balance yourself as you climbed into the seat next to him. Once you were settled, you hooked your arm through his, resting your head on his shoulder.

“What?” you could hear the smile in his voice as he asked, holding out one of the menus to you. But you could only shake your head, smiling fondly into his sleeve as you grabbed the menu from him. “Nothing. I’m just having a good time.”

After ordering and while waiting for the food, you learned Jake was a natural-born storyteller. The minute you asked him about what life was like growing up on a ranch, he launched into multiple stories of shenanigans he and Janet got into, one story in particular almost making you fall out of your chair laughing - Jake telling you he got drunk on a bottle of Rye in high school and ended up walking home, only for his family to have found him passed out in a hay bale in the field the next morning. Or the barn dog everyone hated, a grumpy thing whose bite was worse than its bark.

"And right there, under all those blankets and saddle pads, was the damn Jack Russell, snapping away and chasing us outta the barn at our heels."

Laughing into your glass of wine, you relayed your own story about how Sadie came about her nickname, bringing ladybugs in from the backyard an empty water bottle and how she forgot to screw the top on. Jake fell into your side, laughing when you explained you couldn’t stop finding ladybugs for weeks afterwards.

The conversation continued throughout dinner, Jake learning you broke your wrist skating when you were 15. You learned exactly what his father had planned for him until his grandfather stepped, only furthering your dislike for the man. While you already knew both of you had the same taste in music, you weren’t surprised Jake had a soft spot for country music.

And when your meal was finished, Jake led you out of the makeshift tent; his arm lopped through yours as you snuggled happily up against his side. When you moved towards the parking lot, Jake tugged on your hand, pulling you back into his chest, saying, “I have one more thing planned.”

Yet, when he dragged you over to the line for the Ferris wheel, you felt like you were going to throw up. And you tried, you really did, not to let on that you were terrified to go up in the air. This date was going wonderfully, and you didn’t want to ruin it with something so trivial as this.

So you waited in line with him, listening to him continue the conversation about how he realized he wasn’t meant for football like his brother, even though he loved to watch. But every time the machine stopped and the seats, carts, or cars, whatever they were called, swung with the momentum, you had to force yourself not to jolt.

When your turn came in the line, you tried not to grip Jake’s hand tighter than you should when he helped you into your seat. To loosen your shoulders from being too tight and slouch your back when it was too straight. And when it started to move, you shot your hands out wide, one going for the bar in front of Jake, the other to your side of the cart.

When it stopped, you swallowed hard. Jake looked at you, amused, before finally stating, “You’re afraid of heights.”

“Not really…” you said, looking over the side, wondering how quickly the maintenance crew put up the blasted thing and if they had any missing blots or screws afterwards.

“Come now, you can tell me,” he leaned forward, placing his hand on your wrist of the hand gripping the handlebar. He pressed his nose against your ear, his voice buzzing as he said lowly, “I won’t judge.”

Something metal creaked beneath you, making you jolt, your hand now covering your heart. “It’s not really heights.”

“No?” he murmured lowly. You knew what he was doing, the cocky fucker. No amount of distraction or persuasion would get your mind off the empty space below you. Or get you to admit something you knew he would most definitely take some sort of defence to.

Or worse, try and fix it. Which he was capable of doing.

Jake suddenly rocked back in the seat back, hard. You squealed, plastering yourself into his side, gripping his body tight as you exclaimed, “Flying! I have a fear of flying!”

His hand slid down from over the back seat, finding your hip bone and gripping it tight, tugging you closer. “Now, was that so bad?”

Hiding your face into his shoulder, you replied, “Yes, especially after what you told me. And you're a pilot.”

“A pilot who could help you get over this fear.”

You shook your head against his chest. “Nope. I’m not stepping foot in that thing.”

“You wound me, darling,” he said, exasperated. “Truly.”

“It’s not that I’m against it,” you replied, adjusting yourself against his side, Jake’s hands making sure there wasn’t an inch between the two of you.

“Mav’s offered countless times when he takes Sadie up … I don’t know,” you finished lamely. “I just can’t stand the thought of no ground beneath my feet.”

"I bet I could change your mind."

“Not going to happen,” you challenged back.

“Nope, I guarantee you, I will get you into a plane."

You laughed hoarsely at his words. “Jake…”

“You and me, our next date. I’m calling it.”

“Maybe I’ll sit in it. But that’s it.”

“Nope. If you’re dating a pilot, you must take advantage of that.”

“What about you?” you asked, hoping to get him off-topic. “What are you afraid of?”

But Jake’s laughter died down, his eyes unfocused stared off into the distance. It wasn’t that he didn’t know - The same fear had followed him since high school, on deployments and in the quiet hours when nobody else was around. If he said it out loud, it would, without a doubt, give it power.

And if it had power, it would ruin his chances with you.

You gave him a few minutes, figuring he needed time to think about it. “Is it a hard one?

“Look,” he jutted his head forward. You sat up, turning your head to look out over the field, expecting to find something weird. But you didn’t need to search the crowd or look through the stands. It was obvious what Jake was pointing out to you.

“Whoa.”

Even if it freaked you out, Jake timed the Ferris Wheel perfectly. The sunset was gorgeous, with streaks of soft pastel yellows, pinks, and even hints of purple. The blue was even gentler than the bright hue of the everyday sky.

“It’s so….” you started, but couldn’t finish. You were too in awe of the sight in front of you.

“Beautiful,” he finished for you. It certainly is, you thought. But when you glanced over at him, you caught his eyes on you.

“You’re not watching the sunset, are you?”

“Nope.”

You blushed, deciding to press your cheek back into his chest and gazing at the sky. You could get used to this, you thought, as Jake grabbed the junction of your knee, pulling your legs over his.

With the movement or sounds of creaking metal no longer bothering you, you felt content to snuggle into Jake’s side as the Ferris Wheel swung you both forward again.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, murmuring, “I’m still getting you on a plane.”

“Jake…”

___

The sun had set when Jake and you got off the Ferris wheel. He led you back to his truck with an arm around your waist, content to press the occasional kiss into your hair as the pair of you navigated the crowds.

Jake guided you to the passenger side when you reached the truck. The both of you were hidden out of view from any on-lookers who were heading home. You pressed yourself up against the side as he reached for the handle, ever the gentleman, to open the door and help you up into your seat. But as he turned his head to look at you, you held your head up to look at him with a shy smile.

That shy smile, and the way the light hit the corners of your eyes, had him sucking in a sharp breath. His hand lost its grip, sliding along the side of the truck as he slowly stepped toward you. Watching as he approached you with a heated gaze, you timidly bit the bottom of your lip.

You couldn't see the stars behind his head, nor the lights from the fairgrounds or the warm glow of the string lights making up the parking lot. You could only see him towering over you, his arm stretching out to rest above your head, cocooning between him and the truck. His other hand landed on your cheek, his thumb softly stroking the skin, then gently releasing your lip from its hold before replacing it with his lips.

Moaning against his mouth, you slid your hand up his chest. It was a slow kiss, Jake's tongue tracing the inside of your mouth as if the two of you had all the time in the world.

Jake's hand slithered down your side, finding a grip on your leg. The heel of your boot caught on the step of the truck at his touch, allowing Jake the space he needed to situate himself between your legs, pinning you up against the frame. He nibbed at your neck, teeth working on marking up the opposite side of his handiwork from the hallway. There were bruises, much to your pleasure or displeasure, and you had spent at least half an hour each morning since covering it up. And Jake clearly wanted to add more to it.

But it didn’t stop you from attempting to return the favour, as your mouth managed to land on Jake’s cheek, working down towards his jawline as he tilted his head back. You felt the small spikes of a five o’clock shadow under your soft lips, pressing kisses to his skin. Then in a tiny spark of confidence, you closed them around a patch of skin.

“Fuck Liz,” he growled out, hand tightening on your thigh. “We need to go slow. What happened to not putting out on the first date?”

You let his neck go with a sharp intake of breath. "This is slow."

"Slow is driving you home, walking you to your front door," rasped after a kiss, diving back for another one before adding, "Kissing you goodnight and asking when I can see you again."

“Then why were you teasing me all day?” you gasped out. “I’m just following your lead.”

Jake pulled sharply back, the hand above your head thumping hard on the metal. “I’m not taking you up against my truck in the middle of a dirt parking lot for your first time.”

"Stereotypes are overrated."

Jake growled. You were driving him crazy, testing his resolve, especially after what you admitted to him earlier. It only confirmed he needed to take this slow with you.

Then again, another part of him was elated that he'd be the only one to have ever touched you like this, to feel you like this. That the sounds rising from your body were only because of him.

After securely wrapping your leg around his waist, Jake went for the center of your blouse, fingers single-handly making quick work of the small buttons.

"You would, wouldn't you?" He groaned, fingers searching underneath the helm for the top of your bra before giving a sharp tug down, exposing your nipple to the air. You gasped at the action, the night air caressing your skin.

"Let me do this to you out in the middle of nowhere," he murmured against your skin in between kisses, working inch by inch down to your breast. "Where anyone could walk by."

In three seconds, Jake had your entire breast in his mouth, jaw tense as he sucked hard, his tongue toying with your nipple. You mewled, not used to the sensation.

"Fuck Jake," you whimpered, your head hitting the door as you looked up to the stars, blindly raking your fingers through his hair.

He let it go with a pop. "Pay attention, darlin'. My eyes are down here."

Dropping your chin to your chest, you got a close-up view of Jake staring up at you, lips enclosing around the peak of your breast to work the bud between his teeth lightly. A wail caught in your throat at a particular tug, eyes still focused on his face as you attempted to bring him closer to your chest.

He pulled back, voice husky as he said, "Good girl."

You heaved at the praise, a flush of heat shooting down your body. You started to rock your hips against his, desperate for pressure, friction, anything to soothe the burning sensation in your core. Your jeans prevented you from feeling anything as Jake continued to suck around your nipple.

"Or you'd let me do this."

You moaned, a long yearning sound echoing between the space of the two parking spots when Jake slipped his hand down between your bodies and cupped your core, his thumb pressing on your clit through the seam of your jeans.

"Or this," he chuckled when you bucked your hips off the side of the truck, you seeing more than the stars littering the sky as he rubbed at you with the pad of his thumb. But his hand was gone as quickly as he touched you, leaving you aching and whining for more.

Jake could only think about how beautiful you looked, panting hard and skin flushed, just as affected as he was. He was in awe of you, of how well today went, how you care about him and refuse to believe in how everyone else sees him. He may have needed to assure you you were worth the risk of a broken heart, but he was grateful you were willing to take the chance on him.

But then you fucking sidelined him; your voice was quiet and raspy as you said, “I trust you.”

It was three simple words. And you probably didn’t understand their weight in your frenzied state. Or maybe you did. You told him you didn’t trust many people with this part of you. Perhaps you were telling him he was that person.

Either way, they meant everything to him.

“I want to do this right by you,” he gritted out through his teeth. “But you are making it hard.”

You didn't mean to, but your snicker escaped before it was too late, causing a series of giggles to wrack your chest.

Jake instantly caught on to what you were laughing about, the heat building between you both starting to die down as he softly laughed with you, body shaking as he pressed his forehead into the center of your chest.

"Liz, don't you dare."

But you couldn't help yourself. "Pun intended?"

He went for your sides, fingers poking and scratching at your stomach as you let out a screech, failing to escape his wrath before you finally called out for mercy. Pulling your bra and blouse back over your breast, Jake sighed affectionally, pressing his forehead to yours. "Where have you been all my life, darlin'?"

You didn't know what to say, so you pressed your lips to his, content to simply be in the moment, even if the two of you looked like horny teenagers at a school fair.

Thank god nobody could see the two of you like this right now.

But you were seen.

From the driver’s seat of a little white car with a spoiler on the back, parked three cars down on the opposite side of the lane. It’s passenger watching you and that man, doing whatever the fuck that was, up against that specimen of a truck.

He could hear your laughter from this distance, watching as the man picked you up, you clinging to him all arms and legs as he opened the door and set you inside, closing it before jogging around to the other side.

Watching the truck drive away, he couldn't help but feel some sort of pleasure in the fact he would see you soon. At the place where you were the most vulnerable. When none of those glorified uniform-wearing servants would be able to stop him.

Yes, he would see you soon.

And he wouldn’t leave this godforsaken state without what he came for.

Shit hits the fan from here on out... 👀

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @genius2050

@brooke-stinson

Part 11: Dream On Coming Soon

Wickett ;)

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arcanarix · 13 days

Text

Only You. || Toji X AFAB!Reader

cw // dirty talk

you're surprised at how level-headed toji is, in spite of his upbringing and circumstances. in spite of what shit he puts up with or goes through he doesn't appear to let it deter him or prevent him from getting what he wants.

that's how he lands you, anyway. and that's how he lands, for once, a solid job with decent pay instead of continuing to enable that gambling habit of his. funny how meeting the right person can get your life back in order.

you're not sure if you declare yourself his right person. he's had one before you. there's still his first wife, that you may still compete with every now and then with how he speaks of her with so much fondness in his silky voice of his. of course you don't hold it against him; that's just plain nutty. there's always going to be something about his first love, and for fuck's sake, he's got a beautiful child with her too. even if he never sees him anymore, he has shown you pictures, and megumi takes after his father in lots of ways.

of course you have your own messy dating history that's not worth getting into as well. so why the hell are you going to give him hell for his? a part of you does get jealous at the way he talks about her, but now he talks about you that way and that should be enough for you. his first wife's gone to meet god, and you can't be jealous of someone grieving what once was. that's, again, just nutty and unhinged.

but you do wonder--does he talk about you that way to other people? you've been together, for, what, a year or so already, and a part of you wonders how toji really feels. if he's stuck around this long, then yeah, there's something more between you two here.

you can't help but desire some reassurance. that's a valid thing to feel, right?

when night falls it's a still and quiet time between you two. toji likes to take time to meditate and decompress. you're minding your own, occupying yourself with chores that need to be done around the house.

you are getting ansty. being the attention whore you are around him sometimes . . . you decide to play a little game.

you creep up from behind the couch, where he's resting. you're the master of stealth, sort of. his eyes are cloesd, and it looks like he's just reflecting on his day. grinning to yourself, you wrap your arms around his torso, loosely, and lean into bite his ear.

he grunts in response, and also chuckles. "you getting bored?"

"maybe," you say. you nip on his ear again and then move to his neck. he groans your name, and you smirk. "just wondering what you're thinking about too."

"oh yeah?" he replies, his breath hitching as if he's struggling to conceal how you easily get him going. "if you must know, i'm thinking about you and how lucky i am to have you."

your heart skips a beat. "really?"

he nods. "i'm also thinking about what i'm about to do to you if you don't quit that."

"who says i'm quittin'?"

growling your name, toji glowers in a warning. "i'm trying to be sentimental and you want me to fuck you raw, instead?"

"maybe, as long as i'm all of what's on your mind."

"you're all of what consumes my thoughts and my dreams, babydoll."

fuck. that's the reassurance you're looking for; it's like he read your mind!

"alright. take those pants off right now before i do it myself!"

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro imagine #toji fushiguro drabble #toji #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #toji imagine #toji drabble #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk imagine #jjk drabble #jjk x you #jjk toji

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alexanderlightweight · 1 year

Note

If the muses agree can there be a continuation of Ragnor-met-Alec-first? With Magnus getting his date and Alec asking Ragnor (firstly if he is dreaming) and for advice on how to treat Magnus right.

this is a bit like that so i hope you like it, this is where i ended up with it. i hope you enjoy! thank you for the prompt

<3 lumine

Alec isn’t really sure what’s going on. But he also finds he doesn’t mind, not a single bit.

He’s being taken care of with more care and consideration than he would even at what is supposed to be his Institute. There’s a bitter part of Alec that doesn’t want to return to a place that he’s failed — that he feels has failed him — but there’s a larger part that doesn’t want to leave Magnus.

Alec’s heard about the High Warlock of Brooklyn, has seen glimpses of his profile in the clave database, but it’s nothing compared to seeing him in person.

It was never enough to prepare him for the touch of Magnus’ magic and the weight of his interest. Alec is consumed by every atom of Magnus’ being and it’s more terrifying than anything he’s ever felt. His life is falling apart, nothing he does goes right, his siblings are throwing away everything he’s worked and sacrificed for, and Alec is very close to giving up.

But Magnus, Magnus is… he’s magical.

He’s the kind of magic that had Alec biting his lip in awe when he was little. The kind of magic that Alec used to dream of would rescue him.

It feels like dreams have come true, now.

With Magnus soothing over him with magic and bringing ice to his mouth and his fingers threading through Alec’s hair with a gentleness that hurts Alec deeper than any blow could.

So, when Clary and Jace are ushered through a portal and Alec is cut off from any kind of backup, he’s not nearly as concerned as he normally would be.

He can’t be upset or suspicious, not when Magnus is nothing but sincerity and there is something dangerous about him, something deadly that makes Alec’s brain feel fuzzy.

Alec’s been injured worse before, probably. He rarely remembers these kinds of injuries, but he finds himself hoping he remembers this one.

When he slips, murmuring the last part aloud, Magnus asks him why and Alec can’t help but stare at him, because he honestly thought Magnus was smarter than this.

—

Magnus blinks, surprised and torn between delighted and outraged at Alexander’s audacity.

His boy just guilelessly blinked up at him and told Magnus — to his unglamoured gaze — that he thought Magnus was smarter than this. What exactly Magnus is supposed to be smarter than Alexander has yet to mention.

“Oh? How so, darling?”

“Of course, I’d want to remember this. If I forgot, I wouldn’t remember you.” Alexander tells him, so endearingly honest. “Enduring any kind of pain would be worth that, Magnus.”

There’s a moment, where Magnus feels the world white out around him as his magic latches onto something and he feels a hunger in his soul, a yearning that finally feels sated and he doesn’t even recognize the tendrils of Edom’s magic as he curls one hand around Alexander’s nape.

The other he uses to tilt Alexander’s head up and smirk down at his blushing, avoidant boy.

“You can’t say such things and then try to hide, sweetheart. I’ll think you insincere.” Magnus is teasing even as he says it, but from the flicker of devastation in alexander’s eyes, it’s clear that Alexander considers it serious. There’s a stubbornness to his chin as he tries to make himself meet Magnus’ gaze and Magnus feels both cruel and powerful and he shudders.

“Alexander, you delightful temptation.” Magnus murmurs and he leans forward to press a kiss to Alexander’s cheek, “whatever shall I do with you?”

Alexander sends him a glower, which is really just a pout that Magnus wants to kiss off of Alexander’s face.

“Very well then, I’ll just keep you until I figure it out.” Magnus winks here, but his fingers tighten, because he’s never been more serious in his life.

“I have a date?” Alec asks for the third time and while normally, Ragnor might be annoyed, he’s more sympathetic than anything.

“Yes. As soon as Cat clears you for concussions, Magnus is waiting to whisk you away to the garden for a proper supper.”

“Supper?”

Ragnor stares at Alec and contemplates whether or not it’s worth it to explain the differences, when he catches the twitch of the lad’s lips.

“Oh, I see. You save my life only to wound me.” Ragnor deadpans and is rewarded with a tiny curl of a mouth before it evens out.

“Of course not. It was the concussion.” Alec tells him, as if he isn’t thirty seconds away from being declared fit, as a finely tuned but delicate cello.

“You—” and Ragnor shakes his head with a huff. “What were you thinking, laddie? I thought you were the intelligent one of your groups, but you tore through that demon with your bare hands.”

“I had no weapons.” Alec tells him neutrally and then, right as Magnus steps close, he adds. “You said we would only be considered allies as long as no nephil weapons entered your abode.” Alec smirks, a disarming and dangerous look that has Ragnor’s spine tingling. “I would never risk making you an enemy when unnecessary.”

Ragnor laughs, because he’s delighted by the cheek of this lad and he reaches out and is generously given a ducked head to pat. Ragnor is pretty sure it’s because Magnus is watching, but he doesn’t mind because he’s genuinely endeared.

“Absolutely not.” Magnus interjects, stealing Alec away before the third and final pat. “Ragnor, he already saved your life. Don’t be greedy.”

From the possessive hand Magnus has on Alec’s shoulders, it’s clear who is having trouble controlling himself.

“I’m fond of the lad.” Ragnor huffs because he lives to tease Magnus. “And gratitude after being saved isn’t greedy.” Ragnor sniffs pointedly and Magnus rolls his eyes, fingers tightening from where they’re gripping Alec’s shoulders. “But go on, keep him to yourself.”

“I will.” Magnus vows and his eyes glint a deep gold and Alec blushes a bright pink before Ragnor chuckles and excuses himself.

“Don’t overexert the lad before Cat clears him.” Ragnor reminds him, earning a vicious, sharp curse from Magnus and he peeks over his shoulder just in time to see Magnus pull away from where he was cooing over Alec to send him a piercing, molten glower.

“Ragnor. Leave!”

“This is my home.” Ragnor reminds him, letting a bit of sulk into his voice. “Honestly, no respect.”

#writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #lumine writes #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #shadowhunters au #my fanfics #my ficlets #malec

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

Text

Just a Taste || Vampire!Dazai + Vampire!Fyodor

This is one that people have been waiting on (me included lmao). I’ve always both loved and feared their dynamic bc they could really take over the world very easily if they worked together and that has always been a scary thought since Dead Apple 😃 (also they’re already FINE but as vampires?? They can turn me any day 😩😩) Reader is gender neutral!

CW: language, mentions of blood, semi-suggestive/spicy

Dream’s Spooktober 2021

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”

You glowered at the vampires standing before you, trying to ignore the pain shooting through your body without collapsing.

“But I will admit: even covered in blood, you still manage to look so elegant. Makes it even more enticing knowing that it’s yours.”

“Both of you can go to Hell.” You spat out, wiping the blood from the corner of your lips. You didn’t miss the way Fyodor smirked and Dazai licking his own lips at your display, seeing the tip of his fangs poking out. These assholes has the nerve to toy with you? You tightened the wooden stake in your hand, gritting your teeth.

They were amused at your reaction and took slow deliberate steps on both sides towards you, crunching on the glass that scattered the floor after your nasty fight. You lifted the stake, readying yourself just in case they tried to surprise you at any given moment. But your your vision is becoming blurry, and it’s making you nervous.

But to them, they were savoring this moment. Even after all this time, you’re still so easy to rile up. “As much as I would love to, I believe it’s not my time to go unfortunately. Besides, I can’t bear the thought of leaving my little hunter all alone.” Dazai mocked. “And why should someone like you with so much potential be wasting away trapped in that mortal shell?” Fyodor inquired.

When they did reach you, Fyodor approached from behind and seized your wrists, squeezing until the stake clattered on the ground and kicked away. Dazai grasped your chin, forcing you to lock gazes with him. You tried to recoil from his touch, the cold acting as a shock to your skin, but he just tightened his grip on you.

“Honestly, I know you to be smarter than this. Is it because of the blood loss?” He shook his head, then the air grew serious, the teasing vanishing from his eyes. “It doesn’t matter I suppose. As stubborn as you as, I assume even you realize the position that you’re in.” His coffee-colored eyes narrowed then flashed a brief glimpse of crimson. “The Association sent you here to die tonight. You won’t be leaving here alive, (Y/N).”

Despite your brave facade, your pounding heart and the small trembles gave away to your fear.

You narrowed your eyes in return and jerked your face away, “I’m not dying here tonight.”

“Do you truly believe that?” Fyodor chimed in and held your chin so delicately, like a parent calmly scolding their child. “The Association sent you on a fool’s errand. They were fools themselves to believe that anyone would be capable of defeating us. Although, I will commend you on your efforts. You’ve been quite the entertainment in our last visits together.” He let go and inched closer, whispering into your neck, “I can only wonder what our new future would consist of after this moment. But I won’t have to wonder for long.”

What?

“The chance of being reborn is not an opportunity that many receive. You should be grateful that it’s being bestowed on you.” Fyodor bragged.

You couldn’t stop yourself from shaking. He didn’t mean- no. Nonono-

“I see that you finally caught on.” Dazai leaned in closer to the other side of your neck, taking no notice of your thrashing and even licked a strip of it, groaning. “I would tell you not to be scared, but fear makes the blood taste so divine. And yours is already so heavenly. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back-“

“Let me go!” You cried out, fighting to get out of their grasps. But Fyodor’s hold on your wrists was crushing, and Dazai took it upon himself to wrap his arms around your waist, burying his face as deep as he could into your neck. You couldn’t break free, this couldn’t be happening!-

“Being reborn is truly a blessing that only those chosen can only indulge in. Shedding that grisly mortal skin and make you be the beautiful creature that you’re destined to be. Mortals are nothing but sinful creatures, but there are some that are just lost souls living amongst them. Just like you.” He caressed your face with his free hand. “But we managed to save you, and we’ll save the others worthy enough to have salvation. Together-“

“Are you insane?! I will never join you! I’ll die before you can even consider turning me into one of you-“

“I did say you won’t be leaving alive, did I not?”

That just caused you to thrash more, trying to force yourself to keep fighting, but you felt your movements getting sluggish and sluggish by the second. No, stay awake, don’t fall asleep, don’t let them win-

“Ah, your pulse is growing weaker and weaker darling”, Fyodor tsked. “I would prefer to do this somewhere more prestigious and private, but we can’t have you perishing just yet.”

Dazai finally lifted his head, a chilling smile matching Fyodor’s looking directly at you, now a deep crimson. “Then let’s not waste anymore time, shall we?”

Your body jolted, then felt relaxed. You felt so warm when you should have been cold. Between the haziness you felt in your mind and from the blood flowing from your body, you just felt so at ease. No, this is wrong. They’re trying to hypnotize you-

“Aren’t you tired of fighting? Just relax, we’ll take care of you.” You shook your head to snap out of it, but it was no use. Both of them were in your head and refusing to leave.The warmth you felt between their bodies felt so natural. Why were you fighting against this? Against them?

“No…shut up! Get out of-“

You felt lips brush against your collarbone with you weakly protesting. Your wrists were finally freed and you tried to push against someone’s chest but they didn’t budge.

“Just accept it. You’ll feel euphoria that no one else can give you- no one but us- all for eternity. Don’t you want that?” One pair left a trail of kisses down your neck, leaving marks that brought out downright sinful sounds from you. The other occupied your lips, swallowing said sounds.

Dazai grazed his fangs along your neck and licked the spots of blood splattered on it, enjoying the shiver came with it while Fyodor found a throbbing vein ghosting kisses on the other side. Perfect to sink his fangs into.

You were a formidable opponent, but they came to the conclusion that you would be better as an ally, even more so as a lover. They’re not sure how long this alliance will last between them, but now that you’re in their grasp, they guess they have no choice but to play nice and share (for now).

Both bared their fangs, ready to make you theirs forever-

“Won’t you give in and accept your salvation?”

And they bit down, hearing your cries of pain and pleasure echo into the air.

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x gender neutral reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd dazai x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #dazai osamu x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #vampire x reader #vampire x hunter #bsd #bungou stray dogs reader insert #bungou stray dogs #dream’s spooktober 2021 🎃

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

A Terrible Tutor

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [High School!AU] He’s cocky, annoying, a total tease, has a laugh loud enough to shake the stars, and you hate him. But as luck would have it, he’s also your tutor.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: minor cursing

A/N: this is based on a classmate i had way back! (we did not fall in love. he was awful.) i’ve also never taken physics, but i tried something a bit new for the reader’s personality. i hope you enjoy :) <3

You glared down at your physics textbook, the open pages staring back up at you with beady eyes made of diagrams and labels. Off to the side, your notebook was strewn across your desk, a list of questions scribbled across the top line in a hurried rush. The handwriting was messier than you would have liked, but the thought didn’t irritate you.

What did irritate you was that it was nearly half past four, and your so-called tutor still hadn’t shown up.

You could still envision the concerned look on Mr. Craftson’s face as he held you back a moment after class, watching as the rest of your classmates poured out of the door with an anxious look. He had offered you a kind smile before pulling out your test from the week before, and you winced at the numerous red marks scattered across the front page alone.

“I know you’ve been struggling in this class,” he said, gazing at you almost pitifully.

You tried not to glower at the sight of his apologetic eyes trained on you, instead nodding your head slowly. “It’s been… hard,” you said slowly.

He leaned an arm on his chair, pushing your test toward you. “You ask questions in class,” he hummed, “and from what I’ve seen, you complete your homework diligently.” His smile fell. “Yet here you are me, with the lowest mark in my class.”

You wanted to shrivel up into a ball. Maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but he wasn’t wrong, either.

At your silence, he prodded at you. “Is there anything going on at home that might be hindering you, or…?”

You whipped your head up, your eyes wide. “No! Things are—things are great. It’s just…”

You swallowed, then sighed, fidgeting your fingers on your lap. “I guess,” you murmured, trying to quell the shame flaring up inside you, “I’ve just been really struggling with the material, and none of it’s really been clicking.”

Mr. Craftson’s face softened in an instant. “That’s alright. Thank you for being honest with me. If my teaching hasn’t been working out with you…”

He paused, rubbing at the blond stubble on his chin for a moment. Then, his face lit up and he leaned forward. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ve got a great student who I think might be able to explain things to you in a way you might be able to grasp a little better. He’s got the best marks in this class.”

Your eyes widened. The best in the class? He had to be a genius.

“I have a good feeling he can meet you tomorrow at four after school to help you out,” he continued, leaning against the arm rest of his office chair. “What do you say?”

You blinked, a thoughtful look passing over your face. Lord knew you needed the help—you were practically failing the class—but an uneasy stone settled into the pit of your stomach. You’ve never needed tis much help to pass a class before. The thought made you want to gag. Slowly, you opened your mouth.

“Do I have to…” You gestured vaguely. “Pay him or something?”

His cerulean eyes blinked at you for a second, then he laughed—the kind of deep-belly laugh only teachers seemed to be able to have. “No, no,” he said, waving his hand at you, “not at all. He’s a good kid. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

You bobbed your head, your insides crumbling. You didn’t want to accept, you really didn’t. Part of you guys wanted to believe that you could just work harder, study by yourself even more. You were a dedicated student, and you were doing just fine in all your other classes. Surely the content couldn’t get that much harder, right?

But as your gaze lowered to the red ink staining your test once more, you felt yourself swallowing the lump in your throat. Straightening your back, you let your stubborn pride seep out of your shoulders and onto the floor.

It looked like this was a sacrifice you were simply going to have to make.

“Thank you so much for the offer,” you said, letting your lips curl up into a genuine, grateful smile. “It—it really means a lot.”

Mr. Craftson grinned at you, an easygoing flint shining in his eyes. “Of course. You’re a bright student. Sometimes we all just need a little push.”

You could still remember shaking his hand in thanks before bundling your stuff in your arms and shuffling into the hall, tucking your feet between the pages of your textbook. That had been yesterday, and now, the same one was sitting on your desk, open to a new page full of jumbled words you could hardly decipher.

The chair across from you was distinctly empty.

He—whoever he was—was late.

You distantly wondered to yourself who your tutor even was, your gaze drifting down to your textbook. Mr. Craftson had said he was the best student taking the class. Would it be George? He always seemed like he knew what was going on, and he never really asked questions. But sometimes, he looked like he was just zoning out. Maybe it was Technoblade. He was smart. You paused, then shook your head. No, everyone knew he was one of those English kids.

The thought made you furrow your brows, wracking your head even more. The words on the page grew muddled and fuzzy as you thought even more. Just who was it?

Just then, you heard the classroom door swing open with the same loud creak every door in the school seemed to have. The sound of heavy breaths and panting filled the air, then a haggard voice spoke up.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

You didn’t look up from your page, letting a sigh escape your lips as you lifted your head. Plastering a polite smile to your face, you let your gaze travel toward your tutor. “Hi, it’s nice to me—”

Suddenly, your voice died in your throat as your eyes locked onto the figure standing in the doorway. Towering over the desks with a duffel bag resting against his hip, his dirty blond locks were damp and matted against his forehead, his emerald eyes blinking at you. Something bitter and warm twisted in your gut at the sight, and the smile dropped off your face and into a scowl.

“Oh,” you said flatly. “It’s you.”

The smile he offered you was easygoing, but you didn’t miss the strain in his gaze. “It’s me.”

You bit on the inside of your cheek, your heart practically revolting against your rib cage with the way it was hammering. A million questions were darting around the inside of your skull, only making your blood boil even more with each passing second.

Of all the people you had expected to show up, Clay was easily the last.

The two of you had first met back in freshman year in your first science class—he had sat behind you and had the loudest laugh on the planet, or so you were convinced. You were quieter back then, but just as stubborn and snappish as now. Soon enough, one thing led to another, and you swore the two of you were suddenly enemies for life.

Although you couldn’t remember what had caused your little feud, you knew that he was the one who started it. He was loud and kicked your chair, he just loved to borrow your pens and never return them, and you could never figure out just why he loved to tease you so much. You don’t think you learned a single thing in that class, always distracted by the presence staring a hole into your back, and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

Naturally, that meant your teacher assigned him to sit behind you for the rest of the year. To this day, you were convinced she hated you, and you still avoided her in the halls.

To say that science class was your least favourite would be an understatement, and soon enough, everybody was in on your hatred for each other. Clay never seemed to stop pestering you no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, and you would never forget the day you finally snapped at him, whipping around to glare at him with your cheeks on fire.

“Will you please shut up?”

The shocked look on his face was still burned into your memory as it melted into a wide, proud grin.

“Only if you make me.”

Even years later, he always seemed to find a way to worm himself back into your life, and you hated it. You hated him, simple as that.

So, seeing him standing in front of you like this, it took every ounce of your strength to keep your voice as neutral as possible.

“What took you so long?”

He patted his duffel bag before slipping it off his shoulder and setting it on the ground. “I just finished football practice. Coach ran a little long and I figured it would be polite to take a shower before so I didn’t smell all sweaty when I tutored you.”

You blinked, your mouth falling open. That explained his wet hair, you guessed. While you were vaguely flattered, you were distracted by something else. “You knew that you would be tutoring me?”

Clay nodded, pulling back the chair in front of you. “Yeah. Phil asked me.”

You gaped. “You call Mr. Craftson by his first name?”

His smile was a touch too smug for your liking, and you wanted to wipe it off his face. “Maybe. I was surprised when he asked, though.” He wrinkled his nose and shot you a teasing smirk as he sat down. “I didn’t think you would be failing this class.”

You glowered, that same bitter feeling bubbling up in your chest, again. “I’m not failing,” you snapped. “I’m just…” You paused, your cheeks growing hot. “…not passing.”

He gave you a deadpan look, then laughed. “That’s the same thing.”

You sent him a gesture that your teacher most certainly would have scolded you for if he was here, and he laughed even harder. You were suddenly reminded of just how damn loud his laugh was, sounding like fireworks in your ears. Slumping over, you hung your head in your hands.

“Ugh. I can’t believe you knew you were going to be tutoring me of all people.” You paused, then added, “I can’t believe you agreed.”

He tilted his head at you, brushing his damp hair out of his face. “Did you not know I was gonna be your tutor?”

“No.” You frowned. “If I did, I wouldn’t have shown up.”

His eyes flickered with mirth as a smile stretched across his face. “Aw, am I really that disagreeable?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, your gaze as sharp as a blade. “Without a doubt. A hundred percent. I didn’t even have to think about it.”

He whistled, feigning a wince. “Harsh.”

Wryly, you said, “You deserve it.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I wasn’t that bad as a freshman, was I?”

You gave him a hard, callous stare. “Do you really think I’m the one you should be asking that question?”

He thought about it for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, point taken.”

You dragged a hand over your face, then pointed at your textbook. “Are you going to teach me now or what? We’re already behind.”

He winced for real this time, and you almost felt bad for him. Almost. “Sorry, again.”

“Seriously,” you muttered under your breath, reaching into your back to grab your pencil case, “and to think that you have the highest grades in this class.”

“Hey,” he shot back, “I’m brains and brawn.”

You shot him a look that was nothing short of disgusted. He cringed a little at the sight.

“Okay, that was cheesy, but I’m not wrong. Besides, coach says I have to keep my grades up or else I’m off the team.” He leaned closer to you, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his hot breath fanning over your skin. “You know I can’t let everyone down like that.”

You looked unconvinced. “Uh huh. Totally.” Whipping out a pencil, you tapped at the bottom of the page you had open. “Can you explain this to me, now? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave.”

He quietly chuckled, and you hated how soft it sounded. Leaning closer to the textbook to read, his lips mouthed the problem silently. You tried not to stare at his mouth as it moved, your gaze tracing over the soft dip of his lips as his viridian eyes flashed with recognition. A moment later, he sat back and cocked his head at you.

“So, what exactly do you not understand?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Everything.”

He blinked, disbelief colouring his features. “Everything? Like, the whole thing?”

You scowled. “I thought that was obvious. All that stuff about velocity and the funny diagrams—” You shook your head. “—none of it makes sense.”

He raised a brow at you. “I thought you were paying attention in class. You really don’t understand a single thing?”

You bit back the urge to scream. “It’s not like you’re much smarter.”

Clay snorted derisively. “I am. That’s kind of the whole point.”

You groaned, letting your voice ring out in the quiet of the empty classroom. You caught a glimpse of his amused smile in front of you, and it only made you groan louder.

“You’re the one who ruined science for me, you know? I hated going to that class, and look at me now.” You gestured to yourself, using your finger to draw a ring in the air. “It all comes full circle.”

There was a brief second of silence. “I’m the reason why you hate science?”

You didn’t budge. “I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy knowing I was going to be stuck in a class with someone who never gave me my stuff back and kicked my chair.”

Another wave of silence washed over the two of you, but this one was tense—heavy. He swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“You…” His eyes swirled with something sad and honest. “You really hate me that much?”

He suddenly looked a lot like a kicked puppy, and a pang of guilt shot through your chest like a bullet. With a panicked gaze, your voice grew shaky as you spoke. “I—I don’t hate you. I just… I had a grudge, I guess.”

Your tone grew soft, and you lowered your gaze to your lap. “I… I really didn’t like you back then, but things have changed.” You offered him a small smile, but it felt shy. “We’re not exactly fourteen, anymore.”

He returned your smile with one of his own. Just like yours, it was small and tender, and it sent something stirring in the depths of your belly. “No,” he murmured, “we’re not.”

“I,” you breathed, gulping down the last dredges of your grudge, “was stubborn back then.” You raised a shoulder. “In a way, I still am. I have too much pride for my own good too, but I don’t hate you.” The look you sent him had a spark of mischief, and his breath hitched. “Strongly dislike, at best.”

Clay blinked at you, looking half-surprised and half-awed at you. You squirmed under his gaze before he snapped out of his stupor, almost bashfully ducking his head. “I’m… It’s definitely too late for me to say this now when I really should have said it all those years ago, but I’m sorry. Really. I was a dick.”

You snorted under your breath, fondly mumbling, “Yeah, you were.”

His face perked up at the sound of your bitten back laugh. “I really shouldn’t have teased you so much. My reasons were… dumb.”

You cocked a brow at him, almost as if to say, Oh? Do elaborate.

But instead, you watched as his ears burned crimson red and he flashed you a pair of bright, pleading eyes. “Forgive me? Please.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, something new and warm bursting along the seams of your lungs. You couldn’t possibly say no to a face like that. Even the toughest person on the planet would crack under a look as sincere as that, you tried to reason, ultimately letting out a sigh with a stammer.

“O-Only if you actually can get me to understand this unit.” Pushing down the heat creeping up your neck, you pointed at him with an accusatory look. “Until then, you’re on thin ice.”

The grin he sent you was beyond dazzling—you couldn’t have brought yourself to look away even if you wanted to.

(And you didn’t.)

“Gotcha.”

Clay finished scribbling a diagram onto the new page of your notebook, flicking his thumb back to reveal the hordes of previous pages you had filled with other practice problems. If you were being honest, you were a little envious of just how neat his drawings were. No one should be able to draw a line as straight as that without a ruler, yet here he was, doing exactly that.

What a show-off.

Feeling your eyes on him, Clay lifted his head to catch your gaze, turning the notebook to face you. You tried to pretend the stumbling of your heart wasn’t because of him—not at all. “Do you get it?” he breathed.

You glanced back and forth between him and your page, your grip on your pencil falling slack. “I think so,” you said slowly. “Mostly, at least.”

He hummed for a moment, then flipped your notebook around until it was facing him again and holding an expectant, open hand toward you. Without even thinking, you dropped your pencil into his palm, a spark running up your fingers at the slight brush of his skin against yours. Carefully, he wrote a string of words on a new line, circling the sentence when he was done.

“Here,” he said gently, pushing the pencil back between your fingers, “try this question. This was one of the harder ones from my test.”

Gingerly, you peered down at the page, and your mouth fell open at the sight. This question was far more complicated than anything you had been solving in the textbook before this. What was he thinking?

“If you get it right,” he said suddenly, casting you out of your thoughts, “you should be all set.” His lips curved up into a taunting, knowing grin. “But it’s okay if you don’t get it—it is difficult, after all.”

You stared for a second longer, then grumbled under your breath. How could he read your mind like that? You were going to prove him wrong, even if only to knock that smug look off his face.

Leaning down, you tackled the problem head on, your pencil flying across the page as you spelled out formulas and equations, doodling a diagram when you had to and pausing to think every other breath. Before you, you didn’t see Clay watching you with a soft, tender gaze, taking in the way your fingers fidgeted against your pencil when you stopped and how you chewed on your mouth when you got nervous.

You really were more endearing than you could ever know.

Suddenly, you let your pencil clatter against the table as you pushed your notebook toward him, eyeing your pencil scratches with a wary look. “Done.”

His viridian eyes gleamed with excitement. “Alright,” he said, plucking the paper from your desk with a practiced ease, “let’s take a look.”

His gaze scanned your work intently, his lips pressed together in focus. You folded your hands onto your lap, trying to focus on his analysis of you work. But the longer you looked, the more you felt your gaze trailing up to graze his cheeks. Did he always have so many freckles? You didn’t remember seeing him with this many as a freshman, but you also spent more time glaring at him than staring at him back then.

In a way, he was kind of... pretty. Handsome, even. Not that you would ever say it out loud.

You suddenly had a strong urge to reach up and trace feather-light lines between each of his freckles, but before you could even take another breath, Clay’s eyes were on yours again. Unlike earlier, the look on his face was grave, and a small grimace overtook his features.

“I have bad news,” he said dryly.

Your heart fell.

Of course you got something wrong. You were a fool to think that things would change just because Clay would be teaching you instead.

But then, his grimace curled up at the corners, and your jaw dropped.

“I have nothing left to teach you in this unit.”

Your eyes widened.

“I got it right?”

He turned the notebook back to face you. A large check mark had been scribbled in pencil along the side of the page, a tiny smiley face decorating the corner next to it.

“Perfectly.”

The gasp you let out sent you barrelling for your feet, and you nearly started jumping for joy in the middle of your seat. “Yes!” you cried, pumping a hand up in the air. Suddenly, you whirled to point at Clay, a pout forming on your lips. “Oh my god, you scared the crap out of me! Don’t do that.”

He chuckled, leaning back with his hands up defensively. “Sorry, sorry. I saw the opportunity and just had to take it.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you stuck your tongue out at him. “You’re terrible.”

His eyes softened—sincere and sweet. “I know.”

Ignoring the sudden burst of warmth rushing through your veins, you huffed at him. “Well, at least I have two pieces of good news for you. First,” you said, sliding your notebook off your desk, “we can both go home, now.”

“And the second?” he prompted, looking at you inquisitively.

You folded your notebook shut, boring a hole into your backpack with the intensity of your stare. You couldn’t look at him right now, you just couldn’t.

“Second,” you nearly whispered, “I accept your apology.”

Slipping your textbook into your bag, you heard him take a sharp intake of breath. “Really?”

You reached for your pencil case, fumbling with the zipper. “Yes.”

There was another breath, but this one was gentler, less harsh. You peeked up at him from your bag, and your heart stuttered at the ecstatic look on his face.

“This,” he said, “is the greatest day of my life.”

You blinked wildly at him, zipping your backpack up all the way before slinging it onto the desk. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, his smile never once faltering. “Are you kidding? I thought you were going to hate my guts forever!”

You shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I might have.” You paused. “Actually, I probably would have. But luckily for you—” You shot him a sincere look. “—not anymore.”

His grin grew impossibly wider, yet it somehow still looked natural on him. Deep down, a part of you wanted to bottle up his expression and remember it for as long as you lived.

“Like I said, greatest day of my life.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Weirdo.”

Pushing in your chair and gesturing for him to stand, you jutted your head toward the door. Clay didn’t need to be queued twice before he was rising to his feet, pushing the chair back to its rightful spot before heaving his duffel bag off the floor and onto his side. As the two of you headed out towards the door, a bought suddenly flickered across your head, and your lips began moving before you could even begin to think.

“One of these days, you need to tell me why you liked to pick on me so much. Like, seriously, why me?” You gestured to yourself as the two of you stepped outside into the school hallway. “I’m not exactly special.”

You hadn’t been looking at him in that moment, focused on closing the door behind you, but when he didn’t respond for a moment, you looked up and felt your lungs tighten. You had never seen Clay look so bashful in his life, with his ears flaring crimson red and a faint rosy tint dusting the panes of his cheeks. His freckles were only more noticeable with the pink background, and you nearly blurted something you knew you would regret.

“Maybe I’ll—” He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Before you could even ask what he meant by that, he was firing off once more. “In the meantime, if you still need help, I don’t mind coming in again next week or something.”

You nearly took a double take. Next week? He wanted to help you, again?

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” you asked, scanning him with wide, curious eyes. “Like studying your own stuff.”

“You’re important,” he said abruptly.

You choked on your spit, and by the way he went absolutely stock still in front of you, you had a feeling he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Oh,” you whispered.

That warm, fuzzy feeling from earlier was rising between your lungs again, only this time it sent your heart racing around your chest. Sucking in a deep breath, you nodded your head once, twice.

“Sure,” you managed to say as calmly as you could. “The, um, the next unit looks a little confusing, so I might need some help.”

Clay’s face suddenly brightened at your soft request for assistance, and you caught his shoulders slumping with relief as he smiled. “Awesome.” He paused, then waved his hand. “Not the part about you needing help, I mean.”

You laughed a little at that, your nerves calming a bit more. “I would hope not.”

He smiled back at you. “So,” he said, drawing out the syllable, “I’ll be back same time next week?”

You couldn’t help but reach over to elbow him a little playfully. “Try to be on time though, yeah?”

He flushed a bit, but cracked a crooked grin nonetheless. “I’ll try my best.” He glanced over his shoulder down the hall, and you suddenly realized you would be heading in the opposite direction.

“I’ll see you around?” he murmured gently, brushing away his now dry hair from his forehead.

One of your hands tightened around the straps of your bag while the other waved back at him. “See you.”

With one last grin at you, you watched as he turned on his heel, striding down the hall with his duffel bag bouncing against the side of his hip. Just then, your eyes grew wide, and you cupped your hands around your mouth to call after him.

“One last thing, Clay!” you shouted, your voice echoing down the empty corridor.

At the sound of his name, he whipped around again, his brows knitted together. Breathing in deeply, you screwed your eyes shut and called out once more.

“Thank you!”

When you opened your eyes again, his emerald green eyes were blinking at you with wild abandon, his lips parted in what could only be described as a look of pure wonder. Your heart skipped a beat, and you wondered why he was looking at you of all people like that.

Swallowing, he sent you a lopsided, earnest smile and cupped his own hands around his mouth to shout back at you.

“Anytime!”

You kept waving at him even after he let his arms drop back to his sides and he vanished around the corner of the hall. Almost immediately, you bent over to bury your head into your knees, letting out a soft, muffled yell.

Why did your chest feel so warm when he looked at you like that? Why did you want to count his freckles so badly when he smiled? Was he always so nice, so helpful and kind? Why did he look so cute when his face flushed all pink like the way it did before? When did he become so endearing instead of annoying?

Did you like him?

You let out another muffled cry into your hands, feeling heat flood every part of your body like a tidal wave crashing into your system. You could hear your heart ringing in your ears like a bell that wouldn’t ever stop, and your toes curled into your shoes.

You had so, so many questions, none of which you knew how to solve.

Hopefully Clay could help you figure out the answers.

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eddiemunsonssoulmate · 3 years

Text

Let's make this moment worth the while

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You and JJ never liked each other. Kook vs Pogue. He annoys the shit out of you and yet you're trapped with him in the basement of the Cameron mansion.

Warnings: Smut, lowkey hate fuck

Available on: AO3

Part of: Passion lies in screams of ecstasytic dreams

This wasn’t something you had planned or expected.

Not at all.

He was standing in front of you, fuming with anger. His face had a hint of red, his jaw was locked tight and a strangled growl left his throat.

For a moment he looked almost feral there.

“Calm down, Maybank,” you said with an annoyed huffed, looking at the locked basement door above you. He acted like this was your fault when it was clearly his.

You could hear the music and voices from above.

A normal party at the Cameron mansion. Music, alcohol, drugs, Kooks and Pogues mingled together.

Just like in this small basement where Ward stored his wine. You had been here with Sarah a couple of times. You should have known she had planned something. The second you had entered the door to the mansion earlier, there had been this smug smile on her lips but she wouldn’t tell you why.

And now here you were with the boy you hated with a burning passion. You knew the Pogues and got along with them okay-ish. Pope was the best one to deal with, you knew Kiara for quite some time, John B was okay, he was Sarah’s boyfriend after all but JJ? No fucking way. He was crazy, reckless, infuriating and for some reason, really hot when he did stupid things.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he growled back at you after a long moment and turned around, going up the stairs to knock against the door once more.

You could swear the music just turned up just a little bit louder.

“Fuck!” he yelled, slamming against the door with his fist one more time before going back downstairs.

“No reason to get so angry, Pogue. They’ll need new wine eventually.” You leaned back against an almost empty shelf with a sigh, shaking your head. This was stupid and had been planned.

‘Oh y/n, can you get some more wine? The bottle is already empty. There’s the Romanee Conti 1945 somewhere in the right corner, that would be amazing.’

You could still hear Sarah’s voice in your head, it had sounded strange earlier, way too sweet, way too nice and now you knew why.

“Why did they send you down anyway?” You tilted your head a little to the side and looked at the boy who had sat down on the steps of the stairs, glowering at you.

“Red cups but I don’t see them anywhere here,” he grumbled from where he was sitting. His comment made you laugh, which only made him glare more at you.

If he would have been here before, he would know there wouldn’t be a single red cup around. Probably John B’s idea to make up this ridiculous excuse.

You kept your words to yourself and sat down, leaning your head back against the shelf.

Silence wrapped itself around you two and you held his stare for a moment before looking to the ground.

You didn’t even know why you hated him so much or why he hated you the same way. Nothing bad had happened between you two when you met for the first time, Sarah introducing you to the Pogues. She was your best friend and wanted you to get along with her new friend group, which you did...except JJ.

His vibes just didn’t fit with yours, you guessed. Two different people from completely different lives. It should have been a normal dislike, a normal ‘We don’t get along’ but for some reason you just needed to see him and you got angry. His stupid smirk, the way his hair fell into his hair after the rain had poured down, the way his jaw clenched when someone made him angry, the way his throat bobbed briefly when someone mentioned his father.

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath, hating yourself for even noticing these little things about him. You didn’t even spend that much time together, barely knew anything about him and yet it felt like you already knew more than you wanted to know.

When you looked up you saw that he was still looking at you, leaning back on the stairs, his jaw still tight.

“What?” you snapped at him, not feeling comfortable with him staring at you the way he did.

“I’m just wondering,” he started and there was an edge in his voice that made you stand up the moment he did.

He walked toward you, coming to stop right in front of you, putting his hand on the shelf behind you, caging you in.

Your body tensed, you didn’t like this one bit. Men trying to get power over you was always a bad sign but you’d handle him. It was just Maybank after all.

“Wondering if this wasn’t your plan all along,” he finished his sentence, his face way too close to yours. You felt your cheeks redden a little bit, feeling the heat from his body.

You’d be a liar if you’d say he wasn’t attractive in his own, stupid way.

“Why would it be,” you hissed and put your hands on his chest, pushing him back a little, your jaw tightening when he stumbled back a little. “Do you think I enjoy being here with you in this small ass basement? Tourist girls might swoon over you and you think you’re the greatest around these parts but I’m not one of them.”

A smirk appeared on his lips and he took a step forward again, once again invading your personal space.

“At least they have a good time,” he said with a chuckle and you rolled your eyes, turning your head so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

You knew the stories about him. Picking up tourist girls, sometimes two at a time, spending the night together and then never seeing them again.

“Yeah that’s what they think because they’ve got nothing to compare,” you huffed out, arms folding over your chest. From the corner of your eye you saw his body going a little tense, knowing you’ve hit his ego with what you’ve just said.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about anyway,” he suddenly replied with a shrug. “Not like you know what’s down there.”

You couldn’t help yourself but look back at him, looking right at his stupid grin. Your look turned into a glare which only made him grin more.

“God, you’re really getting off at making me angry.” You threw your hands up in the air, wanting to go around him to slam your fist against the door yourself but he blocked your way.

“Let me through, Maybank,” you hissed in anger but he once again put his hands up on the shelf behind you, caging you with his full body.

“Maybe I do.” His voice wasn’t low and had something in it that you couldn’t quite place. “But I know you do too.”

He would not win this, not with this smug grin on his lips.

His body was pressing more against yours, his leg between yours, his face only inches away.

You couldn’t stop the heat that was starting to pool between your legs. Fuck. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction but the way he stood here, so close with no one else around, his heat radiating off his body, his face so close.

“You might be right,” you suddenly blurted out without thinking and wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him into an aggressive kiss.

JJ gasped in surprise as if he didn’t expect to get this reaction out of you but answered to the kiss with the same aggression.

The kiss involved a lot of biting and nibbling, two people trying to dominate the other only to pull back for a breath at the same time.

His eyes had darkened, his lips were swollen but it only took him a moment to recover.

He put his hands under you, lifting you up against the shelf behind you, pressing your back into the old wood while you wrapped your legs around him.

What a fucking bastard.

Now this felt more like this was his plan after all but who were you to deny getting the sexual tension and hatred out for once.

You started to fumble between the two of you, trying to rid the both of you of your pants. His slipped down easily, just swim trunks and boxer shorts but you had at least tried to look good here.

He noticed your struggle and put you down for a moment so you could push your pants down, kicking them off. You were about to pull your knickers down too but he already hoisted you back up.

“What the fuck,” you whispered in surprise but your legs wrapped around him already.

“Might need to dress quickly if they decide to check on us. Wouldn’t want them to find us like this,” he growled against your lips and you huffed. He initiated this and now he didn’t want to be found like this? Bastard.

“Yeah, probably for the better,” you agreed and kissed him again, your lips almost hurting already from the vicious way you two attacked each other.

The blonde boy shifted a little, moved his hips while holding you tight and with a swift movement, he had moved your knickers aside and slipped inside of you.

You moaned into the kiss which he only took as an invite to push his tongue inside once again while he filled you to the brink.

The tourist gossip was no lie. He was indeed quite packing, you felt the sweet stretch, the balance between pain and pleasure. He wasn’t ripping you apart but you were also feeling quite a bit of filling.

You moved your arms up to hold up on the shelf behind you, the wood digging into your back when he started to thrust into you. It was as if he wanted you to feel how much he despised you, every push on his hips forceful and almost bruising but you didn’t mind. You wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

You could feel your tits swinging quite a bit, only dressed with a bikini and a small top above while he kept up his merciless pace.

For some reason you hadn’t thought about him having that much strength to hold you up and push inside of you with that much force.

Not that you had thought about him doing this to you before. Not at all.

A groan left your throat in frustration when you realized that you were too good at lying to yourself when it came to him. Another groan followed when he hoisted you up a little bit more, almost letting you fall back on his dick, hitting the sweet spot that made you see stars.

“Fuck, you feel better than expected,” he growled and leaned forward to kiss your neck, leaving small bites. Not biting hard enough to bruise but so that you would feel them for the time you were in here.

“You expected this?” you asked with a smug tone in your voice but your only answer was another deep, painful thrust inside of you that made your back arch forward.

He had anticipated this, thought about it like you did but he was very angry about it. Seems like you two were not so different when it came to that. Two sides of a coin, maybe.

His bruised lips kissed and nibbled across the soft skin on your neck and shoulder, his hardness tickling your insides the right way.

Your moans filled the small room, the air getting more heated and sticky but thankfully the music above was way louder than the two of you.

This would be your secret. No one needed to know this. You would go out of here later as if nothing had happened.

Your breath got short and irregular, it was feeling as if he was thrusting the air right out of your lungs with the pace he had picked. He clearly had experience doing this. You hated thinking about it.

One of your hands sneaked between the two of you, rubbing against the bundle of nerves, only driving you higher up, your mind fogging.

A growl left his throat when he noticed what you were doing and you could swear he was only forcing himself in harder, deeper and even faster. It was brutal and you were sure he would leave bruises over your body.

The way his hand gripped your hips hurt, the shelf pressing into you, his hips snapping against yours.

Your body started to twitch when you came closer and you were almost falling when you heard his voice. “Don’t you dare to finish before me.” It was almost a feral growl that spoke, not really sounding him like. He was out of breath, sweaty and almost desperate to spill his seed inside of you.

Normally you would have done it anyway, who was he to tell you what you had to do? But this time, you stopped listening to him. Something about his attitude towards you in this moment made you listen to him.

You hated it.

Then you moved your hand up to his face, the two fingers you had used to rub yourself running along his cheek before tapping it against his lips.

He glowered at you before opening his mouth, taking your fingers inside and swirling his tongue around them, licking your wetness off them without stopping to look at you.

You moaned at the obscenery in front of you and a low moan left your mouth. His body was twitching around you and you could start to feel yourself apart.

“Now come,” he whispered around your fingers, still licking them more tenderly than expected.

He pulled almost out completely, leaving you empty and whimpering for a moment before pushing back inside of you in one long, brutal movement, making you see stars as you fell apart around him.

You didn’t hear how a few bottles fell from the shelf, shatting beside you, all you could hear was a loud moan filling the room and you could feel yourself blushing when you realized it was yours.

He gasped and growled when he felt how your walls were clenching around him and soon enough you felt the hot cum spilling inside of you. It was warm and comfortable and you hated that you felt this way.

JJ leaned forward briefly, putting his forehead against yours before letting you back to the ground.

You almost fell forward, not able to stand, your legs shaking from the brutal abuse your body just had to deal with.

You’d be a liar if you didn’t say you loved every second of it.

“We made a mess,” you mumbled when you finally saw the broken bottles on the ground. Ward had stored so much expensive wine here, this would at least be 500 bucks or above. Not that you cared, you didn’t like this man. “We did, especially you,” he chuckled and you turned your head to glare at him but he was just pointing at his dick that was dripping with your wetness, following the drops of cum, sweat and your own juice down to the ground where you could also see a wet spot.

Your face turned crimson red from embarrassment and you looked away, trying to straighten your knickers only to realize that his cum would drip right into them when you kept them on now.

You shot him a glare and he seemed to know exactly what you meant because that smug grin was back on his lips, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I fucking hate you,” you groaned and picked up your pants, already feeling how his seed was dripping out of you and into the fabric of your panties.

“I know you do. Felt good though but then again, it never happened, right?” he asked with a shrug before putting his pants back on too.

Right when you two were dressed again and you were about to reply to him, the door opened and you saw Sarah and John B standing there.

“Oh there you are! I was looking for you!” Sarah said and walked down to you, wrapping you into a hug only to pull back and look at you with a knowing grin.

It was hard not to know. The small room smelled of sex, sweat and wine, your hair was a mess, your lips bruised. It took one look of someone with three brain cells to know what had happened here.

You glared at her. “I didn’t find the wine,” you said and she laughed, walking up the stairs with you.

“That’s fine, it seems like you’ve found something else,” your friend replied with a snicker and you groaned at her, shaking your head but couldn’t help but laugh.

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj imagine #jj maybank #obx imagine #obx #outer banks #obx netflix #outer banks netflix #smut #plisoed #this lowkey sucks but oh well hahaha

525 notes · View notes

enviedear · 3 years

Note

🧃blurbs! — ohmg olivia what about a draco (or blaise because the way you write him is 😩 chefs kiss let me tell u) with the lyric prompt number six "i can see right through, just so you know" (transparent soul, willow)? i feel like that would be so fucking good in like an enemies w tension type situation LMAO and ur writing is truly amazing so ugh! if this is too vague lmk but anyways thanks sm :( love u bae

i'm writing blaise with draco being his hype-man because blaise deserves all my words. also this might be my favorite thing ever now !

blaise zabini was beyond your worst nightmare. the tall, dark-skin boy made you want the ground to swallow you whole. he had a way of fucking with you without even saying much of anything.

he wasn't loud like draco was. you could handle draco. his insults were seen from miles away.. but zabini, he was different.

and you hated it.

no matter how many times you thought you had him figured out, your view on him would do a full 360.

"l/n? you're not eating your pie? something the matter?" blaise interrupts your thoughts.

you hear draco snigger from beside him, "she's off in dreamland again. what are you dreaming about now, l/n?"

you roll your eyes, "eat a dick malfoy."

blaise smirks, "i'm sorry about him, but if you're not going to eat that," he grabs your plate. "then i will."

you watch his eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint before glowering, "oh but zabini, couldn't your mumsy just buy you all the pies you could ever eat?"

draco gives you a glare and blaise smiles, chuckling a bit, "i'm sure she could, i'll be sure to ask her.. after i finish this one."

with a huff, you grab your bag and stomp out of the dining hall. you'd rather get to history of magic early and listen to professor binns drone on than try and understand zabini.

as you take your seat you think of his stupid face, how often that innocently cocky look is displayed on it, and how badly you want to knock it off. that boy is beyond egotistic. he's so comfortable in who he is and whatever he does, he does with poise.

it's disgusting.

and the worst part is how much you feel that it just has to be a lie.

there is no way blaise could have the friends he does, and retain any amount of confidence. despite your theory that it's all a facade, he's never slipped up. never any sign of a falsified feelings.

your classes fly by, leaving you to finish your homework in the slytherin common room. there's not many others in, as it's a friday and ravenclaw is hosting a party, so you feel free to take up a good amount of space by the fire.

"aw, did l/n not get invited to the party?" draco taunts, flicking your shoulder.

"aw, have your balls still not dropped?" you mock.

blaise crouches beside you, smile crooked, "now, we can't go teasing draco about his family jewels... it's bad taste."

you snort, "what i said wasn't bad taste, but you know what is?" you question, leaning closer to him, eyebrows quirked. "the both of you. leave me alone."

"c'mon zabini, i'm tired of her anyways." draco huffs.

blaise's smile doesn't fade, and he pats the top of your head before following malfoy out the door.

prick.

you spend hours in the common room, trying to finish your work. snape and binns assigned you essays, both 6 feet. there's only so much one can write about potions ingredients and the history of refilling cups.

by the time you've almost finished, it was around two, and most of the slytherin students were asleep, or at that party. the common room is empty and the fire you're sat beside is dimming.

stretching you get up and grab a log, shoving it in fireplace.

"up late i see." comes that deep voice you've grown to dislike so much.

you turn to face blaise, "so are you."

he grins, "fair. did you finish your work? the potions homework?"

you narrow your eyes at him, "i'm not letting you cheat off me, if that's what you're asking."

he chuckles, "actually, i finished that a few days ago. i was just wondering."

you give him a deadpan look, "snape only assigned it today, how could you already have done it?"

blaise suppresses a half-laugh, "i worked ahead of the class, snape always gives me assignments before everyone else."

as if you couldn't hate him more than you already did.

"of course, because what would you be, if not pretentious." you glare.

blaise raises an eyebrow, "i have a feeling you're not happy with me? why is that?"

you groan before shutting your eyes, huffing out, "why? you're constantly berating me! you act so full of yourself. constantly walking around with some false sense of self, puh-lease, i can see right through, just so you know."

expecting that smug grin to be wiped off his face you open your eyes.

but those dark brown eyes still hold that cocky, know-it-all, no good look.

"right through you say? you think you know me?" he smirks, daring.

you give him a side-eye, "i do, no matter how much you deny it, you've got a transparent soul."

"so, did you know this?" he pauses, inching closer to you, lips set in a knowing smirk.

"know what?" you whisper, now pressed up against the wall, entirely too close to the boy in front of you.

he makes a tisk sound before winking at you and placing his lips to yours. never have you had such a scorching kiss, it awoke something deep in your chest. so fiery and warm that you're sure the boy had to be a flame himself.

he pulls away, smirk remaining on his face, "did you know about that? was that obvious, with my transparent soul?"

you sigh, "i still hate you."

he hums before lifting your head up to him, "you can say you hate me, but you want me to do what i just did again, don't you."

#—myblurbs !#hi call a medic i stopped my own heart #pls i need blaise #this man is too perfect #i would die for blaise #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini x y/n #blaise x reader

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ridiculously-over-obsessed · 2 years

Photo

Okay!! I swear tomorrow is the day I get caught up skldjfdslf I officially have no more commitments, no uni work, nothing but writing from here on out (I hope anyway kljdfkgd) 🥰💖

Also on AO3!!!

DAY NINETEEN: SACRIFICE

Beca was trying to figure out how she’d gotten here. This sort of thing happened in bad horror movies, it wasn’t a real thing, and yet here she was tied spread eagle to a table, duct tape over her mouth, a group of hooded figures huddled around her chanting it Latin. Seriously, what was happening to her?

It wasn’t like the group of hooded figures were strangers to her, it was those god damn Treble Makers. Aubrey had been right, they were ding dongs... especially Jesse, freaking Jesse who had drugged her and knocked her out when he’d offered her a ride back to her dorm after their late shift at the radio. God she was going to kill him when she got free.

Beca pulled at the ropes she was tied down with again, looking for the slightest bit of give but all she succeeded in doing was chaffing her wrists more, trying not to show the pain on her face as they started to bleed from the force of her struggling. No way in hell was she going to let these assholes see any amount of emotion from her beyond anger. Because yes, Beca was confused and in pain and terrified, but no way would they know any of that.

“Alright boys, you know the drill.” Bumper smirked as the chanting stopped, eyeing Beca who glared hatefully back at him, “Everybody lets a little blood but as captain I get the final blow. Gotta secure our win again this year, make history as the first acapella team to win six consecutive ICCA titles in a row!”

Beca’s nostrils flared as she struggled even harder. They weren’t actually going to kill her right? That was insane, there was no way they’d kill her, certainly no way they’d gotten away with it for the last five years, girls didn’t just go missing and no-one noticed...

Right?

Beca started as her feet began to move upwards, a whirring noise filling the uncomfortably silent room as the table tilted her so that the top of her head was a mere inch and a half from the floor. Try as she might to contain her fear, Beca’s breathing became shallower as her eyes darted around her, catching sight of numerous glinting and sharp blades. No fucking way. This was a really bad dream, nothing more. Any second now Beca was going to wake up to find Kimmy-Jin glaring at her for the audacity of having a nightmare in her vicinity.

“Jesse gets first cut, he’s the one that brought us this hot piece of ass.”

Beca snarled as her head started to spin a little from the blood rushing to it, glowering at the upside down form of the guy she had once called a friend and was now severely regretting that decision.

“Sorry Becaw.” He shrugged, grinning toothily as Beca’s eyes fixed on the sharp knife in his hand, “Bros before hoes.”

Beca growled something intelligible from behind the tape as she struggled as hard as she could, tugging and yanking at the rope. No way. She couldn’t let them do this. Someone would come looking for her any minute, someone would know she was here and they’d rescue her. Sure, she wasn’t really close to her dad, Kimmy-Jin actively hated her, and she was fairly certain that the Bellas who did like her still wouldn’t really notice if she was gone but... someone had to notice. They had to.

Beca grit her teeth as she felt the blade press into her arm, determined not to show she was in pain as the pressure increased. Jesse dragged the knife slowly down her arm, Beca’s toes curling inside her boots as she felt it tear her skin, panting a little as blood began to trickle down her arm.

When Jesse stepped back, Beca’s eyes flicking to the long, deep wound that stretched from inside her elbow to just below the tattoo that read “c’est ne pas moi”. It burned as Beca continued to struggle, albeit less furiously than before as she pushed back at the tears starting to well in the corner of her eyes. These assholes weren’t going to make her cry on top of everything else.

She could do this, she just had to hold until someone came to get her. Because someone had to be coming to get her, there had to be someone in her life that cared enough to come and find her. She was supposed to be at rehearsal tonight, Aubrey had called a last minute practice before the qualifiers next week, they’d see she wasn’t there...

But she had complained bitterly about it... what if they thought she’d just blow the Bellas off? That she had just bailed on them, would they even think to see why she hadn’t turned up? God... that was why they’d picked her, nobody was going to look for her were they?

No.

She couldn’t afford to spiral like this. If she spiraled then she’d stop fighting, and if she stopped fighting, she was dead for sure.

Beca watched as another Treble stepped forward, feeling lightheaded and woozy as the blood from her wound ran down her hand and more of it rushed to her head. Fuck... she was going to pass out before they were finished, she couldn’t pass out because then she couldn’t fight them, she couldn’t survive this if she did.

A soft grunt was muted by the tape over her mouth as Beca felt a knife dig into her other arm, slicing straight down as it split her praying mantis tattoo in half. Dammit. She liked that one. Trebles and blades continued to switch out, Beca no longer able to hold back her tears or her muffled cries of pain as each new cut broke down her resolve.

By the time they had finished, each of them making two cuts, Beca was breathing heavily, blood running down her body from the numerous cuts that now littered her arms, her chest, her legs, and the most vicious one of all across her stomach from hip to hip, left by Bumper and had caused an audible shriek from Beca as his knife cut through several layers of skin.

The table moved back into its original position, Beca shaking and weak as she lay limp on the unforgiving surface. No-one was coming to find her, she was going to die here, alone and in agony, a victim of whatever sick and twisted idea they had that would somehow help them win the ICCA’s. It was a goddamn acapella competition, it wasn’t worth her life.

The tape was ripped from her mouth, Beca grunting as it was and glaring at Bumper from under hooded lids.

“Any last words bitch?” He sneered, Beca dull with pain and defeat.

“Fuck you.” She spat, “You won’t get away with this asshole, you’ll rot in prison for the rest of your miserable life for this. I’m sure some big guy is gonna love making you his bitch.”

Bumper simply laughed at her, shaking his head before nodding to Jesse. Beca watched him step forward with a blindfold in hand, struggling weakly as he tied it tightly around her head. Oh now they were blindfolding her?! Now they were going to kill her, she wasn’t allowed to see them do it, she couldn’t make them look her in the eye as they murdered her?

Beca felt the tip of a blade press against her chest, hands balling into fists as she pursed her lips together. Fuck. FUCK. This was it, this was how she was going out. God she really shouldn’t have come to Barden, she should have ignored her parents and gone to L.A. anyway. She was half expecting her life to flash before her eyes but the only thing in her minds eye were flashes of brilliant red hair and impossibly blue eyes, of easy smiles and soul warming giggles.

Chloe...

God she should have taken a shot with her. Talk about death bed regrets.

“Just do it asshole.” She snarled, the tip of the blade still resting on her chest, “Just do it! You’re a coward, you can’t even look me in the eye while you do it, if you’re going to kill me then just get on with it!”

The tip moved and Beca braced herself for the swing that would end her life. But as she did, Beca heard yelling and thudding. What the hell was going on? The ropes around her wrists suddenly gave way, her ankles freed too as the blindfold was gently lifted from her eyes, Beca looking up at the stranger in the bulletproof vest who was smiling kindly at her.

“Hey. You’re okay now. I’m Detective Williams, those punks really did a number on you huh?”

Beca managed a snort as her eyelids fluttered shut, the reality of the blood loss and her injuries beginning to settle in her body. A gentle shake to her shoulder stirred her again as Beca tried to focus herself on the detective and what she was saying to her.

“C’mon Beca, stay with me. That’s it. We’re going to get you to the hospital but until then you just need to stay awake okay?”

“Okay...” Beca mumbled, barely audible, “H-how did you find me?”

“You have a very persistent group of friends.” Detective Williams chuckled fondly as two paramedics joined them, “The blonde one, Aubrey? She came to us with a file an inch thick about girls that had gone missing around this time every year. We might recruit her once she’s finished college, she’d make quite the investigator.”

“A-Aubrey?” Beca frowned slightly, “I thought she hated me...”

“No-one who works that hard to get us to listen and save your life could hate you.” Detective Williams raised an eyebrow, “They’re clearly very fond of you Beca. Especially the redhead.”

“Chloe...” A small smile tugged at Beca’s lips before she winced as one of the paramedics pressed a dressing to the deep wound on her stomach, “I- I- can I see her? Is she here?”

“Once we get you into the ambo you can.” The detective promised, “She’s outside, but I want to preserve the scene. Is she your girlfriend or something?”

Beca snorted again, “I wish...”

“Well for what it’s worth...” Detective Williams beamed at Beca, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as a soft whimper left Beca’s lips as the paramedics continued to put dressings on the painful wounds all over her, “I think she likes you too. No-one gives a vic description like she did if you’re not at least a little in love with them.”

Beca laughed softly, wincing as she did. She felt so heavy, so weak... but it was okay. Someone had come to rescue her, she didn’t have to be strong anymore. Beca could just rest now.

“Hey, Beca... just a little longer now, c’mon.”

Beca blinked slowly as she felt herself be lifted onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask slipped over her face as the detective kept pace with the now moving gurney.

“Chloe’s just outside that door, she’s dying to see you. Stay awake for her huh?”

Beca nodded a little, trying to keep her mind clear as she looked around her. This was a really ugly house...

“Becs?!” Beca’s head turned to the left as the cold night air hit her, stirring her a little as her eyes found Chloe’s, “Oh my God!”

“Chlo...” Beca frowned as she realised the mask was hiding what little could be heard of her voice, but as she raised her hand to move it, it was gently moved away.

“You need to keep that on Beca.” One of the paramedics smiled softly at her, “Chloe can come with you to the hospital though if you want?”

Beca nodded, ignoring the pain that shot up her arm as she reached for Chloe’s hand. Chloe grasped it tightly as she climbed into the back of the ambulance with her, tears in her eyes as they roamed over Beca.

“Oh Beca... what did they do to you?” Chloe whispered, “I got them to come as quick as I could, I promise I did. I’m so sorry...”

Beca shook her head, frowning a little as she squeezed Chloe’s hand, “Not your fault weirdo...”

“Are you in pain?” Chloe asked, “Can you give her something?”

“That’s what I’m doing now.” The paramedic in the back with them reassured Chloe a little, “This is going to make you feel better Beca, but also really tired. I need you to try and stay awake though, okay?”

Beca nodded a little, her eyes locked with Chloe’s as she felt a warm, fuzzy feeling spread across her body, replacing the pain. Oh... there was the exhaustion... god it was so heavy, so welcoming... she’d had such a long day...

“Becs?!” Chloe’s hand gripped hers tighter, “Hey, come on, they said you had to stay awake, we’re almost there, you can do this!”

“S-sorry...” Beca mumbled, the world fading away as she heard Chloe calling her name again.

-----

It was with a soft groan that Beca regained consciousness, vaguely aware of the pain she was in as she shifted a little, heavy eyelids fluttering open.

“Hey Beca.”

A familiar voice filtered through the fog in her head as Beca turned it to find Aubrey smiling softly at her.

“Welcome back. How’re you feeling?”

“Aubrey?” Beca mumbled, face creasing in confusion, “Am I dead?”

“No.” Aubrey chuckled, reaching out to give her hand a soft squeeze, “No you’re way too stubborn for that.”

“I thought you hated me...” Beca swallowed thickly, a smirk tugging at her lips, “But you lovvvve me, don’t deny it Posen. You’re sitting by my hospital bed, looking all worried...”

“That morphine’s pretty good huh?” Aubrey raised her eyebrow, “For the record, I never hated you Beca. Sure, you annoy the crap out of me most days, but you’re a Bella, which makes you my sister. No way I’d ever let those ding dongs do anything to you and get away with it.”

“Thanks Aubrey.” Beca’s smile was a watery one, uncharacteristic tears running down her cheeks, “You saved my life dude, Bumper he- he was about to kill me when those cops burst through the door...”

“Hey.” Aubrey was holding back her own tears as she shook her head a little, “No way I was going to let that happen. Even if I’d have had to kick their asses myself.”

Beca giggled at this, “I’d pay good money to see that... where um... where’s Chloe?”

Aubrey’s face broke into a knowing smile, “I sent her home a few hours ago to shower and sleep. You’ve been out for nearly two days and she hasn’t left your side since.”

“Really?” Beca grinned.

“Beca!”

Beca grunted softly as a weight landed on top of her, Chloe’s face buried in her neck as she hugged her tightly. Aubrey suppressed a chuckle as she got up, waving her fingers at Beca as she left them alone.

“Chlo... many injuries that hurt when you squeeze them...” Beca’s voice was tight as Chloe sprang away, tears running freely as she gasped.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” There was guilt in every line of her expression as she got off the bed, settling for holding Beca’s hand in hers instead, “I just- I’m so glad you’re okay, I was so worried about you, you were really hurt...”

“I’m okay.” Beca smiled softly at her, “Morphine helps with that, but I’m okay.”

Chloe grinned as she giggled softly, pressing her cheek against Beca’s hand.

“I really am glad you’re okay Becs.” She whispered, “I was really scared for a second there.”

“Me too.” Beca pursed her lips a little, “I really thought I was going to die Chloe... I fought like hell but it wasn’t enough, I couldn’t-”

“Hey, hey...” Chloe’s brow furrowed as Beca started to sob softly, gently running her fingers through her hair, “You’re okay. You’re safe now. A little cut up sure, but nothing that won’t heal eventually. And hey, you’ll have some badass scars out of it too...”

Beca scoffed slightly through her tears, “You like scars huh?”

“I like you.” Chloe squeezed Beca’s hand, smiling warmly at her, “ A lot Beca. When I thought I’d never see you again I... I couldn’t bear it.”

“I like you too.” Beca grinned, “I might be on a morphine high right now, but I really really do Chloe. I want to kiss you so bad...”

Chloe giggled as she leant forward, nose brushing against Beca’s, “Well then kiss me weirdo.”

#pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect edit #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #fanfiction #moodboard: bechloe #my fic #31 day angst challenge #31doa: day nineteen #drabble: bechloe #drabble tag

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whats-rambled-rambled · 3 years

Text

erode

Neil x Reader

summary: this is what happens when you try to cope with immense heat for way too long plot what plot

warnings: 18+ and I mean it, nsfw, teasing, temperature play (listen, I don’t even know, blame it on the weather)

author’s note: I wanted to make it short. They had other ideas. Result? Basically 2,9k words.

I started writing with no particular duo in mind. And at some point I stopped and smiled.

Hello you two, it’s been a while.

(f!Reader)

The song for this fic is TENDER - Erode

Anyway, enjoy! ...and let me know what you think, please?

---

“This heat is absurd,” you huff as you flip the pillow to the other side, hoping to find even a degree cooler fabric there.

The cold shower you’ve taken half an hour ago feels like a distant dream, and you’re already drenched in sweat, trying to position yourself strategically to get the most of the small fan placed near the bed. With those crazy temperatures, the chance of getting a stiff neck on the next day seems like a risk worth taking.

“I think I was supposed to kick you in the shin for complaining about warmth,” chuckles Neil and puts down a glass of water on the nightstand, the ice cubes clinking softly. “You're lucky it’s too hot to do so.”

You knit your brows together. It takes you a moment to remember, but then it hits you and you groan. Of course, he brings back something you said during that painfully long stakeout on a freezing December night.

“Why can’t it be just pleasantly warm instead of a variation on The Song of Ice and Fire,” you sigh, taking off the t-shirt. “Fuck climate change deniers, there’s nothing temperate about this climate we’re living in anymore.” You fall back on the pillow, limbs in disarray, longing for a shred of comfort.

With the corner of your eye, you see Neil’s gaze flitting through your body, focusing on the only article of clothing for a second longer.

“You’re one sexy creature.”

His words carry an amused smile and you glance at him, scoffing in disbelief.

“Even when I’m spread out like that?”

“Especially when you’re spread out like that,” he says, moving closer. “Giving me all sorts of ideas”

He leans in for a kiss, but you place a hand on his bare chest, stopping him an inch away.

“Too hot.”

Neil stifles a giggle.“Hot damn?” he chokes out, and you glare at him, but your lips twitch in a smile of their own accord.

“When the temperature drops, I’m gonna give you that hallelujah, or so help me-”

“Promises, promises.” He beams. “I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to give that little sauna fantasy a test run.”

The sole thought of a sauna threatens your sanity right now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.” A wicked grin creeps on his face. “Or let me just--”

Neil turns away and reaches for the water again, then finishes it with one swig. He nibbles on the bottom lip, clearly excited, as his long fingers fish out a single ice cube from the glass. The blue eyes light up with roguish sparks when he looks at you. Neil quirks a brow in a silent question, and you nod as your pulse picks up the pace.

He closes his hand on the ice for a moment, then slides the cube to his other palm. You sigh with relief as he runs cold and wet fingers across your forehead, then lets them comb your hair, keeping the wild strands away from your face. A soft smile taints his lips as he moves a bit closer, keeping enough distance so the almost feverish warmth of your bodies wouldn’t override everything else. He steals a quick kiss and then he smirks, rolling to the side and propping the head on his knuckles. His darkened gaze glides over your features, taking in the views and inevitably plotting your demise at the same time.

You swallow with effort as the shiver of anticipation runs down your spine.

The ice cube touches the tip of your nose playfully. You are about to huff, but then Neil moves his hand lower and starts slowly tracing the outline of your parted lips, and you can only gasp. Your heat-hazed mind is defenseless, so you close your eyes, allowing yourself to focus solely on the sensation. The dissolving ice trickles down your cheek, the cold droplet tickles and makes you yelp, but when it reaches the neck, Neil shifts and his warmth floods you. You feel his hot breath against your skin as he licks off the wet trail and sucks on that little spot right under your ear. You whine and inhale sharply, ready to protest the sudden closeness, but you hesitate, torn between getting closer to your personal melting point and already craving for more.

Before you can make up your mind, Neil moves away, a smug smile dangling in the corner of his mouth. A tip of his tongue darts through his lips as he catches the exasperation in your stare.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he purrs and shushes your comeback by simply gliding the ice cube to your chin and down your throat.

Your head arches back and you draw a shaky breath, but the cold point travels lower, skates between your breasts, through your stomach, around your belly button, and moves back up. You glance down, transfixed on the slender fingers holding the glimmering cube.

“All right?”

The husky question commands your attention back to his face. Neil studies your expression closely and a flash of fondness strikes your racing heart.

You smile and your hand flies to cup his cheek, “Yeah, it’s -- oh god,” you groan as the ice flicks your nipple. Neil chuckles and props himself on the elbow so he can pin your hand over your head in one swift move. “Concern as a distraction? How sneaky of you,” you pant, glaring at the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“It worked, innit?” he says and the mischievous lights dance in the blue eyes as they drop back to your chest. You follow them just to see him cruising the ice cube through your breasts, how your nipples harden when it circles them, again and again until you tremble and squeeze your thighs together, biting back a needy moan. “Look at you, squirming already,” he murmurs, amused.

It’s hard to think, let alone form a coherent sentence, so you just glower and grit your teeth. Neil interlocks his fingers with yours, inching closer, and places a small, reassuring kiss on your shoulder. Then, he palms over the cube and carries on. The warmth and pressure of his hand mix with the coldness of the melting ice, and you sigh and lean into his touch, not mindful of the water dribbling down your sides to the sheets.

He traces the curves and flats of your body. Unhurriedly, but persistently moving lower. Grazes the hip bones, then slides along the hem of your panties. You close your eyes as your thighs come together again, trying to control the bucking hips.

He tightens the hold on you as his hand bearing the ice cube moves to your knee.

Neil’s warmth envelops you once again and he whispers into your ear. “Open for me.”

The request wiping any resolve left in your brain and rushing to your pulsing core. You bite your lip to stifle a moan and comply, earning a pleased hum from Neil.

“Good girl,” he rasps as his hand continues its journey upwards.

“Neil--”

Your weak plea only evokes a throaty chuckle, which doesn’t help in the slightest. He knows what he’s doing. What praise like that can do to you. You see it in his predatory gaze, how he enjoys watching you fall apart. And he still is about to touch you where you need him most.

Neil smacks his tongue. “Not so patient today, are we, my love?” he teases, guiding his large hand up and down your inner thighs slowly.

You want to groan in frustration. You want to shut him up with a hungry kiss. You want him. But instead, you muster some of the strength you have left to control yourself, not willing to give him too much satisfaction. Not yet anyway.

He catches the determined look in your eyes and raises a brow. A corner of his mouth curls and you know that the game is on.

Neil hooks his thumb over a band of your underwear. “May I?”

“By all means,” you breathe out and he lets go of your hand so he can pull your panties down and position himself between your legs.

“Christ, how I adore this view.” He flashes his teeth in a brief smile, his features soften when his gaze meets yours. The extent of love and admiration you see there makes your stomach do a somersault. “You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly and the heart sings in your chest. Then, just when you let your guard down, the blue eyes get dark and yearning. “And mine,” he adds as his knuckles resume the caress.

The pure whiplash from his actions shuts your brain down. You whimper and your whole body tenses when the sleek cube glides over your folds. The cold water joins your own wetness. Your head falls back. The heat that is rushing through your veins has nothing to do with the temperature in the room, but it pearls your temple with sweat just the same. A short pause forces you to look down and you catch the wicked grin forming on Neil’s lips. Your end is inescapable.

You watch as Neil puts the ice cube in his mouth and your eyes widen in sudden realization. He dips his head and then swirls his tongue around your clit and you almost cry out, clenching your fists on the sheets. Hot. Cold. Both at the same time. The pulse pounds in your ears as you walk the line, bold strokes and quick flicks driving you to the edge of sanity. His hand moves up your body, partly to hold you in place. But also to add the fuel to the fire that slowly consumes you. You melt into his touch. You moan. And then he slides his finger inside you and reality begins to crumble.

“Oh yes--” you whine, pushing against his hand. “Please.”

You feel him smile against you and the second finger enters you, then they curl slightly and set the rhythm. You roll your hips and reach down to tug at the golden strands, the only praise you’re capable of right now. Neil’s groan vibrates through you, pushing you to the brink of resolution. And then his mouth envelopes you and he sucks on your clit. The pleasure sears your every nerve, tipping you over, and you arch your back and come with a loud moan. You ride out your high, trembling underneath him, digging your fingers into his arms and then pulling on them, driven by a different kind of need. Neil understands and crawls back up to you, licking your wetness off his lips on the way.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing his knuckles against your cheek tenderly and falls on the pillow next to you.

You nod, still incapable of putting words together. Placing the hand on the back of his neck, you urge him closer and kiss him, grunting softly. It’s hard to level your breath like this, making that act of devotion somewhat sloppy. Neil strokes your hair, deepening the kiss just barely. Fixed on bringing you comfort, first and foremost.

And when you pull back, it’s the eyes that betray him. Full of fondness, yes, but also overcast with desire.

How fortunate you already have an idea how to repay him. Not that he expects it - he would never. But he was so rude, teasing you like that.

And you want payback.

You smile and push him back on the mattress to reach over him to his nightstand. You fish out the biggest of the leftover ice cubes from the glass.

Neil shifts upwards slightly, leaning back on his elbows. His mouth parts as he spots your impish grin.

“Oh.”

“Come on, you really thought I’d let that slide?” you say as you straddle him, batting the eyelashes. You look at the glimmering crystal in your hand, then back at him, raising a brow. “Actually--”

You close your fist and move it over Neil’s chest, and he squirms as the cold droplets fall on his skin. You stare at the way his muscles tense when the water trickles down his toned stomach, and a new wave of excitement washes over you.

You lean on to lay a kiss on his lips, this time a more eager one. Neil sighs when your tongue glides against his and you giggle, breaking the contact. Your noses brush together as you exchange greedy looks, barely containing the animalistic need slowly clouding your minds.

“Not so patient, indeed,” you hum, tipping his chin up with your finger so you can suck on his jaw, letting the hand with the cube ghost over the same spot on the other side. Neil shivers and groans in a way that only boosts your confidence. Your mouth travels down his neck, continuing to play a hot-and-cold mirror game with your hand. You pull back as your eyes follow the wet trails again. Your tongue meets the next one halfway and moves up the chest until it lands on the source of the mess. You look up and you see the blue eyes trained on you, so you smirk, hiding the piece of ice in your mouth the same way Neil did not long ago.

The cube pokes from between your lips as they venture across the body you know so well, but rediscover as you learn its reaction to the new sensation. The goosebumps. The way it trembles. The grunts and gasps that follow. You stop just to get rid of the navy boxer briefs on your way.

The sight ever so gratifying.

Neil’s chest heaves as you start stroking him lightly, but it is when you take his tip in your mouth when Neil moans, sending your heart racing again. You taste and tease him until you hear a stifled curse. Then you drop the ice cube into your hand and you rub it up and down slowly, going back to twirling your tongue over him at the same time. Neil jerks, inhaling sharply and lets out a guttural groan.

“How’s that for a payback?” you ask smugly, enjoying how it takes a moment for him to focus his sight on you.

You recognize the predatory gaze a second too late.

Neil shifts and the next thing you know you end up pinned to the bed.

“Wanna play like that?” he rasps, hovering over you with a sinister grin.

You roll your hips against him, eyes lighting up at the sound of a growl building in his throat.

“Just take me already.”

He crashes his lips on yours and it’s your turn to gasp breathlessly. Then, he flips you to your side so you're facing the running fan and he loops his arm around your waist, pressing himself to your back. The moving air against your body helps, but you're way past caring about overheating now.

Neil brushes your hair away so he can kiss the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, his other hand travels south, and you hook one leg over his, squirming impatiently.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathes into your ear, but before you can assure him how mutual the feeling is, he thrusts into you and you moan together, melting further into each other.

But instead of setting a pace, the reckless fingertips trail between your legs again to rub small circles against your clit, and soon enough you whimper as you clench around him. More. Neil bites on your shoulder and groans, finally giving you what you need. What he needed, too. You bury your fingers in the blonde mane. Tugs urging a quicker pace. You close your eyes, climbing the peak again. His touch roams through your body, and then his rhythm falters, and you take his hand in yours and press it to your chest, lacing your fingers together.

I’ve got you.

Neil tenses and hides his face in your neck, gasping frantically, pulling you as close as he can. His high pushes you over the edge and you join him in the rhapsodic release, losing yourself in the pleasure. In the strong embrace. In him.

When reality regains its sharpness, you shift in Neil’s arms to face him. The warmth of affection spreads through you when you meet the hazed gaze. You smile softly as your fingers trace his features. Parted lips. Sharp jawline. The brows, still knitted together. Your heart aches from fondness when you fix the golden strands stuck to his forehead.

Happy lights dance in the blue eyes and Neil chuckles, panting lightly. You kiss him, then hug him tightly, not mindful of the heat. Of the sweat. There’s only a heavy heartbeat against your cheek. His scent, ingrained deeply in your mind. The slow, calming strokes on your back. Bliss.

“At least with a sauna we’d have a barrel with icy water, you know,” Neil points out casually. “Or even better - a pile of snow.”

“Oh my god,” you snort, pulling back to look at him. “Imagine that,” you sigh as the heat suddenly hits your senses twice as hard.

He grins, taking you by the hand, and places a small kiss on your knuckles. “May I interest you in a very cold shower instead?”

The corner of your lips twitch.

“Lead the way.”

#neil tenet #neil tenet fanfiction #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #robert pattinson #neil tenet imagine

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Learning Teamwork

Josh Lyman x Reader

Words: 2184

Summary: Two colleagues that usually butt heads are forced to play nice when the President sends them to attend to a Governor's Ball in his home state.

Notes: I have so much Josh angst I wanted to write something a little fluffier that I could still capture his signature snark in. (For the purposes of this, I made up a Governor that would fit the story so if there was one discussed in the show, they aren’t in this one.) I also wrote this in two days so… bare with me.

If you hadn’t been in the presence of the President, you might have thrown something at him.

“If the President addresses this now, the Republicans will stop at nothing to get back at him for it.” He spoke in that smug, know-it-all tone that drove you insane.

“This is about real people, Mr. Lyman, not the little politics games that you play all day.”

“Okay, everyone, I think that’s enough.” The President’s order may have halted your argument, but you could still feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you stared Josh down. The rest of the team made a very quick exit, hoping to avoid becoming casualties in you and Josh’s on-going battle. But when the two of you started for the door, President Bartlet’s voice called you back. “Not. You. Two.”

You grimaced and turned back around, reveling a little in the fact that Josh looked just as uncomfortable as you did. One stern look from Jed Bartlet, however, was enough to diminish that.

“Is it physically impossible for the two of you to let me get through one meeting without going at each other’s throats?” He urged, his irritated gaze switching rapidly between the both of you. “Not only are you both a part of this team, you are adults for Christ sake!”

“Sorry, sir.” You gulped.

“My apologies, Mr. President.”

God, even apologizing, he had to try and sound smarter than you.

“I’m not finished yet.” The President walked around his desk and grabbed an envelope from under a pile of other papers. “The Governor of New Hampshire is hosting a ball on Saturday to celebrate something that I can’t even remember. Frankly, I think it’s because his wife enjoys parties a little too much, but who am I to judge?”

You and Josh exchanged a look that consisted more of confusion than anger.

Bartlet continued, “Well, seeing as I used to be Governor of my home state, he’s been kind enough to invite me, though I also think this is more of a way to get more Democratic backing for his next election. Nevertheless, while I am unable to attend due to this whole mess with possible terrorism, I know just the two members of my senior staff to send in my place.” He looked pointedly at both of you.

The excuses tumbled over each other as you and Josh blurted them out, desperately pleading to find something that would change his mind. You hated political gatherings in general but the idea of being forced to go with Josh? It twisted your stomach into so many knots you thought you’d throw up.

“There’s going to be political fallout from all of this and I should really be around-”

“C.J. and Toby are going to need me to-”

“Y/N could go by herself.” Josh said suddenly, making your jaw drop. That little snake. “I’m sure there are plenty of young men that’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“Says one of the White House’s most eligible bachelors.” You fired back, forgetting who you were standing in front of.

“Enough!” The President slammed the invitation down on the desk in front of the two of you. “This isn’t about who is more desirable than who. This is about you two learning how to work as a team and not biting each other’s heads off every time you’re in the same room together! Now, I am calling Governor Thompson and telling him you’re going and the two of you are going to be the picture of grace and maturity. If I hear one word of anything else, so help me god, your careers will be so buried, it’ll take years before they see the light of day.” His voice echoed through the Oval Office, rattling you down to the bone. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Good. Now go do whatever you need to to free up next Saturday.” He sat down, putting on his glasses to look over other documents. “Oh, and find something nice to wear. Mrs. Thompson has always been a bit of a stickler with the dress code.”

With that, you were dismissed and you felt the dread settling in your chest. You were going to a ball. In New Hampshire. With Josh Lyman for a date. As you shouldered out the door together, you cast glowering looks.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”

If the snickers from Sam and C.J. weren’t enough to drive you crazy in the week leading up to your flight, scrambling to find a dress was not something you originally had on your schedule. Even when you had found one you liked, there was the matter of rescheduling everything you had the weekend you would be gone.

At least Josh seemed to be having as difficult a time as you were. Any time you saw him in passing, he looked frantic and disheveled- which would usually bring you a small amount of joy, but for some reason, knowing you were in the same boat actually made you feel better about going with him.

“Hey.”

You looked up from the piles of work from your desk, surprised to see your unfortunate date standing in your doorway. It was the day before you were set to leave and you both had mountains of work to try and finish.

“What can I help you with, Josh?”

“I just came to say that this might not be such a bad idea.” He moved from the door to the chair, but he didn’t sit down. He just stood anxiously behind it, leaning on the back. He actually looked sincere- and a voice in the back of your head pointed out that, without his usual cloud of arrogance that always hung around him, he was actually very attractive.

No. Definitely not. You hated him.

“Which part? Going to a ridiculous dance so that Governor Thompson can get more clout with Democrats or the fact that we have to go as a bonding exercise?” Your tone was cold, even more so than usual. Call it overcorrecting for your brain’s traitorous thoughts.

“I think the President is right.” Josh’s posture changed, standing up a little straighter as his tone grew defensive. “If this is what it takes to get us to work together, then I guess we deserve it.”

“Funny, since when he first proposed the idea you suggested that I go alone.” You stood up, crossing your arms.

Josh mimicked your stance, his brow furrowing with anger. “Look, I came in here to make some kind of peace with you, and I don’t understand-”

“I know what you came here to do, Josh. You want to show me that I don’t understand Bartlet the way you do while you play some kind of martyr for going on this trip.” You leaned forward with your hands on your desk and he did the same. Your faces must have only been a few inches apart.

“Fine!”

You’d never wanted to kiss Josh Lyman more than you did in that moment and couldn’t hate him more for it.

Your seats on the plane were right next to each other. Because of course, they were. Josh got the window seat despite your protests, sticking you in the middle between him and a rather obnoxious businessman who was speaking loudly on his phone.

“Sir, I need you to turn that off as we prepare to take off.” The flight attendant instructed.

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

“Now, sir.” Her voice was a semi-irritated monotone that left little room for any argument. The man gave her an annoyed look and ended his call. “Thank you, sir.” She continued down the aisle to berate somebody else. Without the distraction of work, he sought out a new way to pass the time- you.

“What takes you to Concord?” He leaned a little closer to you than you would have preferred, but leaning back would basically put you in Josh’s lap so you stayed put.

“My coworker and I have an event to attend.” You motioned to the seemingly oblivious man on the other side of you.

“Just coworker?” His casual expression turned into a suggestive smirk and you felt his fingers run up your knee. You jerked away from him.

“Husband, actually, so how about you keep your hands to yourself?” Josh snapped suddenly, giving Mr. Handsy a death glare. You stared at Josh with wide eyes and forced your mouth shut to keep it from gaping in shock. The man beside you must have been as surprised as you because words came out as a whispered stutter.

“Sorry, I didn’t- she said- and I thought-”

“Yeah, well you thought wrong.” He stood up. “Here, honey, why don’t you take the window seat?”

You sat there, without moving, for a few seconds before he nudged your leg with his foot and you climbed over him to get to the seat by the window. Once you were both situated, the other man got suddenly very interested in the papers from his briefcase.

You leaned over and whispered in Josh’s ear. “Honey? Really?”

“Don’t start.” Though his voice sounded irritated, there was almost a small smile playing at his lips. You shifted awkwardly, trying to keep a smirk from your own lips.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Do you want the window seat or not?” Now his smile had grown into a snicker, making you laugh lightly.

“Who would have thought you were such a gentleman?”

“Well, I’m a married man now, apparently.” He teased. You rolled your eyes.

“In your dreams, Lyman.”

After an hour of shaking hands and dancing with the Governor’s persistent son, you were ready to knock your head against the wall until you passed out. Oddly enough, you had yet to see Josh. Mrs. Thompson invited you to come early for tea so you hadn’t arrived together. You were beginning to think he’d bailed when you saw him across the room.

Pushing your way over to him, his eyes widened when he finally saw you.

“You look amazing.” He gasped, his eyes scanning your silky blue dress before settling on your eyes. “I mean… wow.”

You felt blush tint your cheeks as a smile spread across your lips. He cleaned up pretty well himself and you found yourself checking him out for what you wished you could say was the first time ever. What could you say? The man looked good in suits.

You must have stood there, staring at each other, for a few minutes before Ned Thompson came into view. Without a second to think, you grabbed Josh’s hand.

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” You yanked him with you onto the dance floor, losing sight of the Governor’s persistent son.

Josh looked around, trying to see who you seemed so desperate to avoid as the two of you began to sway to the music. “What was that about?”

You checked one more time to make sure the coast was clear. “Ned.”

“The Governor’s kid?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t he, like, ten years younger than you.”

“He’s only eight, but yes.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed by his pestering. On the bright side, he was a pretty good dancer. “If I dance with him one more time, I think he’ll propose.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Just tell him you’re married to me.” Josh smirked. “Worked the last time.” You both chuckled and continued dancing. For a while, you forgot why you were here to begin with. You were enjoying yourself more than you cared to admit. In a room full of people, the only one you wanted to dance with was the man you loved to hate.

Maybe it was the other way around.

You sat up in bed, sipping coffee and reading the paper while the sound of the hotel’s heater droned on. The fluffy white robe enveloped your body perfectly, but the real warmth came from the sleeping form beside you as he turned over, swinging his arm so it was around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You smiled in both amusement and complete bewilderment as to how you got here.

“I don’t think this is what the President meant by ‘teamwork’.” You noted, folding up the paper and setting it aside.

Josh peeked up at you, half his face still smooshed against the pillow.

“Goodmorning.” He greeted groggily, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat up.

“I made you coffee.” You handed him the little Styrofoam cup and waited until he’d had enough to wake up a little more. “What are we supposed to tell him when he asks how everything went?”

He thought for a moment. “You know, we didn’t fight at all last night.” He was right. Between the ball and, well, everything after that, not a single argument was had.

You shrugged and held out your cup of coffee for a cheers. “To teamwork,” Josh smirked and tapped his cup against yours.

“To teamwork.”

#josh lyman x reader #the west wing #bradley whitford #jed bartlet #the west wing imagines #josh lyman #c.j. cregg #sam seaborn #joshua lemon lyman

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loveofafangirl · 3 years

Photo

72 Hours

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You (no gender, race or body type described)

Synopsis: You are tasked with watching Zemo for the weekend while he assists you in providing tech support and intel to your teammates in the field. *Sort of: Enemies to Lovers* *One-Shot: Not same “reader” as my other stories.

Word Count: 2.2K (sorry this is longer than I intended)

A/N: This is a request for @purebloodwitch, where y/n is part of the Avengers and used to taking care of everyone, but at Zemo’s safe house he starts taking care of her and she is uncomfortable at first. I hope this fits what you are looking for. I hope you enjoy it.

3 days.

72 hours.

That's how long you had to suffer his company. You stare out the window, taking in the country view. The car was taking the two of you to one of his safe houses. You had wanted to go on the mission with the rest of your team, but you were the most organized and could most easily relay intel to different groups as you uncovered it. Plus, it had been decided you were the least likely to bring physical harm to him. Though, you weren't so sure at the moment.

You had been against Bucky's plan to release Zemo. You remembered the bombing at the U.N. and the fallout that began that day. You blame him for the Snap and the loss of so many of your colleagues. If he hadn't turned the Avengers against one another, maybe Thanos never would have collected all six Infinity Stones. Maybe no one would have vanished, tearing the world apart—twice: once when they disappeared and again when they returned. As far as you were concerned, Zemo was the catalyst that led to Thanos, the need for the GRC, and the rise of the Flagsmashers. Everything began that day at the U.N.

You look at your watch:

71 hours and 26 minutes.

When you arrive at his safe house, he insists you let him hold the door for you. You had always stood on your own, caring for those around you. You weren't used to gestures such as these, nor did you want them, least of all from him.

Your fists clench when he refuses to go in first. Reluctantly, you proceed, allowing him to hold each door for you.

"Would you like a tour?" He gestures grandly around the lavish apartment.

"No," you state coldly, ignoring his coy smile that seemed to dip slightly at your tone. "Just tell me where to set up."

"Perhaps by the windows," he suggested. "The panels are one way. You can see out, but no one can see in. It should give us a good vantage point to keep watch without being noticed."

You begin moving the bags of equipment you brought.

"Allow me." Without waiting, he takes the bags from you and carries them to the area he had previously pointed out.

You follow wordlessly.

"There you go."

You nod your gratitude, unable to bring yourself to say thank you to him.

"Is there anything else?"

"No. When I'm done setting up, you'll need to tell me everything you know about Project Typhon and get me the decrypted files you insisted that only you could access."

"Of course, I am at your service."

You keep an eye on him while working. You still couldn't believe you got stuck babysitting. Now your focus was split between the work and making sure he didn't get into any trouble.

He moves about the kitchen, grabbing this and that. He returns with a tray in his hands containing a teapot, two cups and saucers, small sandwiches, and a tin of cookies. "I had the pantry stocked before our arrival."

You give him a curious expression.

"I did not want you believing they had been sitting for the years."

"I'm good."

He pours two cups of tea, offering one to you. "You haven't eaten since early morning. Please, help yourself."

You breathe deeply, trying not to give in. You had packed some rations, but you hadn't eaten any yet. You hate how appealing everything looked. You begin reaching for it, but pull back, now convincing yourself it could be poisoned. You turn your attention back to your work after a quick glance at your watch.

65 hours.

The evening passes slowly. You juggle your Zemo-sitting duty with decoding his cryptic replies into useable intel to relay to the two teams you were monitoring while also keeping an eye out for any digital chatter that may hinder your mission.

"Why me?" You sigh to yourself, thinking back to how you had asked Sam that same question when he first told you this was your assignment.

"You're good with people, Y/N."

"So you're sticking me with him?" You pointed an accusatory finger over your shoulder to Zemo.

His head shifted to the side, "No offense taken. I understand the difficulties. If you allow me a moment to explain."

"You understand nothing," you chided. Your gaze narrowed to a glower.

"Easy, Y/N," Bucky interjected.

"You of all people—" Your head shook in disbelief. "I was there. I saw what he did."

"We need him. He's the lesser of two evils right now."

You crossed your arms, not sure that was true.

Your thoughts drift back to the present. You check the time again:

63 hours.

Zemo lounges beside you, nursing a drink in his hand. "I surmised you would decline a drink like my own, so I brought you a coffee instead. I noticed you had a few over the past days." He gestures to the warm mug on the table beside you.

The rich aroma captivated you as you breathe in its bold notes. You really needed it. Begrudgingly, you took your first sip. It is better than you expected. A hum of delight slips from your lips.

Noting his growing smirk, you muster the strength, uttering, "Thank you." You surprise yourself at the sound of your tone. It was much more cordial than you had intended it to be.

"It was my pleasure, Y/N."

The two of you remain in silence, except for the occasional exchange needed for the mission. You were so focused on the job you hadn't even noticed him refill your coffee cup until you picked it up, expecting to savor the last drops but found a full cup met you instead.

He kept working, seemingly not looking for any credit. You didn't offer any, but you had to bite your lips back to stop a smile threatening to erupt.

57 hours.

You rub your eyes and stretch your arms. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Don't even think about trying anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He stood as you made your departure. "Gute Nacht. Sleep well."

You walk away without looking back. You knew there were agents strategically placed along the perimeter so he wouldn't get far, but you still worried.

Warm sunlight streams in the window of the large bedroom, gently caressing your face. The mattress is so soft and amazing; it sucked you into its depths immediately, and you fell quickly. You nuzzle in the soft fabric of the bedding, not wanting to move. It was your best sleep in months, even though it was only for a few hours. You think to yourself that you could get used to this.

Your body tenses at the thought as you remember where you are. You jump out of bed and quickly get dressed. Your team is counting on you. You swipe your phone checking the time.

52 hours.

You head straight to your setup; your fingers float nimbly across the keyboard as you attempt to focus solely on your work. Your stomach growls, pulling your focus. The scent of bacon frying greets you. You turn toward the kitchen, and for the first time, notice Zemo.

He catches your eye. "Would you like to join me for breakfast? I've set the two places." Sensing your hesitation. "I can bring it for you as well."

You glance at your phone. No new communications from the team. No alerts from any of the traces you had set up. Nothing to keep you there. Before you know it, you're walking in his direction.

He moves around the counter, pulling out one of the high bar chairs for you.

You sit, even allowing him to push it in for you, a warmth spreading over you.

"Please." He gestures to the plate in front of you and takes the seat opposite you. "Enjoy."

You nibble on a piece of bacon and let the taste linger on your tongue. It was just the way you liked it. He sips his black coffee, watching you enjoy the first bites. You cover your mouth, feeling self-conscious suddenly. You shake your head, trying to brush away the feeling as you question why you care what he thinks.

Your phone lights up, but it's nothing important. You glance at the time 7:11. You try to remember why you cared. Your attention shifts once more to the man across from you; that was why.

51 hours.

The two of you go about the day. Zemo is more useful than you expected. He quickly decodes and unscrambles messages and relays them to the team. Like you, he thrives on analytics and strategic thinking. There were moments where you actually enjoyed the conversation that developed.

A few times, your fingers brush against his while reaching for the same thing. He always offered his apologies with that smile that made you forget what he'd done that day.

Before you know it, he's bringing you dinner.

"Is it really that late already?" You question, glancing at the time. You accept the plate. "Thank you."

You enjoy a pleasant evening together, sharing the meal he prepared for you. He was a great cook to your surprise. This was better than anything you had eaten at the Avengers compound lately.

As the night lingers and you wait for your team to send you new intel, he tells you stories about Sokovia. Once, he mentions his son before pausing and quickly changing the topic.

In your rush to label him as a terrorist because of that fateful day, you never listened to his reasonings. They didn't excuse his actions, but he wasn't the cold-hearted killer you had expected based on his military profile. He was just a man who lost his entire world.

When you part for the evening, you gaze back, lifting your hand. "Good night, Zemo."

The next morning, you wake softly, breathing in the comfort of the bed. You reach for your phone; his file is still open from where you fell asleep reading it. You wanted to understand him. There was so much more than you gave him credit for.

You realize you were wrong. He wasn't the cause of everything that happened. You were. Everything began not the day at the U.N., but that day in Sokovia, with Ultron, and with the Avengers. They had created Zemo; he was merely a product of their haste. They were the catalyst to their own undoing. He had just shone a light on it.

You lie back thinking over the past two days—the conversations that you'd shared, the kindness he had insisted upon, even when you tried to care for yourself, and those small touches that elicited a feeling you couldn't understand.

Your last day together followed much of the same patterns: sharing meals, breaking down and relaying intel, keeping watch.

You notice how at ease you are. Your body is calm with no tensions or worries. You hadn't checked the time since—well, you weren't really sure. A look of horror flashes on your face as you realize you were enjoying this—enjoying him.

"What did I miss?" He questions, strolling in from his bath, still in his robe.

Your body flushes, and your eyes cascade over his form. Realizing what you had done, you turn away and clear your throat. "Can you please put some clothes on?"

He shrugs and walks off. As soon as he turns away, you find yourself chewing your cheek as you watch him leave. "Snap out of it! The only thing that matters is the job," you scold yourself.

For the rest of the day, you keep your distance, averting your gaze, and avoiding him as much as possible. When he wishes you good night, you don't reply, hurrying off as quickly as possible.

You hope to find reprieve in the quiet of your room in the comfort of the softest mattress you had ever known. However, you toss and turn all night, your mind restless with growing thoughts of him.

You skip breakfast, or so you had planned. When you didn't come out, he left it outside your door.

You pack up in silence, catching glimpses of his curious look. You know he is probably wondering what changed, but he doesn't pressure you.

As you leave, you take one glance back at the beautiful apartment.

He waits at the door, holding it open for you.

This time, you don't protest and even offer your thanks. A smile fills your face as he opens the car door too.

Your eyes close, remembering all the good moments from the past 72 hours. Without thinking, you turn into him, brushing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

Your gaze lingers on his soft brown eyes longer than you intend. You feel trapped, unable to break away, but you don't want to either. You lick your lips, wanting more, but worrying what it would mean. You decide to go for it, but as you move to him, he's already there, meeting you halfway until he pulls you entirely into his embrace. His lips are warm and inviting. You feel the world around you melt away under his tenderness.

Your heart flutters when you finally pull away. "That's a one-time thing."

His head tilts to the side, considering your words, and then nods in agreement.

You get in the car, your gaze still focused on him, a devilish smirk forming on your lips. "Unless I decide it's not."

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite; @fandomxreaders ; @moonstuffsteve

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail ; @killsandthrills ; @noavengers ; @nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney ; @willowtheewisp ; @marchingicenotes7 ; @valquiria3000

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo fan fiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #zemo #zemo x you #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #daniel bruhl

236 notes · View notes

batwritings · 3 years

Note

hi! Can I be 🌗 anon?

Also, I have a request if that’s okay!!

_______________________________________________

it’s a c!dream x reader taking place during the lmanburg vs dream team war

so ya know how dream like owns the server? Well, the reader and dream are a married couple and are also king and queen/king ofthe smp lands. One day while the reader is sleeping, Wilbur and Tommy come and kidnap them, take them hostage and use them to get certain things from dream, such as Tommy’s discs back and maybe independence for lmanburg

sorry if that’s too much to ask for, also if you don’t want to do that, it’s totally fine I’ve just been thinking about that lately 👀

Ooh, that sounds interesting! Not too much at all!! Enjoy~!

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Everything happened around you so fast, it was almost like you were still dreaming. You’d fallen asleep waiting for Dream to return for the evening when you felt two sets of hands grabbing you. Before you could even think to scream, a gag was put in your mouth and your head was covered.

“Come on Tommy, we have to hurry,” you heard a hushed voice say.

“Then let’s go!” Came another, and you were being moved. You tried to wiggle, thrash your way away from your captors. Alas, their grip was strong and you couldn’t escape, waiting it out until you were unceremoniously dropped to the ground.

The bag was removed from your head, revealing the faces of the resistance. L’Manburg’s finest, Wilbur Soot and Tommyinnit. “What the absolute hell is happening here?!” You screeched.

“Sorry your highness,” Wilbur said with a satisfied smirk. “But if L’Manburg wants it’s independence--”

“AND MY DISCS BACK!” Tommy shouts.

“...And Tommy’s discs,” Wilbur continues with an annoyed expression that is quickly wiped away. “We need a bit of a bargaining chip.”

You glowered at the taller man as the sun starts rising over the horizon. Today would’ve been the day you and Dream, husband and wife, king and queen, conquered L’Manburg, burnt it to the ground. Yet here you sat, still in your pajamas, waiting for when you would be rescued.

As the dawn sun pours across the land, it doesn’t take you long to see Dream in the distance. George and Sapnap are trailing close behind him, George looking a bit steamed which was rare in and of itself and Sapnap with a look of quiet rage which could only mean the worst. A quiet thought in the back of your head wondered if you could find a fire res potion lying around.

“So,” Dream starts, standing before Wilbur with his entourage not far behind. “You think stealing my wife, the fucking queen, is gonna get you what you want?”

A knife appears at your neck then, making you flinch. Dream’s hand tighten around his axe, but otherwise he does not react. “All’s fair in love and war Dream,” Wilbur says, ever the poet. “Give us our freedom--”

“AND MY DISCS!”

“--and we’ll let her go unharmed.”

You watch Dream carefully, his jaw setting and unsetting behind his mask. “So you chose war then,” he says, almost too quiet to be heard. In a blur of motion you’re lifted off the ground, shouting starts to happen as TNT goes off in the background. Dream has you in his arms booking it to the outskirts of town.

Only once he has you far enough away does he put you back down. “Get home, get dressed, and get ready for a fight,” he tells you. You nod, fully ready to run off before he grips your wrist, pulling you back. His lips come in contact with yours harshly for mere seconds. “And try not to get caught again?”

You chuckle softly at your king and wink. “Maybe if you came to bed with me at a decent hour we wouldn’t have this problem.”

#bat writes #anon reqs #dreamwastaken x reader #mcyt x reader

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Note

🥺 Hi!

Can I have a little fake dating Geraskier? With a side of kisses to prove they're together? That maybe turn into a real make out session later? Because the idiots love each other but have no braincells?

🥺💗🥺💗💗🥺💗🥺

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVELY!! 💖💖💖 This is also on AO3. ________

Jaskier pouted at Geralt as he rested his chin on his arms. Geralt glowered at him and took a long sip of his ale. They’d been arguing for a good half an hour already but Jaskier still wasn’t ready to give in. He jutted out his bottom lip and gazed up at the witcher. He understood why Geralt was hesitant. The last banquet they’d been to together had not exactly ended well but this one was delightfully free of royalty and as long as Geralt didn’t feel the need to call the Law of Surprise… then it would be fine.

“No,” Geralt grumbled. Jaskier let out a long sigh and tilted his head.

“Come on…”

“No!”

“Come on!” Jaskier whined.

“I’m not being your bodyguard,” Geralt insisted. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Jaskier winked at the witcher as he bit his lip. “Looking at you like what?”

Geralt grunted.

“So… you’ll come to the banquet to protect me,” Jaskier sang as he sat up and sipped his wine. “but not as my bodyguard?”

Geralt furrowed his brow and hummed.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Well you still refuse to use the term friend so that won’t work. You’ll have to be my plus one!” He laughed at his own joke, ignoring the spike in his heartbeat.

Just a joke, Jask.

Geralt hummed and tilted his head. “Alright.”

Jaskier choked on his drink, spraying red wine all over the table. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said alright.”

Jaskier whimpered incoherently, his heart was in his throat. “Geralt.”

“When I act as your bodyguard people try to hire me as a mercenary. I’m a witcher. I kill monsters not people,” Geralt muttered. “Just tell them I’m your husband or something, should stop the cuckolds too.”

Jaskier let out a long shaky breath. Geralt meant they would pretend to be dating. Of course he meant as an act. Jaskier’s traitorous heart had just began to hope that just maybe his love for the witcher would be requited. Shattered hope was surely one of the cruelest emotions in the universe; a shining star that becomes a black hole.

Jaskier snorted and flicked his fringe from his eyes. “You are a terrible actor, witcher. It will never work.”

Geralt smirked. “Oh yeah?”

Jaskier felt a buzz of excitement. The thrill of performance was addictive and it never got old. Jaskier was sure he’d be performing until he was old and grey. “No one will ever believe it.”

Geralt hummed and stood up, picking up his swords. Jaskier followed Geralt’s movement across the tavern with his eyes, still a little stunned by the turn of events. How the fuck was he supposed to pretend he was in love with Geralt without revealing that he was, in fact, actually in love with Geralt?

He groaned and thumped his head down on the table. He should just not go. It wasn’t worth the embarrassment, and it wasn’t even a royal court. He should just tell Geralt not to bother.

Oh but he was weak. A whole evening living out his dreams. How could he say no?

He allowed himself a moment to ogle Geralt’s sinfully round arse whilst the witcher wasn’t looking in his direction, sighing wistfully. He wondered if he would be allowed to squeeze it tonight. It had been far too long since he’d had the chance to massage Geralt and his lovely bottom.

He licked his lips and then scurried after Geralt as the witcher headed upstairs. Geralt didn’t acknowledge him as they entered their shared room. Jaskier jumped onto his bed and crossed his legs whilst he watched Geralt adjust the straps on his armour.

“You’re not wearing that tonight,” He said with a tilt of his head.

Geralt glanced over his shoulder with an exasperated look. “Why not?”

“My husband would not be wearing worn out armour to a banquet. Honestly, if you must wear armour on all occasions at least acquire some ceremonial armour or something! Something that hasn’t been covered in monster guts,” Jaskier waved his hand in the Geralt’s general direction.

“Your husband is a witcher and needs to wear appropriate clothing,” Geralt shot back, raising his eyebrow.

Jaskier glared and scooted to the edge of the bed, “My husband would know that he isn’t going tonight as a witcher or a bodyguard, so doesn’t need to wear bloodied armour.”

“It’s not bloody.”

“Stop being facetious!” Jaskier snapped stalked over to glare at Geralt. His nose pressed right up into the witcher’s space and he gripped Geralt’s shoulder.

“I’m not.”

Jaskier poked him in the chest. “You are. You know I’m right now take. it. off!”

“My husband is a bossy little shit,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier eventually managed to convince Geralt that a shopping trip was in order. The witcher scowled the whole time but Jaskier noticed the small flicker of a smile when they found a rather lovely new set of armour. It was a dark navy blue with black leather panels and would look rather dashing on Geralt. Jaskier just had to persuade him that it was for special occasions only. It would be a tragedy if this got ruined by griffin claws or selkimore guts. It had been too expensive for that. ___________

Jaskier’s lute was tuned and ready.

It was show time.

“Come on, darling,” Jaskier cooed as he linked his arm through Geralt’s.

Geralt grunted but let Jaskier lead the way. Jaskier smiled sweetly as he greeted his fellow musicians for the evening. He would be leading the troupe for the night’s festivities but he’d played with a couple of them before. They were a good bunch.

“And this is my husband,” He sang and gazed up at Geralt with the adoration that he usually had to hide. “Geralt of Rivia.”

Essi laughed gaily and put her hands on her hips. “Husband? Since when?”

Jaskier let out a nervous laugh. “Oh umm…well, Geralt?”

Geralt hummed. “We were hand-fasted this winter. It was a quick engagement. Jaskier hadn’t noticed I’d been trying to court him for years, too busy buttering his biscuit elsewhere.”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped before he remembered he had to stay in character. “Ah yes. A beautiful ceremony,” He squeaked. “The mountains are just sublime in the winter.”

“Hmm. It was a dream come true,” Geralt added.

“For both of us,” Jaskier agreed, smiling dopily up at Geralt.

Oh gods, he could see it all so clearly. He’d never been to the witcher’s keep but he could feel the cold mountain air on his face. He could see the puffs of breath escaping Geralt’s lips as he said his vows, eyes shining with love. He wondered what the witcher would wear for such an occasion, perhaps his new armour, or a thick dark winter cloak. The sunlight would be glittering on the snowy mountain peaks as they kissed for the first time as husbands.

Jaskier blushed and chewed on his lip, suddenly unable to meet his witcher’s gaze. It was too much. He wanted this to be real.

Fuck.

Essi narrowed her eyes and glared between the two of them, her long blonde hair falling in front of her face. “Bullshit,” She said. “I don’t believe it for a second.”

Jaskier huffed. “And why not?”

“You’re oblivious Jaskier, but not that much. You’ve been pining over Geralt for years. You would have noticed if Geralt was trying to court you.” Essi cross her arms in front of her chest.

Geralt snorted. “You would think.”

Jaskier gasped and put his hands on his hips to mirror Essi, finally letting go of Geralt’s arm. “I’ll have you know that Geralt didn’t notice my pining either.”

“I did.”

Jaskier glared up at him. “You didn’t say anything, husband,” He said pointedly. “ergo you didn’t notice.”

“We’re married now, husband,” Geralt replied in the same tone. “Let’s not fight.”

Essi still wasn’t convinced. A mischievous smile danced on her lips and Jaskier’s heart sank. He knew exactly what she was going to say before the words left her lips. “Prove it.”

“What?” He snapped.

“You’re not wearing rings, I don’t believe you’re married, or even together. Melitele knows why you would be pretending though.”

Jaskier groaned. “We’re not going to…”

His words were muffled by Geralt’s lips on his. Geralt’s hands cupped either side of his face and his lute fell off his shoulders. Jaskier moaned softly and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, kissing Geralt back in the way he’d always wished he could. If this was to be his only kiss with Geralt then he was bloody well going to make the most of it. Geralt’s hands slid into his hair as the kiss deepened. Jaskier whimpered against Geralt’s lips and he ran in his hands down Geralt’s back to grip his arse.

Geralt chuckled. “Behave, love.”

Jaskier opened his eyes and nipped at Geralt’s bottom lip. “Never, dearest.”

Geralt hummed and slid his hands to Jaskier’s lower back before dipping him towards the floor. Jaskier let out a surprised squeak before Geralt’s lips were on his. He melted into the kiss as Geralt pulled him back up to his feet.

Jaskier pouted as they parted, his lips chasing Geralt for one last peck. Geralt laughed softly and stroked a thumb along his cheek. His golden eyes bore down into Jaskier’s with such open affection that he felt weak at the knees.

“I love you,” Jaskier whispered, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. It was the only time he’d be allowed to say it out loud.

Fuck why did it hurt so much?

“Ok, alright, I get it. You’re married.” Essi snorted.

Both Geralt and Jaskier spun round to face her. Jaskier blushed, he’d forgotten his friend was there. “Yeah,” He muttered. “I. I need some air. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come with you,” Geralt suggested.

“No!”

Geralt frowned but nodded. Jaskier was surely imagining the disappointment in the witcher’s eyes.

“I won’t be long,” He muttered and then fled to the courtyard with his lute on his back.

The cold night air was blissful as he burst through the doors. It was too hot in the hall. Geralt was too much. He was supposed to be a terrible actor. Jaskier had seen Geralt’s acting and it was really not good but for some reason, for a few moments, Jaskier had been utterly convinced.

“Get a grip, Jask,” He ran his hands through his hair and looked up at the stars. “There was no wedding. It’s just an act. He doesn’t love you. Stop acting like a fool!”

He paced outside for a few minutes, fingers dancing on his lute strap. “He doesn’t love you,” He kept repeating the words. Each time was like a dagger in his heart but he prayed to all the gods that his heart would finally get the fucking message. “He will never love you.”

“Who told you that?”

Jaskier tripped up and barely managed to stay on his feet as his eyes found Geralt. The witcher was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked… amused?

The fucker.

“Well it’s fucking obvious isn’t it?” Jaskier snapped with a wide wave of his hands.

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Yes!” He paused. “Isn’t it?”

Geralt pushed off the wall and stalked towards Jaskier. Jaskier couldn’t help but stumble back. His heart was too fragile he wasn’t ready to face Geralt, not yet. Blasted witcher was getting his hopes up again. He whimpered as Geralt took his hand and brought his wrist up to his lips.

“No,” Geralt insisted.

“Oh.”

“Hmm.” Geralt turned Jaskier’s hand over and brushed a kiss against his knuckles. “At first I thought you knew. The new boots, sharing whatever I’d hunted, the necklace…” Geralt trailed off.

“Oh,” Jaskier said again, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I just thought… yay presents?”

Oh gods, he’d been an idiot.

“And then when I bought you the dagger last summer?” Geralt asked with a tilt of his head. “You just smiled and said thank you. Not even a kiss on the cheek. I knew then you had no idea. I’ve seen your dalliances, knew you weren’t bothered by propriety.”

Jaskier groaned and buried his face in Geralt’s chest. “I’ve been an idiot.”

“Mhmm.”

“I just thought you were sick of defending me all the time!”

Geralt snorted. “There’s that too.”

“So… the dagger?” Jaskier asked quietly. He was a former noble. He knew the significance of jewelled daggers as a courting gift, but he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“I was asking you to marry me.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned. “Seriously, fuck it all. How did I not see? I’m supposed to be a bard!”

Geralt’s finger tilted his chin up and he pouted up at the witcher. “So you see, it’s not impossible.”

Jaskier smiled weakly and then laughed as he remembered, “That’s why you agreed to be my plus one!”

Geralt nodded. “You were joking but,” he shrugged “why not?”

“You knew I loved you!” Jaskier cupped Geralt’s cheek.

“I hoped.”

“Can I kiss you?” Jaskier asked quietly. “For real this time.”

Geralt smirked and brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “Was real last time.”

“Geralt!” He whined.

“You can kiss me.”

And so he did.

That winter they were married at Kaer Morhen and it was everything that Jaskier had imagined and more. ______ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose

#the witcher #geraskier #fake dating #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geraskier fanfic #wolfie's witcher writing #electricrituals

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