#It's annoying seeing his left eye being replaced with a blue one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cevansbrat0007 · 11 months

Text

Back to Sleep

Summary: Ari has the perfect cure for your insomnia.

Warnings: Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Insomnia, Brat!Reader, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, Soft D/s themes, Hand Job (implied), Discussions of Punishments, Bondage (mentioned), Manhandling, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

“Could’ve sworn I had it in my hand when I walked out.” You mumble as you creep to the edge of your man’s bedroom. Using the flashlight feature on your phone, you scan the room, hoping to see where you’d left the charger for your Kindle.

You eventually spy it laying on the floor next to the nightstand. Holding your breath, you tiptoe back inside, taking special care not to make a sound. The last thing you wanted to do was wake up your bounty hunter. Especially since it had taken you so long to extricate yourself from him and that bed in the first place.

As much as Ari Levinson said he wasn’t the cuddling type, his actions led you to believe otherwise. When that oversized menace wasn’t sleeping practically on top of you, he was taking up all the space - leaving you with hardly any.

When you’d pointed that out the other day, he’d simply shrugged and mumbled something about sleeping better when he knew where you were. And then when you responded with it didn’t mean he had to take up the entire bed with you in it, he’d just shrugged again and said: “Well Bird, I reckon the safest place for you to sleep might be right here in my arms then, huh?”

Stunned, you’d been left with virtually no other option except to agree with his logic. And the smug grin that slid across his handsome features let you know that you’d just lost a pretty major battle.

But deep down, you really hadn’t cared as much as you might’ve let on. Maybe it was okay for you to like sleeping beside this sweet beast of a man. Especially since you seemed to be doing an awful lot of it lately.

However, that didn’t mean sharing a bed was without its downsides. In fact, you were in the midst of experiencing one right now. Because while Ari appeared dead to the world after a long day of chasing cold leads, you were wide awake.

Which was unfortunate since you were the type of girl who loved her sleep. And now it looked like you’d be lucky if you got any at all tonight. Well, at least you’d had the forethought to bring along some reading material just in case.

Maybe in the morning you would ask Ari if he was okay with you leaving a couple books at his place. While you suspected he wouldn’t be thrilled at the prospect of having a stack of romance novels taking up space on his nightstand, you also doubted he would say no.

If anything, he would more than likely view it as a sign you planned to come back. You were too attached to your books to just abandon them with a man who would never be able to fully appreciate them.

Once you manage to snag your charger, you quietly make your way back to your man’s sparsely furnished living room. Just the other night you’d brought up the fact that the cozy space could seriously benefit from a splash of color, along with a couple of throw pillows for the surprisingly comfy sofa. Ari’s response that time?

“Have at it. Credit card is in my wallet. Take the silver, not the blue. Let me know if you wanna go to that one mall the next town over. I hear they’ve got better stores.” He’d said all of that without so much as batting an eye before returning his attention back to his laptop.

Meanwhile, you'd been so shocked that somebody could’ve knocked you over with a feather. You were starting to find it annoying every time Ari Levinson rendered you speechless.

You settle on the couch with a soft sigh, your body sinking into the plush cushions as you curl up with your beloved device. While it could never replace the feeling of holding a physical book in your hands, it did still serve a purpose. And right now that purpose was providing a healthy distraction from your anxiety-inducing bout of insomnia.

Powering on your Kindle, you immediately select the first book in Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander Series that also went by the same name. It was one of your favorites, which explained why you were currently in the middle of a much needed reread.

Before you forgot, you make sure to lean over and hook up your charger. And then you clear your mind, allowing yourself to get lost in the magic of Gabaldon’s highlander epic, set in 1743 Scotland. You immediately pick up where you left off, with James Fraiser on a crusade to rescue his wife who was being held prisoner by the infamous Jonathan “Black Jack” Randall.

And even though you’ve read this part multiple times, you find yourself getting swept up in the details of the dreamy highlander’s daring plan to save his Sassenach from her twisted captor’s clutches.

You’re so engrossed in the chaos unfolding on the pages that you almost don’t hear Ari calling for you – your name fading into the chaotic background of the fictional raid on Black Jack’s stronghold.

“Bird?”

This time your head snaps up, your mind abandoning the antics of The Dunbonnet and his crew. You adjust your position on the couch, craning your neck as you listen out for whatever it was Ari needed.

“In here.” You reply, your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip. After a moment or two, you’re treated to the sight of a sleepy and disheveled Ari as he comes ambling around the corner sporting nothing but a pair of black silk boxers that left very little to the imagination.

He didn’t know this, but they were quickly becoming your favorite pair.

“Got worried.” His voice comes out rough as he approaches, squinting as his eyes work overtime to adjust to the light. “Thought you might’ve left. Roads are dangerous this time of night.” He runs a hand through his tousled locks, attempting to brush them out of his face so that he can get a better look at your lounging form.

Assuming that your oversized Harry Potter t-shirt and panties counted as pajamas.

“Nope. I’m right here.” You tell him, offering up a sheepish smile. “Just me and Jamie Fraser. Doing our thing.”

“Who?” Ari levels you with a confused gaze, clearly not understanding the reference. “Sweetheart, I’m not gonna pretend to know who that is. But this Jamie guy needs to go find his own woman since it’s high time for mine to come back to bed where she belongs.” He informs you, scratching at an itch along his muscled abdomen.

“But I’m okay right here, Ari.” You do your best to reassure him. “Plus, I can’t sleep. Stupid insomnia. And the last thing I wanna do is keep you up after you’ve had a crazy long day.” You let out a yawn as you innocently stretch your arms overhead, missing just how quickly your bounty hunter’s attention shifts to your breasts as you arch your back.

“Bedtime, Duchess.” He holds out his hand to you, raising a tawny brow when you don’t immediately acquiesce. “Now, please.”

“But I just told you that I couldn’t sleep!” You protest when Ari plucks your e-reader from your grasp and sets it aside so that it can continue charging without interruption. Later, you would appreciate how gentle he always seemed to be with your things. But not right now.

Right now, you wanted to pout.

“And I heard you, baby. Loud and clear.” He smiles indulgently before leaning down to lift you into his arms, his thick biceps curling around your body as he begins to carry you back to his bedroom. “But as your man, I happen to have the perfect cure for even the worst possible case of insomnia.”

Winding your own arms around his neck, you decide to give into temptation and bury your face in the crook of his shoulder. Breathing him in, you find yourself reveling in the clean, masculine scent that was all uniquely him.

Ari presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, loving how it makes you giggle. You didn’t know this, but your sweet little laugh was easily becoming one of his favorite sounds. Almost to the point where he often found himself willing to do just about anything to hear it.

Christ help him when you realized just how much of a sucker he was becoming for you. Some days he felt like he was falling hard and fast without a parachute. Which meant he was bound to be a goner.

But until then, he was going to do everything in his power to bring you down with him.

Once you both have safely reentered the bedroom, he kicks the door shut with his foot without so much as a second look. He was a man on that mission. And nothing could be allowed to get in the way of seeing to his woman, who was apparently in desperate need of a good night’s sleep.

“I got you.” Ari gently places you down on the bed, ensuring that you don’t bounce too hard or anything like that. Once you’re settled, he makes quick work of relieving you of your top, freeing your breasts to his hungry gaze.

His rapidly hardening cock twitches inside his boxers as he watches them bounce, your sweet nipples practically begging him to taste. But he stops short of giving-in when he gets a good look at what else you’ve got on beneath that damn shirt.

“What the hell is up with these?” He growls, his fingers finding their way into the waistband of your pink, cotton panties. “And why are you wearing them in my bed?” He cups your chin with his free hand, the pad of his thumb brushing across the softness of your lip. “Did you forget the rule, sweet Bird?”

You feel the blush rising to your cheeks, even as you bite your tongue. Because of course you hadn’t forgotten this particular rule. Although, it would serve him right if you had – especially since he always seemed to have so flipping many of them.

“Well?” Ari asks again, his grip tightening just a fraction. “What’s my rule?”

“No panties in bed unless they’re absolutely necessary.” You rasp in time with the goosebumps springing up along your heated flesh.

“And are they necessary?” His commanding tone has your nipples pebbling with desire. Whether you liked it or not, your body was slowly training itself to respond to his special brand of dominance. “Or were you just feeling a little disobedient? Hm?”

“I…th–the second one, maybe.”

The look on your man’s face let you know that he’s far from pleased. But perhaps he might at least be willing to allow points for honesty.

“Take them off and hand them to me.” He temporarily relinquishes his hold, giving you the chance to obey.

You watch with baited breath as he graciously accepts them before bringing them to his nose and inhaling deeply. A strangled groan escapes his throat as his eyes threaten to roll back in his head, the erotic sound making your increasingly slick pussy flutter with need.

You force yourself to remain silent as he repeats the action once more, before finally tossing them over his shoulder and returning his attention back to you.

“Now, be a good girl and turn over on your belly.”

Pulse hammering in your ears, you only briefly hesitate before doing as he asks. But it’s not until you’re finally in position that true understanding finally dawns. Less than a minute later, you feel Ari’s hand collide with your upturned ass.

“Ow!” You shiver as a delicious wave of heat blooms across your vulnerable cheeks, your hands fisting the covers in preparation for the next blow. Your hips jerk when his hand connects for a second time, your traitorous body growing more and more excited as the anticipation builds.

And of course you knew what was expected to come next. Your handsome bounty hunter was waiting for an apology. Because it wasn’t enough for you to simply acknowledge your flagrant disregard for his no-panties policy. Oh no. Leave it to your Beast to take things a step farther.

“I’m not hearing anything, little Bird.” Ari lands another smack before pausing his sensual assault in favor of removing his boxers, allowing his heavy cock to spring free. A sight you would’ve been permitted to enjoy had your man not thought it was more prudent to punish you first. “Speak now, unless you’ve made your peace with having a sore ass.”

Ari had no problem continuing on with your spanking. He could watch that sweet booty of yours dance for hours and still not get tired of it.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You whimper, rising up to welcome the next slap. “It won’t happen again.”

Except you both knew that it would. Maybe not necessarily in the form of you wearing certain undergarments when you shouldn’t, but Ari was convinced that it was only a matter of time before you decided to test him again. And when you did, he vowed he’d be ready.

Satisfied with your response, you only have to endure one final blow before he finally sees fit to end your punishment. “Thank you, sweetness. You think you’re finally ready for that special remedy I promised you?”

“Uh huh.” You breathe, feeling grateful when he helps you sit up. By now you can practically feel the sticky wetness seeping out from between your thighs as your core spasms - your empty walls clenching around nothing. You didn’t need to turn on the lights to know that you were making quite the mess. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Of its own accord, your hand reaches out to grasp his straining cock, eliciting a sharp hiss from him. He was so fucking big that it was damn near impossible for you to wrap your hand around his impressive girth. Not that your man was complaining or anything.

In fact, Ari was always so unbelievably patient whenever you took it upon yourself to satisfy him. A true gentleman in every sense of the word. Well…until he wasn’t.

“You had better.” He grits out as you continue to work him up and down with unhurried, measured strokes. “Otherwise next time I might have to tie you up. Maybe teach you a lesson that way and see if it sticks.”

His head falls back onto his shoulders as you focus on tracing one of his manhood’s more prominent veins with the edge of your thumb, loving the way he shudders beneath your touch. He lets you have your way for a few more minutes, until his skin is flushed and a thin sheen of sweat dots his brow.

That’s when he puts a stop to things, if only because he’s not ready to cum yet. And even if he was, he was the kind of man who believed in putting his woman first. Brat or not.

“I still think it’s a shame, but whatever you say, Ari.” You giggle, feeling more than a little playful when he gestures for you to get comfortable in the middle of the bed. He soon joins you, the pillow-soft mattress sinking under his weight.

“Damn right, Duchess.”

Ari doesn’t stop until he’s looming above you, his big body blocking out the moonlight. Right now he looks every inch the predator – from the feral gleam in his eyes to the wolfish grin on his lips. There's little doubt that he plans to leave you deliciously sated by the time the sun comes up.

“Are you mine, Bird?” The question comes on the heels of a seductive purr. Before you can respond, his head dips to take your lips in a gentle kiss. You grant him full access to your mouth after the first brush of his skilled tongue, content to let him take the lead.

You could be in charge another night.

“Yes.” There was no use in arguing that particular point anymore. You belonged to him for the foreseeable future. And you were okay with that. “But only if you’re mine too.” The unexpected phrase all but leaps out of your mouth before you can think better of it.

Ari immediately pulls away, his eyes darkening with a passion so intense it robs you of breath. “You want me to be yours?” The vicious sound rumbles out from somewhere deep in his chest. “You thinkin’ about keeping me like I am you?”

“Maybe.” You whisper as one of your legs hitches itself around his trim waist, pulling him down on top of you with a slight "oof". “That a problem?” You do everything in your power to keep your tone light, bordering on challenging.

But somewhere deep down you knew that if this moment didn’t go your way, it just might shatter that delicate thing inside you. That part of your spirit that was a little more fragile than you were actually willing to admit.

“Nope.” Ari responds after a beat. “Perfectly fine by me.” And just like that, you can breathe again.

This time when his mouth finds yours there’s nothing sweet or soft about it. The kiss is a frenzied gnashing of teeth and tongue, with both of you fighting for dominance. One of Ari’s hands dives into your thick curls, wrenching your head back so that he can lavish attention along the curve of your throat, marking you up the way he’s been dreaming about since he walked through the doors of your shop that fateful day.

Ari Levinson was well aware that a woman of your caliber deserved fancy things like flowers and candy and fucking sappy poetry. All things that he was going to do his damnedest to give you. But until he calmed down enough to string a couple sentences together – or at the very least Google some Shakespeare and Bronte – you’d have to settle for a more savage kind of love.

He grinds his cock against your drenched pussy, both of you groaning in unison as it slides through your messy folds. “Is all this honey for your man, baby?” You feel him smile against your neck before he goes back to gifting you with more love bites before moving on to toy with your pouting nipples.

Thank goodness you owned a damn good concealer, otherwise you’d have a hell of a time explaining away your new, soon-to-be hickies to your nosey customers.

“It’s all for you, Beast.” You gasp, as you buck and writhe beneath him. “Need you inside me, please. Want you to fuck me.” It was almost as if you couldn’t stand being without him for even a minute longer.

That’s all your man needs to hear. Ari pulls away briefly, his breathing slightly labored as he lines himself up with your weeping entrance. “Well, since you asked so pretty.” One quick thrust is all it takes for you to welcome him home, your greedy walls clamping down around his shaft and refusing to let go. “Fuck!”

“That’s it.” You whimper, urging him to move as your heels dig into the small of his back. “Fuck me. Fuck your pussy, baby.” Your bounty hunter is all too eager to comply, pumping in and out of you with several shallow thrusts.

Eventually, he decides to take pity on you and give you what you really need. Every single incredible inch of his thick, perfectly built cock.

One of his hands reaches out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Meanwhile, he uses the other to maintain his balance so that he can go deep the way you need him to, letting you feel every sensual movement of his hips.

“Mine.” Ari snarls with each fevered stroke. “All mine, Bird. Just like this tight little cunt.” Your toes curl as he adjusts the angle so that his dick hits your spot just right. Fucking perfect. It’s so good you’ve got fireworks dancing behind your eyes.

“Ooh!” You cry, raking your nails down his back. Because fuck it. It was only fair that your man bear your marks too. “Oh God, Beast!Please!Oh God, baby.Yes!”

“Never lettin’ you go.” Ari rears back slightly, but he doesn’t stop fucking you. He doesn’t even slow down. Instead he becomes hyper-focused on your connection, seemingly enthralled with the way you accept him every time surges in and out of your wet heat. “Always fuck that sweet ass back to sleep.” He slaps your flank hard, his bruising fingers digging into your thigh.

“S’close, Ari.” You mewl as the pleasure continues to build, your mind slowly threatening to come undone. “Don’t–don’t stop!”

Thankfully, your man couldn’t…not even if he wanted to. And he really, really didn’t want to. But even as you feel that red hot coil tighten in your belly, you knew he was only just getting started.

Honestly, you’d be lucky if either of you got any sleep before the night was through. But that was also fine by you. Because you were always ready to go a few more rounds with your man.

And who knows? Maybe this next time, he’d even allow you to be on top. Or not. Although, you supposed it never hurt to dream. With or without a good night’s sleep.

END

Informal Tag List:

@daykrisr99

1K notes · View notes

norrizzandpia · 9 months

Text

I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You (LN4)

Summary: What if love isn’t enough? What if the obstacles are too great and all the whirlwind romance ends up being is the right person, but wrong time?

Warnings: MAJOORRRRR angst with an ambiguous ending, but I will be writing a part 2 and i PROMISE it will have a happy ending. I hate sad endings. I just felt like leaving yall on a cliff hanger tn!!!! I hope it’s gut wrenching 🤞🏻

“Hi, I was wondering if you knew where Zak Brown’s office was?” That was the first time he heard her voice. Her comforting, calming tone that had flooded all his thoughts and destroyed every trace of thought, leaving in its wake only pictures of her. Lando had turned around at the small, shy sound and found a girl who was slightly shorter than him, her eyes twinkled as she realized who she had just spoken to, yet he couldn’t find it in him to be mad she had interrupted his conversation, being struck by her beauty instead.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” She rushed out as she whipped around and tried to run away, becoming annoyed with herself for potentially ruining the chances of her getting this assistant position.

Lando was quick to jump out and grab her arm, stopping her steps and whipping her around to meet his gaze again, “No, it’s okay. How can I help you?”

He had smiled at her and that was the moment she knew she was done for. The fact that she was on the last round of interviews to become his personal assistant slipped her mind as she stared up at his blue eyes. If you had knocked on her head at that moment, it would have been hollow, completely emptied out by the image of his small grin and flash of teeth.

“Zak Brown’s office?” She tried once more, seemingly surprised he wasn’t a rude, obnoxious driver.

Pointing down a hallway, Lando watched as her eyes left his face and followed down his arm, “It’s just around that corner. You’ll see the plaque on the door.”

With an appreciative look in his direction and a check of the time, she rushed off, mumbling a thanks and that she was going to be late.

Lando’s brain memorized the flash of y/h/c hair that whipped past him and it visited him in his sleep as he realized he had become obsessed with a girl he had spoken to for a singular minute.

—

When she had gotten the job, she’d been ecstatic. Being someone’s assistant wasn’t exactly what she had planned for her life, but the money was good and that was all that mattered to her, seeing as she had been on the verge of being evicted for months. She didn’t anticipate the feelings that would inevitably grow for her boss as the months continued on and neither had Lando.

The moment Zak had told him they had found a girl to take some work off his plate, he had been relieved. However, that feeling was quickly replaced with immense nerves as he recognized the same y/h/c hair from that day in the garage. She had walked through the door of his driver’s suite and the air had been taken out of his lungs entirely. With her fitted black pants and flowy blouse, she had looked picture perfect to him. It was like he had known her better than she knew herself since the second they met. He could see how the outfit was trying to be professional, but also friendly at the exact same time, and he clocked the way her hair had been straightened so as to not overdress the look too much. He could see all the effort and thoughts that went behind every action when no one else could.

They had exchanged their pleasantries and, scarily quickly, fell into the routine. They fit, everyone could see it, just not in the way people thought. While the longing gazes and questionably placed touches seemed like two associates bodily-communicating about PR and work was actually two people yearning for each other. It was weird, Lando thought, how no one, not even fans who were usually quick to see it, saw his love for her. Over the months she became acclimated to the position, he had fallen in love with her quick-learning and determination. Then it was her attention to detail, then her ability to be stern with him when it was needed, then her ways of comforting him without words when races didn’t go well, and then, he realized, he had just fallen in love with all of her.

Although falling in love with her was quite simple, telling her and being with her was not. At first, it was the fact that dating his assistant would not look good for him at all, and then, it was Luisinha.

“Lando, are you ready?” Her voice, once again, halted all thinking that was taking place in his mind.

Looking up from his staring at the wall, he smiled and nodded, “Yeah, it’s just the one interview, right?”

He watched her fingers furiously type out something on the keyboard of her phone before she was giving him her full attention, “Yes, just the one. Then, you have lunch with Luisinha, right?”

Her inquisitive gaze made him laugh as they stepped into the elevator, “Aren’t you supposed to know that?”

She giggled before throwing her head up slightly, “It’s your girlfriend. I don’t track that.”

His head tilted down to capture her eyes once more and the familiar pang of guilt settled in his stomach as his heart did a flip at the sight of her deep y/e/c eyes. When he had started dating Luisinha, he thought his love for Y/n was innocent and would die out the second he ventured out with other women. Though, he had been incredibly wrong. His growing relationship with Luisinha only spurred the feelings for Y/n as he wished it was her he was touching, her he was kissing, her he was holding. When he saw Luisinha’s face, he just wished it was Y/n’s.

“Lando, are you okay?” She asked as her hand waved in front of his face.

Shaking his head to snap himself out of his mind, he smiled down at her, “Yeah, just tired.”

—

As he sat beside Carlos, Charles, and Daniel, Lando zoned out. The interviewer’s voice droned on with a question directed at Daniel as Lando’s eyes wandered to the corner of the room, landing on his beloved. Y/n stood beside Luisinha with her white shirt and loose trousers, looking confused as she stared down at her phone. Her brows knitted together as she chewed on the inside of her cheek, her stare off with the device not looking like it had an end in sight. He thought about being able to freely take her face in his hands and stop her teeth from continuing to gnaw at the skin. He thought about being able to smile and stare at her adoringly as she did the same to him. He thought about what existed beneath her clothes and the idea of being the closest person to her that he already knew what was upsetting her, what was puzzling her.

The waving of Luisinha’s hands made his eyeline shift toward her. She was rolling her eyes and pointing at him and then at the interviewer. He didn’t quite understand what she was trying to signal until Carlos’ voice sounded in his ear, “Mate, answer the question.”

His eyes met the stares of everyone in the room, including Y/n, and his cheeks heated in embarrassment before he asked the woman to repeat her question.

Chuckling, she nodded, “Seems you can’t take your eyes off Luisinha, can you?” God, he could puke, “Sorry, I had to say it. But, that helps me lead into my next question which is: How is life with a girlfriend? She’s the first you’ve dated since you joined the grid and I think the fans are dying to know what one of their favorite couples gets up to when the cameras aren’t around.”

He truly didn’t know what to say. Truthfully, the answer was not pretty. The constant fights, pettiness and child-like frustrations being the only thing that took up him and Luisinha’s time. It had gotten worse when she started coming around the paddock more, Luisinha becoming the one person to see he clearly felt more for his assistant then just something platonic. He hated the way she looked at him when she caught him staring at the girl or the disappointment displayed on her face when they got into a fight and it somehow resorted back to Y/n.

But, he wouldn’t say any of that, putting on a brave face and straining, “Oh, it’s quite lovely! We love having time to ourselves without anyone around to just be together. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Y/n tried not to physically wince at his words. Her growing adoration for him became unbearable when he told her he had a girlfriend. She had been absolutely crushed for months after that, trying so hard to keep track of their plans together, but, ultimately, giving up when she got a notification on her laptop for their 6 month anniversary dinner. After that, she left that part of Lando’s life alone, wanting nothing to do with the pain that left her crying alone in the pitch black of her room every night.

From beside her, Luisinha scoffed quietly, something Y/n was confused by. The two were so clearly in love, yet the girl had thrown out multiple passive aggressive comments about her relationship with Lando in comparison to Y/n’s. It was apparent Luisinha despised Y/n, but the poor girl had no clue why. After countless amounts of conversations with Lando, still, Y/n was lost on why Luisinha hated the sight of her so much.

—

“Really great answer today in the interview.” Luisinha’s voice spoke to Lando as they ate dinner together in silence.

His brows furrowed together, “What answer?”

She laughed dryly, “Oh, you know, the one about how perfect our relationship is even though I’m pretty sure you’re cheating.”

Throwing his hands up in annoyance, Lando looked at her with a shocked look, “What do you want me to say here, Luisinha? First of all, I’m not cheating. Second of all, would you have liked me to say our relationship is crumbling?”

She scoffed, “I don’t know! I’m just sick and tired of the lies.”

Shooting up from the table and throwing his dish in the sink, Lando’s hands tangled in his hair, “I’ve told you so many times there is nothing going on with Y/n and I! What do you want from me?”

Without hesitation, Luisinha stood from her chair and got in his face, “I want you to say it.” She said lowly.

“Say what?” He said, even though he knew exactly what she was hinting at.

“Lando, say it, please. Let us both gain some closure here.” She pleaded with him and the way her eyes glossed over made his heart clench. In the beginning, Luisinha had been like a breath of fresh air for Lando, but, overtime, he realized that it had been just that. A breath. Y/n was all of it to him, every breath for the rest of his life.

His head leaned down as he exhaled a breath, hating the way it had all turned out, “I’m in love with Y/n.”

It was silent for a few moments before he heard soft sniffling, his head turning up to see Luisinha’s tears, “I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t know what I was thinking, acting the way I did. I should have told you, I should have stopped us from happening. I don’t regret being with you, I just regret not handling it all better.”

Luisinha shook her head, “I understand. It’s hard being in love with someone you feel doesn’t love you back.” Her eyes locked with his and he knew the comment was directed at him, something that made a small part of him die. He beat himself up for hurting her the way he had and putting her through something he could have prevented by just distancing himself.

She grabbed her bag and keys off the counter, taking his house key off the chain and placing it down on the counter before looking back up at him, “You know, this whole time, I treated Y/n like shit. I hate that I did that. I hate that I took my anger out on her for something you were doing. I know she doesn’t know how you feel about her which makes my behavior all the more awful because she’s just in the dark about it all. But, Lando, she’s such an amazing person, I think that’s why I was so rude to her. You picked a good one and it’s so clear, so, do me a favor and treat her well, make what happened between us at least worth something in the grand scheme of things.”

With tears coming down his face, he nodded at her as she smiled softly and walked out of his house, out of his life. Letting go of Luisinha, while bone-crushing, was something that was destined to happen. No matter what decision he could have made to change the way everything played out, he knew every choice would have led him back to Y/n. Because, in the end, she was it for him.

Now, he just needed to find out if he was it for her too.

—

Unsurprisingly, Lando couldn’t find the nerve to confess his feelings to Y/n for months. After his breakup with Luisinha, he made a plan of how he was going to breach it all with her, but the moment she walked through the door the morning after, he understood it would take a considerable amount of time for him to gain the confidence.

Nevertheless, the breakup was hard for Y/n too. With an apology text from Luisinha on Instagram detailing how sorry she was for how she treated Y/n, the assistant was left to wonder why the two broke up. The idea that they broke up because Lando had some deeply repressed feelings for her popped into her head once or twice, but she quickly squashed them. In her mind, it wasn’t possible for Lando Norris to love her the way she loved him. No matter how well it fit into the narrative, the odds of the British driver thinking she was the world just like she thought he was was preposterous.

So, the two went on, coexisting around each other, avoiding each other, and stealing glances when the other wasn’t looking. While they had a set routine, they adopted a new one, filled with Lando pining for her and Y/n going back to her house every night to cry over mixed signals and the way Lando’s hand brushing up against hers had felt more than innocent.

This was the period of time when everyone else began to pick up on the years of pent up emotions swirling between the two. Carlos and Daniel were the first to notice the way Lando had exited the room immediately after Charles made a comment about Y/n being attractive. The two had chalked it up to him being overprotective, but that quickly slipped up when they were all at a wedding and Can’t Help Falling in Love by Kina Grannis came on and Lando’s eyes quickly diverted to Y/n. At that moment, Carlos and Daniel shared a sympathetic look. It had all clicked for them in that second. The secretiveness around why he and Luisinha had broken up, the ‘overprotectiveness’ when it came to Y/n, the longing glances and questionably placed touches. It all made sense and they had never felt more stupid.

Then, the knowledge spread throughout the paddock. It was like the moment the two drivers closest to Lando knew, everyone else did. Of course, no one ever mentioned it to either of the two, wanting to see how long it would take for them to “get off their asses and realize how in love they are”.

Although, none of them could have anticipated the harsh fight that would jeopardize the happy ending the couple was supposed to have according to them.

—

“What was that?” Y/n slammed the door to his driver’s suite shut as they stormed into the room.

Lando whipped around to face her, hands in his hair and tears already stinging his eyes, “Y/n, I-”

“No, Lando, why didn’t you give me a heads up? Why didn’t you let me know that you were going to go on live television and ruin my career?” She pleaded with him as she saw red.

Lando watched his world slip out of his hands, “I wasn’t planning on it, Y/n. I wasn’t planning on getting asked if I was in love with you? The question took me off guard! I didn’t mean to say it like that. You know I would never try to ruin your reputation ever.”

She laughed, “Really? Because you just did. Saying you’ve always been in love with me? People are going to think you cheated on Luisinha with me! Hell! It doesn’t matter if they can’t find proof. You just admitted to loving another person while being with another woman. But, it won’t matter for you because you’ll be high-fived and I’ll be called a slut. I’m fucking ruined!”

“You’re not ruined, Y/n. This will blow over.” He took a step near her, trying to comfort her shaking hands, but she didn’t let him. She took a step back.

“You don’t understand, Lando. You never will.” She shook her head as she gathered all her things, the items Lando loved to look at when he was alone because he loved that there were signs of her presence everywhere he went. She was erasing her existence from this room and Lando couldn’t help, but feel like, in turn, she was erasing herself from his heart.

“Y/n, please. I’m sorry.” He begged as he grasped her hand, the one that wasn’t turning the door knob.

Turning back around and meeting his eyes with her teary ones, she spoke softly, “Lando, let me go.”

It didn’t take long for him to understand the deeper meaning of her words. She wanted him to forget about her. She wanted her mark on his life to be erased and the love he felt for her to be wiped from existence. She wanted to be gone, a distant memory of a person he would have to try hard to remember the name of in the years to come.

Yet, her name was something he dreamed of, a few letters stitched together that were embedded in his mind.

He could never forget her.

However, he did let her hand go. Watching her walk out the door, down the hallway, and disappear behind the orange door, his mind forced him to remember the clothes she wore, the way her hair had been styled. Anything. Anything that could count as another memory of her before she was all gone.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #angst #mclaren #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #lando norris #oscar piastri #Spotify

655 notes · View notes

dreamer-after-dark · 8 months

Note

I could see Wally Darling being the kind to sneak into your room/house when you're away and steal your panties/underwear. You figure that maybe the washing machine is eating them at first until a pair you were wearing yesterday disappeared from the top of the pile.

👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁

Side note, I have had my panties stolen before! Anyway, here you go ٭(•﹏•)٭

Part Two

Word count: 1,945

Wally is shameless.

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜

[Y/N]

It happened again.

[Julie]

What??

[Sally]

Panty thief struck again?

[Julie]

Twice in one week???

[Y/N]

It's not a thief! I refuse to believe it!

[Sally]

How many pairs does that make now? 12?

[Julie]

Close! 15!

[Y/N]

[Sally]

I fail to understand why this can't be the doing of a petty thief?

[Julie]

Y/N!

[Julie]

Y/N are you there?

[Julie]

Where did they go? :/

[Sally]

Alas, my darling Juliet! Tis I alone that remains here

[Wally]

Hello

[Sally]

Hi, Wally.

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜

Seventeen pairs of your best fitting panties have been lost, lost forever. Never to be found with the same elasticity or fit. You stared out into the empty street where the sun parted between leaves. You were too broke to afford replacing them and so you wandered this world commando when the pants offered enough coverage and comfort. Or even if it didn't you still had no choice should you plan around an inviting evening out.

With a huff you adjusted your basket against your hip, your unfolded clothes flopping a bit. The sunshower surprised you as it pelted against the non opening glass doors of the building's laundromat. After double checking the seats and dryer you headed for the opened door just off to the side. You entered a gray stairwell. Beneath the staircases was a collection of cleaning supplies, a yellow mop bucket, and a locked cabinet.

Your slippers echoed through the stairwell as you jogged up. The door to your floor was propped open with a rock. You used your free hand to open the door fully and slide the rock inside. You pushed it to the side with your foot not wanting anyone to trip over on it like you had. Your phone smacked your face leaving a nasty bruise under your eye. It still hurts to remember.

The door shut behind you with a rusty squeak. Your slippers slid lightly against the tiled floors until you made it to your apartment door. The handle gave way and you were thrilled to find it still open. Music boomed from somewhere within one of the rooms. The smell of weed wafted around mixing with the chilled air feeding in from the windows.

You inhaled deeply, shaking loose your worries. As you walked down your hallway you passed the open bathroom where giggling and hushed whispers could be heard. Julie and Sally were doing their makeup together, facetiming you assumed. Further was the kitchen where you heard the clinking of silverware against wood. The voices from the bathroom quieted.

Wally was stirring a cup of coffee when he spotted your annoyed expression, "Hello, Y/N. Are you alright?"

"Another pair off and vanished," you roll your eyes with a glance at your basket, "It's getting annoying."

"I can see how annoying that could get. Do you think they've all been stolen?"

"No! No. I'm sure it'll sort itself out. Have you got anymore coffee, Wally?"

Wally hands you the mug he was holding, "This one's yours, honeycrisp."

You thanked him as he turned away to prepare his own. His hair cascaded like waves down his back. The vibrant blue shining below the lights. Wally was amazing at coloring his hair. You turn away and head down the hallway where two doors faced each other. You entered the left one silently praying thanks to the great nothingness beyond for leaving it unlocked for you.

You placed your laundry on your bed. You would fold the clothes, but your keys needed to be found. You looked around your slightly cluttered room. The tapestry on your window was tied up letting in the sun. The smell of wet earth rose up as the rain thundered down. By the window was a desk. It was stained with paint and ink. On top was a journal, several colors of paint, and a large bottle of water. A mug with several drying paint brushes propped up within say atop the bookshelf.

Small plushies were scattered among the shelves and on the floor. Your bed was next to the wall by the door. The blanket was a pile on the floor next to the end of the bed. Larger plushies were squished from your tossing and turning. Pillows were crammed between the bed frame and wall. Eyes landing on your newly added laundry basket made you realize cleaning your entire room would help you find your missing keys.

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜[Wally]

Hi, Sally.

Hi, Julie.

[Sally]

Wally, you wouldn't happen to know about the Boudoir Bandit?

[Wally]

No.

[Julie]

Maybe it's one of the other tenants!

[Sally]

Nefarious tenant!

[Y/N]

It has to be the machine

Can't be anything else

[Sally]

Perish the thought! The Panty Snatcher must be caught and brought to justice!

[Julie]

Perish the thought!

[Wally]

Perish the thought!

[Y/N]

Who could it be?

[Sally]

I see you've come around.

[Julie]

It could be anyone!

Any of us!!

How scary!!!

[Wally]

It could be anyone?

[Sally]

List of suspects:

Sally

Julie

Y/N

Poppy

Wally

Howdy

Barnaby

Home

[Y/N]

Me??

Why me??

[Julie]

It's a crazy world, Y/N!

We cannot rule out anyone!

Not even you

[Sally]

Julie is exactly right, darling Y/N! We simply cannot rule you out!

[Wally]

I would hate to see you go without, neighbor.

[Y/N]

Ok :/

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜

You smirked at the messages filling up your screen. Julie's energetic texts became shorter and you could imagine her hot pink nails tapping against the screen of her phone. Sally's text became increasingly verbose in response. Wally was lurking as he always did, chiming in here and there.

The phone slipped into your pocket as music filled the already tidied room. Your keys had been found while sweeping underneath your desk. Along with a few scrunchies and a button, your heavily outfitted keys were dragged out. With such a clunky set up you wondered how you ever lose it to begin with. Work keys, house keys, anime characters, pepper spray, and a stuffed animal. All of it designed to be eye-catching and hard to lose.

You flopped onto your bed opting for rest. Your ultimate goal had been completed and you were horribly drained. Your mind drifted back to the mounting loss of your panty collection. Solid color boxers, high waisted panties, boy shorts, thongs, sick day panties. All of it is gone! Sally was right to call it nefarious, but believing that you were being specifically targeted was a level of fear you wanted to avoid. You turned off your notifications for the next hour and returned to cleaning up.

Soon your room was clean, your clothes put away, and the bathroom was finally open. The glow of the full moon was bright and brilliant tonight. Leaving your desk you grabbed a change of clothes, sans panties, and a towel. You stripped down leaving all of your clothes inside the now empty basket. Stepping out you noticed the room across from you was quiet. There was a note taped to the door reading:

Out for the next three days! Rent is on the table!

Sally and Julie were heading out to New York for a concert. All the more to enjoy a long, luxurious shower. Wally was in the room down the opposite hall. His room was the only one on that side. He had the biggest room in the apartment for all of his art equipment. Aside from his bed you couldn't tell it was his bedroom. The last you had been inside it was filled with disturbing personal works. Each one felt delicate and haunting. Completely unlike his pleasant and sweet demeanor.

The music was still going though not as loud. It was mellow and dragging. You could hear the bubbling of his bong. The sound made your heart race. You quickly stepped into the bathroom. The thick glass ceiling above always excites you. It was such a crummy apartment, but it had its ups with this being one of them.

Julie's stickers covered the thick sides of her movable mirror. Her makeup bag was left open covered in eye shadow dust and glitter. A pack of eyelashes were left open on the top of the bag.

A little smudged message was left on the mirror written in red lipstick, reading:

You're beautiful, starshine!

Julie was a sweetheart. The rain had stopped, leaving a silence in the tall bathroom. With a turn of the faucet cold water rushed out from the shower head. The patter of water against ceramic filled the room. You stepped under the stream shivering as the droplets thudded against your skin.

Stepping out from the shower you dried yourself off and slipped into your change of clothes. You felt rejuvenated! As you stepped out of the bathroom, a voice called for you.

"Hi, Y/N. Would you like a snack?" Wally was standing in the kitchen with reddened eyes.

"What are you having?" You couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"A cut up apple. I couldn't think of anything better," he giggled, "I have a few extra?"

You accept the offered apples, "Thanks. I'm sure I forgot to eat with all the other things I also forgot."

"I'm sorry that's happening, it must be tough. Julie did say you were left without much to wear."

You groaned imagining Julie explaining things in detail as she usually would, "I'd rather not make it into a thing. It's just so weird to even consider what they're saying."

"I have a pack of unopened boxers. They may not fit perfectly, but they should help?" He smiled completely at ease.

"That's.. Ok. I couldn't accept that." As weird as it was to have your underwear stolen, Wally offering you some was even weirder.

"Oh, Ok. I'll hold it until you're ready." Wally walked off into his room leaving you in the kitchen.

You heaved a sigh as you leaned against the counter. The apple slices crunched as you bit into it. Each one refreshing and cold. You rinsed the plate in the sink and switched off the lights. You returned to your room, but stopped just short of the door.

It was cracked open. You were sure the door shut behind you when you stepped out. With a gentle push you opened the door further. When seeing nothing out of place you stepped in and shut the door behind you listening for that click of metal against wood. When you heard it you let go of the doorknob and hung up your towel to dry.

You looked around your room again looking over every little detail. The still tidy room was just as you left it. Plushies put away, paints organized, bed made, and the floor clean. Your eyes glanced over the basket on the floor and your heart skipped. Your head swiveled back as your eyes scanned it once more. Leaning down you picked at the shirt and pants shaking them out. A pair of socks fell from the pant leg, but nothing else. With dread it dawned on you. The panties you had worn not even an hour ago were missing.

👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁

[Y/N]

Wally

[Wally]

Yes?

[Y/N]

Where are they?

[Wally]

Where is what?

[Y/N]

My panties

[Wally]

Stolen, I presume?

[Y/N]

By you

Where are they?

[Wally]

You're welcome to check my room, Y/N

Do you want to come in?

👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁

You heard the music dip low in the furthest room. You heard the door click as the knob turned. Your heart pounded in your chest as you heard him chuckle from deep within his room.

#playfellowxxx #wally darling #wally darling playfellowxxx #yandere wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x you #wally darling x self insert #wally darling x gn reader #x yn #x gender neutral reader #x reader #boudoir bandit #panty snatcher #creepy wally darling #cuddles and conversations #wetdreams #panty snatcher wally darling #panty snatcher au

403 notes · View notes

silkscream · 4 months

Text

CHAPTER 2: HEAVEN CANNOT WAIT FOREVER

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He feels you shake. Earth-shattering, the feeling of you. Like you’re breaking the sky for him. It roots something deep inside him that wasn’t there before. Something blooming between violence and gauzy ecstasy. It knots his stomach until he breaks, too.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: smut (18+ mdni), virginity loss, protected sex (yay!!), fingering, satoru is annoying

ੈ✩ wc: 4.4k

ੈ✩ a/n: SMUT TIMEEEEE! one of my fav chapters just because it's so sweet. title is from the first taste by fiona apple. i'd love feedback <3 if you just comment about updates i will summon mahoraga on you.

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

July, 2008

In front of you, the Gojo estate sprawls out. It's oversized and sukiya-style, adorned with gardens full of hanashobu. When you were younger and more naive, you daydreamed that your wedding ceremony would happen in such a place. The idea makes you feel silly now.

You now find the gargantuan display of wealth a bit repulsive, despite growing up here.

The emerging summer heat makes the back of your knees feel sticky already. You had opted for a simple shirt dress, light and linen, and robin’s egg blue, thinking Satoru would like the color.

God, this was stupid. He wouldn’t be paying attention to the color of your dress — he’d be much more concerned with what’s underneath. The thought makes your stomach flip, birds and wasps flurrying in your diaphragm. The kiss you’d shared hadn’t left your mind for days. You wonder if it was the same for him.

You're surprised that he's there to greet you himself. Otherwise, you would've let yourself in. He smiles at you, looking unfairly handsome in a black t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s not wearing his sunglasses.

“Look who decided to show up.”

You hum in greeting, brushing past him to move toward the stairs.

“Eager, are we?” he teases. “You didn’t even get me flowers.”

“You have a whole garden of them outside.”

“They’re much prettier when you arrange them, Twigs.”

He cocks his head to the side, eyes lingering on an ikebana sitting on the foyer table. You had arranged it last week. You sigh, immediately regretting your decision until he pushes you lightly on the small of your back. His cologne is sharp under your nose. Has he always smelled this good?

It didn’t occur to you that Satoru would ever wear cologne. He’d always smelled like plain soap, white musk. Boyish sweat after he’d play in the courtyard with you.

You follow him up the long staircase and into his bedroom. It’s plain as it always was — neutral colors and traditional paintings on the walls, courtesy of his mother. The only difference is that a king-sized bed replaces the tatami mat he’d preferred as a child.

You try not to look at him, instead, inspecting the bookshelves. You'd read half of his stack by the time you were twelve. Since then, it seemed that Satoru didn't continue an interest in reading the same way you had.

There’s a small photo peeking out of a book — you recognize the top of your head. As you pull it out, you see the two of you grinning in front of a lake. You are eight years old, freshly toothless, and your pigtails are unruly.

“I miss your braids, you know,” Satoru murmurs. He laughs when you jump a bit at the realization of his presence. The coolness of his palm settles on the nape of your neck. You used to tease him about that — how he’d stalk the hallways like a cat and catch you off guard. You thought he’d ought to wear a bell.

“You just liked tugging on them to piss me off.”

“You’re cute when you’re pissed off,” he shrugs.

You wonder if he can hear the echoing brag of your heart. You can’t blame the heat for how you feel, with his house being the perfect temperature of all times. He’s so casual in his T-shirt compared to you. You’re briefly self-conscious about whether your dress is tacky or garish. Too feminine with its floral pattern. You hadn’t worn the thing in years.

As if he’s read your mind, he calls your name and tells you that he thinks you look pretty today. He beckons you into his lap again.

This time, you sit next to him, too anxious to touch yet. He smiles at you again, cat-like, but sweet. Not teasing in his usual manner.

“You can kiss me, you know.”

“I— I know,” you frown. “I don’t need your permission.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Twigs?”

You close your eyes, pausing in front of his face as you notice his breathing get uneven. A subtle push forward makes you stop against a wall.

“You did not just use your Infinity—”

“Sorry,” Satoru laughs. “Still a little mad that you lied about your technique to me.”

You look at him with wide eyes, bottom lip trembling. Something between shame and self-effacement.

“I’m messing with you. Promise. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Despite that, there was never really any hiding from him. Even though you aren’t as close as you used to be, Satoru is somehow still intuitive to how you feel. It’s why he touches your jaw and curls a lock of your hair in between his fingers. He knows his gentle touch would make a shiver run down your spine.

He kisses you, finally. The way your mouth immediately parts to welcome him makes his stomach stir, a spark to ignite a fire. It’s curious and soft, and when he hears you mumble please when he pulls away, he succumbs completely.

His hand settles on your waist, then your thigh. The crux behind your knee. He doesn’t want to move too quickly despite his desperate desire. Your sweet sounds are making him boil over. It’s all so delicate, hanging on by the thinnest thread, and he doesn’t want to scare you away like a timid animal.

You melt into him, grasping the front of his t-shirt with enough eagerness to surprise him. It occurred to you that you liked surprising him this way. You enjoyed getting him flustered. As you feel his warm palms smoothing the flesh of your thighs, the skirt of your dress is already bunched up.

The sound of him groaning in your mouth is addictive. Even more so when it’s your name between his lips.

“Satoru,” you whisper.

“Yes?”

“I–I want–”

Want you to eat me. Want to stay in your lap.

“Gone speechless already?” he teases, brushing your nose with his despite your glare. “You don’t have to be all shy with me.”

You’d imagined being in his lap like this before, warm and fervid. Dream-like. But it’s more real than anything else, especially when you can feel his hardness underneath you.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Satoru’s voice is strained, raspy. There’s an unsung hymn inside of you somewhere, some cruel and divine power deep within that wants to tear him apart. Hearing him like this makes your pulse quicken.

“I want to,” you whisper. His eyes widen, snowy lashes flickering in surprise as if he wasn’t the one to invite you over. As if he wasn’t the one who had beckoned you into his lap and kissed you first. He’d argue that you’d tempted him if he had the strength to tease you again.

You have the urge to hide inside of him, consume him. There’s a question in the flicker of your eyes when you touch his inner thigh. Your eyes are wide.

Satoru makes a sharp inhale. He’s nervous – more nervous than he’s ever been in this kind of situation. It isn’t like he does this often despite his reputation. With you, it’s something entirely unprecedented.

“Kiss me again,” he says. You do. For a bit, you let the feeling of him wash over you, and then you try something new. Your teeth are at his neck. The nip of your incisors against his throat makes him groan, the sound inciting something wild in you.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

You nod.

He doesn’t undress you, not yet. He merely snakes an arm in between your thighs, gasping at the wetness that’s gathered at your core. Fuck.

“You can lean into me,” he rasps into your hair. “Make yourself feel good.”

You mewl – a helpless sound. A small rock of your hips grants you friction against his hand, but it’s not enough.

“You’re teasing me,” you whine.

“But you like it, don’t you?”

He smiles. Devilish again, like his usual self. He knows you’re a bit repressed, like him, but in a way that’s reserved. He wants to see you come undone, enjoys the begging tone of your moans too much.

Satoru skims his fingers along your thigh, wetting the skin with your slick. He pulls your underwear to the side to find your clit. The pressure of his fingers against it makes you shiver.

Your eyes close as you sigh. You can’t look at him – can’t remind yourself that he can see your face like this, falling apart in small breaths. The coil in your stomach aches.

“Tell me how it feels.” His voice is low, his breath tickling just beneath your ear.

“Good,” you reply, breathless. “Feels really good.”

He wants to ask for permission, but he can’t help it. The sight of your mouth parting in pleasure is so much. He wants to see how your face contorts when he touches you in different places. You have always been his favorite toy, haven’t you?

Without warning, he pushes an index finger into you, stifling a groan at your reaction.

“Want more? How do you like it?”

“I don’t– I don’t know?”

“You don’t touch yourself, Twigs?”

“Satoru, just– oh.”

You’re so wet around him. So tight. His cock throbs at the idea of being inside you.

“Another one?”

“Mhm.”

“Open your eyes. Want you to look at me.”

Your lashes flutter as you gasp into his mouth. He looks at you intently, mesmerized. Your hips jerk, grinding into his lap when he uses his thumb to circle your clit again, this time in a steady rhythm with two fingers inside your cunt.

Satoru exhales into your mouth, his jaw slack and moaning softly as if he’s being stimulated as much as you are. In a way, he is, from the friction of you in his lap. He thinks he might just cum in his pants from watching you. He’s never been this pent-up before.

You finish with a quiet gasp, clutching Satoru’s shoulders as you bury your face into his neck. When you pull back, he’s wonderstruck, eager to kiss your cheeks and your jaw and the space above your collarbone. His fingers, still wet with your slick, enter his mouth. He curses softly. You flush at the sight of his lips all dewy with the taste of you.

“Can I take this off?” He pulls at the hem of your dress. The sound of his voice shakes you back to Earth.

You nod, helping him slip the fabric off of your body.

It’s almost as terrible as it is tantalizing to be so vulnerable in front of him. Bare enough for him to make his mark on you, claiming you forever. You suppose he had done that long ago without you realizing.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he coos. He soothes a palm over your waist.

“Naked, you mean?”

Satoru laughs. Eyes hazy, summer blue. “Yes. But you’ve always been beautiful.”

You want to retaliate with something, ease your nerves with a joke, but the tenderness of his voice renders you speechless.

“Your turn,” you breathe, tugging at his sleeve.

When he rids himself of his shirt and sweatpants, you notice he’s as pale as moonlight. Smooth porcelain and filled-out muscle. Rigid. What happened to the lanky boy that used to pull on your braids?

“Got a staring problem?” he goads.

“Shut up.”

“Maybe if you lay back for me.”

You swallow. You listen to him. He looks at you, your hair fanning out on his pillow, your body bare and ripe for the taking. Satoru sits in front of you and coaxes your legs apart to kiss your knees, the back of your thighs. You mewl when he bites, nipping at you the same way you’d done to his neck.

“Look at you. So fucking pretty. Wanna eat you out.”

You have half a mind to say thank you, but the moment passes. You’re too fixated on the way his eyes trail down your body. How the brevity of his words makes you feel flayed alive.

When he kisses you a little too close to your core, you whine in protest and pull at his hair in a fit. He looks up at you, feigning dejection.

“I’m sorry, baby. What is it that you want, hm?”

Baby. Baby.

“Come kiss me.”

And he does, but it’s more violent this time. He doesn’t hold back on showing you how much he wants you, how badly he’s obsessed with you after seeing you fall apart so sweetly for him. The supercut of it will reel in his head long after this. He’s sure of it.

Satoru laves his tongue over the places on your neck that he’s bitten, and descends to your chest until he hooks his teeth around your nipple. He groans at the sound of your moan. His hands are still roaming, palms gripping the taut flesh of your thighs as he grinds lightly into your body enough for you to feel his hardness.

He wants to give you more, so he teases the swollen nub of your clit again with his fingertips and is delighted to feel that you’re even wetter than before – if that was even possible.

“Satoru!”

“Yes?”

Your breathing is so irregular that you can’t put your desire into words. Not without it tainting you with shame, at least. You plead with big eyes, but Satoru wants to tease you a little more. You wonder if it’s in his nature to be so cruel.

“Use your words, Twigs. What is it? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, kissing your temple. “You want a condom?”

You close your eyes, nodding, trying to savor the way he makes you feel and not the terrifying vulnerability that rots in the pit of your stomach. It’s all too much, much more than you had dreamt out, but you’re here now. You know there’s no going back. You know that when you open your eyes to see his soaking in so much light, looking at you with adoration, you wouldn’t want to go back anyway.

He’s quick to prod your entrance again. You nod slightly to permit him, clutching him like a lifeline.

“Let me know if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kisses you hard, consuming you as a distraction as the head of him enters you little by little. You’re wet enough to not feel any resistance. When he’s pushed to the hilt of you, he moans against your mouth. He drinks up your exhale, trying not to consider it a painful one as he runs his fingers through your hair lovingly.

It’s a strange pain. Something of an ache in the core of you, twisting at your insides in a way that also feels like crushing ripe fruit. A delicate sensation as much as it is rough. Satoru is gentle in his movements, brushing your hair out of your face. He looks at you with utmost admiration.

“Is that— is that good?” you whisper.

“I should be asking you that, shouldn’t I?” he says. You feel the rumble of his laugh against your chest. “Does it hurt?”

“Only a little. But it—it feels nice.”

He slides his cock back to thrust into you again, slowly. It’s almost languid, lazy the way he slips back into you like the two of you have just woken up from a dream.

Satoru wants to be intentional with how he fucks you. Even within these past minutes, he’s convinced he’s gotten your reactions down to memory. He’ll be able to touch you in all the right ways the next time you fall into his bed. But if he’s intentional, if he fucks you the way he truly wants to, he’s worried it’ll be too much. Everything he feels for you is too much at the moment.

“Relax for me.” His voice is smooth as butter. Your reaction is a hot knife. You notice that for the first time in a long time, in front of you, his face is blushing pink. It makes your walls tighten around him.

He rolls his hips against yours. It’s ecstasy—the feeling of you encapsulating him in lust, in softness. The drawn-out whine that tumbles out of your mouth makes it all worthwhile as Satoru thrusts with the smallest bit of intention. Softly, lovingly. After a bit, his length begins to make you feel full without all the pain. Skin kissing skin. Insides fluttering.

You don’t notice the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. The pain subsides, but the pleasure stokes the fire in your stomach until it devours you completely.

He hitches your right leg higher, ankle past his shoulder. He feels so fucking reckless, but he’ll satiate you the way you deserve—sweet and painless and passionate. The way your bottom lip trembles is making it so fucking difficult for him to stay gentle, though.

He moans your name and it reminds you of yourself. Of your body, of inhabiting it and being consumed by your best friend who is not your best friend. And you love him, you realize, but it’s a worthless feat to think about it too much during your first time. You can at least play pretend while Satoru is inside of you, as he looks at you like he’s the one in love with you.

He bites at your neck as he ruts into you a little faster. He’s so deep that you think you might go brainless—dizzied with pleasure, overflowing with thrill.

“So fucking tight,” Satoru groans. He pushes up his body now, settles himself on his knees as he holds your thighs firmly. “Look at you. My pretty girl.”

“Satoru—” you whine, feeling too exposed, too bare with him hovering over you like this—“Oh, my god—”

You’re pushed over the edge when he thumbs at your clit again, your cunt tightening around him at the feeling. You look beautiful like this. Tears of an angel. It distracts him a bit, how pretty you look, until he realizes the power he holds over you. Knowing that he’s taking.

“Too rough, baby?” he coos, leaning over to kiss your cheeks, licking up your salty tears.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “S’good. Feels good.”

He’s pushed against you again, head buried into your neck. He pulls at your hair gently, angling your face to look at him. Noses touching. Mouths sharing air.

“Gonna cum,” you whine into a kiss. He groans at your admission, pulling you taut against him as he adjusts you both to your sides. He lifts your leg over his, rolling his hips harder, and the angle makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” he curses. His eyes are wide open, mooning at your face as you cum, and he can feel his release burying inside you to the hilt.

Even after you’re both spent, he’s greedy, still hard inside of you as he continues. Lazy movements, half in tandem with your ragged breaths. He grins at you then, breathless at your blurry gaze. Kisses you sweetly like a shared promise.

The comfortable silence falls between you as you swap kisses. You hum against his lips, caressing his jaw. Your eyes blink at the sight of rain outside his bedroom window. A light drizzle despite the orange sunlight.

“Hm,” Satoru purrs. “We brought the rain.”

“What, with an orgasm?”

“I’m pretty sure you had more than one.”

“You’re so obnoxious,” you mutter.

“And still inside you,” he grins.

He pulls out when you make a grumbled sound, contrasting the melody of his laugh. He has half the mind to take a picture of you like this, sprawled in his bed like a painting. He’d keep the image of it in his wallet if he could.

Instead, he goes to the bathroom to bring you a warm, wet rag and cleans you up. He’s able to catch his breath as he rubs his hands over your bare thighs. You’re changed, glowing, yet your face is so familiar. The same one he’s been fond of for years. The shift inside him aches.

Satoru isn’t sure what to do. Usually, he’s inebriated at this point, and the sex closes with a heavy, dreamless sleep after midnight. The sun shower outside has calmed down, barely there, and afternoon sunlight floods the room. He’s more awake than ever with your presence. He’s surprised you haven’t gotten up to get dressed or made some excuse about leaving. He realizes he doesn’t want you to.

It feels normal when he falls into bed with you after just touching your skin, slips into a sweet afternoon nap. Hours later, you make him dinner. He makes you cum again.

September, 2008

You don’t understand Satoru’s affinity for sugar. You would think he had an addictive personality the way he consumed sweets – you’re surprised he isn’t addicted to something worse, like cigarettes.

Lately, he’s been complaining about craving something sweet before he fucks you. He licks his lips as you share the same mango-flavored popsicle in the courtyard of his estate. Juice dribbling down your chin. It doesn’t take him long to get you knee-deep in the grass. He teases you, tells you your pussy is sweeter. The sweetest.

Other times, you have quiet nights. He watches movies with you in your room and has sex with you before you sleep. Over a few months, Satoru gets accustomed to how you sound when he touches you until he knows you inside out. Expert in the map of your body. Of the pillow-soft places he can tease to make you cum hard.

But he doesn’t take you out after. Or before. It’s always a rendezvous, the rest of the world dead to the both of you as you consume each other. A paradise restricted to a bed. He gets you so dizzy that it doesn’t bother you. He kisses you sweetly on his way out to see his friends. He kisses you sweetly before he’s quick to slip out your door or send you out on his own.

It’s perfect for him. You’re perfect — you feel it.

Satoru likes that you’re so pliable. He can say anything he wants to you and you’ll take it. You’ll even moan for it.

Sometimes he can be mean, sometimes he has tears rolling down your face, but he always kisses them away. He likes that you let him cum in your mouth.

He especially likes that you’re good company outside of the sex. You’re the only mind that gets him besides Suguru. It’s why he likes spending time with you when everyone else is busy. Even if he’s practicing his techniques and you’re splayed on the grass, reading a book.

It’s what you’re doing now. He’s convinced you’re trying to tempt him today. At the moment you’re wearing the pleated skirt from your school uniform, despite it being summer break. The July heat made it unbearable to wear pants. It was laundry day, too, but Satoru insisted on having you come over.

“Come play with me, Twigs,” he calls after you. You look like a dream in your little tank and little skirt. Bare legs with imprints of grass patterns.

“I’m reading.”

“Just because you have a healing technique doesn’t mean that you can’t practice combat.”

“Shoko doesn’t,” you scoff.

“Shoko is going to cheat her way through med school. C’mere, I’m lonely,” Satoru whines.

You’re not as good at fighting as you were when you were children, able to at least wrestle with Satoru and have equal footing. Even then, you didn’t have enough cursed energy to fight like a true sorcerer like Satoru.

But you are getting the hang of it, bleeding cursed energy that flickered a gauzy aura around you. Satoru wonders if it’s just his six eyes that make you look so beautiful in front of him. So soft.

He ends up pushing his weight on you by the end, anyway. He revels in the way you groan, annoyed at him for pinning you down. He knows what’s on your mind from the way you lift your hips for him almost involuntarily. It’s how he has you melt in his grasp, skirt hiked over your stomach as he bullies his cock into you. You’d been asking for it since you looked at him, your teasing eyes peeking from above your book.

He finishes on the small of your back like he always does. Licks over the hickey under your collarbone, too.

You ground him. At least as much as Suguru does, but differently. He’s clear-headed after he cums, laying with you skin to skin. It reminds him that he’s human rather than a god-like prodigy. He keeps you like a pet, never wanting to let you leave him, insisting on stroking through your hair like you’re a cat.

“This has to be some form of kidnapping,” you mutter, one afternoon in his bed. He’d kept you for at least 36 hours, this time. You would never hear the end of it from your mother.

“I can always go to your house.”

“I wonder if this is codependent,” you say. You scrunch your nose as he nuzzles his to yours.

“Nah,” Satoru hums lazily.

“You don’t think so, Satoru?”

“There’s a time limit for me to hang out with my best friend?”

His quip makes your heart pang. You ignore it.

He’ll release you when he feels like it. He knows well enough that you’d rather stay in his bed all day, anyway. He’s too wrapped up in you to think about how it may be cruel.

You stay long enough that your staycation with Satoru bleeds into his usual weekend plans. This includes a movie night with Suguru, so you join.

Satoru picks something raunchy, of course. Something horrific and exploitative in a way that draws attention from its taboo. A cinematic car wreck that has your head spinning.

He whispers in your ear, teasing you, calling you baby whenever Suguru goes to the bathroom. He has his hand on your thigh, fingertips under the blanket, and close enough to your core to make you dripping wet.

And then, as the movie progresses, you tuck your body towards Suguru, who shares your distaste for such violence. Even if it’s fictional. As Satoru watches his worlds collide and sees the way Suguru’s fox eyes light up at your banter, something odd flickers inside him.

When the new semester starts in the fall, he doesn’t look at you as he walks past you.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #juijutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

211 notes · View notes

cheesus-doodles · 4 months

Text

Going Home: Chapter 4

Yandere Platonic Toman + Time Leaper Darling

Masterlist

‎

Going Home: Chapter 1 | 2 | 3

I kept my promise!! Editing tmr, I'm dead on my feet rn

The neighborhood that Takemichi and Naoto found themselves in was a far cry from the dazzling city lights of Shibuya City that Draken once called home: a suburb outside of the bustling city, where houses and apartments alike that lined the streets as far as the eye can see with the occasional shop breaking the facade. Yet even with the shop entrance nestled off on a side alley, the roads still noticeably buzzed with life as the time drew closer to noon, the hustle and bustle of non-stop traffic and office workers swarming through town that Takemichi remembered had instead been replaced smaller, livelier groups of students filing past with nay a glance at the duo, too caught up in their chatter and gossip of the day.

It was jarring, the former Toman member had to admit, watching the rest of the world go by uncaringly at its own relaxed pace when compared against the urgency of the sticky situation he was in the midst of. Whatever time he spent in the present was time that he couldn’t spend twelve years in the past fixing the future after all. Blue eyes nervously glanced around at every passing soul, before they turned to meet gray ones for the umpteenth time. “Are you sure this is the right place?” The former delinquent asked again, anxiously wringing his hands. He couldn’t help himself, even if Naoto’s sympathetic look had long given way to an annoyed frown. “Maybe we should ring again?”

"No, just give it a minute."

Something felt wrong, yet this ordinary bike shop was precisely where the detective’s digging had pointed him too, the name on the business license unmistakable. So why did it feel so strange? So out-of-place? Takemichi glanced at the shop sign again, the unlit signboard ominously looming over the small alley.

The questions quickly faded as footsteps started to thunder down what must have been a flight of steps after the doorbell announced their presence outside the nondescript motorcycle shop, the sound of annoyed mumbling growing louder as the footsteps approached. Takemichi held his breath. The door rattled for a brief moment before it was yanked open.

"What?"

The single word was growled out before the figure behind the door was fully visible, and Takemichi’s soul nearly left his body as he came face to face with a clearly pissed off Draken. The former Vice Captain of Toman had only grown taller and more intimidating with every passed year, and now twelve years in the future, he made for one formidable figure, blond hair now back to its natural black. A minute of silence as Draken looked between the two, before recognition sparked behind those abyss eyes. “Takemichi?”

“It’s me,” was all said man managed to squeak back.

Letting out a sigh, the bike mechanic dressed in overalls visibly relaxed, the hand clutching a wrench dropping to hang loosely by his side. “It’s been years.”

"It has been," Takemichi nervously laughed, before waving over to a very calm Naoto. “This is Naoto, a friend of mine.”

"So what do the two of you want?"

Straight to the point huh. The time leaper took a gulp of air, steeling his nerves. “W-well, um, Draken-kun, we actually wanted to ask about the… seventh founding member of Toman.” They wanted to ask about you was, what Takemichi wanted to say, but all those instances of being drilled again and again by Chifuyu to avoid saying your name at all costs twelve years ago stopped his heavy tongue from spitting it out.

Another pause as the larger man stared him down, and this time, the stillness was palpable. Takemichi could feel the sweat rolling down the side of his head, waiting for a reaction. His gut only churned more. This was not good,

Quicker than he could see, the next thing the time traveller could process was him being lifted cleanly off the ground by the front of his shirt, his face suddenly leveled with a furious Draken’s. “What?” The Toman founder hissed, the vein on his forehead throbbing. “Wanna repeat that?”

Fuck.

ㅤ

Slamming the door shut behind him, the once-Toman Vice President cursed under his breath as he stormed out from the back room. How fucking dare he. How dare Takemichi come asking for information on you. He had been inches from turning that turd face into a smear on the ground for soiling the memory of you with his thoughts.

Yet for all the anger smeared across his face in plain sight for customers and passers-by alike to see, it was an uncomfortable turmoil that brewed in the base of his gut, one that Draken knew came from a lack of closure. Of course he had been keeping his ear to the ground all these years - how could he not, when you meant and still mean the world to him - but the last thing he expected to happen today would be to be reminded of you and your sudden disappearance twelve years ago and the quick downfall of everything else that followed. You had always been the center of the Tokyo Manji Gang, after all.

In a vain attempt to distract himself from the sudden flurry of memories and thoughts, the former delinquent picked up a socket wrench and pulled out a stool. There was nothing more he could do at the moment, Draken tried to convince himself, busying his hands with loosening the bolts of a motorcycle engine; all Takemichi and his detective friend had brought were more questions instead of answers, but he was certain that he would have heard of any news regarding you.

A buzz as the bell to the backroom door went off once more, and every last shred of concentration the man with the dragon tattoo had left instantly went down the gutter. His mind leapt straight back to Takemichi as the vulgarities and curses started to flow once more. If it was that bastard again with his questions, he swears- “What?!” He barked out as the door flew open once more with a bang, not sparing a second glance as to who it was.

But it wasn’t the two black mobs of hair he had expected to see standing outside, instead being greeted by an awfully familiar swish of a ponytail that Draken hadn’t seen in years, the green of an apron with the logo of a pet shop striking against the backdrop of a dull, gray alley. Those distinct yellow eyes of Baji, once sharp and methodical, were instead completely blown wide with panic, the other shoving the screen of a smartphone straight at him. “It’s- it’s-” The words died away before they could leave his tongue; the former Toman’s First Division Captain clearly too shocked by something to say a hello or even notice Draken’s foul mood. And the temperamental pet shop delinquent would have never let that kind of tone drop without a fight.

The motorcycle engineer simply snatched up the phone to take a better look himself. “What am I looking at?” A pause, a sudden silence as Draken continued to squint at the screen while Baji collected his thoughts and emotions.

“It’s her.”

Draken almost dropped the phone as soon as the other blurted out those two laden words. “What?” The man muttered, his voice lost to disbelief. He knew, of course, who Baji was referring to. “That’s not possible.” It simply wasn’t. He would have known if you had been seen.

“Look.” Snatching back his phone, Baji clicked into one of his conversations, before turning the screen back around. “A message from her number. Yesterday night. I only saw it when I woke up.”

Draken’s mind instantly jumped to his earlier visit, and Takemichi’s probing questions about you. Was this related? Did he know something that Draken did not? Logic told the tattooed man otherwise - as much as he would have liked for you to have appeared out of thin air, there must be a different explanation. “Could it have been Mikey?” It must be, since they both knew that Bonten had continued to maintain your number all these years, Mikey having never really gotten over your sudden disappearance.

“So you don’t know about this either, huh?” The once First Division Captain shook his head, frowning as he concentrated. “Why would he send something like this?”

And that was true: the way the message started with a very hesitant “to whoever this number now belongs to” and directly addressed to a “hopefully Baji-kun”, there was no doubt that it must be you. What was the chance someone else with the same name as you would also know that this was Baji’s personal number? But how?

Any conversation left between the two died away, the two men left to ponder. The world, of course, simply kept turning, passersby eagerly making their way to unknown destinations, strolling past the small alley without a second glance at the duo, while the occasional vehicle rattled and raced down wide, empty roads.

Letting out a sigh, Draken stepped aside, waving at his once close-friend into the dimly-lit backroom. “I think you best come in. I’ll close up shop for the day.”

ㅤ

Twelve years in the past, despite your best efforts, you once again found yourself in the thick of things.

You sighed. “This is a bit of an overkill, don’t you think boys?” The rattling of chains seemed to agree with you, the metal links rubbing and clanking against each other as they followed the cuffed hand you raised to shake amusedly at the Toman founders huddled around you. Back twelve years in the past and once more separate from Takemichi’s time leaping woes, things were hardly going any better for you. “I’m really not going anywhere, I promise.”

To no one’s surprise, the boys disagreed, and they were far from afraid to make that known despite your assurances; you could tell from the tightening clutches and tugging on your shirt, and that was if you could ignore the immediate protests and whining and whimpering that broke out. But you couldn’t really blame them, you suppose, musing to yourself as you rested your chin atop a shifty Mikey’s head, unchained hand moving to gently hold Draken’s much larger one as Kazutora tried his best to snuggle his way into the crook of your neck and probably under your skin as well. After all, it had been just a single night since you had made your sudden reappearance in the small alley a stone’s throw away from your school in a gust of wind, and three nights since you first disappeared. You were sure this was the first and longest time your boys had been apart from you ever since they entered your life.

“You did disappear though,” Mitsuya’s voice cut above the others, those dark, heavy eyebags that clung to the bottom of his and everyone else’s eyes telling you everything you needed to know. “And we still haven’t figured out what caused you to… vanish.”

“To time travel,” you corrected gently. It was easy to tell that the delinquents around you were still uncertain about how you managed to slip their grasp without their knowledge, let alone accept the idea of you having somehow leapt into the future, somewhere that they were unable to follow you to. They had always been protective of you, perhaps because of the difference between their strength and yours.

Allowing your gaze to take a wander away from the mobs of hair of various colors gathered around you, your bedroom was exactly how you remembered it had been even twelve years in the future, your belongings having been left in the exact same spot all those years. Well, aside from the unmade bed where you had fallen asleep amidst the pile of delinquents the previous night, that is. Your present blankets were left still tossed aside into a messy pile, and you couldn’t help but wonder how your Toman friends knew how to fold them back the same way you always had. Did they also take turns keeping your home clean all those years? You wondered if they had managed to share such a difficult task that would have carried so many possibly painful memories. Which inevitably led your line of thought straight back to the various questions that had been plaguing your mind: where was the future you? What happened to Mikey that left him in such a state? And where were the rest of your Toman friends?

Yet all you had were more and more questions. Shaking yourself out of your ponderings, you focused your gaze back onto the lively group of delinquents. “I don’t know what’s going on either, but it’s probably linked to the onomori you boys gave me for safekeeping.” The same purple-and-gold charm from the very founding of the gang, the same onomori that had been stabbed during that life-threatening attack on Ken-chin you tried in vain to stop, the same one that Sanzu had accidentally discovered could summon you back from the future: it now hung from a metal chain under said Vice Captain’s shirt, pressed tight against his sternum where it could get constant skin contact, and more importantly, safe from the grabby fingers of Mikey and Kazutora.

The blond-haired delinquent with the intimidating dragon tattoo only instinctively reached for the onomori once more, as if to assure himself it was still there, the collar of his shirt crumpling as he closed his fist around the bloodstained, amateurishly-patched charm. Now that they had it, you mused, there shouldn’t be any more issues.

Baji, who had earlier been shoved aside by a bawling Kazutora, grumpily poked your side, and you jumped a little in response. “So what happens in the future?” The black-haired boy asked, as you beckoned him closer, patting an empty spot to your right where he could lean up against your shoulder.

Ah, you had hoped that their line of thought wouldn’t have gone there. Because how were you supposed to respond? You hesitated, the white-haired bony, tired figure of the future Mikey roaring straight back to the front of your mind with that question. Should you be telling them about the future? Sure that would be the easiest way to ensure that that particular timeline never happened, given you were sure this would be the first time your boys will have ever heard of this predicament you found yourself in, but what if you accidentally changed the future for the worse? What if you did something irreversible that only made a bigger mess?

Maybe it would be better if you kept things to yourself first - you could always tell them the full truth later on if you needed to. Keeping that in mind, you were quick to school your face back to a neutral expression, though the brief flash of internal panic across your face at that question was enough to raise suspicion. Kazutora instantly leapt to his feet, tears that had already been dried starting to well once more at the corner of reddened eyes, lips starting to quaver once more as he jabbed a finger in your direction. “Y-you left us,” his word ladened with accusation, those sandy brown eyes clouding over as the waterworks flowed. “You did, didn’t you? You m-married someone else in the future.”

And he sounded so convinced by his own words too, you amusedly noted, as if it had already happened because he said so. “I did not,” you stated simply, reaching over to affectionately pat his knee. “I told you, you boys will always be my priority.” You weren’t sure how the delinquent with the duo-colored hair came to that particular conclusion, though you supposed it was simply just jealous.

Draken raised an imposing eyebrow. “And you don’t want to tell us what happens because?”

“Because I’m afraid it changes the future for the worse.”

“What can you tell us?”

You hummed, your eyes glancing momentarily towards the ceiling as you thought before returning to meet Draken’s gaze. “My room was still exactly the same in the future.”

“Really?” Pah looked intrigued at the idea.

“Yup! Whoever did it did a good job too, my blankets were even folded back neatly.”

Outside, your neighbor was quiet as it always was right at noon, with students yet to be released from their classes and workers still congregated under the big city lights. It was strange, looking over roads and houses that you knew would stand the test of time, leaving you to wonder if the neighbors you were well-acquainted with still occupied their homes in the future you came from. Letting out a sigh as you leaned back onto your bedroom wall, you stretched out lazily as best as you could. “Say,” you ventured. “Did you happen to meet future me?”

Kazutora sniffled, just as Mikey lifted his head to stare blankly at you, as if your question had been asked in Martian. “W-what?” “What?”

”Nothing,” you hastily concluded. Seems like the ‘future you’ was somehow missing, and you noted that down mentally in case you needed that.

ㅤ

Thankfully the subject of your apparently strange question was dropped before you had to elaborate any further on your awkward question, with dirty looks immediately being exchanged between the two still clung to you, though the black-and-yellow haired boy’s ire was quickly stolen

You hadn’t missed Mitsuya’s unwillingness to mingle with the rest for the entire length of the time the six boys had been gathered, the lilac-haired boy keeping a careful distance from Kazutora in particular, nor did you miss Kazutora’s and Mikey’s seeming aversion to each other’s presence as well, the ugly stink eyes they shot at each other over your shoulders while attempting to jab at each other when they thought you weren’t looking hard to pass over. It was clear that your disappearance had sparked a fight between the Toman founders, and though the exact details were still lost on you, it wouldn’t do to leave this crack to split any further as far as you could help it. Huffing at Kazutora’s more insistent grip around your waist, an indulgent smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you beckoned at Mitsuya to join the huddle, before your hand moved to gently stroke a pouting Mikey’s back. “Have you boys been fighting again?”

“No.” “No.” The immediate denials, combined with their gazes instantly dropping from yours, were suspicious to say the least. You imagined that they had, in fact, been fighting while you were lost to the flow of time. You wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

Tutting, you dished out forehead kisses to the beefing delinquents, feeling them melt away against you. “If I cook some tempura for everyone for lunch, would you be willing to make up?”

You didn’t need to wait long to get your answer.

ㅤ

Days started to pass, the hours slipping through your fingers like water. Every minute brought you further and further from your little trip to the future, your disappearance from this present. Your boys had yet to let up with their obsessive observations of you as you expected. It had, after all, just been four days since your return. You simply took it in stride, having no qualms about them wanting to tail you anywhere and everywhere, clinging to a limb or to your back as you went about your day; it definitely beat being confined to just your bedroom and cuffed to your bedpost. With enough reassurances about how you really wouldn’t leave them, and that no, you couldn’t control your time traveling, you even managed to convince your delinquents to let you back out into the wider world for accompanied trips to the supermarket and snack shops. School, however, was still out of the question for the foreseeable future (you tried).

The afternoon sky overhead was unusually overcast, the threat of rain only growing more convincing with every passing minute. Strong gusts of wind rattled windows and doors, ferrying the heavy gray clouds straight in your direction as the humidity only seemed to climb higher and higher, and you were very certain that a thunderstorm was brewing despite the continued absence of thunder. Yet here you were, you mused, as you sat on a curb with a drink in hand, alone outside for the first time in a week while you waited for Baji to settle some differences with the other delinquents inside the store. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been left truly alone ever since your disappearance, though clearly, Baji not wanting you to watch him fight sat higher on the priority list. It probably wasn’t going to take long anyway.

A pause as you scratched mindlessly at your skin under the cuff. Did Baji from the future also like to fight as much as your current Baji?

Despite the possibility of you returning to that particular future being close to zero in your opinion, given that the boys had a good handle on that purple-gold charm, but you couldn’t help but think back on the white-haired Mikey from the future that had melted in your arms, that you had left behind. Ah no, not left behind, you corrected yourself, as you tried to wave away the instant guilt that settled in your heart. Technically - technically it was just one of many possible futures, and that particular future where your friend had suffered so much could have already been changed.

But something deep in your gut told you that you were wrong. Pushing that line of thinking to the back of your head, you instead opted to amuse yourself with the shenanigans of the past few days as you waited.

You had, for one, been cooking almost non-stop for your boys ever since your return: breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert and snacks. Unusual, certainly, and you didn’t have to of course: no one was forcing you to, even if your clingy trio had the strongest pouty faces and watery eyes you knew, but you did feel like you had to make it up to them for all the worry. You did however get a lot of amusement attempting to send them to the supermarket with a grocery list.

And then there was the matter of Sanzu and the residue guilt that you couldn’t shake off. Sure, this Sanzu was not the same as the pink-haired man from the future with the crazy eyes, but you still wanted to put things right. Consoling yourself that even if it did change the future, a Sanzu that you were on amicable terms on was much better than dealing with someone that absolutely hated your guts for reasons beyond you, and apologizing in advance never caused any harm. It did take a lot of pleading, cajoling and outright bribery, but you finally manage to get Mikey and Draken to reluctantly agree to allow you to meet with the Fifth Division Vice Captain, though the two did remain very suspicious of how you knew the other.

Your lips were sealed from any further details, and you said your apologies and your thanks without giving out much information to the confusion of the boy with the mask, though thankfully for everyone involved, the meeting went rather uneventfully. Much to your dismay, the other was most likely forbidden from speaking to you, simply opting to listen quietly and then nodding at the end of your rambling, but you didn’t want to give him any more trouble - you didn’t trust your boys’ usual excuse that Sanzu was just quiet by nature and didn’t like to talk; they have been using that excuse for years by now. At least, you comforted yourself, you did manage to slip him another bag of karaage while a pouting Mikey was distracted.

You breathed out, watching another car whizz by as you took a sip from the bottle of iced tea. Beaded sweat that clung to your hair was dabbed off with a handkerchief, the humidity of the already hot afternoon only rising as the rain-laden clouds, gray from their load, rolled threateningly closer.

ㅤ

Glancing at your watch, you decided that it had been a long enough period of time for you to venture back into the small shop, the plastic bag hanging from your wrist rustling as you stood - your delinquent friend should be about done by now. But all you managed to take was a single step before you were quickly stopped once more. “Oh-” You blinked, shaking off the surprise, the black of the other’s shirt that you ran into momentarily blocking your entire field of vision. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

An annoyed tsk was all you earned it seemed as you quickly moved aside, and as your gaze was raised from the ground to meet the other, your obstacle was quickly revealed to be a boy with streaked yellow and blue hair, pierced violet eyes staring down at you through the circle lens of gold-rimmed glasses. A face you didn’t recognize from anywhere, not even the future. One that you would usually apologize again, write to the back of your mind, and then quickly move on to avoid any trouble, though the trailing blood leaking from the other’s nose and the bruises that decorated his face made you pause. “You’re hurt! Are you okay?”

”Fuck off.”

You didn’t let that bother you. “Don’t worry,” you assured, showing the other the scar left on your palm back from when you tried to save Ken-chin from that knife attack. “I’m a professional.”

That seemed to confuse the boy enough for you to leap into action as his violet eyes looked bewilderedly between the small mark and your confident gaze. Whipping open your bag, you produced a small bottle of ointment and a few bandages, basic supplies that you always kept on hand for your own delinquent boys. “What’s your name?” You asked cheerfully as you ever so gently dabbed the dark spots before sticking a bandage over.

“Rindo,” the boy answered. You replied with your own name, and that was that.

Carefully rinsing and repeating your procedure with each bruise till you were done (you were rather surprise he let you, if you were being honest), you passed him a tissue for his nose after with strict instructions to blow out the blood and not swallow it.

The other obediently held the tissue to his nose without complaints, as if silently asking if you were done now and to leave him alone. Not that you noticed, too busy rummaging through the convenience store plastic bag and retrieving a wrapped piece of taiyaki, to which you pressed it into his hand. “Here! For you,” you lifted your own open drink. “Sorry, I only bought one drink.”

The ring of the convenience store door opening again was a bell that cut off any further conversations, and you waved a short bye to your newfound friend before rushing over to meet an exiting and very grumpy Baji.

ㅤ

Once more separated from you by simple time, the gunshot shattered the tension weighing down the freezing air of the refrigerated warehouse, finally silencing the annoying muffled begging as the bullet cleaved through flesh as effortlessly as a butcher’s knife through tuna. A click as the used shell was expelled, yet hushness was quick to fall once more over the warehouse despite the area being far from empty. Mikey exhaled, his warm breath leaving a trail of fog behind in the cold air even as the man simply continued to stare blankly ahead, abyss eyes fixed on some unknown spot off from where the traitor’s head had been just a minute earlier, gun lowered to hang limply by his side.

A stone’s throw away, unusually alert green eyes framed by long pink lashes remained trained on the unmoving Mikey, the corners of Sanzu’s scarred mouth remained downturned as he contemplated what he had just witnessed. Far from the blood and death that bothered the made man, it was rather the sight of Mikey being there amidst the pooling blood instead of him, Bonten’s Hammer. After all, it was rare - unheard of - for the boss to personally bloody his hands with the dirty work, yet this was far from being the first instance of such an exception happening this week alone, be it to rivals, traitors or Bonten members alike. There had been several close calls for even the executives where the various members had found themselves at the business end of Mikey’s gun, Sanzu included, though fortunately there hadn’t been any accidental deaths yet.

And it was clear they remembered the past week’s incidents, Bonten’s Number Two breaking from his thoughts to throw an accusatory glance Kakucho’s way, given how everyone else was happy to let the boss stew, content with their quiet observation from a safe distance. Said black-haired man returned Sanzu’s icy look with a shrug that said everything: no one was too sure what was going to accidentally set Mikey off next, and with how trigger happy the man has been in the past few days, no one was quite keen to find out either.

Which left only Sanzu to do the job - the same man who had just been discharged from hospital after committing the ultimate sin and still very much neck deep in Mikey’s shit list - but still the only person left willing to risk his life. And he didn’t even have any drugs left - that shithead of a doctor in Bonten’s infirmary ward had confiscated his own stash on top of denying him any painkillers. Traitors, the whole lot of them.

The soles of Sanzu’s handcrafted shoes crunched atop the icy floor as he hesitantly took a few steps in the direction of his king.“Mikey?”

No response. Not a twitch.

The white-haired man seemed to barely even be breathing, lost to the breaking world in his mind. And there was no doubt about what caused this spiral. After all, it had been a mere three nights since you disappeared from his arms. Four days since Mikey had completely stopped eating or sleeping; and the few times Sanzu had caught the other nodding off for a few minutes before something wretched him back awake once more didn’t count. Short stubble dotting his chin, his mob of white, uncombed hair unkept atop his head, and still dressed in the same days-old clothes, it was as if he had ceased to function completely, and it was because of you that Sanzu’s king was rotting away, perishing before his eyes. A ruthless, cold man Mikey was as the head of the largest criminal syndicate in Japan, but twelve long years apart and for him to have only a taste of his darling you before some unknown force wretched you away from him again; it was as if the spark to keep slugging onwards had finally been extinguished from the broken man, and the strongman facade was starting to crack.

Despite the pink-haired man’s continued disdain for you, he understood, but there was nothing more he could do. Every available resource at Bonten’s disposal had already been committed to combing every inch of Tokyo, and all they could do now was wait. Letting out a sigh, Sanzu closed the distance, taking the few steps that brought him elbow to elbow with the boss, with just a couple of inches between the two. “Mikey? You alright?” He tried again.

Silence once more blanketed the area as his words drifted off and died, the freezing air in the refrigerated warehouse thick and heavy and hard to breathe. Off in the distance, Rindo shivered from behind the seat of a forklift, the chill finally getting to the younger of the Haitani brothers, but the world still fell silent.

At least this time Mikey did react, though not to Sanzu, the Bonten boss simply turning away from his right hand man, slippers making nay a sound as he padded away towards the exit, body listing from side to side with every step. “Ah, is it?” The ragged whisper that fell from Mikey’s lips seemed to echo louder than the earlier gunshot, unsteady steps threatening to give way under the man’s frail frame as he muttered to himself. “It was me? I see.”

All Sanzu could do was watch and grimace, hand moving to grip the bottom of his striped vest, knuckles turning white from his tight, frustrated clench. Mikey wasn’t speaking to any of the executives present, no, but to you: the whispering, taunting version of you that lived rent-free in Mikey’s hallucinations and delusions. Like a ghost that refused to depart, your shade haunting the white-haired man’s every move despite your absence, staying just beyond his grasp yet so mockingly close - who knew what kind of vicious words you were tormenting him with?

Even as he still questioned what had led to his intense dislike of you in the first place, he knew that the real you would never do such a thing, especially considering the tenderness with which he had previously witnessed you holding Mikey’s bony hand with. Definitely not to Mikey, but that was a matter for a different time. Shaking his head to clear his mind, the second-in-command tuned out those nagging voices, letting out a sigh that instantly fogged up into a cloud of white fog as he turned his attention back on the unstable man in front of him. Truly, having to live with this amount of clarity at all times was painful.

ㅤ

One step wrongly placed, and time felt as if it came to a crawl as Mikey’s slipper failed to get a grasp on the thin layer of ice that coated the cement tiles, the already lethargic man looked as if he would be meeting the ground under his own weakened legs, white hair streaming out behind the Bonten boss as he descended.

Sanzu moved. “Wait Mikey, you’re-” Calloused hands shot out in an attempt to catch his falling king, though it seemed too little too late, that signature black shirt brushing past the tips of his fingers.

But in that instant, the former up-and-coming delinquent was quicker, a speed reminiscent of his glory days as Toman’s President as he caught himself with little difficulty. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” the guttural growl reverberated across the tin-roofed building, and in one smooth move, the black pistol whipped around to lined straight up with the centre of Sanzu’s forehead, the black, heavy eyebags that clung to the bottom of Mikey’s eyes scrunching up as his gaze narrowed dangerously.

The world held its breath as green eyes met abyss ones.

A second ticked by.

A bead of sweat gathered along Sanzu’s pink hairline despite the freezing temperature, trickling down the side of his face. Was this it?

Another second.

Perhaps it was a mere moment of recognition that glimmered behind those exhausted eyes to which clung black, heavy eyebags, perhaps it was your specter taking pity on him, saving him from what was an unenviable fate. Whatever it had been, the heaved sigh of relief that slipped out from Sanzu’s scarred lips started his world spinning once more as the barrel of the gun was lowered, the other’s bony arm shaking from the effort of holding up the pistol. He hadn’t been sure if Mikey would squeeze the trigger, and even though he wouldn’t have been too angry to die by his liege’s hands, it was far from the right time to leave the other to those spiralling thoughts. He did, after all, swear an oath to keep the former Toman President safe; he had for all this time and he will continue to do so, even if it meant keeping Mikey safe from himself.

The palpable stillness persisted as seven pairs of various colored eyes watched Mikey turn once more to leave, soundless steps reverberating through the tense air as his abnormally delicate figure grew smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared behind the half-open warehouse door, long tendrils of cold fog lazily trailing out after him.

Running one hand through his mob of pink hair, Sanzu took a glance around at the rest of the executives present as a silent grumble slipped his lips; it was rare to see anything but amusement on the faces of these usually desensitized criminals, and even rarer for everyone present to be of the same thought. And if it had been anything but this conundrum, the pink-haired second in command wouldn’t have wasted any time in giving it to them for showing such useless emotions. But with the quickly deteriorating state of their boss as the hours and days go by and no sign of your return or your presence anywhere, there was little they could do but watch with concern as Mikey wasted away.

Despite the already ongoing search looking non-stop for you, all day and all night, a tightening knot at the base of his gut combined with a nagging feeling told Sanzu that they were unlikely to find you anywhere, his mind instantly leaping back to the pounding headache and the change in his memory back when he awoke in the infirmary four days ago. Why did he stop hating you with every fiber of his being previously? How did you do that? No matter what the others said, there was definitely something off about his sudden change of heart with regards to you, Sanzu knew without doubt, and he would get to the bottom of this.

For now, what he needed to figure out was what combination of begging and groveling would be enough to get Mikey to at least accept some water.

ㅤ

Yet just three hours later, Mikey’s situation had already taken a turn for the worse. Four days without food, let alone sleep, would do anyone in, and even the once undefeated Toman President was no exception. Now standing alone, consumed by the darkness of the last untrodden area in Bonten headquarters, Sanzu knew he was breaking every rule worth remembering, doing something so explicitly forbidden by his king. But as he rummaged through mostly empty cupboards and amidst the little belongings owned by the infinitely wealthy yakuza boss in a bid to find something, anything that could help, the black hole of spiraling thoughts that encompassed the events of the past thirty minutes overriding any awareness he had the items passing through his hands.

After all, it had been him who had come across Mikey, his near-skeletal figure sprawled unconscious across plush carpets halfway down Executive Row, just meters away from the worn white door of his bedroom. It had been him who had scooped the man into his arms and rushed him down to the infirmary, grimly noting how the man weighed barely anything. And it had also been him, on his knees and his forehead to the ground, pleading with a conscious Mikey to allow the doctor to administer a fluid IV, only for the other to reject his fervent imploring with a simple turn of his head, those exhausted abyss eyes breaking from his teary green ones wordlessly to stare blankly at the ceiling. Because no words needed to be said for Sanzu to know what the boss demanded: he would accept nothing less than your return and your cooking.

Despite the white-haired man not being present, allowing the light from the hallway outside to pour into the usually unilluminated room - the gloom and morbidness just as Mikey likes it - felt too much like the discretion of such a sacred space to the ever-loyal Sanzu, though this did leave him to conduct his hunt with just the sliver of light that sipped in from under the door. The cold sweat that gathered and pooled on his palms was hastily wiped away on striped pants as the usually high second-in-command attempted to focus back on his searching, green eyes scanning around in a desperate attempt to find something that could help, a clue that could point to where you were, anything.

This was all your fault. Was there nothing he could do but let fate play out?

It was only as Sanzu threw up his arms in exasperation did a glimmer from the furthest end of the room catch the corner of his eye; the small amount of light that reflected back seemed to sparkle even in the dark. The faintest shimmer of gold. What was that? A cautious few steps revealed the source to be a school bag - your school bag, judging from the neatly written name on the tag - that you had failed to take with you for whatever reason. And more importantly, hanging from the front of the bag from a zipper was that notorious purple-and-gold onomori that had him recoil his hand as if burnt.

No doubt it was the same one that still haunted his every step, one that marked you as off-limits all those years ago on the threat of torture and death. Yet -

The Bonten man reached out, gripping the onomori with one fist. He vaguely remembered something from many years ago, maybe twelve or more, when you first disappeared, when you first gave him that bag of karaage. He had been the one to find your charm, and if his scrambled memory hasn’t failed him, the simple of act of picking up this charm had summoned you out of thin air. Though after holding it for a rough five minutes, Sanzu sighed, undoing the simple note that kept the charm tied to your bag before standing. He probably just dreamt that particular one up during one of his highs.

Still, the man noted as he wrapped the small item ever so carefully in a clean handkerchief and tucked it into his breast pocket, it was probably precious to Mikey. Something to lift his spirits a bit maybe, if it did nothing else - anything that would keep his king going until you could be located.

And pressing it into said man’s weak hand later, and watching the charm disappear under sterile white blankets as Mikey retracted his thin arm, it was all too clear to Sanzu that the other was running out of time. If they don't find you soon, Mikey dies.

Turning to leave his boss to his thoughts, the right-hand man decided that he didn’t quite enjoy all the stress. He could use a smoke about now.

ㅤ

The sight of the empty lot where your school building formerly sat brought that familiar gut-sinking feeling back to your abdomen, one that you didn’t think you would be feeling again. Running one hand through your hair, you let a sigh escape your lips. You were back in the future again, it seems. Whether this was the same future or a different one, or even if you had skipped ahead the same number of years was something that was beyond you at the moment, and you had even less on you this time then the previous incident, having been caught in your literal pajamas right as you were about to head to bed. Which came with a secondary problem, one that you found by simply looking up - it was still the middle of night.

The neighborhood where your school once was was silent as it always was at this time of day, with most students and adults alike usually asleep by this time of day. Slipping your phone out from your pocket, you noted that the battery was dead once more: was it just a side effect of the time leaping?

Patting down the rest of your pajamas only confirmed that you had none of your house keys on you unlike your previous experience, which only meant that you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Though heading back home wouldn’t be a bad idea if this was still the same timeline, and your feet started to carry you down familiar paths once more. Yes, you were sure at least someone would know you were back if you waited by the front door.

ㅤ

Takemichi let out an exasperated grunt, ruffling his hands through his hair. He had been back and forth from the future twice in the last four days alone, plus that disaster meeting with Draken, and nothing. No clues, no progress, nothing. You were still nowhere to be found. Kicking a stone down empty roads, the former Toman delinquent felt truly helpless for the first time. If his time leaping ability was being overridden by yours, then there was no point to what he was putting himself through - he couldn’t change the future until they could figure out how to stop yours.

And that meant…

The black-haired man shook his head vigorously in an attempt to stop his thoughts from going down that beckoning abyss. No, he couldn’t give up now. Taking a deep breath, Takemichi looked up, fists clenched determined by his side.

It was the middle of the night now, and the streets were completely empty of souls, with the exception of him wandering down aimlessly. In the distant, an occasional rumble of the engine of a passing vehicle, though none passed his way. But Naoto had mentioned that this area was where your school once stood, plus you lived not too far away as well, and therefore if you were really a time leaper, then there was a high chance this was the place you would return to. It made sense, Takemichi agreed, but this was already the umpteeth time he had searched.

Pulling one hand down his face, a flash of hair in the distance caught the man’s eye before it quickly disappeared behind a wall, too fast for him to even register. That looked like…you? Was that a hallucination?

A quick jog forward took Takemichi to the bend in the street, but when he looked round the corner, whatever trace of whoever it had been walking the roads was already gone.

ㅤ

Across the bustling city of Tokyo, Rindo froze mid-step.

Yet the sudden lack of movement was lost on Ran. The evening traffic had yet to let up outside, the rumbling of cars and the occasional horn cutting through the unnatural silence that hung inside the tiny shop tucked just a street away from the main road, though it was precisely the quietness that had carried with it the promise of an earlier rest. Careful to avoid dirtying his shoes with blood, the older Haitani had already made his way to the exit, suit jacket casually swung over one shoulder, gun tucked away safely and out of his side under his vest. “Let’s head straight back to base, Rindo,” Ran groaned, running one hand through his short purple hair only to grimace upon realizing that said hand was caked with someone else’s blood. Today was really not going his way. “You can grab a drink at the rooftop bar or something, I don’t know.”

Yanking the front door open with a grunt, said Bonten executive didn’t stop to hear if there was a response from his younger brother, instead opting to step straight out and back onto the narrow side alley, the buzzing streetlight overhead as if a welcome back from the grim of that filthy store and its dead, traitorous owner. Taking a breath of the comparatively better smelling air outside, Ran stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, pulling out a sole crumpled cigarette and a handful of change - but no lighter. Not even a match. Fuck this fucking disgusting job.

Ran turned, hand already outstretched. “Rindo, do you have a light -” And it was only then did it hit him that his brother had not followed him out. Rindo was still in the store for some goddamn reason, and he had to go back in there. The feared mafia officer sighed. This had better be important.

Alas, he spoke too soon.

“I think my memories just changed,” was seemingly all that Rindo could bring himself to mumble at the chime that came with the opening door, the man with the long purple hair still standing by the row of unpowered display refrigerators where Ran had last seen him, violet eyes staring down at the blood pooling around the cooling bodies sprawled on the floor. The stench of iron didn’t seem to bother the younger Haitani, too caught up in his jumbled mind as Rindo tried to make head or tail of what had just happened.

Ran, however, was far from impressed, simply propping both his hands on his hips and raising one eyebrow at that statement. “Did you get into Sanzu’s drug stash?”

The sheer vileness of that statement alone was enough to shake Rindo out from his own little world, with said man snapping straight back into reality ready for a fight. “How dare you-” the younger of the two let out a cough, the sudden thick smell of death and blood that made itself known to his previously oblivious nostrils choking up his airway momentarily. “How dare you say that.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to say when you talk dumb shit?”

“It’s not dumb shit, fuck you Ran! My memories changed!” Rindo insisted, carelessly stepping over the bodies at his feet, Ran wincing at the blood splattering up and all over his brother’s shoes. That would be a pain to clean later.

But still, the older Haitani led the way back outside and into the fresher air of the alleyway, before turning around to better understand the situation his dear brother seemed to have found himself in. “Alright, if not pink pills, then what happened?”

Rindo himself still seemed to be struggling to make head or tail of what had just happened, letting out a groan as the man with the long purple hair rubbed his temple with one hand. “It was after we shot those two inside. All of a sudden, my head felt like it was about to explode for a second, and I suddenly knew…stuff. Things that I didn’t know before."

“Like what?”

“You know you were telling me about Mikey’s girl earlier?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ve never met her, and before the job, I couldn’t tell you what color her hair was. I can pick her out from a line of schoolgirls now.”

“Oh.”

Violet eyes met each other, and as if on instinct, both men thought back to the Bonten infirmary just days earlier, where an eerily similar sentence had been muttered. Sanzu. Ran sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So it wasn’t the drugs.” This day was just getting worse and worse. “Let’s head back and sync up.”

“Sure,’ Rindo shrugged, scratching the back of his head as he nonchalantly followed his older brother, the purple-haired duo stepping out onto the busy main street and blending into the crowd, blood splattered shoes a distant thought. “I do remember her being pretty nice though.”

Ran raised an eyebrow, as he absentmindedly fiddled with his earring. “Pretty nice or pretty and nice?”

The younger Haitani audibly tsked, raising one leg to kick at the other’s. “You know what I said.”

ㅤ

The lighter, joky mood that the brothers shared didn’t last past their return to Bonten HQ, much to Ran’s disappointment, the usually silent place abuzz with a rare, panic atmosphere. Men and women alike dressed in neatly pressed suits rushing every which way, the small bulge under their suit jacket where their guns were strapped to an unspoken reminder of where they were - no doubt the communicators fixed to their ears were all but alight with barked orders and updates. Casually grabbing a passing grunt, it took a mere moment and single shouted objection for the poor soul to realize who exactly had grabbed him by the back of his shirt, the purple and green striped suits too iconic to be mistaken. “Ah- oh, Haitani-sama.”

“What’s going on?” Ran didn’t need to see through those dark sunglasses to see the other’s shifty look: the nameless Bonten grunt was definitely contemplating the chance of him being dead within the next five minutes as opposed to the next hour.

”Uh-“

Rindo reached threateningly into the depths of his suit, and sweat began to pour off the other’s forehead. “You know,” the younger of the two Haitanis started. “I’ve had a really bad day.”

”No, please, Haitani-sama, I’m not sure-“

Fortunately for all three men involved, the interrogation was brought to quick and uneventful close with the appearance of an all-too familiar mob of pink hair just as Rindo pulled a lollipop out to pop into his mouth. The grunt was let go to scramble off as both sets of violet eyes snapped to the unusual sight of Sanzu impatiently tapping his foot soundlessly against the plush carpet of the foyer, smoking cigarette held between scarred lips as the man looked around before glancing once more at his watch.

A smirk instantly began to pull at Ran’s lips as he stuffed both hands into the pockets of his pants, strolling over. “Oh Sanzu~”

“I’m busy,” came the other’s curt reply, green eyes looking Ran up and down a mere moment before turning away.

”We know, we know,” the man with the short purple hair pacified. “It’s just that-“

Rindo quickly butted in, having closely followed his older brother over. It was clear that Sanzu, far from his usual drugged up and easily bullied state, actually had things to do and places to be. “My memories changed.”

Sanzu’s unusually alert gaze slid over once more to meet Rindo’s, and it seemed the severity of what the younger Haitani said set in quickly as his eyes steeled. “Mine did too. Again,” the Bonten second-in-command disclosed, though he said no more as the glass doors of the foyer slid open and Kakucho stepped out, gloved hand lightly touching where his gun was strapped to his chest under his jacket. “We’ll talk about this later. House alarm tripped again.”

Ah, your little pick-up party, Ran noted from the side, watching the two top Bonten executives slip effortlessly into a black, featureless car that quickly pulled away from the compound. So you were back - and your arrival must have something to do with the changing memories.

How interesting.

ㅤ

Across town, Draken cursed out loud as his feet flew over concrete paths down empty streets. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were a fucking time leaper.

He had been working late on a client’s bike as he always did, the closed garage a quiet refuge after the hustle of the normal work day. The headache had hit him like a clap of thunder, with his brain feeling it was pressing up against his skull; and memories of twelve years past suddenly started to flood back, a recollection he couldn’t control. But they were all memories that he didn’t previously have, freshly added memories: some of your reappearance in his past, some of a fight he never recalled having with the other Toman founders, and most importantly, memories of you telling them what had happened.

It changed him, Draken admitted. It gave him a renewed hope that he didn’t remember possessing, that they might be able to fix this entire mess, that you were somewhere out there. All this time you were missing - it was true. You couldn’t control it like you had admitted. But if the past him still had that onomori, then why were you back in the future?

Turning a corner, a quick step aside was the only thing that kept him from running straight into someone else, though those fast, honed reflexes also almost had Draken swinging his fist into an all-too familiar face.

Baji was panting as if he had ran a full marathon, his apron half undone and left swinging from his neck, his hand clutching his open phone. It seemed like the other Toman founder had been struck with the same revelations, Draken determined, judging from the half-dressed state he was in.

And then those two fateful words tumbled from Baji’s lips. “Time leaper.”

236 notes · View notes

quigonswife8 · 7 months

Text

You can't fix everything: Leon Kennedy x reader

gif creds: @halfwayriight

In which Leon is annoyed he can't fix a light, and you reassure him he can't fix everything.

Comfort character <3

[Leon speaking is in bold]

-------

June 5th 2005

Sounds from the kitchen disrupts your sleep- after a soft groan of annoyance from your own lips, your eyes adjust to the harsh light. As per-usual you shuffle your body to the left, leaning into your boyfriends side except...where is he?

It's only now that you realise he's the reason for that afformentioned clanging, and your eyes soften. "Baby?" right hand coming up to rub the sleep from your eyes...there's no response. The only sort of response given is the string of curse words from his lips, though even then it's not directed at you.

Leon was supposed to be taking it easy- he promised to take a break and relax. After practically begging him to take some time off work, Leon hesitated at first. His mind changed when he saw the look of desperation in your eyes, the want for him to just be with you. He will never forget the way your voice broke, the tears threatening to spill, as you begged him.

He had taken you in his arms, held you. Right hand running through your hair, left tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. "I love you, you know that right?" the words so soft so...precious, they made you fall in love with him ten times more. "I know, and I love you too. I just...wish you would take time off for yourself- the agency can wait."

With his signature smile, the way he would tilt his head, Leon pressed a soft kiss to your head. He couldn't help it, you were his weak spot- and he didn't mind.

"God what time is it." you mutter to yourself, your eyes flitting to the alarm clock. "7 am...Leon should be in bed with me." With a soft sigh you get out of bed and venture to the kitchen: Leon is on a ladder fixing a light, sweat running down the side of his head.

"Baby?"

Leon doesn't hear your voice, he's too preoccupied fixing the light. "Come on, damn it. How the hell is it so hard to fix this light. I'm an agent I've killed b.o.w.s, I should know how to fix a light."- Leon huffs, his messy blonde hair parted slightly.

"You can't do everything baby." taking a few steps to him you rest a hand on his back...and just like that, Leon finally notices you. His soft blues flick down to your (e/c) eyes, and the frustration instantly disappears, to be replaced with a softness.

"I look like a fool don't I. Your boyfriend can't even fix a light."- you grab his arm though it doesn't really help when he jumps down off the ladder, and as if his eyes couldn't soften anymore they do.

Leon then leans down slowly, intimately- and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, then he takes your hands in his. His hands, in question, are both calloused- yet gentle- he's always so gentle with you. Despite being the government agent that everyone sees him as, Leon is still that same rookie cop from racoon city.

"Baby it's no big deal.", right hand coming up to rest against his right cheek- Leon can swear his heart-rate picks up just from your touch. "...you save lives everyday, fixing one lightbulb isn't going to hurt."

"I know..."- Leon sighs "...but-"

"No buts Leon, it's just a light, we can call someone in." and you take those same calloused hands in yours, and give them a quick squeeze. "...and besides it's daytime so we don't need to use it right now anyway. Look I find it sweet how you want to fix it, but it's okay, really."'

Leon opens his mouth...but the words fall short. His eyes widen slightly, then the goofiest smile appears. He leans down, forehead pressing against yours; his heart is hammering in his chest, his skin is warm as opposed to the coldness of yours. He strokes your head, and sighs finally in defeat.

"Okay we'll call someone in. I still feel bad though..."

You take his hand and gently pull him towards the couch; he follows, and his signature smile appears once you're both seated. His hands press to your waist gently and he hoists you onto his lap; a slight blush paints your cheeks, your hands moving to rest on his chest.

"You look cute when you blush...well you look cute anyway sweetheart." and oh how that nickname brings you butterflies. Leon presses a soft kiss to your cheek, and then one to your other cheek:

"...my wonderful partner."

"My beautiful agent."- you reply with, head resting against his chest. His arms wrap around your waist keeping you there, and the two of you remain in that same spot just being with one-another.

Neither realise when sleep takes over and both fall asleep in eachother's arms.

[A few hours later]

"Leon..." you move to snuggle your face against Leon's chest...only to be met with emptiness. Confused as you had fallen asleep in his arms, your eyes open...

"Leon?"

Nothing, no answer, no note on the table with cute hearts, nothing. Rubbing the few hours of sleep clear you stand and search the house for the agent, footsteps through the house that only you preoccupy; the coat that once hung on the coat-rack, gone. His gear packed up and gone...with him.

A saddened sigh falls from your lips; the hands that once held his running over your face.

"Leon...damn it."

It was supposed to be his break, the two of you were supposed to be spending time together, he was supposed to be there holding you when you woke. Much like times in the past, they repeat, they leave you feeling lonely and to top it all off, he hadn't left a note like he had times before.

Sitting down on the floor of your living room, you drop your head and sigh. He means well, Leon never has ill intentions, but despite that you still can't help but feel an empty pit growing without him there. One day maybe you can both have peace and quiet a life, away from all the stress and danger.

————

#Leon #Leon Kennedy #Leon Kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 remake

265 notes · View notes

aphrodisiac-siren · 1 year

Text

Dynasty of Flames

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen-Royce Reader

Summary: Being born into the most respected and equally feared houses in the realm made people look up to you as if you were a god and the devil himself, in equal measure. People say that when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin; and when news of the birth of Daemon’s firstborn- a girl, spread, people could only wait in anticipation to see which side of the coin faced up during her birth.

Warnings: Incest (duh), violence, blood/gore, swearing.

Part 1,

Part 2

"Who's that from?" Baela asked as she watched Y/N read a letter she'd received only a few moments ago by raven. It bore a seal that the older girl recognised all too well and by the look on Rhaena's face, she seemed to recognise it too.

"It's that one-eyed arseling" she told her twin.

After the incident that resulted in the loss of Aemond's eye, Daemon's entire family and Rhaenyra's left for Dragonstone where they were wed. Y/N quite liked the princess, her sons however were the ones she found slightly difficult to get along with at first. Especially since she hadn’t taken their side when all hell broke loose the night Aemond claimed Vhagar.

But over the years, they all started to grow comfortable around each other, though Y/N would have to admit that she still found it unfair that Luke never received so much as a stern scolding for what he'd done that night, granted it was unintentional.

"Why do you still write to him?" Baela asked, quiet annoyed at her older sister "He punched me"

"Didn’t you say you punched him first?" Y/N casually mentioned but then winced. She did not mean to take the prince's side over her sister's "Sorry I did not mean to- all I'm saying is, that happened years ago. He was only ten and I'm sure he's a changed man now"

"I agree people change" Rhaena wrapped her arm around Y/N's, as she politely spoke "but he did steal my dragon"

"He claimed Vhagar. I know it was mean of him to not let have your chance at claiming your mother's dragon but we all know he did not steal her" you corrected, earning another annoyed sigh from the girls "Oh come now, you know Dragons don’t just let anyone ride them. If she did not bond with Aemond, he would be burned alive"

"It annoys me that you still take his side. I know he's your friend but we're your sisters" Baela scoffed. This wasn’t the first time you lot had argued over this subject "he's arrogant and-"

"And the boy who paid with his eye that night. Keep in mind Luke was responsible for it and was let off the hook without so much as a slap on the wrist" Y/N interrupted. She hated fighting with her sisters "You know I love you girls, I would never choose anyone over the both of you but you do have to admit as much as it was unfair to you, it was equally unfair for him as well"

"I'm not doing this again" Baela arose from where she sat. She was the short-tempered one out of the three of them "I'll be in my chambers"

Y/N heaved a sigh as she watched her younger sister storm out. She would go after her but she was presently too keen on reading what Aemond had written to her. The older girl turned to look at Rhaena, who was the sweeter, more timid one. "Go talk to her will you? I'll find you both in a bit" Y/N said with a soft smile and Rhaena obliged to what her sister asked.

Once the girl left, Y/N once again turned to read what Aemond had written. They did not write to each other often, just a few times here and there to tell one another of a few things happening in their lives.

"...the last time I wrote to you, I mentioned that I had a rich-green emerald replace the empty eye socket. Well, I took into consideration of what you said about a sapphire looking much better so I switched out the green gem for the blue one and I must admit I like it better.."

Y/N smiled to herself.

"Y/N?" Daemon called out as he stood by the door, pullling away his daughter's attention from the letter "care to explain what caused yet another fight between you and your sisters?"

The princess sighed, something she was doing a lot lately. She put down the letter and turned in her chair so that she was facing her father.

"It's about my friendship with Aemond, kepa. The girls do not seem to approve of it" she told him as she watched her father slowly walk in and sit at the edge of her bed "I won’t deny that he can be a bit much, but everyone has flaws"

"Oh so that's the reason for the argument this time" he chuckled "and the previous time?"

"That was when they tried to defend Jace and Luke by saying Aemond called them bastards" the girl told him to which he reacted with a smug smile, something that had her puzzled "what’s funny about that?"

"I love my wife Rhaenyra and her sons the same way I love you girls but" he stood up to walk toward her and lowered his voice as he continued to speak "between the both of us, you aren’t naïve enough to believe that they’re.. legitimate, do you?"

Since Y/N was Daemon's firstborn and quite frankly the only one he truly loved when he was still married to Rhea, over the years he found that she was the only one he could trust with almost anything. He even found a few similar traits between the both of them and he hoped for her sake she would not grow to be as rash and impulsive as he could get at times.

"Well considering the fact that the King has announced he will cut the tongues of those who say otherwise, I chose to believe what Rhaenyra says" Y/N answered briskly to which her father rolled his eyes.

"Chose to believe" he repeated with an amused tone "a diplomatic answer. Yn gaomā daor mittys aōha kepa"

"But you don’t fool your father"

Y/N let out a huff in defeat. They had had this conversation before, even though Daemon never openly suggested that they were bastards. But now, he seemed to be quite forward and bold and Y/N knew there was no way of smart-mouthing her father.

"Daor, gaoman daor drējī pendagon issi drēje āzma zaldrīzoti" She answered in a hushed tone, afraid someome might walk in even though she was aware only her father, sisters and Rhaenyra knew the language "nyke gīmigon ñuha ōghar iksis mirrī similar naejot pōjon yn nyke jiōraton bona hen ñuha muña, pōja muñar sia se ānogar hen Valyria. Konīr iksis daor ñuhoso pōnta would jurnegon se ñuhoso gaomis lo īlis drēje āzma"

"No, I do not truly think they are true-born dragons. I know my hair is a bit similar to theirs but I got that from my mother, both of their parents were the blood of Valyria. There is no way they would look the way they do if they were legitimate"

Daemon smiled at this, quite proud that his oldest daughter was smart enough to see the obvious truth that his brother turned a blind eye toward. He knew that this only weakened Rhaenyra's claim but he'd managed to fix that by wedding her. The only thing that upset him now was that after Rhaenyra, it was Jace who was in line to inherit the throne and not a true blood of the dragon.

"Ziry should sagon ao qilōni iksis brōstan dārilaros tolī Rhaenyra iksis dāria" He told his daughter, rather seriously.

"It should be you who is named heir after Rhaenyra is queen"

"Me?" Y/N repeated, unsure of how she felt about where this conversation was heading. Sure, she wasn’t as close to Jace but he was her family now and she did not wish to steal something that was promised to him, even though it was never formally announced that he was Rhaenyra's heir.

"Iksā ñuha tala, se ānogar hen iā zaldrīzes" he continued "ziry should sagon iā Targārien va se dēmalion, iā drēje mēre. Daor matter skorkydoso kostōba hen iā ivestragon bona valītsos ēza toliot ao"

"You are my daughter, and the blood of a dragon. It should be a Targaryen on the throne, a true one. Does not matter how strong of a claim that boy has over you"

Y/N snicked at the wordplay he'd used. She knew he held some truth in what he said but what he was suggesting, it was rather bold. She'd never really imagined herself on the iron throne, not until this particular conversation. Still, she couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything that would hurt her now half-brother Jace.

"No point in discussing this" she promptly spoke "I have no intention of stealing something that isn’t mine"

"You’re not stealing, you’re claiming something that is rightfully yours. You are the oldest, the one who has upheld tradition and speaks the language of our ancestors, who I know will be an excellent queen" Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder "think about it and let me know of your final opinion on the matter. Only then shall I discuss with my wife the succession of her throne"

Y/N simply nodded in response.

"Oh and pack your things" he added "we have to leave for King's Landing, urgent business regarding Lucerys"

And with that, he left Y/N to ponder over the conversation that she'd just had.

Aemond was slightly confused to see everyone at court rushing about, cleaning or changing the drapes. It was as if it were announced that there was to be a wedding. A similar sort of chaos had broken loose a few days prior to Aegon's and Helaena's wedding.

He went to find his mother, to ask her why everyone was so pre-occupied with making the castle appear spotless.

"Is there something I've missed?" He asked as soon as he burst into the room "everyone seems half crazed"

"I was hoping to wait until supper to tell you" queen Alicent arose from her chair before she walked toward her son "There has been a certain, problem that has arisen. With the news of Lord Corlys' possible demise, the throne of Driftmark is left vulnerable"

"I thought my nephew Luke was heir, he is named lord of the Tides" Aemond stated the obvious "Is it one of those Velaryon girls who oppose his claim?"

"No, it’s Corlys's brother, Vaemond" Alicent told him "and i have to admit he seems to be a better fit for the throne"

"I take it there will be a hearing for the matter" The prince looked toward the fire that burned in the fireplace "In which I can only assume you will favour Vaemond?"

"Do you not support our decision then?" Alicent asked, quiet curious to hear her son's opinion on the matter though she knew he would back whatever decision she made.

"No, of course I do mother" he assured with a soft smile "We both know that Lucerys isn’t Laenor's son"

Alicent beamed proudly at her child, though she did not make it obvious that she was far too happy to dethrone Rhaenyra's son.

"I can only expect for Rhaenyra and Luke to be present here the same way Vaemond will be" he further inquired to which his mother replied with a 'yes'. This sort of ignited a hopeful spark in his chest "Will the rest of their family be joining us as well?"

Alicent knew he was asking her this with hopes that maybe the princess Y/N too would be returning to court. The queen was quite fond of the girl, but she wished her son did not have any sort of expectations regarding to wedding her; especially after that incident years ago, that cost him his eye. Her father Daemon was married to Rhaenyra now and that just further decreased Aemond's chances of asking for Y/N's hand in marriage.

"I do not know for certain but I would assume the entire family would be present" she told Aemond who only hummed in response, not showing any sort of emotion to the statement.

He had become rather cold and distant after he'd lost his eye, never letting anyone too close to him.

Aemond took his leave, heading back to his chambers. After all these years of only being able to speak to Y/N through words on paper, he would finally be able to talk with her in person. He wondered how she looked, if she was still a touch taller, or just as giggly and talkative. The last time he'd seen her was on the morning of her departure away from Driftmark, the very next day after he'd lost his eye.

Aemond had just been told, in the presence of his mother that he wouldn’t be able to live his life the same way he'd been living all these years. He would have to re-learn how to fight, how to ride and then there was mention of him not being able to fly Vhagar. After everything he'd gone through, he was being told that even after he'd acquired a dragon of his own, he wouldn’t be able to fly her. And then came the news of migraines that he would suffer from even after the wound was healed.

Aemond began to cry and then eventually began to scream out of frustration, demanding that everyone leave the room at once so that he might be alone.

Y/N, who was already on her way toward his chambers, heard the noise and went in and Alicent did not stop her; maybe she would calm him down?

"Aemond?" the princess softly called out, cautiously stepping closer.

"Leave me alone!" the boy snapped, still in a terrible mood but Y/N wasn’t going to listen that easily.

"I came here to see you-"

"I said go away!" he screamed at her and the girl did not appreciate it one bit, she was Daemon's daughter after all.

"I am going away!" she screamed back at him with such ferocity that it immediately silenced his temper tantrum "to dragonstone"

"What-" he quietened down as he processed her words. With the passing of Daemon's wife, he thought the man might return to King's Landing which would mean that even Y/N would return with him back home "You’re leaving, again?"

"I am" she reconfirmed it "I only came to say goodbye"

Aemond wanted to fling something at the wall out of frustration. He'd only just been reunited with her and now she were being taken away from him again.

"I don’t like your kepa" he grumpily muttered under his breath "always taking you away from me"

Y/N giggled at this, finding it adorable until her smile faded when she remembered that she was leaving him again. She noticed that during the entire conversation he did not look toward her and she knew it was because he did not want her to see the ghastly wound on his face. She took his hand in hers and leaned down to gently kiss his knuckles which made Aemond gasp with surprise.

"Kepa always used to kiss my injuries to heal them faster" she sweetly told him "I don’t think I can kiss your cheek without hurting you, so I hope a kiss to the knuckles will help"

Aemond smiled at her. He felt a pang of jealousy when she mentioned that her father used to try to help with the pain any time she hurt herself by kissing the injury. Meanwhile his own father did not care one bit about his loss of an eye. He did not even bother to come and see him the next morning.

He was glad Y/N did, it made him feel a little less unwanted.

A gentle smile spread across his face at the memory and he subconsciously looked down at the very same hand she'd kissed.

494 notes · View notes

moonlitdesertdreams · 3 months

Text

By the Sea (part 1/?)

A/N: Why am I on a True Blood kick in February of 2024? I have no idea, but please enjoy if you also are. Tags: Eric Northman, vampires, Eric Northman True Blood, True Blood Imagines, Eric Northman x OC, Eric Northman x mythical creature!reader, Eric Northman x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-typical swearing, overwhelming amounts of sweet, confused Eric Summary: Eric's been cursed to forget all his memories, but you stick out... and have to deal with the aftermath.

Word count: 1.6k+

You had no interest in meeting with the new King of Louisiana.

Bill Compton’s new position as King had given you nothing but pause, and part of you recognized his calling upon Eric as a power play.

So you lounged in the back office at Fangtasia, drifting in and out of consciousness. You could hear the faint arguing between Sookie and Pam in the other office, no doubt about relinquishing ownership of Sookie’s house. The same issue, you assumed, that Bill had requested Eric to discuss. You chuckled at the remembrance that it was your idea to buy the decrepit old farmhouse when Sookie went missing, both to keep an eye on the new King and have a safe haven for Eric away from Fangtasia.

Despite never being fully human, sleeping was one of your favorite indulgences. And tonight you were content to let Eric handle Mr. Compton’s silly requests while Pam argued with Sookie in the other room and you remained at ease. The couch in Eric’s office was worn and comfortable, and you settled yourself underneath one of his jackets, propped against the armrest. When Sookie’s annoying voice drifted away, you were left with the dull roar of protestors outside Fangtasia.

Dreams of blue seas and daylight walks with Eric plagued your mind. The warmth of the sun on your skin, and the golden dance of his hair in a Mediterranean breeze flitted by, and you relished in the fuzzy feeling it brought.

But the invigorating daylight suddenly vanished, replaced with a drab gray office and the annoying scream of a cell phone. You quickly realize it was not in fact your cell phone, but the Fangtasia office phone ringing obnoxiously on Eric’s desk. The sound of Pam and her… company through the wall gave you the idea she wasn’t getting to the phone anytime soon, so you yawned and climbed to your feet, having half a mind to let it ring till it quieted.

However, the newest anti-Vampire movement was raging, and everything at Fangtasia now was about saving face and playing nice. You picked up the receiver and tucked it in the crook of your shoulder, putting on your best vampire purr.

“Thank you so very much for calling Fangtasia. How may I be of service?”

“Y/N?”

You grimace, recognizing Sookie’s sing-song twang. “What do you want?”

“Listen, this is no time for your normal attitude-”

A snarl breaks through your lips. “Watch your mouth, brat. I’ll be on that doorstep before you draw in your next breath.”

“Y/N!” Sookie breathes heavily. “It’s Eric. I found him walking down the road on my way back.”

You stiffen. Sookie’s house was less than a mile from Compton’s, and the thought of what happened to Sophie-Ann at his mansion invaded your mind.

“What’d Compton do to him?”

“This wasn’t Bill.” Sookie’s tone was defensive in spite of everything he’d put her through. “I’m not sure who did this. Y/N… he doesn’t remember me. Or, much of anything. He keeps saying your name.”

Your slow-beating heart ticked up a notch. “You’re home?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

You call on every power you have, letting your eyes fall closed. Teleportation was more of just extremely fast flying, mostly manageable but just exhausting. Sookie’s front porch materializes in your mind, and shortly after you feel a warm Louisiana breeze on your face. The sound of screaming cicadas followed, ringing your ears to the point of a migraine.

Before you can get a hand on the doorknob, the wooden panel flew open. Six feet and five inches of blonde viking greeted you, big hands palming at your shoulders and arms as he drew you close in an instinctual embrace. Sookie’s scent caught your attention as well, but your face was buried in Eric’s bare chest, too busy reveling in his closeness to care. He hummed against your hair nonsensically, nose nuzzled into the roots.

“Älskling” Darling.

He murmured the Swedish word into your hair, pushing a soft rumble through his chest. You finally found it in you to return the embrace, rubbing what you imagined to be reassuring circles on his torso. His behavior was startling, as public affection was not his favorite. He wasn’t afraid of it, per say, but he was more brutish. Eric was possessive and pushy, grabbing onto you and nuzzling against your body to mark you with his scent before visiting vampires or their nests. Coddling and dotting outside of that was usually reserved for the bedroom and private rooms away from prying eyes.

“Eric?” You take a step back, and your heartstrings tug painfully on one another.

His blue eyes are wide, full of confusion and apprehension The air of calm and power he usually carries is missing, replaced with the naivety of a scared child. You reach a hand up to cup his cheek.

“What happened, my love?” You whisper, ushering him to sit on the porch swing.

As you walk away from the entryway, Sookie’s eyes meet yours. She nods briefly, and steps away before closing the door with a soft ‘click’. Eric reaches for you once he’s settled on the cushions. You allow him to have a hold of your hand, but maintain a bit of space and sit cross-legged facing him.

“I’ve missed you.” He murmurs, even though you saw him less than five hours ago.

The gush and fluttering of human emotions was something you haven’t felt in years. “I know. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“The sea.” Eric takes your hand with both of his. “Where we met. You were so beautiful.”

His words were full of emotion and love, and you hated that your face blanched. When you met, when he could smell and taste the shore of the North Sea as it danced under sunlight, was the last few days of his humanity.

“Do you remember what happened to you tonight?” You implore him to continue, trying not to choke at the sight of his ruffled hair.

Eric’s face fell, far away from the contented glaze he had when speaking about the sea. “I know I am a vampire. You are mine. But I… I don’t-”

“Shhh, Shhh.” You hush him gently. “That’s okay.”

Eric shakes his head, gripping your wrist as if you could take his memories via osmosis. He mutters in Swedish, and you prompt him to speak up. The words he utters tell you of flashes he’d seen, but couldn’t provide any context.

“Det var hon, men det var inte hon.” It was her, then it wasn’t her.

The description is of a face morphing from older to younger, but nothing more.

What the hell had Bill Compton done to him?

Sure, Eric recalled a woman’s face, but there was nothing to say Bill didn’t set him up. You were suddenly pissed at yourself for not accompanying him to the new King’s hold. You hadn’t so much as asked why he was going. Pam was her normal stoic self upon hearing about him being beckoned, but you bet she had asked why.

“Eric?” His eyes are fixed on you, unwavering and diligent.

“Yes, my queen?”

You almost blush at the pet name. “Can you go sit inside with Sookie? I just have to call someone.”

A lopsided grin stretches his face. “Anything for you.”

Eric leans in and meshes his lips with yours, and it’s the sweetest kiss he’s ever laid on you. There’s no possessive undertone, no domineering fangs brushing against your lips. It’s an innocent show of affection, driven by absolute base instinct and a loss of personality.

“I love you.” He murmurs, breath fanning over your lips.

“I know.”

That amnesiatic smile twists his lips again, and he shuffles back into the farmhouse. You dwell for a moment on the odd behavior before withdrawing your cell phone and immediately dialing Fangtasia.

“Good evening, Fangtasia, Northern Louisiana’s most fang-tastic club. What do you want?”

On any other day, you would have laughed at Pam’s greeting. And you tried so hard to be nice.

“Pam it’s me.”

“Are you really callin’ me from the other office? I thought we talked about-”

“Something happened to Eric.” You stop her, “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

The line goes silent, and you half expect her to come rushing onto the porch as you had.

“Elaborate.”

“Sookie called me… She found him wandering down the road on the way home from Fangtasia. He doesn’t remember anything.” You force yourself to keep your voice steady.

“What do you mean, anything?”

You sigh. Nervous Pam is not good for anyone. “The last thing he recalls is the last days he was human…. When we met. He knows what he is but not who.”

Pam’s voice quakes, and you can’t tell if it’s anger or fear. “Bill set him up.”

You raise a brow. “I had an inkling. What did he go there for?”

“Some new coven of fuckin’ witches in Shreveport. Rumored to have been practicin’ necromancy.”

Your blood runs cold. “And Bill sent him in alone?”

“Probably knew it was a trap, too. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to get rid of Eric.” Her hatred of Bill is palpable, even through the shoddy phone connection. “If the AVL finds out, they might sign off on assassinating Eric.”

“Alright.” You scrub a hand down your face. “Thanks Pam. I’m gonna take care of him”

“Y/N… be careful. I don’t trust Sookie.”

Said southern belle is trying to covertly look at you through the window and you turn away.

“You know I will.” A pause. “And Pam?”

“You get all mushy with me and it’s just gonna piss me off.”

You laugh for the first time that night. “Just do me a favor and don’t worry.”

The line disconnects, and you know she’s worrying. From inside the house, Eric smiles at you, dopey face swaying ever so slightly in the window frame. You look at the sky, wishing you didn’t know there was no such thing as God.

“Fuck my life.”

-------

True Blood Masterlist | Send me an ask!

#Eric Northman x F!reader #true blood #vampire #imagine #female reader #reader x Eric Northman #true blood imagine #Eric Northman imagine #reader is some sort of mythical being #idk what #use your imagination #sookie stackhouse #bill compton #pamela swynford de beaufort

70 notes · View notes

diazbuckleydreamer · 15 days

Text

The Prize for Bad Behavior

Chapter 1: What are you going to do about it?

“I know why he’s acting like this. I just don’t know what to do about it.” Eddie sat across the glossed over wood bar table from Tommy. His pint glass hadn’t left his hand for more than a few seconds since the waitress set it down in front of him ten minutes ago and he looked more annoyed than Tommy had yet to see him. They’d just finished up the pick up game on the west side. A game they had easily dominated. They should be in a great mood. But their happiness over the game was being greatly overshadowed by the nasty attitude they’d both been on the receiving end of from Eddie’s best friend.

“You do?” Tommy questioned his eyebrow raising enough that he could feel the pull on his face. Still clearly irritated, Eddie gulped down more beer before coming up for air. His face twisted up into a scowl.

“Of course I do! I know Buck as well as I know myself.”

Tommy had no doubt about that. One of the very first things that Tommy had picked up on when Eddie and him began hanging out, was that he and Evan were attached at the hip. But Eddie’s own admission, the two were each other’s everything. And what Tommy didn’t understand, was how neither man had figured out that everything meant madly in love. He’d seen it a million times in his life. It was a common thing especially among gays. Two people who were best friends, trying so hard to convince themselves that’s all it was. But Tommy had a suspicion that in this case, the two men truly had no idea.

“He’s jealous!” Eddie’s words had Tommy pausing, glass halfway to his mouth as he looked over the table. For a moment, the words had made Tommy believe he’d been wrong, and that at least Eddie was aware of the feelings between them. But a quick assessment of the younger man’s face showed nothing more than surface level irritation.

“What could he have to be jealous of?” He asked, moving to drink his beer. Hoping that the move would hide his interest in the subject, which he was sure was obvious on his face.

Tommy wasn’t entirely sure where his interest lied at that point. There was a moment after the cruise ship rescue, where Evan had looked at Tommy with so much love and happiness and appreciation in his gorgeous blue eyes, that Tommy had sworn Evan was attracted to him. It was a thought that Tommy had felt was confirmed when Evan had gone to Hen to get his number before calling him up and asking him for a tour of the Air Support Hangar. But ever since that day, it had seemed like Tommy had been way off track. Evan hadn’t reached out at all. Not even bothering to reply when Tommy had sent him a text asking if he’d enjoyed his tour. What was more, the basketball game had been the first time Tommy had seen the adorable firefighter since that day, and he’d acted like both Eddie and Tommy were bugs on the bottom of his shoe.

And then, there was Eddie. Tommy couldn’t deny that the man was a knockout. He was hot, a ton of fun to be around, they shared a lot of interests and genuinely just enjoyed each other’s company. Tommy couldn’t deny he was excited every time he knew they were going to be hanging out. It felt just the same giddiness he had with past romantic partners. But despite the fact that Eddie had a tendency to flirt seemingly without realizing it, and a late night admission that he took the path in life he did solely because it had been what was expected of him, Tommy still hadn’t gotten solid indication that Eddie would be open to him making a move. So, he hadn’t.

Tommy watched the irritation melt off Eddie’s face at his question. It was replaced by a look of mourning. Eddie sighed. “He gets insecure.” He told him. It was the last thing Tommy had expected him to say.

“Insecure?” He parroted. “He’s good looking, sweet, from what I hear he’s a damn good firefighter. What is it he’s insecure about? I mean, clearly he knows he can’t be replaced. Especially not in your life.”

Eddie thought it over for a moment, the sad look on his face deepening. “He doesn’t know that.” His friend’s sexy brown eyes met his expectant gaze for a long moment, drilling in the overwhelming truth in what he’d just said, before flicking down to the table. “There’s a long and really messed up story behind it. But Buck doesn’t believe he’s enough…for anyone. I’ve tried so hard over the years to convince him otherwise. And he’s a lot better than he used to be, but-”

“Let me guess, but when it comes to you and your friendship, his jealousy is easily spiked.” Eddie’s attention snapped back up to him, disbelief clouding his eyes.

“Yeah. How’d you know that?” This was one of those moments, where Eddie spoke to him in a way as adoring as Buck’s gaze after the rescue. It made Tommy’s stomach drop a little. Like when the helicopter caught a slight down draft. Noticeable but not overwhelming.

“Because people are unreasonably protective over the things they love the most.” Tommy answered lightly. He knew that after only knowing these two men for a couple of weeks, that it wasn’t his place to interfere. Especially after Evan and Eddie had been tap dancing around the subject for years. But as a man who finally felt comfortable in himself and his sexuality, he couldn’t let two men who were clearly head over heels for each other, miss their opportunity because they refused to see it. If there was one thing that Tommy could do as Eddie’s friend, it’d be to lay this out for him.

Surprisingly, Eddie didn’t some much as a blink at Tommy’s words. A knowing expression pressed his features. “I know that better than anyone.” He muttered more to himself than his friend. “That’s why I’ve never told him that I want to be with him.”

When Eddie finally got the courage to meet Tommy’s eyes, it took a moment for him to actually see the smirk being offered his way.

“You knew?” He questioned. Tommy couldn’t help but laugh.

“Of course I knew. I mean, it’s pretty obvious-well, to everyone but you two apparently.” Eddie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, giving Tommy the chance to compose himself. With a sigh of resignation, he threw caution and common sense to the wind. “Why do you think I didn’t ask you out on a real date?”

Eddie’s jaw snapped shut, his brows pressing together in confusion as he assessed the man across from him. Tommy knew he was questioning whether or not it was a joke, so Tommy met his gaze head on. “You wanted to ask me out?” Eddie finally asked. His tone not just level, but even holding the tiniest bit of teasing. Tommy’s stomach dipped again.

“Of course I did!” Tommy threw back playfully. “Come on Diaz, you’re a good looking dude. And a shit ton of fun to hang out with. Why wouldn’t I be attracted to you?”

Eddie let out an exhale that sounded a lot like a laugh from where Tommy was sitting. “Damn. And here I thought you kind of had a thing for Buck. I mean, I saw the way you were looking at him on the boat.”

Tommy’s teeth sank into his bottom lip. “I am.” He admitted before shaking his head. “Well, I was. But, you and I both saw how much he despises me.” His words took on a regretful tone that sobered both men a little.

Tommy wished he and Eddie would keep playing around and joking. In another world, Tommy would take this and run with it. He’d flirt, buy Eddie a drink or two. They’d hang out, hit it off, and maybe if Tommy were lucky, he’d be lucky enough to score a kiss before getting in his car and driving home.

But this wasn’t that world.

In this world, whether it was a stated thing or not, Eddie belonged to Evan. Tommy would respect that dynamic. Even though he’d admitted his feelings for Eddie, and Evan for that matter, he knew he wouldn’t act on it. Because he’d already gotten in between the two men more than he should have.

“He doesn’t despise you.” Eddie argued. “He just doesn’t know you. All he knows is that I keep hanging out with you instead of him.”

“Why do you?” The words flew out of Tommy’s mouth before he could stop them.

Eddie polished off his drink before responding. “Because I like you too.” He admitted. “And…the truth is it’s getting hard to be around Buck and ignore how I feel.”

Having the hot guy you're hanging out with pine over another man right after saying he likes you normally wouldn’t go over very well. But for some reason, Tommy actually felt honored that he’d been looped into the same statement as Eddie’s love for Evan. It somehow told him that Eddie was really into him.

“So, just tell him how you feel.” Tommy offered before downing the rest of his drink. “I know you think it’ll ruin things, but it won’t. I know it isn’t my place, but if the shit that went down on the court today says anything, it’s that he feels the same way.”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing. But I couldn’t bring myself to address it after his behavior. I don’t want him thinking that he can get his way by throwing a temper tantrum.” Timmy couldn’t help but laugh, loud and hearty at the statement.

“I can get behind that.” He said finally.

A look of pure astonishment lit Eddie’s face suddenly. “I’ve got it!” He told Tommy as he flagged down their waitress. Tommy did nothing to hide the curiosity and confusion on his face.

“What?”

Eddie handed the waitress a twenty to cover their drinks and told her to keep the change before pushing out of his chair. “Buck keeps forgetting, I’m a dad. I know how to handle a kid having a fit. I know how to give him what we both want while punishing him at the same time, but I need your help. You game?”

The mischief in Eddie’s eyes was something he hadn’t seen since the night of the rescue and it turned Tommy on to no end. Standing, he stepped around the table and up to Eddie. “I don’t know where you’re going with this. But I’m in.”

#buddie #eddie diaz #911 abc #evan buckley #911 #buckley diaz family #buck/eddie #911 fanfic #keep tommy!#buck x tommy #eddie diaz x tommy kinard #buck x tommy x eddie

30 notes · View notes

malarkgirlypop · 5 months

Text

This is for you! (Webster x F!Reader)

Well hello and welcome. This is a random fic I did based on a post about shooting hoops. Confused? So am I ahahahahah. Enjoy this one shot, and let me know what you think!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters.

Tag list: @next-autopsy @panzershrike-pretz @xxluckystrike @bucky32557038ww2 (if you want to be added just let me know xx)

The young woman fought sleep as she bounced on the back of the truck next to her comrades. It had been a long journey from Noville to Haguenau. The chill of the wind whipped at her face as she tucked her nose into her scarf to keep her warm.

A cherry voice pulled her from her drowsy state. Looking to the back of the truck where a man stood. She recognised him, David Webster. They had met briefly in Holland when she had come as a replacement. They only spoke a couple of times before he was injured and sent back to hospital. That was only four months ago but it had felt like a lifetime.

He looked clean and healthy. A sparkle of life still in his eyes. She couldn’t say the same for herself or the other soldier’s who had been in Bastogne not long before. They had all lost the shine in their eyes, replaced with dull far away looks.

Webster made his way into the back of the truck, making conversation with the young private

Jackson who he sat beside. Joe, who she sat close to, joined the conversation with passive remarks.

“We left Holland four months ago.” Lieb commented. Unlike the other men they had known, when Webster was carted off they never saw him again. The other soldiers including the young girl made an effort to return as soon as possible to their friends to join the fight again. Knowing that they were so low on everything, including soldiers themselves.

Webster looked shocked by Joe’s harsh remarks. Before carelessly bringing up names of the men who they had lost. Webster pissed her off. While they were off fighting in the coldest, most awful woods, which took so many of her friends' lives. He was back in a comfy bed with hot meals and a shower, being tended to by nurses.

He was just as bad as the replacements. Maybe even worse.

“Hey Y/N good to see you!” Webster tried to engage in small talk with the woman who huffed and walked away, not giving him the satisfaction of a reply.

Joe chuckled, walking behind the pair as she marched away. He bumped into Webster giving him a smirk as he ran after the girl.

“He looked like he was going to cry.” Joe told the room who laughed as he explained how Webster had crashed and burned trying to talk to Y/N.

“God he’s so annoying.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“Who’s so annoying?” Webster asked as he made his way into the room. Everyone went quiet, waiting for someone to answer Webster’s question.

“Ahhh, you know Hitler.” She laughed awkwardly at her random remark, naming the first bad person that sprung to mind. The other men chuckled into their hands.

“Oh yeah, no, he’s the most annoying.” Webster clearly missed the blatant lie she had told. She bit her lip trying to suppress cringing outwardly at the man. He grinned at her for approval. To which she smiled tightly back.

Y/N was thoroughly entertained, as she watched Joe and Ramirez interrogate the man for who was going to be on patrol.

“Come on Web, we know you know!” Joe pushed him for an answer.

“If I tell you, you can’t let on that you know.” Webster replied in an anxious tone.

“Secrets safe Web.” Joe lied straight to his face.

Webster spilled his guts.

“Babe, McClung, Ramirez and you.” He said, turning his gaze to the lady, leaning against the bed. She sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face, as Joe gave her a sympathetic pat on the back.

It wasn’t long till sergeant Malarkey was telling them the information they had already manipulated out of the blue eyed man.

“We know.” Earl said to Don who had started stating the names of the people wanted.

“Yeah, we just fucking heard.” Babe added as well, gesturing to the man he had heard it from. Y/N watched Web squirm as the men ratted on him so quickly. He was figuring out they had no loyalties to their fellow comrade.

Webster felt he was back at the bottom of the food chain again, somehow lying even lower on the pyramid than the replacements he had turned up with. The men seemingly didn’t appreciate his absence, but he had been injured and instructed to rest and rehabilitate. Apparently he hadn’t caught onto the memo of breaking out of the hospital as soon as he could to join the men again. This feeling of isolation he wasn’t fond of. He understood if he wanted to be respected again by the men he had fought alongside not too long ago, he would have to grovell.

He waited in line for the showers, feeling uneasy. He had just showered recently compared to the grimey faces of the soldiers who shuffled forward in line. Stepping out of the line, a guilt hung on his shoulders. Webster made his way over to the female soldier who hung around the men as they waited for a shower. He noted her hair was damp and she looked cleaner than the last time, she had showered.

Before he could reach her, Malarkey called them in. He informed them that more men from the platoon were needed, calling out Grant, Lieb, Jackson, Wynn and himself. The men were pissed as Don wandered away not looking very pleased himself.

Webster’s stomach clenched, after being away for so long he forgot the nerves that came with the patrols. The unease that settled in his bones, an unwelcome but familiar feeling.

Y/N glanced over to the new-not-so-new soldier, the look of restlessness in his bright eyes. She remembered that feeling. When she had started she always felt like she was going to throw up just before an ambush or mission. But now all she felt was tired, exhausted, ready for this all to be over. Of course the dred of missions still churned her insides but it was something that never truly left. As if she was constantly waiting, watching, listening, for something she couldn’t quite see, but knew was there. Something hiding around the corner that could jump out at any second and snatch her away.

They met for the briefing at CP. No one was pleased seeing that the only officer in the room with them appeared to be a young baby-faced man, who arrived just that day. Never been into combat or led an attack. They were doomed if he was to lead it. They needed someone with experience, not some bright-eyed bushy tail Lt. just looking to get his boots dirty. They all shared their annoyance and concern with each other.

“No way. Not on his first day.” Grant said in disbelief, trying to convince himself more than the others that this wasn’t the officer leading this thing.

Turned out he was indeed leading, Martin would be there to shadow and help the man. Which seemed to somewhat please the worried soldiers. The patrol would be at 0100 hours, it would be a snatch and grab and they were after German POW’s. It was a stealth mission, nothing rattles, nothing shines. They had been told the plan of attack before Winters dismissed them and left.

Seeing that Lieb and Grant were speaking so brazenly about Webster in ear-shot of him. They spoke loudly proclaiming that he seems to worm his way out of everything. Webster knew that this was his opportunity to win back their trust. He approached the officers who had gathered together outside of CP where they had come from.

“Sir, sir. Liebgott and I, we both speak German.” Webster addressed Winters.

“Yeah?” Speirs replied, butting into the conversation, waiting for Web to continue.

“You said 15 men. There’s 16 of us, including two translators.” He shared his idea with his officers.

Well, fine. Hey, Liebgott, you want to sit this one out?” Speirs asked the passing Lieb who was with Y/N and Grant. Lieb grinned happily, agreeing to not go on the patrol. Sending Webster his thanks and a wink. Webster smiled to himself, happy with the outcome of his plan. Now he just had to win over everybody else.

They ate quietly in the basement, no one in a very chatty mood. Y/N ate her meal in the corner, not thinking just chewing. Webster saw the lady by herself, not thinking maybe she wanted it to be that way, slid down beside her with his own dinner.

“Hey Y/N.” He smiled at her. She gave her tight lipped polite smile, focussing back on her meal. Hoping that her silence would deter the man from continuing to sit with her.

“Are you nervous for tonight?” He asked, spooning food into his mouth, waiting for her reply.

“I just want to get it over and done with.” The lie slipped easily from her lips. For some reason she hadn’t thought about the cold river they had to cross to get to and from the patrol. The thought of falling into the icy water sent shivers up her spine. She wasn’t one for bodies of water. As a girl she had slipped into a river, being carried under by the current. It was a miracle someone was able to pull her from the depths. After that she steered clear of all water.

“How about you?” She found herself asking, she presumed it was just to fill the awkward silence that lingered between them.

“I am. But I trust everyone will get it done.” He seemed more optimistic than everyone else. A smile tugged at her lips. Admiring the faith he held in the men. She admired them too but secretly. She didn’t need to tell them, their heads big enough as it was.

“What’s your role?” He asked as they ate.

“Sharpshooter.” She covered her full mouth to speak. He nodded, smiling to himself. She didn’t think she had seen someone smile so much, she had forgotten the feeling. It was rare now for Y/N to smile, she had grown accustomed to wearing a blank mask, hiding all of her emotions.

“You must be a great shot.” He grinned at her as he nudged her in the side with his elbow. A smile formed on the girl’s lips, her hand instinctively going to cover her mouth to hide it. Webster’s hand shot out stopping her motions.

“Don’t hide it.” He beamed, pulling her hand down. The gesture made her blush. She cleared her throat, shaking the odd giddy feeling that fluttered in her heart.

They chatted together while they ate. Webster had some interesting stories, it was a bonus he had such good storytelling abilities. He gestured wildly, eyes lighting up as he explained. It had enraptured Y/N, who watched intently. Becoming so immersed in his stories she could see them, reach out her hand and touch them. It had taken her mind off of the upcoming events, until they were pulled away to prepare.

Darkness fell quickly, but the moon sat high in the sky shining down, illuminating the world around them. So much for the cover of night. They snuck onto the bank, only having the essentials with them. Y/N tried not to think of the river they were going to have to cross, a sick feeling stuck in her stomach. She blew out a shaky breath trying to keep her composure.

They moved quickly, hopping into the boats. They squished into the small rubber dinghy. Y/N kept her eyes trained on the shore line, not wanting to stare into the murky water below. It was a quick trip, to her relief their boat had made it in one piece. She couldn’t say the same for the last boat that tipped before they had even properly left the shore.

They crawled quietly up the bank as they made their way to the house that was their target. Moving swiftly through the dark town, they paused just before the house. Y/N followed orders flanking up the side to guard the men while they moved into the house. Her eyes scanned the houses that were shrouded in the dark, her gun at the ready. She didn’t let the commotion of the snatch break her concentration.

She ducked down further into the bushes as machine gun rounds fired beside her. Standing from her position she shot back.

“Y/L/N fall back! We’re moving out!” Martin called her from her spot. She ran up the rear of the group keeping her head low. Everyone fell back as more gunfire pelted around them. Mortar shells hitting the ground with tremendous force boomed around them, as they all B-lined for the boats. Lt. Jones finally blowing the whistle for their men on the other side to hold suppressing fire. So that the team could return back safely.

Y/N leaped into the boat helping the other men in as well. Grabbing Webster’s hand to pull him in.

“Move, move! Let’s go.” She yelled seeing that the boat was full. The men pulled the line, moving them back across the water. Y/N eyes trained on the shore, almost there.

The rope they were pulling caught on Y/N’s jacket, being perched in the rear of the boat it dragged her back. Her hands shot out trying to grasp anything to keep her inside the boat. A scream left her lips as she toppled into the freezing river.

The water so cold she couldn’t help but gasp, drawing water into her lungs. It burned as it rushed down her throat. Clawing at the water to reach the surface. Desperate to clear her lungs from the burning liquid. Her heavy uniform dragged her down further.

Hands plunged down gripping her by her collar, hauling her to the surface. She choked and spluttered on the air. Coughing wretchedly, her lungs yearning for oxygen. She was pulled back into the boat. A familiar face looking worriedly down at her. Webster had pulled her from the water.

“I got you! You’re ok!” He yelled over all the noise, as she still gasped for air. They finally made it to the shore. Y/N still struggling to breath and shivering so hard her bones were clacking. Webster carried her into the house. Placing her on the ground. Y/N turned over on her hands and knees, she was coughing so hard she felt like she could puke.

“Get out of these clothes.” He told her, over all the chaos that was happening around them. Y/N nodded.

“Webster, I need you here.” Martin yelled at the man, as he tried to shout at the German POW’s. Webster didn’t move immediately, still hovering by Y/N.

“Go, go. I’m fine.” She waved him away, pulling off her sodden clothes. Babe seeing what had happened had brought over fresh clothes and Skinny had given her his blanket that he had been using.

After getting into the new uniform, Y/N turned to find Jackson lying on the table, screaming in pain. All she could do was watch. Gene rushed in, moving the boy onto the stretcher. They hadn’t even made it out the door, when another shell hit. Causing everyone to duck for cover. She watched as Jackson choked on his blood and then falling limp onto the stretcher. Gene shook his head, his stare heavy. Jackson had passed. That night Y/N held the men she loved close, as they mourned the loss of their friend.

They had made their way back to base. Sitting in silence. Y/N mind wandered to the bright blue eyes that had peered down at her with such concern. She hadn’t had the chance yet to thank Webster for saving her.

At that moment Webster and Jones walked back into the room, after having dropped off the POW’s. They all were forlorn as they had been told there was to be another patrol tonight. The thought shook Y/N to the core. She didn’t know if she could, she was sure if she was to ride across the river again she would be overcome with panic. She would be a state that couldn’t function, let alone perform a patrol.

She stood from her position. Approaching Webster who lent on the rails of the bunk.

“Can I talk to you?” She asked hesitantly. He nodded following her out of the room. “I just wanted to thank you for saving me last night.” She smiled, a genuine smile.

“Y/N of course I saved you, you would do the same for me.” Webster seemed shocked, he didn’t expect thanks for pulling her from the water.

“I guess I would, but still I wanted to show my appreciation.” She lent forward, placing a kiss to his cheek. Webster gawked at the girl who rushed away quickly, his cheeks flamed pink as he placed his hand to where her lips had been moments ago.

Thankfully for Y/N the patrol had been botched. Winters, not wanting anymore loss of life, told the men they would have a good sleep tonight. That in the morning they would report they made it over but without being able to successfully capture any prisoners. Everyone was ecstatic, Y/N was so relieved she turned and hugged the closest person to her, squeezing them tightly in her arms. The person wrapped their arms around her back, heart beating wildly as he held her back. After pulling away the pair looked like strawberries, with their faces flaming red.

After they had finally moved off the line, Webster and Y/N had become fast friends. As time passed they weren’t easily separated. They were often teased, mostly by Lieb, at how they were so in love. The pair brushed it off. “I just like him as a friend.” Y/N groaned as Lieb taunted her once more with the song he thought he was so clever in singing.

“Webster and Y/N, sitting in a tree, k i s s i n g, first come love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in the baby carriage.” Lieb sang with his smug looking face. Y/N swatted at him, missing terribly due to how drunk she was. They had found their way into the eagle's nest, Hitler’s personal holiday home. The Germans had finally surrendered and Hilter himself was dead. Good riddance, Y/N thought as she tipped more wine into her mouth, puckering at the taste. She had never been a drinker but the news of the war finally being over caused for celebration.

Lieb stood smiling, swaying slightly on his feet, “To you my good friend!” He raised his bottle in the air, as Y/N did the same with a cheer. They clinked the bottles together, tipping their heads back to gulp the alcohol.

“I’m so fucking drunk.” Y/N giggled, the room spun around her. Putting her bottle down on the ground, she stood. “I need to find someone?” It was a question, did she? She wasn’t sure, she had an urge to find someone, but she couldn’t remember who. She wandered away leaving Lieb sprawled on the couch. She wandered around, looking for someone, or no maybe something.

Big french doors caught her attention, the view that lay just behind it was spectacular. The big blue lake that glistened in the warm sun, the rolling mountains either side covered in lush forests. She swung the door open, stepping out on the balcony. She tilted her head back drinking in the rays of sun that danced on her skin.

“Enjoying yourself?” She heard to her right, her eyes flew open landing on the owner of the voice. Webster sat in a chair book in his lap. A wide grin pulled onto her face, “I was looking for you!” She cheered, rushing forward. But in her drunk state her brain was moving slower than her body. Her foot catching on the leg of the chair that sat opposite Webster. She flew forward, landing in the man’s lap. She roared with laughter as she held onto him.

“Always saving me huh?” She grinned, booping the man on his nose. He chuckled, looking at the very clearly drunk girl on his lap.

“Didn’t you know I was a knight in shining armor?” She threw her head back laughing at his joke. She focussed back onto the man’s face in front of her. Her eyes scanned over his features. His bright blue eyes gazed back at her, making her heart flutter. She couldn’t help herself, reaching out ever so gently tracing his face with her fingertips. He stilled, as she softly touched his face. Webster wondered if Y/N could hear his heart drumming in his chest.

“Webster.” She whispered, their faces inches apart. “I think I like you.” She confessed suddenly. The drunk haze that held her vanished. She had never felt more sober.

“I like you too, Y/N.” He said sweetly, but he didn’t quite get the meaning behind her words.

“No, Webster, I like you.” She repeated herself, putting more emphasis on the words. He nodded looking lost. She laughed, shaking her head. She pressed her lips to his. He was startled at first, eyes wide, looking down at Y/N as she kissed his lips. It had finally clicked in his brain. Oh she likes me! He moved his lips against hers. Cupping her face in his hands, he deepened the kiss. She clung to him, pulling herself nearer to the man. She opened her mouth as their tongues met, dancing together. Y/N pulled back grinning at the man.

“Does that make sense?” She asked teasingly, Webster still slightly baffled, nodded his head. They kissed again, tenderly moving together.

Y/N never had felt more content, lying in Webster's arms as he read to her. They lay on the chair in the sun, his arm draped lazily around her side, his fingers tracing shapes over her hip as he read. She closed her eyes, head against his chest, she could hear his voice from deep in his chest and the steady thrum of his heart.

—-----------------------

“Batter up!” Buck motioned for Webster to step up to the plate. Y/N and Webster had been secretly-not-so-secretly dating after their kiss on the balcony. Everyone was happy for them, apart from the threats from the men, “If you hurt her, I’ll feed you to the fishes!” Lieb had marched up to him in an intimidating manner, prodding him in the chest with his finger. They all had been very supportive of the pair. They were teased constantly about it but they laughed together.

Webster approached the plate, readying his bat above his head, getting into the correct stance. He looked over to where Y/N sat in the grass waiting for her turn next to bat. He gave her a sly wink, “This is for you.” He called as the other men shook their heads at his cringey gesture. Y/N stifled her laugh behind her hand giving him a thumbs up.

“Come on PeeWee let’s get Webster.” Buck called, the men cheering in response. The pitcher threw the ball, it arched nicely as Webster eyed it up. He swung but didn’t make contact with the baseball, Buck catching it behind him.

“STRIKE ONE!” Buck yelled. Y/N facepalmed as the other men roared with laughter. Readying himself again.

“This one's for you!” He pointed the bat in Y/N’s direction. She laughed, throwing her head back. The other men gave playful boo’s. Another great pitch and Webster swung again, ensuring he had his eye on the ball.

“Swing and a miss!” Buck yelled, catching the ball again. Webster stood dumbstruck, how had he missed that. Everyone howled with laughter, including himself, as he scratched his head nervously.

“Next one you’re out. Web!” Buck warned him. He gave a nervous chuckle. He really had to pay attention. Y/N watched hoping her wouldn’t dedicate the hit for her, it seemed to be putting the poor man off.

“Ok, this time, this one is for you!” He said less confident than when he had started. She clapped, cheering, “You got this one Web!” Trying to hide her embarrassment for him.

She hid behind her hands, peeking through her fingers as he got ready. Placing the bat behind him, crouching down slightly. The ball was thrown by the pitcher, it soared through the sky, the group collectively holding their breath. Surely he would hit it! Dejected sighs came from the group.

“STRIKE THREE, you’re out.” Webster looked upset, dropping the bat and shuffling away from the plate. Y/N ran up giving him a hug and a kiss. “Aww next time Web.” She teased the man she loved.

It was her turn to bat, Webster watched her get prepared, swinging the bat behind her head. The ball was pitched, she swung. A crack echoed as the ball was hit away by Y/N. It soared over the heads of all the men, all the way to the back of the field they played on.

“GO Y/N GO!” Webster cheered, she dropped the bat. Sprinting from base to base, stopping hesitantly on the second base. The ball was being thrown back home in quick succession.

“Take it all the way, Y/N!” Webster cheered like a proud dad would. She ran as fast as she could, Lieb close behind her, reaching out to touch her with the ball. She dived onto the home base. Lieb followed her down, as they landed in a heap of limbs. They look up at Buck waiting for the answer.

“SAFE!” He called. Y/N squealed in delight, blowing a raspberry at Lieb, who just laughed. She sprung to her feet, and jumped into the arms of Webster. “That one was for you!” She said as she pressed her lips to his.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war #david webster #this one is for you #love you web #you silly billy #Kermit the dog #man

76 notes · View notes

floral-force · 1 year

Note

Hiiiiiii it’s me again to annoy you with another ask! Usually you see Din being the dense one not getting the hint about reader’s feeling for him, how about the other way round, denser than beskar, the reader just doesn’t pick up or getting on ANY of the hints or actions poor Din is doing ( which A Very shy Din think he’s doing a good job showing them about his intention ). Reader is someone just hitching a ride to Tatooine to stay with her Aunty Peli for a while. Thank you! <3

okay I am so sorry this took forever for me to respond to. my adhd brain is messy. I can only hope that my (fluffy) take on your request hits the spot. I think our tin can man definitely has the potential to be awkward and clumsy, and I love the thought of reader being oblivious. so, here it is!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Denser than Beskar - Oneshot

din djarin x gn!reader

summary: Your beskar-clad taxi pilot is an awkward man, and you decide it's due to his limited social interactions. Under the armor, a nervous Din Djarin thinks his flirting and hints are obvious. Will he be able to share his feelings before you're lost to the sands of Tatooine?

words: 2.2k+

warnings: none, but my blog is entirely 18+. no minors.

read on ao3 | fic masterlist

You sat in one of the co-pilot’s chairs in the Razor Crest, reading something on the datapad in your hands. The blue shades of hyperspace cast a rather soothing glow throughout the cabin, the gentle thrum of the engines an accompanist to your periodical yawns. You wiggled the toes of your boots from their perch on the edge of the control panel. A square button blinking red caught your tired eyes and you sighed, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. It was getting harder and harder for your eyes to stay focused on the glowing white letters, and you found yourself needing to reread sentences and, eventually, entire paragraphs.

A heavy rhythm of clangs on the ladder made you sit up straight and drop your feet to the floor. You’d already been scolded once before for resting your boots on the control panel and didn’t intend on making the same mistake twice. The Mandalorian walked behind you, rummaging around for something, metal clanging around and distracting you even more from your reading. He let out a modulated, frustrated huff that was quickly replaced with a satisfied hum after a few moments. A gloved hand brushed across your shoulder and the back of your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. You kept your eyes trained on your blurry datapad, furrowing your brow.

Your beskar-clad taxi pilot sat in his worn chair in front of and to the left of yours, a grunt making you turn your head. He was bent forward over the control panel, a screwdriver turning in his steady hand.

“What’re you doing?” You inquired, holding your datapad in your lap, cheek still resting in your palm.

He startled and the tool went sideways, a loose screw falling to the ground and rolling towards your feet. You bent over to pick it up, and his fingers brushed over yours.

“Oh, oops!” You laughed nervously, fingers fumbling with the tiny thing. You looked up as you straightened and noticed that he was staring at you—or was he? His eyes could move under the helmet, he didn’t need to move it every which way.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, holding out his right palm. The left clenched the screwdriver in a vise grip that you only noticed because of the creak of his leather glove.

You smiled at him, placing it gingerly in his hand. “Happens all the time. I’m always chasing after random parts for my aunt.”

There was silence as he got back to his task and you to yours.

“Do you—” The Mandalorian cleared his throat, “Do you like working with her?”

You shrugged, eyes barely registering the Aurebesh in front of you. “It’s alright.”

There was a modulated exhale—a chuckle? —and you looked over at him quizzically. “What?”

“I just can’t see someone like you repairing ships and rewiring droids,” he said, another screw loosened and falling into his large hand.

You turned your chair to face him again, back and neck straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His beskar helmet snapped to look at you, screwdriver frozen. “I didn’t—I meant—”

“Go on,” you urged, interrupting his stutters.

He sighed and dropped his hand to his lap and tilted his head back. Blue streaks melted together on his helmet and armor, capturing your eyes’ interest more in five seconds than your datapad had in what felt like hours.

“I meant to say that you’re too—”

His words were interrupted by a rapid beeping, and he immediately got up, tools still in hand, dashing to the ladder. All you did was watch him with a stern face as he tossed the stools on the seat to his left, then climbed down the ladder to the hull, visor catching your eyes and then dropping to the rungs underneath him. You rolled your eyes and turned off your datapad, deciding to finish it at some point during your visit with your Aunt Peli.

Who did this guy think he was? You shook your head and folded your hands over the dark screen in your lap. You didn’t even acknowledge him when he climbed back into the cabin, opting to keep your eyes trained on the hypnotic blue shades swirling around the ship. The small green baby gurgled as the Mandalorian placed him in the pram nestled behind your chair. How someone so broad, intimidating, and gruff could have a child was beyond your understanding; all you knew was that your aunt loved the tiny creature almost as much as he did. He’d mentioned it in passing, his voice and phrasing awkward. It had struck you as odd that someone so imposing could be so unsure. You hadn’t paid it too much mind, though. You’d brushed off his awkward attempts at conversations and the way he tapped your shoulder to get your attention, chalking it up to his relatively solitary lifestyle. You understood, though, why your aunt liked him—he was capable, no-nonsense, and had an occasionally funny quip. The journey with him hadn’t been uncomfortable despite his social stumbles, and he’d been making sure you were comfortable and taken care of the entire time.

His comment in the cabin was the first one that had made you feel slighted. Although you were grateful he’d waited until now to make a snide remark, you were annoyed that your positive perception of him was marred. Your aunt had complimented him up and down, quelling all your anxieties about him, saying she trusted him with her life. Your bubbly aunt would be disappointed to hear about this, and a part of you debated telling her, especially since he was so awkward and fumbled many of his interactions with you.

The creak of old leather yanked you out of your head—probably for the best, you figured. The Mandalorian took his place in the pilot’s chair, turning to look at you. He seemed to hesitate, helmet quickly tilting down then back up. You caught the way he clenched his fist and heard him clear his throat.

“I’m dropping out of hyperspace. Strap in.”

You raised your eyebrows and did as told. “No ‘please?’” you teased, a little annoyance underneath it.

“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He turned back to the control panel without another word.

When you opened your mouth to apologize for the smart comment, he pushed the blinking button and the ship dropped out of hyperspace with a whoosh, the beige planet of Tatooine in full view against the black backdrop of space. You were pushed forward with the sudden change in momentum, and the Mandalorian turned to look at you after an “oof” escaped your lips. You assumed he was checking on the cooing baby behind you, but when he didn’t change his gaze, you nodded to assert that you were fine. It was only then that he turned back and began the landing protocol.

Your heart buzzed as you descended into your aunt’s hangar, her mop of curly hair moving below and arms guiding the Mandalorian. Upon touchdown, the engines started to grind to a halt, gloved hands pressing a few more buttons and flicking a switch on the control above. Before you could move, the Mandalorian was unbuckling your safety belts, his hands deft but nervous. You looked at his helmet, the visor avoiding your eyes until he was finished.

You rose and stared at him, gripping your datapad in your hands. “I, um, I guess this is it,” you shrugged.

“I suppose it is.”

He gestured to the ladder and let you climb down it first, joining you in the hold a few moments later with the baby in a satchel across his body. You stood by the door, the canvas pack you’d brought with heavy in your hand. The tap of his boots on the metal floor was joined by intermittent babbles and gurgles, and you almost blushed when he stood incredibly close to you, an armored arm brushing yours. He met your inquisitive gaze with his beskar-covered one, making you squirm. He broke it to press a button and lower the ramp, bright light making you wince as your eyes adjusted.

“There they are!” Peli shouted, a smile splitting her face.

You grinned and ran down the ramp into her open arms, holding her in a tight hug. She pulled away and held your arms in her hands, taking you in. A broad shadow shaded your aunt and her gaze shifted up over your head. You turned around and stood at your aunt’s side, gulping at the sight of the Mandalorian, his armor glinting in the blazing suns’ light.

“Thanks for getting my shefele here safe and sound, Mando.”

You stared at the sand under your boots, suddenly embarrassed. Heat rushed to your cheeks at your aunt’s nickname for you—little lamb—and you hoped he didn’t know what it meant. The canvas bag was heavy in your arms and the heat from the twin suns was even more imposing than it was before.

The Mandalorian nodded, and her face lit up when she saw the green baby, reaching out for him. There was a sigh, and then an excited coo from the baby as he placed the cooing child in your aunt’s waiting hands. She cradled him close, then looked up again at the Mandalorian.

“This little guy and I have some catching up to do,” she beamed. She looked at you. “Go on and head upstairs, that bag looks heavy.”

The beskar helmet trained its visor on you. He said your name with an oddly gentle tone, immediately catching your attention. “I can take your bag.”

“It’s okay, I can do it,” you said, stubborn feet already turning to move.

Your aunt groaned and yanked on your arm, her tight grip holding you back. “Mando, are you seriously gonna let my shefele carry their own stuff up to their room? Come on!”

“Auntie, it’s okay, I can do it,” you entreated, embarrassed once again.

“No, no, he could use the exercise,” she joked. “Show him where your room is.”

When you didn’t answer, he held out his hand. “I insist.”

You rolled your eyes. There was never any room to argue with your aunt, and you knew the Mandalorian wouldn’t budge either. You conceded and handed the man your duffel, turning and walking to a door a few meters away. He followed you inside and you silently walked up the narrow stairway. Without a sound, you turned left at the landing and punched in an entry code to open a door and walked into your room, stepping aside so the Mandalorian could set your bag on the floor with a grunt.

“Dank farrik, that thing is heavy. What do you have in there?” he asked with a huff, hands on his hips.

“Stuff,” you said simply.

Yet another tense silence fell over both of you, coating the air with anticipation. You looked at the cement floor and shuffled your feet, throat suddenly dry.

The Mandalorian mumbled your name. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It’s okay.”

“It…it isn’t.” He shook his head. “I meant to say that I..I think you’re good-looking. The, uh, words came out wrong.”

You looked up at him, heat rushing to your cheeks and lips parting slightly. You exhaled a shaky chuckle. “Yeah, you definitely messed that up.” You nudged your duffel with a sandy boot. “Was this an excuse to get me alone?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I just thought you were being polite.”

“I don’t think pretty people should have to carry their incredibly heavy bags,” he asserted.

Your breath hitched when he took a few steps toward you, closing the distance. His chest was only inches away from yours, helmeted gaze never breaking away from your eyes. A shaking hand came to rest on your forearm, sliding down to hold your clammy hand. Thank the Force for the leather glove, you thought as he squeezed your hand in his large one.

“Are you this nice to all the pretty people you meet?”

The beskar helmet shook in denial. “Only the ones I like.”

You smiled and bit your lip, swinging your joined hands. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Maybe I was a little too subtle.”

You shrugged and beamed at him. “Maybe I’m just dense.”

“That too,” he hummed. You gave him a playful, exaggerated gasp, quickly breaking and grinning when you heard a quiet, modulated chuckle. There was a beat of silence, then he took your other hand in his. “What would Pel—I mean, your aunt say if I came back at the end of your trip here?”

“To do what?” you inquired, raising an eyebrow.

He ran his thumbs across the backs of your hands, shrugging his armored shoulders. “Take you back to Coruscant, or maybe take you somewhere you haven’t been before. If you’d like that,” he quickly added.

“I think that if you let her babysit that little green cutie, she’d be more than okay with it.” His shyness was endearing and making you smile like a little girl with a crush. “I haven’t been to a lot of places, so your options are very open.”

“Good to know, mesh’la.”

The term of endearment was so soft on your ears, entirely unexpected from someone as stoic and intimidating as him. You wanted to know what it meant, but you decided to let it be for now. When he came back in seven days, you’d ask him then. Judging by the way he was caressing your hands and the way his chest was nearly pressed against yours, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he’d be calling you mesh’la or reverently murmuring your name.

fic masterlist

shefele (SHEH-fuh-leh): yiddish term of endearment; means "little lamb/sheep" mesh'la (MAYSH`lah): Mando'a; means "beautiful"

tag list (join here)

@charlottetownwaffleses, @theamuz, @jellybeanstacey0519, @elinedjarin, @kaqua, @tortor-mcgee, @tizylish, @graciexmarvel, @dheet, @kalea-bane, @mymindfuckery, @bbyanarchist @hardlystrictlystarwars @hrtsforpascal

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #gn!reader #the mandalorian x gn!reader #din djarin fluff #filled request #my fic #floral answers

255 notes · View notes

cloudlessly-light · 5 months

Note

Hi. Can you write something about Emily being obsessed with Aarons arms pls …

Title: Seems you cannot be replaced (Chapter 5/7) Summary: It shouldn’t have happened, but they were drunk. It shouldn’t have happened but it felt right. It shouldn’t have happened but now it has. It shouldn’t have happened now they have to deal with it.

Or, Emily always leaves before he wakes up, but she always leaves a note. Word Count: 3,3k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, oral, dirty talk, feels

“I’m sorry.” She whispers it in the quiet elevator the next morning as they’re getting ready to leave.

He’s standing in front of her, back turned. They’re alone and Emily wants to disappear. She hadn’t counted on them being alone so quickly, hadn’t expected not to give them both some more time to digest that she left him. Again.

Guilt was seeping through her body, like every nerve was set ablaze by regret and had been ever since she wrote her message only a few hours before.

“Aaron?” She tries softly and reaches for him, but the second her hand lands on his upper arm he takes a step forward.

“I don’t need an apology.” He says just moments before the doors open and reveals the team standing in the lobby, already waiting for them bags in hand. “I need you to give me some time. You know what I want, how I feel, if you can’t give me that then you need to give me some time.”

She knows he’s right, she knows that she’s the one that’s hurting him. So she sucks in a long breath as he walks away. It doesn’t matter that she knows that she’s made a mistake, not when she could hear the heartbreak in his voice, could see the hurt in his eyes.

It was her choice, and now she’d has to live with the consequences.

“Hey, Prentiss. You good?” Derek’s familiar voice comes from behind her. It’s been a few days since Texas, since that night and Emily knows that the team’s picked up on something. She’s been tired, easily irritated in a way that she normally wasn’t.

“Yeah. Just a bad week.” She turns in her chair and forces a smile that she hopes looks genuine. “Not enough sleep, you know how it goes.”

“Is it-” He stops himself, eyes flittering quicky to the bruise that’s still on her wrist, finger shaped blues, greens and yellows coloring her skin. “Is it because of the case? Because of-”

“No this has nothing to do with the case.” She cuts him off and she can tell that Derek knows he’s overstepped. “I’m fine Morgan, really.” She stands up and squeezes his shoulder. “But thank you for caring.” Her voice was genuine now, because as much as she didn’t want her friends to meddle in her life, she appreciated that they cared.

“Anytime, Princess.”

It’s not even a week later and they’re flying to New York. Things are still strained between them, clipped words and sharp sentences that she doesn’t mind because she knows that Aaron, just like her, aren’t granted the privilege to put physical space between each other. He’s hurting and trying to cope the best he can. So she gives him that.

The second she hears about Kate Joyner she feels annoyed, the subtle dig Dave makes, the knowing looks between JJ and Spencer, it all bugs her. Jealousy she knows she has no right to feel rooting in her stomach and stays there. It doesn’t help that the woman is stunning, a copy of his ex-wife and Emily forces a joke to JJ but all she wants is to drag Aaron out of the office the blonde had just dragged him into.

The jealousy doesn’t go away, even if she manages to subdue it in between fired shots and detective Sam Cooper who she’s seen right through. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t enjoy the banter, the easiness of it. It also didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

And then the unsub stops mid-chase and shoots him, so she fires back and for a split second everything stops.

Her mind is still reeling as Cooper is being driven off in an ambulance, his blood still on her hands. Aaron is there, he shows up with Joyner but his eyes are on her and she can tell that he’s looking to see if she’s hurt, a slight franticness to him as he does. But she’s okay, gives him a nod and then he continues to talk to Dave and Spencer.

When they regroup it all makes sense. They aren’t dealing with a group of unsubs, they’re dealing with terrorists.

There’s been an explosion, and everything is chaos. There’s been an explosion and she’s been driving like a maniac to find her team. There’s been an explosion and Aaron isn’t there. Aaron isn’t there.

She can’t think about anything else, can’t think about anything other than that he is gone and she knows in her gut that something is wrong. Then Penelope tells them what’s happened and she breathes a sigh of relief because he’s okay, even as her body is filled with disgust because Kate is hurt, badly. She knows she shouldn’t feel relief, but she does because Aaron wasn’t in the car, he isn’t dead.

She’s the first one to say that she’s going to the hospital, she needed to see him, needed to make sure he was still alive.

“I’m fine.”

She hears his voice just as a doctor pushes back a curtain and she follows him quickly.

“Where are my clothes, please?”

“Lay down.”

The sound of her voice seems to surprise him just enough to make him stop.

“I said, lay down and let them do their job.” She says again, staring him down as her arms cross over her chest. To her own surprise he listens.

“Can you give us a minute?” She turns to the doctor who nods, seemingly more than happy that someone else would take over. Once they’re alone she stands planted at the foot of the gurney, glaring at him and he glares right back.

“Has anything happened since the blast?” He asks and she feels rage curse through her.

“You could have died.” She ignores the way her voice shakes but knows that he hears it.

“Emily-”’

“No, Aaron no.” She cuts him off and he sits up, his feet already on the floor before she manages to push him in the chest to keep him from getting up. It doesn’t hurt him, barely makes him budge but he stays sitting on the edge of the bed. “You could have died tonight and we are still in this mess.” A single tear falls down her cheek and he carefully wipes it away.

“But I didn’t.” He says softly and she fights a sob that wants to erupt. “I didn’t die.”

“What if I- fuck Aaron I didn’t know- all I could think about.” She starts her sentence over and over. This isn’t the time or the place, she knows that. But she also knows that not telling him how she felt was impossible, not after having thought that she’d lost him.

He seems to realize too, his eyes gentle and warm as he waits for her to tell him what they both knew, what they had been fighting for weeks now.

“I didn’t.” He whispers and closes her eyes tight, like she’s trying to rid herself of the memories. “I’m right here, I didn’t die.”

“You could have.” She repeats and his warm, large hands move to gently hold her hips, the simple touch nudging her the last bit to say what she needed. “I-I can’t lose you. I’m falling in love with you.”

For a few seconds he stays completely silent, eyes on her, face almost an unreadable and she thinks that she’s too late. But then he smiles.

“So what I needed to do was to almost get blown up for you to admit your feelings?” His words make her chuckle, even as a few more tears fall from her eyes.

“You’re such an ass.”

When they kiss it’s soft, a promise of more and for those few seconds, nothing existed but them.

But of course they’re in the middle of a terrorist attack, Kate has died, and they don’t have time for much more. The team shows up, and as they’re putting the last few pieces together Derek, as brave as he is, drives off with a bomb in a way that Emily would later call stupid.

“I saved all of us.” He defends as they all get ready to leave for the airport the next day. Except Emily and Aaron, they’re driving back.

“Yeah, you’re still and idiot.” She teases just as Aaron walks out and gives her a nod.

“Hey, you’re sure you want to drive back to Washington? I could do it.” Derek offers and she smiles because he has no idea just how much she wants to be alone with Aaron right now.

“I’m good Morgan. I’ll see you at the office.”

When she gets in the driver’s seat, Aaron is already seated in the passenger seat.

“Ready to get going?” She asks and he nods with a smile.

“Did you tell him?” He gestures to Derek who’s about to get into the car and drive away.

“No, let’s keep this between us. For a while.” She feels his warm hand on her thigh and she places her own over his and gives his hand a squeeze.

Three weeks later

They’ve been together only for a few weeks when Emily wakes up with Aaron’s strong arm around her middle. They had spent almost every night together, getting to know each other as more than friends and colleagues and she came to find that it was easy to differentiate Aaron from Hotch. She wakes up before him, something that was rare but she loved when she got to enjoy him as he relaxed against her.

She let her eyes drift over his strong arm, the comfort of the slight heaviness something she’s gotten used to. She looked over his arm, from where his fingers twitched slightly as he slept, to the dark hair starting low on his wrist that she can’t help but to gently trace with her finger. His muscle jumped and she knew he was waking up so she turned from where she was lying on her side.

“Morning sweetheart.” He mumbled, voice rough from sleep and she couldn’t believe that he was this effortlessly sexy. Still couldn’t believe that she had fought this for as long as she had.

“Good morning.” She smiled as he pressed a lazy smile against the crook of her neck where he had buried his face. “It’s still early, you can keep sleeping.”

“Or, I could do this instead.” He already sounds more awake, lips trailing from her neck to her jaw and then he’s kissing her as he shifts and she feels all of him pressing against her. He’s hard against her thigh and she whimpers slightly against his lips.

“I never thought I’d meet someone with a higher sex drive than me.” She teases and he hums in between kisses that are getting more heated as his hands start to move down her body.

They fuck lazily, enjoying each other until he’s coming deep inside of her as she grinds on top off him.

Later she finds herself watching him again. He’s making her breakfast, wearing nothing but dark green boxers that hang low on his hips and she’s almost taken back by how delicious he looks. She once again finds herself looking at his arms, how the strong muscle is hidden under soft skin, watches the veins as he sits beside her, how the coffee cup looks tiny in his large hand.

“What?” He asks, catching her not so subtle gawking with a teasing smirk.

“Can’t I enjoy the view?” Her words make him blush, and it’s another thing she loved about him. He had no idea just how gorgeous he was.

“What do you want to do today?” He changes the subject and she shrugs as her hand lands on his forearm.

“I don’t know, we could stay at home? Relax for once?” She traces a finger through the fine hair covering his arm, eyes fastened on it.

“Or, you could meet Jack?”

That made her look at him so fast he almost laughs.

“Already?” They had talked about it, but she had figured that it would be months before Aaron was ready for that. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“No.” It’s his turn to shrug. “I mean unless you’re planning on ditching me anytime soon?” He winks at her as her mouth opens and closes repeatedly. “I’m only kidding.” He stamps a kiss to her lips. “If you’re not ready to meet him, then that’s okay, it is soon. I just want him to meet my girlfriend.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said that.” She smiles, big and toothy and he chuckles.

“That you’re my girlfriend?” When she nods he moves to gently hold her neck, pulling her forward. “Of course you’re my girlfriend, Emily.”

She smiles into a kiss and when they break apart there’s not a doubt in her mind. She wants the man in front of her, she wants him forever.

“Call Haley and ask if it’s okay.”

That same night she’s coming into the kitchen just as Aaron takes the chicken out of the oven, hair still wet from her shower, body wrapped in a bathrobe. She was tired, but it wasn’t tired in the way you were in you slept too little or were too stressed, no she was tired in the way you were when you had spent hours with a three-year-old. It was the kind of tired she didn’t mind, because Jack was worth it.

“So let me be the first to say, Jack adores you.” Aaron says as she stretches, her hands high above her head.

“I adore him too. He’s such a great kid.” She goes to hug him from behind and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “But am I a horrible person if I say that I’m happy that it’s just us tonight?”

“No, you’re not.” He’s smiling when he turns around to face her. “Did you have something in mind though?” When her eyebrow raised and she gives him a look, his hands grip her a little tighter. “What about dinner?”

“I’m not hungry, at least not for food.” She removes her bathrobe and reveals the lace underwear set she’s wearing.

“Emily.” Her name is a breathy gasp and when she falls to her knees in front of him, Aaron moves to lean against the counter.

She holds his gaze as she gets his jeans off then presses a kiss against his bulge over his underwear. When she feels him jerking against her lips she smirks.

“Take off your shirt.” She says and he immediately complies. “You’re so fucking sexy.” She looks over his body while pulling down his boxers. “And all mine.” When she takes him in her mouth his knees buckle for a second.

“Fuck baby.” He husks out, fingers easily finding their way to her still damp hair. She moans softly around him, the feeling of his fingers gently tugging and gripping making her shiver as she slowly works her way down his shaft.

He’s getting harder with every second, each swipe of her tongue and every suck making him delirious with want. Then she looks back up at him, eyes hazy in that familiar way, pupils blown wide.

“So good.” He whispers and her cheeks tint pink at the praise. “I swear you were made for me, every fucking hole.” His fingers tighten in her hair and she whimper around him. Her thighs clench as she starts to bop her head faster.

She takes him as deep as she can, ignores how she chokes and how her eyes turn glassy as she works his cock over. When his hips start to jerk against her face, she wraps a fist around him and starts to pump. She pulls off him only to suck in a couple of breaths and then she takes him back in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the tip of him as her hand twists his base and Aaron groans above her.

“I want you to come in my mouth.” She pants and his jaw clenches as he swallows hard. “I want it all.” Spit hangs from her bottom lip and he wipes it with his thumb before sucking that same thumb between his lips.

“Make me come, then.” He smirks and she has him in her mouth only a few moments later. She pushes forward, keeps going until her nose presses against his pelvis and Aaron groans. Her throat contracts around him, her eyes are glassy as she looks up at him, and then she pulls back, only to do the same thing again and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

He tugs her hair again and then he fists it hard, making her gasp around the tip of him. She knows what he wants, so she sits back on her heels and opens her mouth wide. When he starts to thrust against her face, she can’t resist and moves a hand between her legs. She’s soaked, the fabric of her underwear damp and she moans quietly around his cock as he keeps pushing his hips against her.

“Don’t come.” He grits out, almost overwhelmed by the pleasure of her mouth and the visual of her on her knees touching herself. “You’re going to wait until I’m ready to fuck you.”

Emily nods, even as her fingers are circling her clit faster. She can tell that he’s getting close, hips stuttering, filthy words fall from his mouth and she’s pretty sure she’s dripping onto the floor by now. Her eyes move over him, from his face, to his chest, to his arms. She can see the muscle in his forearm tense as he grips her hair tighter. She knows how strong his arms are, how easily he pins her down or throws her around and she whines at the thought.

“Gonna come.” His hushed words bring her eyes back to his face. “You ready for it?”

She nods frantically, stops touching herself and instead focuses everything on pleasing him. He tenses just as he grunts and then the salty taste of him lands on her waiting tongue. His hips jerk as she sucks on his tip, her hand coming up to jerk the rest of him, drawing out the pleasure until he’s backing away, still panting.

“Jesus Christ Em.” He leans against the counter, hands gripping it to keep steady before he helps her up to stand. He pulls her into a kiss, pushes his tongue against hers and groans at the taste of him that still lingers. His hand moves into her underwear and when he feels the slick of her he can’t help to hum. “My my, such a messy girl.”

“Aaron.” She whimpers, her hands digging into the muscle of his upper arms. “Need you.”

“Then why would you make me come in that pretty mouth of yours?” He teases as he turns them around until he can bend her over the counter. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you sweetheart.”

He makes her come three times before he’s even inside of her, by the time they land in a messy tangle of limbs Emily’s exhausted and sated. She falls asleep with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

The next morning Aaron wakes up to an empty bed and for a second he feels panicked, but then he hears Emily humming to herself in the bathroom and his eyes move to the note that’s on her pillow.Don’t think the notes stop just cause I’m your girlfriend now. Em

#hotchniss #hotchniss smut #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x emily #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut

49 notes · View notes

hellcat8908 · 11 months

Text

Frustrated: Part Three

"What?!" Cass yells, "when did this happen?" Both turn and look at Azriel expecting an answer. "About a week ago when we were training." Az admits. "And you haven't told y/n?" Rhys guesses. "I was going to tell her yesterday, then when I got here it all fell apart when I offered to help move her dresser in. Then she avoided me the rest of the day and won't talk to me." Azriel admits. "That's why you were camped outside her door all night." Cass says realizing everything. "I can't wait to see how you fix this one," Cass says laughing, "You destroyed her furniture, I can't wait to hear how she takes that news." Az looks at Cass annoyed, "I'll buy her whatever furniture she wants to replace it, no matter the cost." "I'm glad I'm not you." Rhys admits with a smirk.

Meanwhile at your apartment you start making arrangements to move you're things from the townhouse to your apartment. After setting up the moving you decide to go into town to get some things you need. You find a dishware set you love the only problem is the blue accents remind you of Azriel, you convince yourself that will change with time and get it anyways. After finding the necessary items you head home. Along the way you bump into Feyre. Apologizing for running into her you look to make a quick exit but she stops you. "Can we talk?" She asks with concern in her voice and you find yourself agreeing. You take her back to your apartment after she promises not to tell anyone where you're living. Once inside you set about putting away your purchases and offer her something to drink. She gladly accepts sitting at the small dining table with you.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry that we made you feel like you were not equal to any of us." Feyre apologizes. "And that you felt you weren't part of the family, because you are very much a part of it." You give her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "It wasn't you or any of the girls, it wad the boys, and even then it was mostly Azriel." You tell her while fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth. "Why was it mostly Azriel?" She asks curiously. "I don't know things just seemed different lately. Seems like everytime I'd turn around he was there offering a hand. At first I thought he was just being nice but then it seemed like he didn't trust me to do it myself. The other day was the final push that caused me to break." You answer her honestly. "What happened the other day?" Feyre asks softly. "I was moving my new bedroom set in and only had the dresser left to move and he insisted on helping and I just lost it. You know the rest." You tell her. Both of you sitting in silence for a few minutes. "You're apartment is lovely, but should you want some company don't hesitate to reach out." She tells you before adding, "I know this is between you and Az but maybe give him another chance eventually." She stands and leaves you with your thoughts

You decide soaking in the bath with some wine sounds like just what you need. As you let the tub fill you light various candles before stepping into the steaming bath. As you relax into the water you pour yourself a glass of wine. You think about your conversation with Feyre. You know eventually you'll have to talk to Azriel, but today isn't that day. You close your eyes as you relax, feeling the hot water erase the tension in your muscles. After the wafer cools you towel off and put on a robe, blowing out the candles. You get dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt. You open your notebook and start writing. You don't realize how late it is when a knock pulls you from writing. You put your notebook in the drawer and answer the door. Azriel is standing on the other side with his hand raised like he was about to knock again.

Part Four

#azriel #acotar #sarah j maas #acotar fic #azriel x reader #acotar angst #batboys #acotar fanfic #fanfic

109 notes · View notes

thatredheadwriter · 4 months

Text

absolution

javi gutierrez x reader (2.7k)

Javi misses your date and has some making up to do.

A/N: This started because I was listening to MAMMAMIA by Maneskin on repeat and I couldn’t stop thinking about Javi G on his knees in front of his lady. These two love the pants off of each other (literally).

This is an NSFW oneshot for female reader with Javi Gutierrez of The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent. This work contains smut and mature language and should not be read by those under 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Content Includes (but is not limited to):

fiance!Javi

some D/s dynamics (not hardcore)

dom!reader

sub!Javi

use of religious language to describe sex (there’s a theme, idk)

oral sex (male + female receiving)

anal fingering (male receiving), just a little as a treat

a very sexy dress (link in case you’re having trouble visualizing)

Please read at your own discretion and remember to consume your fanfiction responsibly.

10:42 pm

You’re seething as the numbers tick higher on the small clock beside the huge king-sized bed. One thing that never changed in all the hotels you visited with Javi, they all had the same shitty, annoying alarm clock sitting by the bed.

Shooting for this most recent project had so many locations–between photography, location shoots, studio shoots–and Javi insisted on being there for all of them. You’ve spent the last eight months crisscrossing the globe after your fiance and his passion project, watching him work to the bone for some sort of perceived perfection while the rest of the world turned on without him.

Tonight was supposed to be different.

Javi made reservations at the hotel restaurant for seven o’clock and promised he would be there. In all your time knowing him, he’d never broken a date with you, or anyone for that matter. But when eight o’clock rolled around, you settled back in your chair, called the waitress over, and ordered.

The mushroom risotto was delicious and the chardonnay tasted as expensive as it billed. You had the rest of the bottle sent up to your room for good measure. And now you’re waiting. Because good food and wine have sated your hunger, but not your fire.

It’s not until 11:03 that you hear the electronic click of the lock and your fiance finally enters the room. He strides in with his back to you,

“Late night?” you clear your throat and retrieve your half-finished glass from the low table by your seat.

Javi turns on a dime and his mouth falls open. Even from your seat across the room, you can practically see his pupils dilate as he takes in your form, clad in the sexiest dress you’d ever braved. It featured a false wrap-style v-neck, and for the kicker–double thigh slits. If you moved a certain way, it was clear you weren’t wearing underwear beneath.

You’d shown up at dinner dressed to the nines, dripping in the jewelry Javi had bought you over the years. And you’d left the same way. In the suite, you’d dressed down, putting your heels away in the small closet and taking everything off except for the earrings you always left in and the pendant he’d gifted you for your first anniversary–a single blue-green sapphire set in white gold that hung just perfectly at the crest of your cleavage.

“It’s the same color as the sea back home. Reminds me of you, because well, you’re my home too,” he’d explained as you had looked over it speechlessly.

“Have you eaten? My dinner was delicious,” you stand and turn your body to face the window, but your eyes stay on him.

You see it in his eyes. The exact moment he remembers the date he planned and everything he promised you, swept up in time and replaced with this crackling tension between you.

“Mi amor,” his face pales instantly as he crosses the room to you, but you hardly give him a glance. Instead, you lazily sip at the wine in your glass and circle the room to maintain your distance. “Please forgive me. I got caught up at work. I’m so sorry.”

“I waited for you, Javi,” you finish the wine and set the glass on top of a dresser, striding languidly towards the bed. “Alone in that damn restaurant.”

“Fuck, my love, it was never my intention to leave you there tonight. The shooting ran late and then the director wanted to go over some things, and then one of the actor’s agents called about a contract dispute…It’s a poor excuse, I know. I just now got away, and…Please forgive me, mi amorcita.”

“I won’t be a bystander in your life, Javi,” you settle yourself on the end of the bed and part your legs so the fabric parts around them. “It hurt me, sitting there alone. I miss my fiance.”

Javi drops to his knees in front of you, his gorgeous face twisted in anguish. “Please, tell me how to make it up to you.”

Showing the slightest mercy, you reach for him and relish the way he leans into your touch. With the softest grip on his golden chocolate curls, you guide his cheek to rest on the inside of your bare thigh. “Beg.”

So close to what he wants, he’ll never take it without your permission, even as he eyes the wetness peeking out from under the slit in your skirt.

“I want to taste you, please. I want to drown in you and feel you cum on my tongue. Let me give you as many orgasms as you can take.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it,” you muse, pretending to be distracted by something on the bedspread. The truth is, you know you’ll cave as soon as you look him in those gorgeous brown eyes.

“Please, princesa, I know I fucked up,” his accent weighs heavy with his distress. Javi’s hand traces up and down the outside of your thigh, “Let me make it up to you.”

You look down at your fiance, and your heart breaks a little. He didn’t mean to forget dinner, and you know he feels awful. Besides, he’s been terribly stressed with his new project and it’s not like you two have spent much time together lately, not like you used to.

“Okay, Javi, I forgive you. Now make me cum,” you purr.

A giggle escapes when he hooks his arms around your knees, forcing you to land back on the bed with a light bounce.

“I am so fucking sorry, mi querida,” he growls, sucking and kissing up the skin of your inner thighs. “I swear on my life, on my father’s grave, it will never happen again.”

You want to remind him that maybe now isn’t the best time to bring up his dead father, but then he swipes his thumb against your clit and all that comes out is a high-pitched moan

“Fuck, Jav,” you reach down to bury your hands in his curls and feel him nip at your skin in response.

“Never leaving this bed again,” he licks the flat of his tongue up your slit and you buck your hips up, chasing the sensation. “Can’t leave you, can’t leave this.”

Javi is a man used to the finer things in life. It’s what happens when you grow up on a huge estate, surrounded by servants, never wanting for anything. But one thing has always sated him, left him content and pliant at the end of your fingertips, and he’ll drink at it for hours if you let him.

You’re still clothed, however the dress you’d specially chosen for the occasion is just garnish. He’d been meant to savor it all through dinner, feast his eyes before taking an indulgence of the flesh, but you were never one to deny your lover. Especially when his absolution feels so divine.

From the first time he took you to bed, Javi made it a point to learn you. He was certainly a skilled lover, but over time he’s grown incredibly attuned to every little sound, every little twitch and jerk as he works you over. And he’s certainly eager.

A steady-building pleasure grows in your belly as he licks from your entrance up to your clit, over and over. Each time you can feel the proud jut of his nose bumping against that little bundle of nerves as he dips lower.

Your first orgasm comes quickly, and your fingers grip hard at Javi’s hair. But he doesn’t stop. If anything it spurs him on further. The taste of your first release drives him on and you can’t help but cry out when he sucks on your clit.

You’re not sure how long it is, or how many times you’ve cum, but eventually you’re overstimulated to the point of pain. You push Javi’s head away from your core, making him whine.

“S’too much,” you pant, “Gotta give me a break.”

At the blown-out look in your eyes, he’s worried. “Did I do too much? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, Javi, you never hurt me. M’just sensitive is all.”

You reach for him and he obliges, laying down beside you on the bed. Now that he’s finally close, you pull him in for a deep kiss, whining when you taste yourself on his tongue. When you need air again, he just kisses and nips down your jaw, still putting his mouth to really good use.

“I’m so sorry, mi amorcita,” he murmurs into the tender skin he soothes with a kiss. “My mind has just been so-so…scrambled lately.”

“I know, Jav. I’ve been a little worried about you.”

At your confession, his face falls. You know he never wants you to worry about anything.

“You work too hard, Javi,” you continue, running your hand down his exposed chest. “Too much espresso, not enough sleep.”

Your love sighs deeply under your touch, a weight lifting at your words. “I will do better.”

“Let me relieve some of that stress?” your lip curls in a smirk as your hand slips lower and lower until you’re fiddling with the buckle of his belt. Just below, his zipper is struggling to contain an impressive erection, the thought of which already has you salivating.

Javi flushes, voice raspy all of a sudden. “I still have some making up to do, no?”

You shake your head as you slip from the bed beside him into nearly the same spot he was in moments ago. “This night was supposed to be about you, cariño. I’d like to get it back on schedule.”

He doesn’t breathe as you settle into position, a serpent preparing to strike. Your hands run up and down his clothed thighs, just to feel him tremble beneath you.

“Easy, baby,” you soothe. “Gonna let me get you all nice and relaxed?”

Looking up at him, you wonder how you got so lucky. His curls are disheveled, sticking every which way from your grip on them as he brought you to ecstasy after ecstasy. Sweat glistens across his golden skin, flushed from the summer heat and more. You want nothing more than to bite his bottom lip, the one that sticks out as he pants for breath, nodding eagerly as you finally cup his bulge with your hand.

“Words,” you click your tongue at him.

“Yes, please.”

With his consent, you take your time with his belt, removing it completely from the loops and setting it to the side. Then you’re undoing his pants, careful not to pinch or pull on the skin that pushes up against his waistband. As the button pops open, you lean forward and give the imprint it left behind a kiss, and Javi shudders above you. You’re just as methodical with the zipper, pulling it down tooth by tooth until it reaches its end.

When you look back at your fiance, his face is caught in a mixture of concentration and ecstasy, eyes pinched shut as his chest heaves with the struggle of staying still.

“Javi.”

Deep brown eyes find yours in a heartbeat, searching for answers, instructions, pleasure. Whatever you’re willing to give.

“I love you.”

Immediately he relaxes, the curve of his spine returning to normal as some of the energy pent up from his day releases, leaving only room for you and the pleasure that’s to come.

“I love you too, mi princesa.”

“Tell me you want me to suck your cock.”

A groan rattles somewhere in his chest and his knuckles go white as he grips the sheets. Javi is vocal about giving you pleasure, but tends to go mute when asked about his own. But you’re not doing anything else until he asks for it. You want him to get used to asking for what he needs. You won’t let him burn himself out like this anymore.

“I want-I want you…mierda. I want you to suck my cock. Please,” he rasps, little more than a whisper.

You grin up at him as your hand slips under the band of his boxer briefs to find the weeping head of his cock. “You’re so good for me Javi,” you praise as you run your thumb through the dribble of precum that’s gathered there. “Telling me what you want. I love that, thank you.”

He’s more than ready when you finally take him out, but you still take your time. The first sloppy kiss to his head and Javi is digging his fingers into the bed below, brow knit in concentration. You work your way down to his neatly trimmed base before coming back up the other side.

Javi’s fingers thread through your hair, not insistent, just an anchor to the present. He tugs lightly when you first swallow him down, curses dripping from his kiss-swollen lips. After all your time together, you know exactly what it takes to get him right to the edge. Your tongue works the underside of him as you lazily bob up and down.

Your eyes cut to his to find them glued on yours as you work him. “Fuck, Jesus, querida, stop or I’m going to-”

You pull off of him, but your hand still works up and down his shaft. “You’re going to cum for me Javi, just like this. Let this be your final penance.”

With that you go back to your task, taking him down your throat until your eyes water. Two of your fingers gather some of the spit and precum that’s dribbled down to his base and you use it to gently work against the tight ring of muscle just a few inches below.

Javi looks divine like this. The tendons in his neck bulge as he throws his head back in pleasure. He’s screwed his eyes shut and you wish you could be in two places at once so you could lick the bead of sweat away forming at his temple.

“Wanted to- wanted to, fuck- I wanted to fuck you like you deserve,” he pants through gritted teeth. “But this is…” He doesn’t finish, because that’s when your fingers press in to breach his ass, and a low groan rattles through his chest.

The taste of him hits as you curl your fingers against his prostate. His fingers scratch against your scalp as you swallow against him again and again until he’s a shaking, muttering mess above you.

You release his softening cock with a soft pop sound and grin up at your utterly wrecked, not-a-stressed-bone-left-in-his-body fiance. As he tries to catch his breath, you rise from your position on the floor and hope Javi can’t hear your knees pop as you slide onto the bed next to him.

Javi pulls you in for a kiss and tugs you up the bed so you can lay beside of him. He doesn’t pull away until you’re firmly tangled in his embrace.

“I love you, and I’m so sorry about dinner.”

You smooth a hand over his disheveled curls. “Javi, you’re forgiven. Just don’t forget that you have a life outside of work. I will do everything in my power to support you in whatever you choose to do, but I won’t watch you neglect yourself. I love you too much.”

“I hear you. And I will…I will try to do better.”

“That’s all I ask. Maybe one day this week you can let the cast and crew have a break and we can have a do-over for dinner?” you ask hopefully.

“Yes, I think maybe Tuesday, or Wednesday. We’re supposed to shoot with-”

“Details later, Jav,” you silence him with a peck to the lips. “You never answered my question earlier. Did you get a chance to eat?”

He winces a bit and gives you a look, “I had some crackers and hummus from food services.”

“Let’s call down for room service and then you should get some rest. I plan on letting you do some more making up before you head off to set tomorrow.”

#javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez smut #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x reader smut #x reader #x reader smut #sub!javi gutierrez #the unbearable weight of massive talent #tuwomt #tuwomt fanfic #pedro boys

40 notes · View notes