#i do not have a title for this fic yet oops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harunovella · 6 days

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ every thought I'm thinking of is you; t.f.

synopsis: you never knew your parents had this much worry when it came to your college life, hiring a bodyguard for you, you just never expected to fall in love this quickly… let alone, let him be your first... content: fem!reader, bodyguard!toji, age gap, older man/younger woman, one sided love, slight obsession, reader is a little bit dramatic but she wants what she wants and what she wants is toji, love confessions, guilt, loss of virginity, pwp, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, aftercare (he is the king of after care ok), toji is a boob man, ambiguous/open ending, not beta read! note: okay but the concept of bodyguard!toji came to me a as a dream way before I wrote my leon fic where he basically becomes reader's guard... anyway, pls enjoy! I love dramatic endings, oops- title inspo (pls listen!)

Being a professional bodyguard meant being hired to protect those important, those who were wealthy. The array of politicians, actors, musicians—you name it—that hired him made his resume endless. However, this was a first. You were a first. Hired by a pair of rich folks to watch over their daughter who enjoyed her college years a little... too much.

Being careless was quite the understatement. Sure, you were doing fine academically, excelling in your classes to get one step closer to your degree... but that didn't stop you from having a full college life. Even if you weren't in a dorm. What, with the success of your parents, you lived in a neighborhood near one of the country's most finest universities. There was no need to live on campus, you could stay home.

Which is why you were always out at the wee hours of the night, not returning home until the sun rose. That was dramatic, but that was how your parents felt. You stayed up late, partied, got home at an ungodly hour and yet managed to be booked and busy the following day. No one knew how you did it, you just said it was you enjoying your youth. You thanked the universe for being blessed with beauty and brains, you weren't sure how you'd survive the life you were living.

You just never expected your habits to be this concerning that you had to have someone watch over you like the others watched over your home and parents. You were used to bodyguards... but never one who almost always showed up everywhere you went.

Toji felt like a glorified babysitter, and if it wasn't for how much your parents paid him, he would've never taken the job. He took his role seriously, he was a bodyguard and that's exactly what he did, especially when his salary was high, he had no questions. Just to protect. Even if the job was anything but easy.

He had been through a lot in his career, the many death threats, nearly taking god knows how many bullets... the scars he's earned. Yet, nothing seemed harder than watching a young woman who wanted to live her life freely and carelessly. Especially a young woman who was nothing but a flirt and a tease. Wanting nothing more than to have his attention rather than ignore his existence.

You, of course, never expected your personal body guard to be the sexiest man alive. Through and through. From head to toe. The dark, fringed hair. Those piercing green eyes that looked as if god got the exact colors of spring grass and replicated them in his irises. The build of his body, bigger than any man you had ever seen... so burly and strong. Arms so thick, muscles so wide. He was so broad, it made you salivate. You never liked men that were overly large. However, Toji? He was on another level. You wanted him. You needed him. No man ever made your mouth water or your body tingle the way this man did. All he did was watch after you, drag you home, and literally put you in your place. With the most indifferent expressions ever, almost never showing emotion even if there was a hint of annoyance in his tone when he scolded you.

Yet, you looked up at him with hearts in your eyes, his words entering one ear and exiting the other as you gazed up at him. Your focus would settle on the scar that decorated his lips, you licking your own as you itched to kiss him. He had no clue the power he had on you. You were love drunk, completely smitten, he was the man of your dreams. As pathetic as it sounded, you wanted to even marry him. He could yell at you all he wanted, saying how you worry your parents and that he isn't your babysitter, but you'd still gaze up at him with the most loving eyes.

Toji didn't know what he was going to do with you.

It's probably what got him in this situation in the first place.

He had stepped out to get some fresh air, processing the events that unraveled before him moments prior. Gathering his thoughts, trying to understand his feelings... trying to manage through all that had been going on that lead to this. He wasn't gone for long, just took a walk around the neighborhood to ease himself... he didn't expect to come back to your home with you completely missing.

He called your name several times, searching every inch of the house once he found your window open in hopes it was all a ploy. You were an actress, quite the attention seeker when it came to him. You lived to make his heart race and play with his head. You enjoyed the cat and mouse chase, but something told him this wasn't that. This wasn't a joke. This was serious. And he hated it.

"Cmon, answer me..." he grumbled, calling your cell phone, only to hear ringing coming from your bed. Shoving some of your pillows and plushies around, he growled. You left your phone behind. Did you actually leave out the window? It wasn't the first time... but you never left your phone behind.

Rubbing his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose and huffing, Toji recalled the events that lead to this very moment.

Your parents had been out of town for the weekend and you invited some of your friends over, sneakily stealing from their stash of liquor that wasn't so hidden. It was meant for gatherings or when either of them needed to lay back and relax. Your mother's best wine stacked up, your father's favorite whiskeys shelved. You couldn't recall how much you had consumed when Toji found you, kicking your friends out before handling you.

You were a bit of a klutz while tipsy, a clingy mess who couldn't seem to let go of Toji. Like a leach, latching onto him and giggling. Hiccuping as you slurred your words. You were quite the lightweight—or at least drank a little too much. Toji had dealt with a drunken you before, always handling you to make sure you didn't go home like this. He was your savior, quite the massive angel when he sobered you up enough to avoid your parent's disappointment and wrath. Another reason why you fell so hard for him.

Personal space wasn't a thing for you, you were all over him, hugging his arm, squeezing his bicep. Batting your lashes up to him, pressing your breasts against his side while dressed in that cute outfit that you'd sleep in. You had hoped to have your friends sleep over, but that didn't work out when Toji dismissed them. They were all used to him and never questioned him. Slightly annoyed, but they'd never cross a man like him. He was big and terrifying (and they knew you were head over heels for him).

It took everything in his power to keep things civil, asking you how much you had, trying to keep you from doing something you'd regret. However, that didn't stop you from pushing. You were persistent. You wanted what you wanted, and when you zeroed in on something, you'd stop at nothing.

Settling you down and giving you water, making sure you chugged it all as he went through his usual routine to get you sober, you just sat there, happily. Gazing up at him and beaming with the brightest smile, you thanked him for caring for you. Going as far as calling him a true gentleman. He knew what you were doing, it was nothing new. Sighing and running his hand through his hair, he took your hand and pulled you up to your feet, leading you to your bedroom to get some rest.

"Get some sleep, you need it," he said but you only whined.

"I'm not tired," you frowned, shaking your head stubbornly and crossing your arms like a child.

"You need to," he said sternly.

"Nuh uh! Not unless you join me," you grinned but Toji shook his head.

"No," he said your name in an almost warning tone.

"Why not?" You pouted once again. "Why are you so dismissive of my advancements, huh?"

"Because I'm a gentleman," he said, using your own words against you. This making your pout deepen as you huffed.

"I want you, Toji," you confessed, still frowning but looking away now.

"You're just a kid, you don't know what you want," he dismissed as you rolled your eyes. You've heard that plenty.

"I am not a kid, Toji. I know what I want and what I want is you." Without a second thought as Toji watched you stand on your bed, you grabbed the collar of his button down and tugged him in to you. Your lips slammed against his, not lasting any longer than a couple of seconds before Toji pushed you back.

He was in shock, heart racing and eyes wide with confusion. Not that he never saw it coming, but a part of him almost nearly didn't want you to stop. And that was dangerous. He couldn't even have an inkling of desire for you. You were his assignment. Nothing more, nothing less. You were a child compared to him. A young woman with her whole life ahead of her, barely in her 20s and kissing a man in his mid 30s. "Don't ever do that again," he warned as you blinked a few times, frowning and eyes watering. "Get some sleep, you're not thinking straight," he said before storming out, shutting your door a bit roughly behind him. Leaving you there hurt, confused, angry and heartbroken.

Snapping out of his thoughts at the not too distant memory that happened less than an hour prior, Toji cursed under his breath. He shouldn't have done any of that, shouldn't have handled the situation the way he had. Truth be told, he enjoyed your presence. He enjoyed your infatuation towards him. He liked that you were clingy and needy of his attention. It filled the void within him that he had struggled with for so long, using other women and gambling to cover it up. Who was he to have a girl like you by his side when he wasn't man enough? He wasn't the man for you. You deserved better. So much better. He wished you put the energy and effort you put into him, on to someone else. Someone more deserving. Someone more age appropriate. Not your bodyguard who was just a tamed assassin. A man who could kill and not feel an inkling of remorse.

Yet, here he was, blaming himself and chasing after you. He couldn't let anything happen to you. Couldn't let you get hurt. Not only would he lose his job and possibly his head, but he'd never forgive himself if something were to happen and he never saw you again. Wouldn't forgive himself if he never had the opportunity to clear the air. God, what were you doing to him? Never did he care this much about a client! Let alone, a woman!

You couldn't be too far, he came back right when it began to rain. If you were smart enough, you were hiding out somewhere to avoid him.

At least, he hoped.

Of course, you, in all your dramatic wisdom, were walking in the rain. Arms clutching to yourself, trembling at the cold and the lack of layers on. In nothing but your pajamas and slippers. You were being over the top, but your mind was so clouded. Not only by the alcohol, but the fact that the man you were madly in love with rejected you. Sees you as nothing more than a child when you weren't. Just because you liked to have fun in your youth. Why did you have to fall for him?

Crying as your head throbbed, barely able to focus on your surroundings, especially at a late hour like this one. You should've stayed home and just cried yourself to sleep. You were just so angry! You just wanted to leave and never see him again!

Suddenly, the sound of a booming voice shouting your name caught your attention. Looking over to see Toji exit his car and run after you, you quickened your pace. You wanted nothing to do with him, you didn't want to see his stupidly handsome face. You just wanted to be left alone, why couldn't he understand that?!

Yet, here you were, being chased by him. You knew you wouldn't get far, he was too skilled and you may have ran from him a few times in the past only to be snatched up each time. Of course, even with that lingering in your head, you still hoped maybe this time you could escape him. Even if all those other times you ran with the desire of him catching you. This time? You wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

Only to trip over uneven pavement. Lovely.

Grunting and whimpering from the sudden impact, you were ready to force yourself up and keep going, only for him to snatch you up.

"Are you crazy?!" He shouted in your face, hands gripping your upper arms as he shook you. "Do you know what time it is?! Do you know what could've happened to you?! You could've been kidnapped or killed!"

Feeling your blood boil as you panted, you pressed your small palms against him, shoving him off of you. "Get away from me! Don't touch me!" Continuously trying to push him away, Toji wouldn't budge. Growing frustrated and antsy, you acted before you even thought, your palm meeting his cheek as you slapped him.

With a low snarl, Toji glared down at you, grinding his teeth. He couldn't understand why you were behaving this way, his denial towards you shouldn't have been such a big of a deal. It was a stupid crush, he was sure. Something shallow. So why did you continue to fight him?

Capturing your wrists and pinning your hands down as he pressed you against the light pole behind you, Toji hissed, "you need to start acting like a damn adult, not this childish bullshit—"

"Make me," you spoke through clenched teeth. You were shaking from both anger and the coldness of the late night showers. You looked deep into his eyes with, what could've been read as, deep hatred. He knew you didn't hate him, but you were furious.

Feeling his heart race from the adrenaline, skipping a sudden beat from your threat, hating how they suddenly triggered something within, Toji snarled. He felt pathetic knowing he was feeling something he shouldn't towards you, fighting everything in him to suppress whatever it was, being why he reacted so roughly. Like he always did. "Stop behaving like a fucking brat. Grow up. You're a 20 year old college student. Not a 15 year old girl with a crush on her teacher. Act your age and stop thinking the world revolves around you, like you're invincible, when there are those who care and worry about you—"

"Fuck you!" You snapped. "You don't care about me!"

"Who says I don't?! I'm literally right here!" He shouted.

"You're here because it's your job and so you can get paid!" You snapped back. "You don't care about me, not one bit! You never did! I was always just a paycheck! I hate that I fell in love with you!" Instantly regretting your words, realizing what you just said, you panicked. Looking absolutely mortified, you felt Toji's grip tighten around your wrists. You wanted to melt, puddle up and evaporate. Disappear from this universe. How could you let that slip?! Sure, you had an obvious crush but never love! At least, you wouldn't dare admit that!

Suddenly, you tried slipping from his grip, thrashing around to escape, punching his chest and telling him to let you go. Practically begging him to. Instead, he loosened his grip on one of your wrists and grabbed a fistful of your hair, angling your head as his lips collided with your own.

It was far more intense than any other kiss you've ever had, the way he was practically eating your face. Tongue nearly down your throat, stealing every breath you had, saliva spreading in a sloppy manner. You didn't even think, your body acting before you could as your hands reached into his hair. Gripping and tugging at the dark locks roughly. Biting his lip hard enough until he bled, Toji hissed and landed a harsh smack against your ass, earning a yelp from you.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked in what was possibly the lowest voice he could muster. As if it was filled with anger, annoyance, worry and... lust.

You couldn't even look at him, ashamed in yourself as you shook your head, speaking in the saddest voice, "I just want you to love me back..."

For once, Toji felt off guard, his eyes widening as his grip on you instantly loosened. His chest heaved as his heart thudded against his ribcage. It wasn't even pathetic the way you spoke, far from it. If anything, he felt bad that you wanted someone like from him. And he hated that a piece of him—a big one at that—wanted to give that to you. You did a number on him and you didn't even know it yet. Even in the rain his body felt like it was on fire, as if his skin would melt off. His mind was a mess, thinking about your confession and desires. How attached he's grown to you without truly realizing it. The interactions you've shared and the small advancements made. He hated that... a part of him knew he's fallen for you, too. Quite possibly since the first interaction when he told himself you were nothing more than a spoiled brat and to suppress those feelings... when, in reality, you were nothing but kind. A little wild and youthful, but you never did anything to make him hate you. Never did anything to make his job boring. You were a lot to handle but, he liked it. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase. He enjoyed you. But, god, did it feel so wrong for you to want a man like him with such a troubled past. With almost nothing to offer.

"Fuck..." he cursed under his breath as you suddenly looked at him with pure confusion. Blinking in bewilderment. "I'm taking you to my place." Without a second thought, he lifted you up and took you to his car, driving you to his place and knowing very well this could end terribly for the both of you.

But, he couldn't stop now, not with his hand on your thigh as he drove and not when he pulled you into his place when you two arrived. And definitely not when he stood before you, towering your figure as you looked up at him with those doe eyes that made him want to fucking melt.

"Do you really want me?" He asked. "If you're not sure you can take it I rather you just shower and take my bed before I do something I'd regret."

"Toji, I want you so badly, it hurts," you nearly whispered in desperation, not wanting to lose any chances of having him. He had no idea how fast he made your heart race (or made your inner thighs ache) in deep need for him.

Stalking towards you and cornering you as your back collided with a wall, Toji asked you once again, "are you sure?"

Nodding, you looked up at him with a shaky body, desperate to feel his touch. "Yes, please..."

Toji's hand instantly wrapped around your neck, thumb and pointer finger pressing against your jaw as he pulled you in. He lips smashed against yours, shoving his tongue past them with no hesitation. It felt like he was trying to consume you, exploring every inch your mouth had to offer, moans slipping past your part lips every time he'd sloppily kiss the corners of your mouth. The shared salvia smeared as you felt yourself becoming lightheaded. Your knees were just about to give out, your heart pounding in your chest and humming in your ears. Toji's grip tightened as his free hand slipped under your now soaked camisole. Groping and squeezing at your left breast, thumb brush against your hardened nipple before he pinched it. You moaned slightly into his mouth, panting against him as his tongue intertwined with your own.

Easily lifting you up with one arm, he brought you to his bed, dropping you on it and wasting no time with undressing. He unbuttoned the dress shirt he wore, nearly tearing it off and doing the same with the shirt underneath. His shoes long gone as he tossed your slippers to a side. You sat up on your elbows, trying to catch your breath as you watched the god of a man strip before you. Sure, the suits he wore while on duty hugged his body painfully so, you knew this man was ripped. It was obvious with his towering size and broad shoulders... but to see him shirtless before you? Every line and curve, the shapes of his muscles bulging, the deep v cut and trail of hair that lead to what you needed most. You swore you were going to pass out. This was the man of your dreams, your soulmate, you knew it to be true. And now... you had him, nearly bare before you as he slipped off his pants and wore nothing but his black boxers.

Toji gripped your ankles and tugged you close as you looked up at him, wide eyed and lips parted. Your chest heaved as he crawled over you, hand pressing against the back of your head, pulling you into a slightly gentler kiss. He still chased after your lips, still desired to taste you, but he wasn't trying to swallow you whole this time. Not that you would mind. You'd give him everything if you could.

His large hands gripped your waist as he adjusted himself, straddling you and leaning on his heels before reaching for the hem of your top. Eyeing you and the haze that fogged your eyes, he took in a sharp breath. "Are you sure about this?" Hearing you hum, he shook his head. "No, I need to hear you say it."

"Yes, Toji... Please..." you begged, voice nearly cracking in desperation and need of him.

Taking in a deep breath, eyeing you once more, he lifted your top a bit to reveal your body, stopping midway before he could expose your breasts. "I won't stop until you tell me to."

"I won't," you shook your head stubbornly. "I need you."

Letting out a small huff as his head dropped, grip tightening around your top, itching to just rip it off and tear you apart, Toji bit down. You weren't like the other women, never would be, he wasn't going to just fuck you without a care. He had some decency. At least, when it came to you. He'd never admit to himself why.

Lifting your top off and dropping it to a side, Toji took your body in, your curves and every little mark that were unique to you—whether it was a scar or freckle—it was as if he was mapping your skin. You were squirming, whether it'd be desperation, anxiety, or insecurity, Toji dove in. He gave your breasts the attention they deserved, taking one in his mouth and the other occupied in his bear paw of a hand. He licked at the skin as his fingers teased your other nipple, biting and breathing against the wet skin, making you tremble beneath him.

He switched positions, moaning into your mounds in a sound you've never heard before. If you had to guess, by the way he gave your chest so much focus, how he sucked at them as if they were his life force, and the way he was basically humping you... you'd say Toji was a boob guy. Through and through, no matter the size, he just loved the feeling of the supple flesh in his hands, in his mouth... his aching dick between them, even. If you knew any better, and if Toji lost all self control, he definitely would've fucked them.

But not now, not this time. It was his first time with you, he needed to learn your body. Explore every inch of it. What turns you on, what makes your eyes roll back, what has you seeing stars.

Toji gripped at your shorts, tugging them down and tossing it onto your matching top. Kissing down your belly, nibbling along the way and leaving marks in his wake, Toji found himself nestled between your thighs. God, if there was something he loved more than boobs were a woman's thighs. Thick or not, he loved them, loved having them wrapped around his neck, suffocating him. If he had a way to go, it would be by them.

Kissing your inner thighs, making it to the apex of them, the scent of your arousal was driving him insane. It felt as if he couldn't control himself, grip tightening around your waist as his finger tips dug into your flesh. Not seeming to care of you had a barrier blocking him, Toji buried his face further into you, nose nudging your clothed clit as you shuddered. The shock that was sent throughout your body made your heart race faster as you watched him. It was like he was in a trance, even with your panties still on.

Burying his nose further into you as you trembled, Toji couldn't help but lick against the cloth, tongue nudging your bundle of nerves as your legs shook. "You better not muffle your sounds, I wanna hear it all," he warned as he looked at you, you instantly nodding. Grinning, he yanked your panties off before he pulled your thighs over his shoulders. Your pussy, in all its glory, bare before him. He couldn't help but grin at the sight, the scent driving him mad as he found himself rutting against the mattress. Truly, a woman's body was his ultimate weakness.

Purposefully tossing your panties in a different direction to keep for himself (for future—personal—use, of course), Toji dove in. He didn't even bother to give a single warning. Open mouthed, practically making out with your pussy, your head fell back as you began to squirm. Your moans grew louder the further Toji teased you. With every lick and every suck of your clit, to the prodding of your hole with his tongue, you felt as if you forgot to breathe.

Your thighs were clenching against his head, Toji's grip tightening to prevent you from suffocating him (even if he wanted to welcome it). The sounds were disgusting in a way that turned you. It was almost painful, how good it felt. The way he worked you open with just his tongue, slurping every bit of your essence that leaked. It didn't take Toji long to figure out how to make you come. It wasn't going to be the only time, anyway.

You felt completely spent, lying almost limp before him. You should've known this man was an expert, but a part of you... that was rather innocent, had believed it was going to happen once when he was in you. Of course, you should've know once wasn't enough. No. Not when he introduced his thick fingers, spreading you open, pumping deeply into you as he watched you squirm. He was nearly getting off to it, the way you panted and moaned his name, smaller hands gripping at his sheets as your toes curled. He grinned to himself, licking his scar as he pushed your legs further apart, pumping his fingers faster into you, proud of himself for making you come a second time.

"Look at me," he demanded as your eyes fluttered open. Hooded and exhausted. You watched as he slipped his two fingers out of you, soaked in your release. He watched them in awe as you squirmed in embarrassment. Toji only made it worse when he brought them into his mouth, sucking with an obnoxious groan. It was then you noticed the painful bulge tenting in his underwear, an obvious wet spot that had formed. Did he get off... to you getting off?

"Fuck... 'm not gonna get used to that. Best I've ever had. So fucking good," he breathed as you took in deep breaths. "I think you're ready f'r me."

Gulping as he stood up to strip his underwear, an audible gasp left your lips as you eyed his cock. The tip red and leaking. Oh, you definitely weren't going to handle that. It was monster sized, there was no way no amount of prep would prepare you for the girth of his size.

"Don't worry, I'll make it fit," he smirked, the twitch of his scarred lip making you let out an uncontrollable moan. He was hot and he knew it... and somehow that made it all the better.

Kneeling before you and gripping your thighs, parting them and aligning himself with you, he reached in between and coated his length with your juices, pumping a few times before pushing into you. A gasp got caught in your throat as you nearly choked. Just barely in and you were squirming. "It's— Too big!"

"Too big? You were so desperate earlier," he nearly whispered, voice low and sending a chill down your spine. He pulled back and pushed further in, the stretch stinging and bringing tears to your eyes as you bit your bottom lip. "You can take it."

"Too much— 's too much," you breathed, hand gripping his forearms as if it would stop him.

Instead, Toji laughed, pulling back and pushing in. Thrusting in and out at a steady peace to let you adjust to his size—until he began to reach deeper. Feeling as if you couldn't breathe, Toji leaned into you. Fucking you slowly and deeply, he left open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulders, biting the skin and leaving his mark behind. He couldn't help but lick at you, the sweat that was beading on your skin. You were intoxicating, he couldn't seem to have enough. All the little sounds, how you moaned his name. The way you begged. How your legs wrapped around him, keeping him in deep even if you cried that he was too much.

He lifted his head enough to kiss you, tongue meeting tongue as he moaned into your mouth. God, it was all so much, yet... not enough. You wanted more, your body craved him. Your nails clawed at his back as your heels dug into him. He bit and sucked your bottom lip, lifting himself to look at your fucked out face. Swollen lips, teary cheeks, sprawled out hair soaked from the rain. You were an angel straight from heaven sent to him. He couldn't get enough. He needed more. More more more.

Licking your tears away, deepening his thrusts as he grunted in your ear, your eyes rolled back, seeing galaxies the way his cock reached so deeply into you. You were sure he was going to mold himself against you. "Toji— I— I'm—" you were at a loss for words, mind going blank as you felt that chord within you snap. You came so hard, body trembling and overstimulated that you cried out while pulling at his hair. Toji rode it out, caressing your head and praising you as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

"You did so good, so good. My good girl. You did so good," he praised as you trembled beneath him. Feeling his own orgasm building up, Toji eyed you and nearly came at the sight of your fucked out face. He fucked you dumb, he was sure there was no thoughts in that little head of yours. "In or out?"

"In— In..." you breathed, eyes barely able to stay open as your hands fell limp against his back, lost in his locks as you tried catching your breath.

"Look at me," he said as you gulped, eyes fluttering open. He kept his focus locked on you, thrusting a few more times before stilling, coming deeply within your womb without looking away. It was almost the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You weren't sure how he did it, so enthralled by those emerald eyes, you were afraid that you'd do whatever he said with how hypnotized you were.

Staying in you for a moments worth as his forehead pressed against your own, breathing each other in, Toji pulled out, earning a whine from you. Nearly flopping on his back, catching his breath as his heart raced, he rolled to his side and snuck a hand in between your legs, feeling the way his come was leaking from you before he gathered it and plugged his finger into you. You let out a small cry, turning your face to hide into his chest.

"Can't let any of it go to waste, can we?" He asked as you shook your head. Toji moved to leave kisses down your thigh as he pulled his hand away, lifting your legs enough to eye the way his seed pooled beneath you. All the guilt was out the window with how clouded his mind was. Having you this way, you giving yourself to him even if it was all so very wrong.

He hated to admit, he doesn't remember the last time he had sex like this that wasn't a way just to fulfill himself and only himself. Instead, he was getting off to you. Getting off to the way he made you feel. Especially that blissed out expression on your face... If only he could fuck you again and again and again until—

Toji stopped himself there before the thoughts got worse. You were spent, exhausted and probably unable to move a single limb. He had to clean the both of you up. "C'mon, can't stay like this, as much as I'd love to." Patting your thigh as you groaned, he leaned in and left a few more kisses against your lips, you lazily reciprocating them.

Toji lifted you in his arms and brought you to his shower. Your body was shaking and legs were surely weak. He made sure the water was warm enough for the two of you, helping clean one another in sluggish movements (more from you and your exhaustion). Toji dried you up after, wrapping a towel around his waist as he helped ruffle your hair with the towel and dress you in one of his shirts. He sat you on his couch with a cup of water as he changed his bedsheets. Bringing you back to the bed, cuddling up against one another as you tried to morph into him, desperate for his warmth, you nuzzled his bare chest. His scent was intoxicating, your eyes falling heavy as you felt your body being carried away into your world of dreams.

"I'm so thankful you're my first," you mumbled sleepily. Toji's once droopy eyes shot open.

"I was... your first?" He asked with all sorts of hesitation. You were a virgin... and he took your virginity?

"Mhm... I was saving myself for someone special enough. Guess that was you," you said before falling asleep, deep enough to not have an inkling that your words would be the reason why Toji hardly slept that night.

Toji took you home the following day bright and early before your parents returned from their business trip. You freshened up and felt a sense of ease and happiness that you've never felt before. Ready to return back to Toji to say your goodbyes as he spoke to your parents, you found yourself hiding behind a wall as your heart skipped a beat and smile dropped at his words.

"I apologize for the late notice but I'll need to take a leave of absence. I already have a few people lined up that can take over my position," Toji said. "I'll give you their contacts."

"What happened? Is everything alright?" Your father asked.

"It's personal reasons I rather not disclose, but I assure you these people can watch over your daughter at a level almost nearing mine."

"I hope all is well, thank you for all you've done for us. Will we be seeing you again?" Your mother asked.

It was what felt like hours before Toji spoke up again, leaving you with a heavy heart that dropped to your feet at his last words, "I am unsure," he admitted. "I wish nothing but the best for you."

Those last words weren't directed towards your parents, it was almost as if Toji knew you were listening. Was he really abandoning you after last night? Did your confession mean nothing to him? Did he... use you? Your bottom lip began to quiver as your eyes pooled up at his last words:

"Take care."

#haruno writes;#jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 1 year

Text

More of You, Pt. 1

Direct continuation from the fic Wildflower! I'd recommend reading it first before this one (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

Part 2

One month since Ghost got deployed, one month since their 'date' got postponed, until Laswell called Jade to tell her that he'd gone missing in action.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC)

Word Count : ~ 7.8k words (I overdid it but idc lmao)

Warning : some angst with flufff don't worry, some whump, light gore, hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

Prompt : There's only one bed oop

Title and story inspired by the song with the same title by JP Saxe!

*****

“Ghost, give me a sitrep now!”

“Watcher-1, things are not lookin’ good-- They found me.”

“We cannot get you an exfil in that area. You need to lose them first. Get out of there right now!”

“My ammo’s runnin’ out… I can’t lose them—”

“Ghost, do you copy?!

“Ghost!”

---

It's been two months since Simon told her that he's going out of the country to go on a mission. It's honestly crazy how much she missed him already, considering the fact that they were not even a couple yet. Jade couldn't even fathom how much his presence, or at least his mere existence in the same country, meant to her. Two months felt so long. Too long.

No one to call her names, no one to ask her to go explore London culinaries, no one to go thrifting with (for Ghost's lack of variety of wardrobe), no one to have a drink while stargazing.

And no one to hug.

Well, not that she ever hugged him for more than 2 seconds anyway. Ghost was certainly not a hugger. The only times they hug were after each… 'date', they'd come in contact for a short hug, before Ghost took off.

He must've hated hugs.

Jade sighed, resting her chin on her palm at the Le Jardin floristry counter.

It was a slow day. There were a few pre-orders, but there weren't even 15 clients that came in. One hour until the shop closes, and Jade was the only person at the shop. Her employees had left, while her parents were on a trip to Asia. Honestly, it miffed her, because now her mind was full of Ghost and Ghost only.

Where is he?, she wondered.

The ringtone of her phone snapped her out of her thoughts. Jade reached for her phone on the counter, and Laswell's name was written on the screen. She raised her eyebrow at the sight, thinking of what else the CIA agent had in store for her after Jade clearly told her that she was retired.

Rolling her eyes, Jade tapped the green button and put the phone on her ear, "Kate, you can't just call me whenever you run out of people to send out–"

"Ghost is MIA."

Not even a second later, her legs brought her to the front door before she flipped the tag from 'Open' to 'Closed'. "For how long?"

"Yesterday." Laswell's calm voice continued on the phone, "Ghost going dark is not an uncommon occurrence. He's used to it, and all this time he always comes back, but the situation was awry."

"What happened before he went MIA?" Jade switched the light off, climbed the stairs to reach her room and quickly opened her drawer to change into 'proper' clothes.

"We had an intel about a hidden drug stash in South America. There was a suspicion that it might be related to the Las Almas drug cartel. After months of tracking, Ghost then found a hidden facility. He went to investigate, but it appeared that his position was compromised, and the last thing we know, he was being chased by the Narcos before the radio cut off." The CIA agent explained, her tone was stable, yet there was a tinge of guilt in them. "I fear he might be in a dangerous situation, or worse."

Zipping up her turtleneck, Jade then walked to her father's study, obtaining the key to open the discreet stash of weapons behind the shelves.

"Price and Gaz are with Farah in Urzikstan, while Soap is halfway around the globe on another mission."

She took her plate carrier, her karambit knives and their holsters, plus her firearms along with the ammo.

“I apologize to you, Jade. I truly do. But you're our best tracker, and I know what he means to you, so I notified you first.”

Putting all the necessary pieces of equipment into a duffle bag, Jade then lifted the bag downstairs, moving fast to the backdoor and made her way to her sedan, sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Your wheels are up in 3 hours and I'll brief you more on the way. Are you up for this?”

“Brief me now.”

-----

The facility was deep in the middle of a rainforest. Made of cement, hidden by the tall trees of South America, it was a well-hidden building, obviously far out of the public eye.

Hiding behind the tall bushes and her steps covered by the pouring rain, it was relatively easy for her to take a tour around the building to scout the area. Jade could at least count 12 armed guards outside, guarding the many sides of the building. They rotate the place constantly every hour, occasionally talking into their radio for reports.

Twelve was a ton of people for the building’s size, almost too much. They were in the middle of a rainforest and far from any city. The only reason they need this much guard out would be a whole pack of hungry jaguars.

However, judging by the number of Narcos' dead bodies that Jade had encountered in the mud along the way, the reason for the many guards was definitely not big cats.

Ghost.

He must’ve stealthily killed his way in, and somehow he got noticed by a guard, and they started to hunt him down with guns blazing.

Jade swallowed. The only thing she was relieved about was the fact that none of those lifeless bodies was Ghost’s. It had been 4 days since Laswell lost contact with him. Ghost being captured had the highest possibility at this point, as the guards might not be placed to guard against who’s outside.

But to contain who’s inside.

"Watcher-1 this is Sierra-4, twelve armed guards on the exterior. I'm thinking of infiltrating them from the south side of the building." Jade spoke with a low voice to her PTT, preparing herself to go in, picturing every single step of her feet towards the building, every motion of her limbs to reach the point of entrance.

"Copy that, Sierra-4, you may proceed. Keep updating me on the situation."

Just after Laswell’s confirmation, sounds of gunshots rang from inside the building. That shocked and confused Jade as she lowered her scope which she had used to scout the area. All the guards turned around to face the building as more shots were fired from the inside. She could hear their loud chatters and shoutings through their radios, panic was written all over their faces as most of them ran inside to check the situation.

Jade couldn’t quite hear what the guards were talking about as their voices were muffled by the rain, but one thing she could clearly hear in Spanish was,

‘The prisoner escaped!’

Ghost was fighting his way out.

"Watcher-1, I hear gunshots from the inside. I suspect it's Ghost." Jade spoke with urgency in her voice.

"Copy that, Sierra-4. It's your move. You need to go in and help him." Laswell replied.

"Way ahead of ya."

"Good luck."

She scoffed, half-afraid and half-amused, taking aim with her rifle again as the guards were lowered to five. It was equipped with a suppressor, and taking out the dumbfounded guards outside was an easy fit. Their heads exploded upon impact with her bullets before collapsing to the ground, leaving the exterior unguarded. It was finally time for her to get inside.

To finally see him.

'See you tomorrow, Lottie.'

Ghost had said before he softly kissed her on her cheek, promising to ice skate and eat Korean barbecue with her on the 15th of February, only for her to be left disappointed when she received a text from him the next morning that he’ll be going on a mission. This mission.

Jade gritted her teeth at the memory, "I'm going in."

Rushing forward to the entrance of the building, She used her feet to silently press herself to the cement walls, the sound of gunshots was still going, albeit muffled. It’s like the sounds were coming from below.

Basement.

Loading her HK416, Jade infiltrated the area. She perceived at least four armed people in the main room, all looking towards one particular hallway while muttering nervously in Spanish, which she immediately suspected was the way to where Ghost was. Throwing a stun grenade inside, five bodies quickly fell to the ground from her shots.

Suddenly, another group of armed narcos came out of another room from the northern side, opening fire towards Jade while she was reloading. A bullet went past her shoulder, the sound of it ripping the air around it left a ringing sound on her ear. She could do nothing but quickly hide herself from the incoming rain of bullets behind a wall. The narcos emptied their mags like their fingers were glued to the trigger. It seemed like they were not properly trained.

When they were reloading, Jade took another flashbang and threw the can to the middle of the group. Quickly canting her aim, her rifle couldn't pick a better time to be jammed, prompting her to curse and switch to the pistol on her hips on the right and picked up her karambit blade with her left.

While the guards were stunned, it became muscle memory from there. Taking out three front-most people with the gun, using another as a shield from the incoming aimless fire, slitting the throat, and then another Narco in the face with the butt of the gun before forcing her blade up to the under jaw.

Having cleared the main room, Jade huffed, quickly fixing the jammed rifle, and proceeded by silently going even further into the building.

There was a long hallway with a number of doors along them. Jade smacked one door open, only to see white-coloured blocks of drugs on a table, and judging from the colour, cocaine must be the identity of the drug. She checked each and every one of the doors and found the same things. This building was a drug warehouse; a place where the drugs were stored before their export or distribution for sale. At first, she couldn’t discern for sure if this facility was indeed owned by the Las Almas drug cartel, but when she looked upon the notable stamp of El Sin Nombre’s skull, her doubt vanished.

Jade then moved further into the hallway and reached an intersection, where another set of gunshots and screams found her ears. Her legs brought her closer to the noise, finding a stairway downwards to the basement area. She quickly descended the stairs, finding herself surrounded by a dirty, poorly dug tunnel. Nevertheless, the ex-MI6 focused on her objective and ran to the source of the sound, when she finally reached the source of all the ruckus.

She turned from a corner with her aim up on an intersection, finding Ghost with his mask on, fighting four men at once, below them were the bodies of Narcos that he had killed prior. With a knife in one hand and his own pistol in the other, he stabbed a Narco in the neck and used his body as a shield from the incoming bullets. He then threw the knife straight at his assaulter’s face as Jade saw the other two taking aim at him. Upon reflex, Jade shot down the remaining Narcos, leaving Ghost the one standing alone in the tunnel seemingly dumbfounded at what just happened right in front of him.

With relief washing over her, Jade rushed towards Ghost, finding him still standing, still fighting, still alive. “Ghost!”

Only to be welcomed by the barrel of his gun aiming straight at her.

Before Ghost could pull his trigger, Jade’s reflex kicked in and defeated her own sadness and sorrow of not seeing him for more than two months, and leapt to his side, grabbing the barrel of the firearm away from her. She then used her speed and abundance of energy to kick his ankle strong enough to push Ghost off his balance. He fell down to the ground with a loud thud on his back. Jade kicked the pistol out of his hand, before putting her whole weight to press on his entire figure.

Still, Ghost was known for his superior combat ability and survival instinct. His hand found another knife on his hip holster, ready to stab the person who was holding him down.

“Simon!”

The sound of his first name stopped his knife on its track, stopping right beside her neck – a few mere inches before blood could’ve been spilt. And just after he heard his name, he felt a soft touch on his uninjured cheek.

Jade had opened his mask, revealing his face in the open. With how skilled and lethal Ghost was as an operator, she never thought she’d ever see Ghost in this state. His left cheek and eye were swollen, and there were traces of blood running down his temple. Even though black in colour, his clothes had darker spots where only blood could stain them. He had his plate carrier and his knife holsters on, but they too were stained with blood.

And his eyes, it was filled with rampage, pure anger and wild want for blood. Yet it was unfocused, like a blind beast ready to get rid of anyone standing in his way.

Imprisonment. Torture.

“It’s me. It’s me. I’m here for you. You’re okay.” He blinked a number of times, and the red fog that had been clouding his vision disappeared, finding the face of the woman he loved right above him.

“You’re okay now. I’m here. Please, it’s over, Simon.” Her shaky voice continued, desperation filling her tone. Her green eyes were already brimming with tears threatening to fall down. “It’s over.” She breathed, hoping that somehow, her voice could bring him back.

“...Midget?”

Hearing her nickname in his deep, hoarse voice was all the sign she needed. Ghost lowered his knife, and before he knew it, Jade dropped down to hug Ghost tightly, burying her face in his shoulders. She sobbed into the side of her neck, grasping his clothes with her fingers in relief. Finally, finally, he’s back in her arms. After days of anxious and dark thoughts about losing the only man she’s ever allowed herself to love, he’s finally here, in her arms.

However, that relief was short-lived as Ghost grabbed her shoulders and lifted her smaller figure away from him. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN’ HERE?!”

That response startled her, “WH– I’M HERE TO SAVE YOU, YOU BIG BOZO!”

“YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE!”

Jade then wrestled her way out of Ghost’s weak hands, “YOU WENT MIA FOR DAYS!”

“FUCKIN’ HELL–” Trying to sit up abruptly turned out to be a big mistake as a sharp pain burst out from his side, making him grunt out loud. Noticing this, Jade held him up before he fell back down to the floor. She then glanced to his side, and there, she caught sight of a fresh graze wound on his side. Observing him further, she found a crudely tied, blood-stained bandage wrapped around his right shoulder. Judging by the sight of it, this might be the lucky shot that had subdued Ghost and made the Narcos manage to capture him.

Nevertheless, they needed to get out of this building before reinforcements arrived. Seeing the condition he was in, he'll need some assistance to even stand now. fighting off the reinforcement would be impossible. “This warehouse – where’s the supervisor?”

“I gutted him.” He growled, hatred filling his voice. She could easily deduce that the supervisor was the one who had been inflicting these wounds to him.

And so, she used all her strength to lift and help Ghost stand up. "Can you walk?"

"I can–" he stumbled to the wall, using his pained arms to support himself up. "Fuck…" It had been four days since he went MIA. That meant four days of badly treated wounds, blood spilling from the tortures, and no food. Still, he managed to escape and fight his way out, leaving dead bodies as his footsteps.

Such mental fortitude was something to be feared indeed.

"Alright, come 'ere, Big Man." Jade sneaked her hand behind his back and circled his arm around her shoulder before assisting him to quickly walk out of the damned warehouse. To hell with these drugs and the people inside.

"Watcher-1, this is Sierra-4.” Pressing the PTT, Jade contacted the CIA. “I've secured Bravo 0-7. I repeat, Bravo 0-7 is secured."

—------

Prior to arriving at the warehouse, Jade had located a rickety old cabin inside the forest. It was placed near a river far away from the warehouse. Though it’s not fully hidden, it worked well as a resting place for the night as it was pretty deep inside the forest, and of course, because there’s no way that the man that she was currently holding up could walk all the way to the nearby city.

Stepping into the wooden floors of the cabin, Jade glanced to the side where she found a single bed placed on the edge of the room. “There’s a bed there. Let’s get you down.” Straining her voice from holding Ghost’s weight for the entire 30-minute walk there, she finally sat Ghost down on the bed before he collapsed to his back, panting heavily and clearly out of fuel.

“Fuck… I’m beat.” He managed to breathe out with his sore voice.

“Here, drink some water. Drink all of it since we have a river in front.” Jade gave her own canteen to him, to which he chugged down to the last drop while still lying down.

In the meantime, Jade tinkered with her radio, pressing down on her PTT to contact Laswell.

“Watcher-1 this is Sierra-4 do you copy?”

Not long, the radio buzzed, “Sierra-4 this is Watcher-1, send traffic.”

“We’re currently holed up in an old cabin near a river about four clicks northwest of the warehouse. His radio was destroyed by a bullet, so that might be why his comms suddenly disappeared.”

A loud sigh of relief could be heard on the radio, “That’s great news. How is he looking?”

She took a glance at Ghost, who was still laying back while covering his eyes with the back of his hand. “Beat. But alive. Very lean. Injuries and wounds all over. He’d worn his mask when I found him, but…” A thought had been weighing on her mind the whole way they walked to the cabin. “If he got captured, then the first thing the Narcos did was obviously to take off his mask. Is his identity compromised now?”

“No. It’s still the same as ever. Even if they saw his face - as long as Ghost didn’t give out his name - there’s no record of his face anywhere. Every earlier visual identity had also been redacted.” Jade raised her eyebrows. So that’s how he maintained his anonymity all this time.

“That sounds like him. Anyway, we’re pretty deep in the woods. Sun’s going down, and the nearest town is around 15 kilos from here. I think we need to lay low for a while.”

“Copy that. I’ll see what I can do for your exfil, I’ll be in touch. You guys should rest for a while.” Laswell finally said, a tone of calm in her voice. “And thank you so much, Jade. I’m sorry for dragging you back again.”

Jade could only scoff at that. “It’s fine. Besides, if you’d sent out anyone else to find him… I’d be a wee~ bit offended.”

“Oh? Is this what I think it is?” She could clearly hear the wide smile on the CIA agent’s face.

“I’m gonna go patch the big man up now. Sierra-4 out.” Finally finishing her report with Laswell’s chuckle as the last thing she heard, Jade sighed, watching the strong and steady flow of the river below. It was freezing, but at least they had shelter. Now all she needed to do was keep Ghost alive and comfortable while keeping tabs with Laswell.

—

"Lottie, why are you here."

Ghost’s strained voice pulled Jade’s attention from the wound that she was currently treating on his shoulder. That crudely-tied bandage was not replaced at all after his capture and left a terrible-looking injury, which by the look of it, was obviously infected that when she’d pulled it, the skin that already tried to heal got pulled along with it.

"What? I thought I said to you already. Your radio cut off abruptly, so Laswell sent me out to find you." Jade answered, still dabbing cotton onto the lacerated skin caused by the bullet.

"Fuckin' hell…"

That tone irked her. "You sound like you don't want me here."

"That's right! I do NOT want you here!" Ghost yelled to her, making her lean back on the chair she was sitting on and stopped what she was doing. His angered face was a new sight for her.

"What?! Are you telling me to just stay back while I know you were captured?!"

“Laswell knew for a fact that this was not my first time going MIA. She did not have to tell you about it because as you could see, I got out on my own.” He told her harshly, that tone starting to aggravate her.

“You were missing! Can’t you see that I was worried for you?!” Jade countered, trying to keep her composure while he palmed his face in visible frustration, “More than two months you’ve been gone for a mission alone, and now that I finally have news about you, I was told that your radio cut off with gunshots!”

“You should’ve just stayed home and get on with your days. I never asked for you to come here.” Gravely he told her as he saw Jade’s eyes start to turn sombre. Those words came out of his mouth on their own.

Deep inside, Ghost knew what was coming – He needed to stop himself.

“I found you battered and bruised, Simon! You can’t just expect me to–”

"I don't need you to save me!” He raised his voice harshly, shocking her.

No. That was not what he wanted to say.

He knew; he truly knew it was the opposite.

He didn't want her to get hurt.

"I don't need you!”

Her face was everything he needed to know that he fucked up. Ghost saw her face turn to dread like her heart just got stabbed a thousand times over, that after everything she did, after everything she felt – it was only for him to tell her those words.

For a moment the only thing they heard was the pouring rain outside.

Before Ghost saw the woman in front of him grit her teeth, seeming like she chose to not believe what he just said.

“There were at least a dozen armed guards outside! What did you think you could do with those wounds?!" It was her turn to raise her voice, “If I hadn't been there to find you, what could you do with a gun an a knife?!"

It was the last thing that snapped him. Ghost ignored all the pain in his arms to grab onto her shoulders,

“I CAN’T LOSE YOU!”

And just like that, Jade gasped as she blinked. His grasp on her shoulder felt firm yet shaky, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of the searing pain or from the emotion he felt, as this is the first time she saw Ghost with that expression. Maskless, bruises all over, bloodshot eyes brimming with tears, and a face that had desperation and sorrow painted all over it.

He started with a low voice, but the emotions in his words still remained, “You’ve left this life for a reason, Lottie. And for a good one. Think of your mother, your father, your friends, who love you and care for you! What if you get hurt alone inside this fucking rainforest?! What if you die, huh?! What do I say to your parents?!"

"What if you die?!" Jade countered, trying to make sense of his words.

"I don't fucking care if I die!"

"You say that as if no one is waiting for you to come home! I DO!” Jade grabbed both of his hands from her shoulders, gathering them with her own. ”I love you!"

Her action surprised Ghost, but more than anything, the last three words felt like an epiphany.

"You think Kate should've just shut up about it and left me in the dark?! Well, that's just fucking stupid, Ghost. If you think that you did this for me, then you're wrong!” She shouted bitterly, her scowl taking over her face in such a way that it looked out of place, tears already brimming in her eyes.

"You think I didn't know that your missions are dangerous? I know that! That's why I can't just stand back while I know I have the full capability to find you! If it means that I can finally have you back, then to hell with my retirement! Great, now I'm crying!" All that stress and frustration of finding him these last four days came out of her in the form of tears streaming down her cheek. The thought of finding him beaten up, all bloody, or even worse, lifeless on the ground had been eating her mind. Nevertheless, she moved her body to find him, clinging to a desperate hope that he was still alive somehow.

Ghost could only watch as Jade buried her face in her palms, her sobs muffled by her hands. "We had a date, Simon…" That sentence felt like a thousand knives impaling his heart. He remembered being very excited that early morning, anticipating the ‘date’ with her. He remembered himself being so happy and delighted for the date, heck, he even fucking looked through his wardrobe to find the best fit for the occassion, only to be left feeling empty when he suddenly got a call to go on a mission. He could still recall how shaky his hands were when texting Jade that he couldn’t make it for the date.

"I was waiting for it. It's my first date, ever. So I'm sorry if I'm a little excited to see you, alright?" Jade raised her head to face him again, revealing her messy hair, red eyes, and cheeks smeared by tears. “I can’t lose you too."

Ghost didn't know if it was because of his courage or something else, but he moved his hand and put it right above hers, gently enveloping her hands. "I don't want you to get hurt, especially because of me." He started, looking softly into her eyes, "I'm sorry."

Hearing that broke something in him, as for once in his life, someone waited for him to come home. Someone wanted him to be fine, and it felt… foreign.

Now, that person was sitting before him. The woman he loved, and the one who loved him back, more than he deserved.

The fact that Ghost initiated the touch made butterflies fly wildly inside her stomach. The temperature of his skin was quite alarming though, so she kept that in mind. "Well thank you, for your consideration, but please,” Jade lifted her arm to wipe her face from the tears aggressively, sniffing her nose. “I can't have you just promise me a date one day and then disappear the next. I won't let you ghost me." Her lips pouted in a way that made him chuckle. He might go crazy if she kept doing this. "If it means finding you, then getting hurt is nothing. If you went MIA again, then I will go out and find you again."

Ghost still felt the pain all over his body, that argument took all the spare energy that he got. Meanwhile, Jade took the sewing kit from the side table, getting them ready to close Ghost's laceration.

"Also, put some credit on my name, alright? You know I can take care of myself, Ghost." Jade muttered while taking the forceps.

"I almost stabbed you though." He replied.

"Ah." That only occurred to her now. When he was fighting off the Narcos, he thought she was an enemy and launched a knife straight to her neck. "You were in full survival mode since the whole warehouse was trying to kill you. I understand."

"Shit… what would I say to your parents if I'd killed you?"

"Hmmm. 'Sorry, Sir, Ma'am. I killed your daughter by accident.’, and then your body would never be seen ever again, perhaps."

That got a light laugh out of him, "We're a crazy lot aren't we?"

"Damn right we are."

There was barely any alcohol to hold the pain as Jade sutured his wounds close, and even though she had mastered the medical suturing techniques, the searing pain was going to be there to stay.

All the while her hands work, she started again, "What did they do to you?"

Ghost flinched at the question. She really hoped it wasn't something too bad. From her observations, he was badly injured on the left side, which meant he must've been punched and kicked quite a lot by the Narcos. The right side had way fewer injuries, but the little lacerations on his head looked like something sharp.

He took a deep breath, "After they caught me, I was brought to the basement and they tied my hands on my back to a pole with a rope. My feet as well. They interrogated me about who I am and my ties with Alejandro Vargas. Of course I shut my mouth the entire time."

Jade still looked at him, sending him a signal that it was not was she was asking about. Ghost sighed, before answering again, "It wasn't much, just punches and kicks, splashed water on me. The leader was a huge twat though. He smashed a bottle of alcohol on my head." Ah. There's the answer to her questions.

"And I'm assuming you used the shards to cut the ropes to escape?" She inquired, her hands still working.

"Yeah."

"...You okay?"

He always hated the question, but coming from her, it felt different. Ghost knew how she had experienced the same things before considering they work on similar grounds. And if he wanted to be honest on the answer, she won't get much. "I'm mostly annoyed at their leader the whole time. Just thinking of how to get out of there." Ghost finally answered, "I've experienced far worse. If anything, they lacked creativity."

Jade sighed, not the worst answer. Either he was hiding the mental trauma or he's just that dulled to tortures. From the outside he looked fine and he acted like this was just another business day, but she could never guess what's going on inside his mind.

That last sentence made her chuckle though. "What do you think they should've done to make you speak?"

Ghost looked like he really considered it, "...To make me speak? No idea. Probably your favourite method."

"My method?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Nail-pulling."

"I--" Oh good heavens, he'd set 'nail-pulling' as her favoured method of tortures. "Okay, if and only if you have the right tools, alright."

He let out a chuckle, prompting her to laugh as well as she finished the suture on his wounds.

—---

Cleaning up Ghost's injuries was relatively easy, as he didn't have any lethal wounds that required urgent care and deep medical knowledge. Still, watching him hiss and grunt as she sewed his lacerations was hard to do. She kept mumbling soft "Sorry, sorry." to him in a vain attempt to soothe his pain. At some point, it appeared that Ghost was completely out of fuel and dozed off sitting up while she was cleaning his skin from the blood and dirt. Closing his wounds was only the first step of first-aid care because what came after could be harder to treat since he had that infected wound on his shoulder.

He hadn't eaten in days, was completely out of energy, had a significant blood loss, bruises all over his body, and that infected wound had finally shown its damned effect: fever.

Jade sighed. As much as he needed the rest, he needed to eat. She'd brought some antibiotic meds, but in order to have them he had to eat first. Her legs brought her to the cabinet near the end of the bed, fortunately finding a good clean sheet of the blanket. Though, it wasn't thick enough for her liking, plus it was pretty small in size and would barely cover his large frame. Beggars can’t be choosers, so she draped the cloth onto his shoulders and his legs, making sure his figure was covered.

Opening her backpack, Jade fished out two sets of MREs, along with a ration heater. With his wounds finally dressed up and he's sleeping soundly, she walked out of the cabin to the riverside, filling her canteen with fresh river water. Pouring the water into the ration heater along with the MREs inside, Jade walked back to the doorway to avoid the rain, waiting patiently as she wiped the rainwater off of her skin.

While she was letting the heating pack do its job, she sat back on the wooden floor, slowly untying her braids that had gone messy from the actions and the rain. Fully getting the braids undone, her hair finally became loose completely, falling on her shoulders, back, and chest in the most chaotic way possible that Jade had to run her hands through her thick hair to detangle the mess.

"Lottie?"

Ghost's weak voice startled her, making her turn around and saw the man himself standing right behind her, blanket around his shoulders. “Ghost?! What– you should’ve just slept! You can’t stand just yet–”

“Relax,” He said softly, sitting down beside her with visible struggle. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I won’t die from moving 10 steps.”

Seeing how he coughed wetly made her pout in disagreement. She still thought he needed to stay in bed. “How are you feeling though?”

"...like death.”

“I thought so. Your temp was concerning. May I touch your forehead? I have to feel your temp." Ghost nodded, still, her soft touch on his forehead and neck caught him off guard, as she stared at him trying to concentrate on measuring the heat of his skin. “You’re burning up! Dammit.” Jade exclaimed upon feeling the rise of his fever, it baffled her how he still had the energy to stand up with all those wounds.

Out of nowhere, Ghost felt pressure on his chest, before realizing that it was Jade pressing her ears to his thorax.

He froze right there and there, turning into stone like Medusa just stared him down. Ghost sucked his teeth and looked up to hold in his blush. He knew a hundred per cent that she was checking his breathing for that terrible wet cough he let out, but his brain had turned into a mush, his heart beating so fast like he just ran a fucking marathon. She definitely could hear his racing heartbeat, but no matter how much he tried to tell his heart to stop fucking beating like there's a whole damned carnival inside his chest, it was proven futile.

“Take a deep breath.” Her voice was the only thing that snapped him out of his thoughts, doing what she told him to do.

After hearing the air going in and out of his lungs a number of times, Jade finally leaned back again. “Yup. I’m no medic, but I can hear pneumonia coming when I hear one. You need to go back to bed.” She stood up and tried to pull him up, which was to no avail as he was still dumbfounded on the event that just happened. "The sun's setting down and the rain won't stop anytime soon. It'll get colder than this."

“I just got here–”’

“Back. To. Bed.”

Has she always been this demanding? He never liked being told what to do when it's not from someone of higher rank, but he could surely get used to this one. Ghost couldn't help the small smile on the corner of his lips as he stood up, walking towards the hard bed slowly before sitting down again. She gathered the steaming rations on her hands and sat back on the chair, his heart swole in a way he never thought it could.

"I brought chicken sausage and… pasta bolognese. You can choose whatever and I'll take the other one." Jade said, opening the lids to let the heat out while waiting for Ghost's answer, but when he didn't say anything, only gazing at the foods, a thought clicked in her mind. "Or or or, you can have both of them, if you want. I'm sure you're starving."

"...What about you?" Yep, she guessed right. He wanted both of them. Big man needed a big meal.

"Don't worry about me. You haven't eaten in days. I already had mine before coming to the facility, so I'm good, I promise."

A gulp, "Can I have both?"

"Sure."

----------

He’s back under that suffocating, smothering coffin under the ground. Trapped alone in the dark, he felt his heart beat racing, pounding against his chest that he could hear it on his ears.

He couldn’t breathe.

He’s afraid.

Ghost tried to bang his fist against the roof, but it wouldn’t budge. Even until his arms were bruised, until blood came out, he felt that the earth would swallow him whole any second, before Ghost felt the wooden base of the coffin disappear into dust, which made his body fall into a deep, bottomless void, getting farther and farther from the coffin.

Just as he thought that he’d forever fall without end, his back hit the ground with a great force, waking him up from his nightmare. Ghost opened his eyes with a jolt of his entire body, breathing fast and laboured as if he’d just gained back his ability to take air in.

"Hey."

The familiar voice called to him, prompting the man to focus his blurred vision, finding Jade. He’s finally awake enough to register that this is no longer inside the coffin where he was buried alive, but inside a wooden cabin deep in a rainforest. The rain still falling outside, the sun long gone, only the moon to accompany them. His surroundings were dark, save for the soft yellow lighting from a portable bonfire on the bedside table. Ghost was laying on his side facing her, nothing to support his head from the absence of pillows.

He then saw that his hand was grabbing Jade’s wrist in a death grip, almost shaking. She looked like she was startled by the sudden grip of her wrist when she'd just been wiping the sweat off his face with a handkerchief, but she didn’t show any sign of panic or daze, just calmness inside her eyes. "Nightmare?"

Ghost released his grip and answered with an alarming wet cough, his breathing starting to sound difficult, before weakly muttering, "Why aren't you asleep?"

"You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the floor–" He tried to wake up before being pushed down back to the bed on his side.

"Your fever got worse, you were sweating, and shivering as well. That infected wound on your shoulder added to the problem." Ghost might not be in his best condition, but he could hear her worry as clear as day.

She looked messy with the very long red locks of hers undone, contrasting with her usual tidy and orderly appearance. And to be frank, she’d had that worried tone since the second she found him in the warehouse, since she heard that he was missing, and probably since the day he texted her that he’d had to go on a mission.

"That is total nonsense! I'm not the one who's beaten up right now!” The logic must have left him because of the fever. Did he really want to sleep on the hard wooden floor with those bruises all over his body?!

The usual Ghost would retort some sarcasm towards her, but all he did right now was to stare at her. Jade would've thought that he's completely out of it from the illness, until he mumbled,

"...You should let your hair down more often."

"...wHaT?” her voice cracked at his words. Why was he talking about her hair all of a sudden?

A light cough, “I said you should let your hair down more.”

“Wh– Why?" She chuckled, half amused and half confused. "Look at them. My hair's a mess if I let it down. It's really hard to take care of, especially in the wind. Let it touch the rain, and air drying it is basically a recipe for disaster." The ginger said while rubbing her heavily tangled hair. She had intended to brush them when Ghost was asleep earlier, but she must admit that she didn’t have the energy to do it. Days of tracking and helping him had taken more of her than she’d expected.

"That's precisely why." Ghost started, still eyeing her face softly.

"...What do you mean?"

"Beautiful.” He confessed, "You're beautiful when your hair's a mess, so let it down."

A pause as he tried to rack up an answer in his jumbled brain. "It's not sudden. I've always liked it."

The sentence baffled, perplexed, and shocked her. Why did he say that? Why was he doing this?? What kind of dream or nightmare did he have?? Jade’s jaw dropped to the floor, her face turned almost as red as her hair because of that particular sentence. Ghost had never been one for talking, let alone compliments. That was the normal, healthy Ghost, then. So if he's on the opposite condition…

"I– What's with the sudden flattery??"

No one ever complimented her hair. Since she was a baby, a child, a kid in the orphanage, she kept being skipped by potential parents because of her striking red hair.

Jade recalled how she would see a couple shake their heads as they whispered among each other, quickly looking at the other orphans. Her brothers and sisters come in and go to their new parents, while she stayed. And for that reason, she grew to dislike – hate her hair, only until recently did she ever see a good in them.

And now, this man just admitted that he had always liked her hair since the day he met her, albeit… in a feverish, delirious state?

"T-thank you for saying that, Simon." Finally finding the courage to react, Jade continued, "but anyway, how are you feeling? Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"...cold." Ghost mumbled.

For sure that thin blanket would be doing anything in the cold rain. There was no more piece of clothing or any blankets left inside the house to use. She had started a little portable bonfire on the bedside table to give the room some form of luminescence as the sun was long gone, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop his shiverings.

Holding his eyes open was already a heavy task for him, but this cold felt like a thousand knives on his skin. He wanted to sleep, God, he wanted to sleep. He’s exhausted, except getting trapped in that coffin and buried alive inside that dream was the last thing he wanted to experience right now. Getting air into his lungs was also a burden to his chest. Even with the painkillers and antibiotic Jade had given him, his wounds hurt all over.

However, this is nothing.

Ghost had experienced this before, far, far worse than this, and he was still alive. He’ll tank through the cold, he could endure any pain.

It’s the same as ever.

Nothing’s different.

Had he ever heard that kind of sentence before?

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Jade softly muttered to him, looking at him not with a look of pity, but of compassion and willingness to help.

"Do you mind a– um… A cuddle?” The woman sitting beside his bed said nervously, prompting him to look at her face. "Shared body temperature. I suppose it's effective in this situation."

He took that back.

It's different now.

“...No.” He replied shortly.

"Really?”

“Yeah.”

“O-okay! The bed’s small, can you face the other way?” She asked, to which he nodded before he used all the energy he had left in his body to lie on his other side. With heavy clumsiness, he finally faced the wooden wall. The light of the moon shone through the window, hitting his face softly. Not long, he felt a dip on the other side of the bed. Jade had climbed on the bed and fixed the thin blanket to cover his figure properly. Ghost could feel her presence on his back, looming behind him. He didn’t know what to do, obviously. He never really shared a bed with anyone in a long time, let alone a woman. It’s almost pathetic.

“Can I… wrap my arm around you?” Jade asked hesitantly to the back of his head. “I–I don’t mean anything weird, just to warm you up! Like I said I love you and all – and I do mean that – but in case you’re not comfortable with me hugging you I will totally understand and—”

“I said I don’t mind it.” Ghost cut her off before she could blabber more.

“Okay… I’ll just. Put my left arm above you. Like this.” Lifting her arm, she then gently put her wrist on his shoulder, just barely beyond his side line. “This okay?”

“...Hm.” She’s pressed to him. She’s affirmatively pressed to his back. Her warmth instantly traveled to his entire figure, pleasantly so.

“Good. That’s really great, yeah. Your shoulder is really high, wow." He couldn’t say anything to that. Is that a compliment? “While we’re at it, lift your head up a little bit.”

Even though it confused him, he did what she told, and an arm sneaked its way past his cheek and placed it firmly there, and before he could ask her what was she trying to do, he got his answer. “I’m your pillow.”

Ghost let out a chuckle at her retort, and to be honest, he didn’t have any strength left to refuse the offer. His neck hurt and his head felt dizzy without a pillow, so he dropped his head right then and there on Jade’s bicep, and what she didn’t expect was the fact that he deliberately scooted back even further, finally clinging to her figure – a relaxed huff leaving him.

And just like that, Jade’s assumption that Ghost didn’t like hugs went down the bloody drain. She had to bite her lips in order to hold in the scream inside her. God, he must’ve felt her racing heartbeat on his back. He sounded like a literal puppy with that last huff. If she has a third arm she would’ve loved to pet his hair.

------

The rain hadn’t stopped since they arrived at the cabin. The cold seeped through the woods, piercing through Jade’s skin as she made Ghost have the blanket. Other than that, the woman couldn’t deny the soreness on her arm as his head was pretty heavy. She didn’t mind it at all though, as long as he was comfortable, a sore arm was nothing compared to what he must be feeling.

It’s been about an hour since she climbed the bed to cuddle with him. Jade could really tell a lot about his condition from this distance. He’s really hot to the touch, his shoulders moved up and down in a quite fast pace. Still, it seemed that the shared body temperature worked as his shivers stopped. Was he already asleep?

Jade moved the hand that was on his shoulder to the front of his face – waving it up and down.

"I'm still up." His deep voice startled her.

Shit. He’s still awake. "S– Sorry. Just checking."

Meanwhile Jade was waiting for him to sleep, Ghost couldn’t even bring himself to sleep, for fuck’s sake. And not because of the nightmare, but because of her presence on his back was all he could think about. He felt relaxed, but not relaxed at the same time. It’s like his entire being felt safe in her arms and presence, yet his mind thought that he didn’t deserve this. Because she had searched for him, she had to leave her home, family, and friends again, and even though Jade had told him that she would always go and find him – and the things he said to her – he still felt like an arse.

"Lottie."

Jade noticed the name, prompting her to blink. "Mm? You okay?"

“Thank you... for saving me. And about what I said,” A brief pause, “I've hurt you. I'm sorry."

She stayed silent, looking at the back of his head. Ghost was always a blunt person, and it wasn't the first hurtful thing that he'd said to her. Calling her a midget was one thing, but saying that he didn't need her?

She knew he was in immense pain and under heavy mental duress from the imprisonment, but if what he said was true…

"Did you mean it? What you said?" Jade finally replied back, questioning him about the words he'd said. She wanted to know if he really mean what he said. She needed to know.

It took a few seconds for Ghost to answer, seeming like he was preparing himself. "No. Quite the opposite."

Hearing those words from him felt like a earning medal, prompting a smile coming from her lips. "Thank you, Simon. For staying alive.”

“Will you forgive me?”

“I forgive you, because..." Jade lightly sighed behind him, "I need you too.''

And he thought he had a cold heart. That one simple sentence coming out from the one person he allowed himself to love after such a long, long time, made his heart - no, his entire being melt right then and there, in her arms.

A mosquito decided to land on Jade’s hand, making her sway the bug away. “Oof, there’s some bugs here.”

"...What's the bugs' favourite band?"

Oh great heavens. A pun at a time like this? "...what is it?"

"Bee Gees."

"Oh that's goooood." She must admit that his timing was immaculate. "You ever watch Bee Movie though?"

"...Only bee I know in movies is Bumblebee in Transformers."

"Yeah well. Suits you I guess. And good for you for being oblivious about the Bee Movie."

"What kind of movie is that?" He asked.

"A movie. About bees suing humans."

"The fuck?"

"Yea yea yea we'll watch it when we get home. Now sleep." Jade chuckled. "Good night, Beanpole."

"Goodnight, Midget."

"I'm right here if you need me."

*****

"I know."

It's finally here!! To be continued in Part 2!

2K notes · View notes

ay0nha · 9 months

Text

Venus Rising | Thomas Shelby

SUMMARY: Three moments in which you run into Tommy, the final provoking a deal neither of you are prepared for.

“I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free…I want, I want to think, to be omniscient.” Sylvia Plath (1949)

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking (tobacco/weed), criticism of time-period misogyny/misogyny in general, canon-typical things, angst again, rich people being annoying, no proof reading, rushed ending, slow burn, etc.

A/N: Oop, another Tommy fic, apparently it’s not quite out of my system. Inspired by the film How to Steal a Million (title is inspired by the original title of the book!) and @huntingingoodwill‘s post (here), ESPECIALLY with the third part of this as it comes from Carmen’s beautiful brain. Inspo is taken from various feminist writing and particularly an Agnes Varda quote. MIGHT do a part two, idk yet.

Comments are VERY encouraged! Enjoy.

“Thanks for that…” Tommy was finally catching his breath but still searched for your name. He hadn’t seen you in the gathering below and questioned if the room he found himself in belonged to you.

“We’re better off strangers.” You weren’t defensive, nor was your guard up; you were just focused. Fixated. The painting was borderline mesmerizing, and you struggled to tell if it was from the art or how your joint dwindled steadily.

Your isolation was purposeful.

The reception provoked the start of a migraine; its noise bleeding through the thick walls of the stately home only grew more deafening as the evening furthered. To find relief, you wandered the empty halls, the stairs that led to darkness, and every door that seemed particularly off-limits.

It was a simple measure of self-preservation until your seclusion was fractured.

The door opened abruptly, a body sliding through the narrow space to hide in the most prominent shadow. You thought you were caught, but the man held a finger to his lips, expression prepared for the obvious chase.

You were the perfect accomplice.

Those who came looking for him were met with your theatrics, a role well-rehearsed; your eyes never glanced to where Tommy hid in the most prominent shadows; your upset alone secured you hadn’t seen the man with the razor-lined cap; you simply wanted to return to your silence.

“You stick out, you know…” You filtered smoke through your nose, half-lidded eyes remaining ahead. The thought was absentminded, your lips tingling with indifference.

“I have an invitation.” Tommy had it forged, making it nearly identical to the one you’d received in the post.

You hummed with amusement. “I mean—you don’t belong.”

Considering how you equated his presence with his class, Tommy considered taking offense. However, your humor exposed no ill intent. You were trying to relate to him. To offer some solace, you offered the joint to him between pinched fingers.

“Let me guess, neither do you.” Tommy accepted your olive branch with a drag.

“Oh, I never will.” Although your smile remained, your tone became distant. You didn’t glance at Tommy until he took another puff. His eyes were ahead, just as yours were, attempting to see what had enraptured you in the painting. “Just like her.”

The face of the young woman depicted was covered, but her body was exposed. You were sure the owner of the canvas only valued the misinterpreted eroticism. Yet, the scene’s voyeuristic purposes were to convey the end of a very long day. You were convinced if you reached out, you could soothe her aching muscles from her obviously laborious job.

The painting's size didn’t speak for its cost. You wanted to laugh at how something so precious was stored on a wall as a forgotten decoration. However, you would do the exact same if it were in your possession. It would hang on your ceiling that way; when you rested your head against your pillow, you could get one final look at it as if it were a mirror, a grounding reminder that there was company in such an empty space.

“You pity the poor.” The statement held a questioning tone. Tommy interpreted the painting and your thoughts literally; a woman relieved of farm work was being judged by you—someone worse than the bourgeois.

“Don’t you see it?” Bitter ecstasy carried your words. You wanted to be heard. “Her and I are the same…”

Tommy returned the joint, realizing its purpose was to aid and calm you from the turmoil you hoped to escape. He felt an odd sense to comfort you but wouldn’t.

Instead, he repaid his earlier debt with unaccustomed humor, “I doubt someone like you shovels shit for a living.”

“Doesn’t matter.” You let the smoke settle in your chest, its warmth comforting. “From inception, we’re indistinguishable, born with an innocence that is only nurtured to be stolen. Our very being is never our own. Once our bodies are pried from our minds, we starve because of it.”

“Ah, I see…” Tommy started, “You’re a modern woman.”

The joint was almost a roach, but you passed it back, ridding yourself of its responsibility. The man beside you was a stranger, and you were thankful for that position. Anything said didn’t matter. It would evaporate and leave no trace. Tommy understood this well, participating in a game he didn’t know the rules of.

“Modernity is irrelevant.” You corrected. Your words sunk into your stomach, weighing you down. “This is beyond time.”

—

“Gave a try shoveling shit, eh?” Tommy crossed his legs, leaning back with an ease you were envious of. A cigarette was rolled along his lips, a habit formed by comfort.

Once lit, the image was complete. It had clicked. “You.”

Thomas Shelby. Your memory of him held a haze, that night's intoxication cherry-picking how you retained the interaction. But your vague image of him was enough to understand his occupation. You were warned against his world, but you could only do so much when your worlds overlapped so bizarrely.

“Me.” He confessed with mitigation. There was a cadence even in his silence. Clearly, he was thinking of how to approach you, but you failed to recognize how he always remained ahead in his business. “You were found near the stables.”

“Apparently, I’m a witch.” You mused. Cheltenham was never dull.

Tommy hummed, entertaining your wit only slightly. “They think you’ve cursed the horses.”

Horses were efficient beasts that were often mistreated, that much you knew. However, they intimidated you into submission. Their role in your life was distant, typically involving a reflection of wealth and nothing more.

You hid behind the stables because you misunderstood the distance you created. It had a false bottom that showed those in your world never enter their stables, allowing others to do the hard work. Those around you wouldn’t dare stain their fine fabrics how you chose to.

Although the air was foul, the stables were the only place you could breathe without the hands of your arranged date finding home where they weren’t welcomed.

You knew the man who caught you was Tommy’s brother. Though they looked different, the air surrounding them was suffocating. They were driven by brutal confidence that manifested physically and for Tommy mentally. The mind game you were presented with was just as predetermined as the races.

“I want us to understand each other.” Ash fell from Tommy’s cigarette in thought. “We do not share the same fantasy.”

“And what fantasy is that?”

“Poor little rich girl—” His words were punctuated. “—thinks she can play gypsy until she hears the dinner bell.”

Your laughter made him flinch. “And what’s for dinner?”

Tommy had vetted you. No one knew anything worthy about you. So everyone simply fantasized about you, spinning tales. Yet, you were an extraordinary nobody—an amazing unknown. Suspicion wasn’t necessary, but there was no need for his growing intrigue.

“That man you came with…” Tommy knew who he was. He was another kid that thought one day he could rule the world. But all he was capable of was poorly executed white-collar crime. “Who is he?”

You shrugged. “To him, I am his girlfriend.”

“And to you?”

“Does that matter?”

Tommy quickly learned that your only form of retaliation was posed through questions. The more philosophical, the more your guard remained. “I've been thinking about what you've said…”

The admission alone was out of character and also misrepresented. Tommy's mind was riddled with your sentiments. It was a thoughtful comment on something broader, something Tommy knew of and was growing to understand. But that wasn’t what preoccupied him.

It was how your poise wasn’t carried through your posture. It was how you expressed yourself indifferently but spoke so sharply. You were a constant contrast that perplexed him, possessed him to look into you, into your life. He planned to search until he found a moment where you put your thoughts to use the way he had.

“You, a suffragette?” Your lip curled at the thought. “Now, that, Mr. Shelby, is a fantasy.”

—

Planning an escape was satisfying but little compared to the follow-through.

The feeling solidified when the silk hem of your dress billowed was the only trail of your escape. You could hear your name echo along the corridor wall, someone sent to find you and force you back into the festivities.

“Where are you going?” The voice was a mix of a whisper and shout, reflecting nothing but urgency. The guests weren’t privy to your behavior, but your absence was clear. You heard your name again.“You must come down! You’re upsetting the guests!”

Although your home, the walls felt like they were shifting, creating a maze to your safety. The click of your heels was like a countdown to being caught. That was until your hand frantically found an antique handle of the most inconspicuous door.

Sliding into the broom closet, darkness invaded your senses.

With its veil, you could make out the sliver of light that fought to illuminate the room from the other side. It tracked the shadow of who chased you, showing you how they inched closer, hoping to hear your rapid breathing. Once enough time was given to their search; the footsteps receded in the wrong direction, their voice calling after you growing faint.

Your relief was borderline euphoric; your body demonstrated success as the tension drained the further you calmed. You sunk toward the door, forehead against the smooth, cool wood.

The sound behind was as quick as the movement. Identifiable and surprising.

The match created friction that illuminated the small space with an orange glow. You moved fast, your breath pinned to the roof of your mouth.

“Cigarette?” Tobacco filled the cramped room, the burning end of the cigarette not quite exposing your companion. But you could feel the amusement at the situation radiate from the corner.

Your stupor made you move with shock. “Christ!”

Your hand shot up to feel around for the light switch above you, yanking on the cord. Awash in light, you took in the sight of the man who was casually nursing a cigarette.

“Mr. Shelby?” You blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“Tommy.”

“What are you—

“I’m a guest.” The cigarette bobbed with his chiding.

“A guest.” You repeated, your tone brimming with doubtful sarcasm. “And what is a guest doing, hiding here, so far away from the party?”

“I could ask the same of you.” He quipped, icy expression holding your own.

“Ah, but I’m not a guest.” You defended yourself, holding up a finger as you corrected him. “This is my family’s party. I am technically a host.”

“Well—” He began, taking a puff of his cigarette, silver smoke spilling from his lips as he spoke. “—not a very good host if you’re hiding up here, eh?”

Your eyebrows cocked as you took him in. His presence meant business. “I don’t seem to remember my father mentioning gangsters would be on the guest list tonight.”

“Why not?” He replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “We’re good fun at parties.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” You mused. “But I doubt this is your kind of party.” You wished to witness him in action, for him to live up to all the stories you’ve heard about him firsthand. And you could tell he was itching for you to ask. “What have you got planned tonight?”

“If you must know—” Tommy remained externally stoic but revealed himself bluntly. “—I’m here to rob your family blind.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your father has come into quite a bit of money recently,” Tommy said, words calculated and measured. “He’s been stepping on the Blinders’ business. So, I came here tonight to take back what’s ours.”

“How much?” You asked.

“A million dollars.” He sighed, highlighting his statement with a drag of his cigarette.

“That all?” You scoffed.

“You’d hardly miss it,” Tommy explained. “And, with your family’s yearly legendary holiday party going on tonight, I figured I could hide until all the…” He took a second to ponder, searching for the words, “...rich fucks down there were drunk enough. Then, I’d take what’s mine and leave. No one would be any the wiser.”

There was a pause. He wanted you to protest, but he knew you wouldn’t. You were reading him just as well. It quickly became a stalemate, but you had the advantage of toying with him.

“Well, I should fulfill my host duties.” You sighed, tone wrapping up the unorthodox interaction. “Find my father while I’m at it; tell him bookkeepers are infested in our walls.”

“You’re not going back down there.”

Another pause. Your skin crawled with jest. “And why’s that, Mr. Shelby?”

He shook his head casually, eyes boring through yours. “You’re not going back down there because you don’t want to.”

“What?” Your laugh was soft and unexpected. It was hard to determine, but some of you would have rathered a threat. This was almost as entertaining.

“I can tell you don’t want to go down there. So don’t.”

Behind your back, you reached for the doorknob, but as your fingers grazed it, you lost your nerve. You sighed, flexing your fingers.

“Move over.” You instructed, and Tommy listened. He slid closer to the wall as you squeezed beside him, arm against him in a one-sided comfort. “Poor little rich girl opening up to a gangster. Never saw that in the cards.” You plucked the cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag, carefully considering your next words. “It’s never as simple as it seems, really.”

“Sure it is.”

“It really isn’t.” You chuckled, eyes trained on the glowing end of the cigarette.

“Enlighten me.” He replied, taking the cigarette back as you passed it to him.

The emotions you kept bottled up bubbled in your throat. Living in the gilded cage of high society had privilege but was equally emotionally destructive. It felt foreign, the thought of exposing yourself with such vulnerability; you grew nervous at the prospect of having to do so.

“Simplicity is a pipe dream when your life relies on codependency.” Just the thought of it made you dizzy. “It’s better to hide than risk being a blemish to the family.”

Tommy stayed quiet. Then against better judgment, he spoke. “Why not just leave? You’re a clever girl. Surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” You countered without edge; you knew his slight dig was only to lighten things. He said his part out of decency. “Why do you think I was at those stables? If it weren’t for your brother…”

The crackle of your drag filled the new-found silence. You weren’t sure how long you’d stay there nor how long you subject Tommy to your company. It was a moment of brevity you both seemed to need. You hadn’t meant to find him, and his plan had nothing to do with you, but that in itself sparked your idea.

“Hey, Tommy?”

He turned to meet your contact, eyebrows raised, air mixing from the proximity. “Hmm?”

“How’d you like some help with stealing that million?”

#q #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x f!reader #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x f!reader #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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queenofspades6 · 10 months

Text

Greatest Investment | Kaz Brekker x reader

Summary: You eavesdrop on Kaz and Inej, you watched as they get closer, and well, it doesn’t go as planned…

Based on this request I received:

”Hiii! I haven't watched the second season yet, but I saw a Gif of a kiss (or almost kiss) between Kaz and Inej, and I was wondering if you would write about the reader having feelings for Kaz since they met, but she doesn't have the courage to talk, so at some point in the day she goes to check if Kaz needs anything and ends up witnessing the kiss (or almost kiss) between Kaz and Inej, and the reader feels like the silliest person in the world after that.”

Warnings: Angst. (Sorry…)

A/N: Hi! I hope you’ll enjoy what I wrote, I took some liberties since I was so inspired by the request!! I love some good angst! Did I use again in a Kaz Brekker fic title the word ‘investment’? Oops…I think meeting Freddy and Amita made me that way! They are so incredible!

———

Being Ketterdam’s most famous assassin wasn’t an easy life. You were one of Kaz Brekker’s Crows, always here if needed. Since you were part of the Crows, there was something unspoken between Kaz and you. There was some sort of tension from the beginning, even Nina and Jesper had noticed.

”How is the most beautiful woman in Ketterdam doing?“ Jesper asked, taking place to the bar counter next to you.

You rolled your eyes and repressed a grin.

“What do you want, Jesper?“

“Can’t I just compliment you without needing a reason?”

You stared at him meticulously, but Jesper couldn’t look back. Interesting. He needed to ask you something then...

“Fine! Fine! I need your help.“

You sighed but smiled.

”What? It’s not my fault, Y/N, if you give good advice! Don’t blame me!”

”Jesper, what do you need me for?“ You questioned, taking a sip at your drink.

“You see...“

Jesper was trying to avoid your gaze.

”Jesper. My patience has its limits.”

“Alright! Fine! I want to prepare a date for Wylan and I need your help.” He spitted, playing with his gun on his hand.

You nodded.

”I’ll help you. What do you need me for?“

”I don’t know what to plan. Maybe something he’ll like.”

You laughed, thinking about your previous conversation with Wylan about a sweet and wonderful place you both wanted to go to escape for once the cold streets of Ketterdam.

“Jes. You know what? Bring him to Butterfly’s Heaven, you declared, a smile already drawing on your lips at the thought, it’s a greenhouse where all the species of butterfly can fly freely. There’s also an endearing cafe there to drink something while watching the butterflies.” You replied, stars already dancing in your eyes thinking about all the marvelous butterflies.

“Do you think Wylan will love it?”

”Definitely! We talked about it all week, and he was desperate to go. You should bring him. He’ll love it. And buy him a stuffed toy, he’ll marry you right after.”

Jesper was smiling at the thought of Wylan asking his hand in marriage.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“You and Wylan deserve to be happy.“

“What if it’s not enough, Y/N? What if I am not enough?” He opened up, not caring if he was vulnerable in front of you.

“You are enough, Jesper, you always have.”

You looked at him and smiled, hoping one day you’ll find someone that will care for you as much as Jesper wants Wylan.

“Wylan thinks you are enough, he loves you, Jes. And even Kaz knows it, even if he won’t ever admit it.”

You took another sip of the whisky in front of you and heard someone giggling.

”Hi Y/N!”

Wylan was embracing Jesper with his hands around his shoulders.

“Hi you.” Wylan said to Jesper.

Jesper didn’t even reply and kissed him tenderly as if he were the most precious thing in the world. And at that moment, you swore he were. They broke the kiss, and Wylan blinked several times as if to recover from the intensity of the kiss. It warmed your heart, even if you said nothing.

“What were you talking about?” Wylan asked, coming back to his senses.

Jesper almost jumped off his seat.

”We were talking about Y/N’s feelings for Kaz!“ Jesper answered spontaneously, too scared to reveal what he had planned.

”What? We were?” You almost spitted your drink on the counter of the bar. Now you were facing Jesper and Wylan. How dare he expose you like that?

”Oh seems interesting.” Wylan said, waiting for you to say more.

“There’s nothing between me and Kaz.”

Wylan looked at you wide-eyed, and Jesper sighed, before saying:

”Lie, Y/N. Haven’t you noticed how Kaz always checks on you after a heist, how you always have dresses, jewels, food, everything you want given to you for nothing in shops, you think it’s because of your fine looks? No. Even if you’re beautiful, Y/N, no offense! It’s Kaz’s doing. He made me went with him to each shop, each café, each place in Ketterdam you would want to go to pay, or should I say ‘bribe’ them for you to always have what’s best, no matter the cost.”

”That’s not true, that’s-”

”And what about this time you almost died, and he stayed at your bed an entire week, ordering every Dreg not to disturb him, and how you always have your tea and waffles ready for you every morning? Even Nina is jealous!” He confessed.

”I thought it was you or Wylan who was making me breakfast every morning!”

”It’s not.“ He muttered.

”He’s right, Y/N.” Wylan nodded. ”Even Nina told me last time about how his heartbeat jumped when you are in the same place, and how irritating it was for her to feel both of your heartbeats jumping when you’re together.”

“You should tell him how you feel, Y/N. You are the one who encouraged me to be with Wylan, because life is short, and in Ketterdam, death is always near. He cares about you, more than he’ll ever admit.”

”I don’t have feelings for Kaz fucking Brekker!” You almost screamed and avoided Wylan and Jesper’s gazes.

You took your glass of whisky and finished it all. The feeling of alcohol burning your throat almost soothed you.

”You do.” Jesper smiled and teased you.

”No, I don’t!”

Wylan rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’stuborness.

”Y/N! There you are, I thought you were with Kaz!”

You jumped off your seat. Fortunately for you, it was only Nina and not Dirtyhands himself.

”Nina, you scared the hell out of me.”

She grinned as if she had planned it all along.

”What are the three of you up to?“ She questioned, eyebrows raised.

"We are talking about Y/N’s feelings for Kaz.” Wylan answered before you could even speak.

”Not you too, Wylan!”

He smirked, almost shyly, and even if you wanted to blame him, you couldn’t blame his cute silly face.

”Hmmm, you and Waffles are not so discreet with your feelings.”

You sighed and tried to ignore Nina’s voice. You knew that if you listened to them, you would probably end up in Kaz’s office confessing your feelings for him, because on some missions, it became unbearable. The need to protect him, to check on him, how he could make you feel powerful and useless at the same time.

“Y/N. Heartbeats don’t lie.” Nina whispered to you, and you were sure Wylan and Jesper would not hear.

”Stop Nina. I- I- He’s not in love with me. Kaz Brekker can’t be in love. Love is a weakness, and I am only his latest investment.” You repeated, only to convince yourself of it.

“So how do you explain how his heartbeat go faster when you’re here, how I can feel his heart trying to get out of his chest when you’re injured. He cares. He tries to hide it, but the heart doesn’t lie. Never.”

You looked at her blue ocean eyes, and she caressed your shoulder in encouragement.

”Try to tell him, try to tell him you care, if only that. Love is a fragile thing, cherish it while it lasts.”

You swore you saw an ounce of sadness and regret flashing in her eyes as she remembered Matthias.

“I think you can help him with his past.” Nina muttered.

You looked at your empty glass, and noticed how your hands were trembling. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time for you to tell him, that at least you cared for him. More than him being just your Boss.

You stood up, levelled up your chin, and took several steps towards Kaz’s office.

You were Ketterdam’s most notorious assassin, and you would not be afraid.*

You advanced towards the door slowly, you wanted to knock but the door was already ajar.

You could do it, you had done so much worse. You took a deep breath before-

You heard voices in his office. You heard him first, talking with a female voice, a voice you didn’t not recogn-

it was Inej’s.

Kaz and Inej were in his office talking. Your instinct was screaming at you to leave and come back later, but curiosity got the better of you.

You stayed, you tried to understand what they were saying, but you couldn’t. Slowly the most slowly possible you pushed the door and waited. Kaz and Inej were still talking, you took it as a sign they didn’t hear your presence. You weren’t Ketterdam’s best assassin for nothing. You took a silent step and looked at Kaz’s office.

You didn’t expect what you saw.

Kaz and Inej were close, too close for your liking, dangerously close. Too close that any of them could bear. So how was it they were here, almost touching each other. You swore Kaz could feel Inej’s breathing on his chin.

Watching them so close together made your heart beating faster. You wanted to scream but no sound came. No explanation came to your mind. Why was Inej here? You tried to focus on the words you heard, but none of them made sense. You were near but you couldn’t hear them clearly, it was as if your brain didn’t want you to eavesdrop. You heard some words like ‘crows’ and ‘family’.

You pushed the door again, without a sound. You leaned on the door and focused on the voices.

“Inej.”

You heard Kaz’s voice as it broke, and you needed to take a glimpse at what was going on right now. You took a deep breath and looked at them. Kaz’s gloved hand was on Inej’s shoulder. They were staring at each other like nothing else mattered in the entire world. Even if you were not close, you could decipher Inej’s surprise at Kaz’s sudden touch.

”Let me go, Kaz.”

Kaz removed his hand, and an ounce of sadness and rejection passed on his face.

“We need you, here.“

You watched as Inej shooked her head.

“Stay, Inej. Stay. Please.”

Her name sounded as a prayer in Kaz’s lips.

”I can’t, Kaz, and you know why.“ She whispered.

“We need you, Inej, please. We- I... I need you.“

Without noticing, Kaz caught Inej’s arm with his gloved hand, preventing her from leaving.

You couldn’t see them clearly; the door was blocking your path. You tried to lean on a bit further but failed miserably. Why did you push your luck? Your whole body had been trembling the whole time, even with the multiple tries to steady your heartbeat and calm yourself. The door opened slightly, and your face was greeted by the floor.

All you felt was numbness, shock and realization. Kaz and Inej were staring at you in wonder. You could already feel Kaz’s grave gaze at you.

“What? Did you never see someone fall before?“ You questioned, trying to hide your discomfort.

Feeling ashamed, you stood up awkwardly and crossed Kaz’s eyes.

“Y/N.“ Kaz declared.

You nodded.

“It’s not what you think.” Inej replied immediately, trying to maintain her composure.

Kaz was leaning on his cane, and his eyes never left your form.

”Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. I won’t tell a soul. Keep going. I am leaving right now.” You gestured to the door and fled.

”Y/N, wait.“ Kaz said.

You ran through the Crow Club, not caring what the Dregs thought.

”Y/N!” Jesper screamed, hoping to catch your attention.

Why were you running?

Kaz followed after you, even if his leg hurt. He tried to, but you were too fast for him. After all, you were an assassin. A clumsy one at that...

You didn’t care. You ran until your lungs couldn’t bear the feeling, until your knees broke under the weight of your exhausted body. But where could you go in Ketterdam? A place where no Dreg could ever find you.

You knew the perfect place.

Months ago the Crows had gone on an heist with your help. The goal was simple, Kaz had said: ‘we enter, we take the painting, and we leave unnoticed’. He had insisted on the word ‘unnoticed’ looking specifically at Jesper. You had agreed to help them steal the damn painting if it pleases them. Truth be told you couldn’t say no to more Kruge. When you entered the grim manor Kaz had depicted, you noticed how silent and peaceful it was. No soul lived here. Was it the place where the painting was hidden? Maybe Kaz had made a mistake. But he had confirmed it was here. The manor was abandoned long ago by a duke trying to escape his demons. That’s all Kaz had told you, and you hadn’t asked for more at the time. Now you wished you had, because you were headed towards the old manor. A place where just the ghosts could disturb you. Ghosts were better than men, right? Better than some Bastard of the Barrel.

It could be the only place where you could scream and cry without someone noticing Ketterdam’s best assassin being vulnerable. Sometimes being the greatest assassin was a weakness, a weakness you couldn’t afford. It meant never showing too much emotion, never crying in front of your enemies... Wait. Was Kaz your enemy?

You didn’t know anymore. Falling in love was a weakness. Something not allowed in the dangerous streets of Ketterdam, a feeling that would destroy everything if not careful. In fact, love was a weapon, and if not used with parsimony and care, it could kill you.

You broke in the manor, remembering the precise path you used last time and found the closest room, the one you had discovered and found surprisingly pleasing. And strangely peaceful.

You closed the door, and sat on the floor, your body curled up, hands around your knees. You tried to forget the memories with the Crows and Kaz, but it was too much. You remembered your times with Jesper talking about guns, the hours eating waffles and ice cream with Nina, the walks with Wylan, the looks of approval coming from Matthias, and this cane... The cane you would never forget, even if you wanted to. You remembered the day when you had ended up wounded after eliminating a slaver. You were injured, sitting on the cold pavement. You were trying to catch your breath before escaping, but you had felt a soft but firm tap on your thigh. And without looking, you knew who it belonged to.

It was the Bastard of the Barrel.

He wanted you to think he was invisible, and unpredictable, but what he didn’t know was that long before killing the man, you knew Dirtyhands had followed you.

“Enjoyed the show, didn’t you?” You had questioned, showing your white teeth that must have been covered in blood.

That was the day when he had asked you to join the Crows, and since you had nothing more to do, you had accepted, already thinking about the free drinks you would benefit at the Crow Club.

You also remembered the day when you had wanted to leave the Crows because of some decision Kaz had made. You were angry and had prepared everything to leave in the morning. However, Kaz had watched you wrapping your clothes with a spectacular meticulousness, and had whispered:

“Stay. Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me, Y/N.”

And you had stayed. Of course. When Dirtyhands asked you to stay, you stay. The morning he had woken up at dawn in case you wanted to leave without saying goodbye. He had found you in your usual attire, your knives and guns on your waist.

“You did not leave?”

He had asked, almost as a prayer.

”No. Something keeps me in Ketterdam.”

Kaz had said nothing, but you swore you had seen a grin on his lips this day.

You also remembered the day when you had been badly injured to save Nina from a fatal injury. You had been severely hurt; you weren’t even able to stand up. You remember watching the pitiful looks of the Crows at your broken body sprawled on the ground. Deep down you knew you were now a liability for the Crows, and especially for Kaz, so you had told them to leave you here, and escape before the men you had stolen from were back. You knew the risks and costs of each heist, and already accepted your fate.

Kaz had none of it. He had ordered Matthias to carry you, while Nina would tend to your wound as much as she could and control your heartbeat. Jesper would protect your backs, while Inej was sent to scan the path, and look for any danger. You would never forget the look Kaz had given you when he told you to rest for months if needed and had given you a room close to his own in the Crow Club.

Later, you had asked him why he had saved you instead of leaving you to perish. He had said with conviction:

”We are Crows, Y/N, we never leave our own behind.”

That was all of his qualities and flaws that made you love Kaz Brekker. He was broken, but you had always been a sucker for broken things to tend to. You had offered him everything an assassin could possess: your loyalty, your weapons, your ability to kill, and your heart, ready for the taking...

But now you remembered the sentence Dirtyhands had told you a week ago, telling you all you had to know about what you were to him, and what you could be.

”You’re my greatest investment, Y/N. Don’t fail me. “

He had told you once what you were to him, but you hadn’t listened, you had fallen in love, and now you knew. You knew you had always been an expensive investment, but only that, nothing more.

You had been his greatest investment, and that was all...

———-

Tell me what you thought about this one! I am seriously considering writing a part 2! Likes, shares and comments are appreciated, it makes my day, I really need it!

———

If you liked this fanfiction, you’ll love this one, it also has the word ‘investment’ in the title like this one:

⬇️ ⬇️

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st6rly · 4 months

Text

you can run but you can’t hide.

SYNOPSIS: i’m gonna make you mine (or in other words, a game of chess with ayato.) | word count: 0.7k

characters: ayato x gn!reader

categories: fluff, ig slight angst, scenario

warnings: the banter could be considered slightly suggestive?? chess terminology that may be inaccurate, threats of violence as a joke, one swear, ayato is a little bit of an ass (read my notes!)

notes: title is from a song, not someone’s elemental burst btw. forever a hater of the fact that hoyo boiled down ayato’s personality to liking boba, being ayaka’s brother + head commissioner, and politeness. we’re giving him banter and snark bc i said so /hj

surprise @aquatik !! i’m your secret santa >:DD im a little rusty when it comes to writing TwT and this fic style is kind of different from my usual so!! i hope you enjoy this fic & my interpretation of him heh. and have a happy holiday!!

You wanted to strangle him.

Tension was laced through the air, a fine weaving of intricate ribbon that wrapped around your shoulders and settled softly, but not unnoticeably. A featherlight weight that demanded acknowledgement. The white knight in front of you was mocking, horse head positioned carefully to swipe your bishop with no way of getting out of it.

Ayato watched on in glee. A delicate smirk laid out on his refined face.

With a sigh, you continued to mull over your painstaking next move. His pieces had begun to dominate your side of the board with a few of yours off to the side by his arm. Ayato laced his fingers together, rested his chin on the back of his hands, and huffed in amusement.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m just not going to take my turn,” you remarked with a scowl, glaring at him from across the table. He cocked his head, expression not wavering.

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve already won,” you stated, looking back down at the pieces still on the board, “like you’ve already beat me before this is even over.”

“But,” a gloved finger came to rest on his chin as he cheerfully quipped back, “haven't I?”

“This game is not over until one of us officially knocks down the opponent’s king.” You moved a pawn. D5.

“Are you sure?” White pawn C4.

“Positive.” Your pawn to C4. Queen’s Gambit accepted. His piece sat off the board to your right.

“You know.” His knight took your bishop; your queen took his knight. “I have told you that I was a master at this, darling.”

“Master at what?” You opened up your last bishop. “Running your mouth?” A flimsy checkmate was secured.

Ayato laughed, a hearty sound that came from deep in his chest and frothed in his throat when it reached the top.

“It’s wonderful playing with you, my love, you know that?”

“No,” you felt the beginnings of a smile appear as you spoke, “I don’t. Please tell me more.”

His queen was gone but so were both of your knights. Yet he still grinned.

“Oops.” Rooks cornered your king despite the placement of your queen, effectively pushing the useless royal to the corner. Ayato smiled, eyes closed as he folded his hands neatly in his lap.

“Checkmate.”

You scoured the board, looking for a brief slip up on his end, for any open area, before sighing, “Good game, love.”

“An excellent one indeed.” His eyes alight with mirth and tease foretold what he was about to say next. “Although, maybe practicing with someone more of your caliber may do you some good.”

The small kingdom shook and chess pieces fell, rooks and queens rolling off the table as both kings toppled.

Slammed in the centre, a crater in the checkered pattern, was your hand. Chair shoved back, you had abruptly stood and scraped the furniture against dark wood. Ayato raised his sight up a slight amount, cheekiness in his giggles while you glowered back. He stood, gaze locked with yours as he leaned in.

Before a single new word could fall from his lips, you had pulled him by the soft material of his robe, fabric melting under your touch.

“I was trying to be nice,” you grumbled. From outer eyes, anyone could have mistaken it for utter hatred. Between the two of you, the venom was neutral; Ayato wouldn’t find real malice behind the things you said.

“As was I.”

“I fear for the officials you meet on a daily basis if this is your ‘nice’.”

His smile fell, not from his face or in the way those games that laid about on the floor, but into something softer; warm and homey. He placed a hand over the one clutched to his clothing.

“It’s a good thing it’s the holiday season then, isn’t it?” He bumped his forehead against yours over the table, position awkward yet he made do. “Means I’m all yours.”

You faked annoyance, a roll of the eyes followed by a scoff, but the smile that threatened to split your face said it all.

“Oh poor me. However will I manage?” You replied before tugging and locking your lips with his.

#ayato x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #astronetwrk #ayato fluff #gixrsecretsanta2023 #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin fluff #ayato x you #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #ayato imagines #! notepad.txt #genshin impact scenarios #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x you #genshin x gn reader

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superlarva · 10 months

Text

Some much needed hugs in this chapter!

Chapter 3 of my baby domino twins and dad Rex fic without a name if any of y'all have suggestions I'd love to hear them, I can't decide on a good title :(

Links to previous chapters: 00 01 02

Next chapter: 04

Summary: Rex and Fives bond as they get ready for bed.

CW: Implied/referenced child abuse

Chapter 3 - Home

Rex’s keys clattered across the hallway floor loudly. He cringed and held his breath, stopping in his tracks. Fives’s head burrowed deeper into his shoulder, his boney legs constricting around Rex’s hips.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Rex hushed quietly, hoping the boy wouldn’t fully wake up.

Fives shifted again in Rex’s arms, pressing his small body up even further against Rex’s chest. The boy hummed quietly, slowly pulling himself from the depths of sleep, “…Echo?”

“Rex!”

Rex whirled around, clutching Fives tight as the boy jerked awake in his arms. He was met with a familiar face staring at him half hidden behind a mop of jet-black hair and the door to apartment 6116.

“Hardcase!” Rex heard Jesse’s voice bark from deep within the apartment behind the teen in front of him.

“What?” Hardcase answered, still eyeing Rex and the boy in his arms.

“Leave him alone. Aren’t you supposed to be grounded?”

Hardcase rolled his eyes, turning his head back towards the apartment, “Aren’t you supposed to be putting Tup to bed? Anyways, Kix isn’t even here right now.”

“Right, so that means I’m in charge. Get back in here.”

Hardcase stepped out into the hallway and let the door slide shut behind him, grinning at Rex, “Oops.”

Rex readjusted his grip on Fives as the boy squirmed in his arms, trying to turn to see the new presence in the hallway.

Hardcase moved into the kid’s line of vision and gave a small wave, “Hey, little guy.”

Fives snuggled his head back down into Rex’s shoulder, clearly not wanting to interact.

“Hardcase,” Rex warned, moving to pick up his keys. “You should listen to Jesse.”

Ignoring the comment, the teen bent down and grabbed the keys swiftly before Rex could reach them, “Here, let me get that for you.”

Rex sighed and let Hardcase open his apartment for him, holding out his hand for the keys as the door swung open, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Hardcase said, dropping them in Rex’s palm.

“Get back in there before you give your brother an aneurism,” Rex ordered over his shoulder before kicking the door closed behind him.

Rex set Fives and the bag of clothes down on the kitchen counter, “Sorry for waking you up. My friends can be a little, uh… overly enthusiastic. Sometimes.”

Fives rubbed at his eyes looking around the small kitchen and adjoining living room.

“Yeah, so, this is my apartment,” Rex wrung his hands, studying the boy’s curious glances for hints of satisfaction or distaste. “I know it’s not that big, but it’s got two bedrooms, so, you know, I figured it should be alright if you and Echo are okay sharing a room.”

Fives’s eyes snapped to Rex’s, a look of pure wonder etched across his face, “A whole room just for me and Echo?”

“Uh, yeah… is- is that-” Rex stumbled over his words, anxiety building in his chest. He took a deep breath, “Is that not okay?”

“We never had a whole room to ourselves before.”

“Oh, well, yeah, you guys will have your own room. It’s not set up or anything yet, so we’ll need to do that.”

“Tonight?”

“No,” Rex said the edges of his lips twitching up at the hopeful note into the boy’s tone. “Tonight we’re just gonna get you all cleaned up and ready for bed. First up, we got to take off these shoes.”

As Rex removed Fives’s socks and shoes the boy fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Something up?” Rex asked, peeling off a sock.

“Was…” Fives’s faced screwed up in confusion. “Was he a grown up or a kid?”

“Who? Hardcase?”

Fives nodded.

Rex chuckled, “Yeah, I can see how that’d be confusing. He’s a teenager, so he’s kinda in between being a big kid and an adult.”

“Will I be a teenager too?”

“Mhm,” Rex affirmed, taking off the last sock, “When you turn thirteen.”

“When will I turn thirteen?” Fives asked, letting Rex help him hop down off the counter.

Rex dug around in the shopping bag and pulled out one of the pairs of dino pajamas and a pair of underwear, “Do you know how old you are now?”

Fives shook his head, following Rex as he made his way towards the bathroom.

“Well, when’s your birthday?”

“What’s a birthday?”

Rex stopped outside the bathroom, looking back at the boy’s questioning face. The kid had no idea how heartbreaking his innocent question was. Rex sighed and stepped into the bathroom, depositing Fives’s new clothes on the counter, “It’s the day you were born when you were a baby. Everyone has a new one on the same day every year. So, for example, on my birthday this year I turned twenty-four.”

Fives looked down at his own body then looked up at Rex, “I don’t think I’m twenty-four yet.”

Rex turned away from Fives, both to obtain a clean towel from the cabinet and also to hide his face from the boy. Every word Fives said solidified just how deprived and neglected the twins had been in her care. It made him livid, not just at her, but at himself: for not being there, for not even trying to find out that he had kids he should have been there for. He did not want Fives to see him fuming and think he was angry at him, so he took a deep breath.

Once he made sure his expression was neutral, Rex turned back to Fives, “No, not yet. I think you’re around seven right now.”

“So, then I’ll be a teenager in six years?”

Rex smiled, surprised that with Fives’s lack of basic knowledge he knew how to do subtraction, “Yeah, I think so.”

Rex had showed Fives where everything was in the bathroom and explained how to work the shower bath, but he still resorted to fidgeting nervously in the hall outside the closed door after he got changed into his pajamas.

After only a few minutes of waiting the water in the shower turned off. Rex rubbed the back of his neck, listening intently for any cries of distress. That had been an awfully short shower for the amount of filth on the kid.

After waiting and not hearing anything from inside the bathroom, Rex’s anxiety won out and he knocked softly on the door, “You okay in there, bud?”

“Y-yeah,” came a slightly panicked response. “I’m almost done. S-sorry.”

Rex frowned, “It’s okay, take as long as you need.”

Rex stood outside the door for a minute trying to think of something better to say to ease the boy’s anxieties before he gave up and went into his bedroom to sit on the edge of his bed. As soon as he did, he heard the bathroom door open, and a little face appeared behind it.

“All done?” Rex asked, surprised that Fives actually did look clean.

The boy nodded, pushing a sopping wet curl away from his forehead.

Rex laughed and made his way over to Fives, who opened the door a little more for him.

“Here,” Rex said, grabbing the towel that Fives had left on the edge of the tub and using it to dry his hair, “If you rub it on your head like this it’ll dry your hair.”

Fives squirmed a little, but calmed down after Rex explained what he was doing. When Rex was done drying Fives’s hair, he hung up the towel on the back of the door and began rummaging around in his bathroom cabinet for a new toothbrush for Fives. After finding one, he held it out, “Toothbrush.”

Fives took the toothbrush, and went over to the sink, “Can I use your toothpaste?”

“Yeah, of course.”

As Fives brushed his teeth, Rex picked up the boy’s dirty clothes from the floor and threw them into the wash, changing his settings to “soil level heavy” before letting it run.

By the time he had finished, Fives reappeared from the bathroom. He smiled shyly as Rex approached, “I put my toothbrush next to yours.”

“Perfect,” Rex said, smiling.

Fives smiled back.

“Ready for bed?” Rex asked, hitching his thumb to his bedroom.

Fives regarded him nervously, “Is-isn’t that yours? Your room?”

“Yes, but I’ll be sleeping on the couch,” Rex said quickly, pointing to the couch behind Fives in the living room.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Fives said, looking up at Rex with big innocent eyes.

“I’m sure you can, but I would feel a lot more comfortable if you slept in a real bed tonight.”

“But…” Fives’s eyebrows pushed together in confusion, “But it’s yours?”

“Your right,” Rex nodded. “And that means I get to make the decision of who sleeps in it.”

Fives stared at him, bewildered.

“And I’ve decided that person is you.”

Again, the boy made no response.

Rex sighed, “Am I going to have to chase you in there?”

Fives sobered and shook his head vigorously, slowly backing away from Rex and sidestepping into the bedroom. Rex held back a smirk and followed the boy into the room.

Fives was standing in the middle of the floor, looking between Rex and his queen-sized mattress. He had a funny look on his face, almost as if he were asking permission to approach the bed.

“Go on,” Rex snipped, jerking his head toward the bed, he was exhausted and just wanted to get Fives to sleep as soon as possible so he could crash himself. He regretted his clipped tone as soon as the words came out of his mouth. He didn’t want to scare the kid.

Fives climbed up onto the bed and sat on top of the sheets, balling them up into tight fists as he stared at Rex, Rex thought for further directions.

No.

Not for further directions.

There was a slight quiver in the boy’s lip just visible in the dark room.

Fives was trying not to cry.

Rex, scared he had frightened the boy, covered the distance between them slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, a bit away from Fives, “What’s wrong?”

At that Fives burst into tears, his whole body shaking. Rex tried not to get upset himself and took a deep breath. He didn’t know if Fives was crying because of him or just because of everything he had gone through today or because of Echo, or what, but he wasn’t going to be able to figure it out unless he handled this with tact. Rex thought back to all the times others had tried to comfort him before settling on his first question.

“Do you want me to stay here or go?” Rex had hated it when the people who had hurt him tried to comfort him and he didn’t want to do the same with Fives, but he also didn’t want to say anything that would make Fives assume that Rex thought Fives was upset at him.

Fives tried to say something but was racked with a fresh wave of sobs and nothing but unintelligible noises came out of his mouth. Finding a solution to his problem, Fives shakily uncurled one of his fists and reached out to Rex.

“Stay?” Rex asked, scooting closer to the boy.

Fives nodded and grabbed Rex’s arm, pulling it to his chest and hugging it with all his strength.

“Okay,” Rex said softly, pulling Fives into a hug with his free arm and rubbing the boy’s back. Rex didn’t really know what to do but whisper the phrase “you’re okay, I’ve got you” over and over as he rubbed circles.

Luckily, it seemed to work and eventually Fives’s sobs slowed down and his grip on Rex’s arm loosened a little. Rex squeezed the boy tight before pulling back a bit so he could see his face, “Okay now?”

Fives wiped a tear from his eye and took a shuddering breath before shrugging a little and closing his eyes as more tears spilled from them.

Rex pulled him in close again, cradling Fives’s head to his chest, “Oh, bud… What’s the matter?"

“Y-y-you’re- y-you’re-” Fives was starting to hyperventilate, clinging to Rex for dear life.

Rex’s heartrate picked up. He’d done something wrong hadn’t he. And now his son was practically inconsolable. He carded a hand through Fives’s damp hair, hoping to calm him down enough that he would be able to speak.

“You’re t-t-too nice t-to m-m-m-m-me!” Fives let out with a wail.

Rex froze. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. He went back to rubbing Fives’s back as he tried to organize his thoughts. Suddenly he realized. He turned to the shaking boy in his arms, “Fives?”

The boy sniffled and shifted his head to peak at him, “M-mh-hm?”

“Do you know why they called me to come get you and Echo?”

Fives shrugged, “B-because you’re a- a policem-man?”

“Because I’m your dad.”

Fives looked up at him in confusion, tears come to a halt.

“Do you- do you know what that means?” Rex asked softly.

“It means…” Fives trailed off. “…you have to take care of me?”

“It means I get to take care of you and I get to make you feel safe and I get to make you happy.”

Fives scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling, before regarding Rex curiously and saying in a small voice, “I didn’t know you were my dad.”

Rex smiled, he could barely believe it himself, “I am.”

Fives cocked his head to one side, “Eh-Echo said you were probably a bad man.”

“Do I seem like a bad man?”

“No… but Echo s-s-said you-” Fives took a second to snort some of his snot back up into his nose, “-said you come get us if you w-were a good guy.”

Rex cringed; he knew Echo was right. When he looked down, he was comforted by Fives unjudging face. The boy wasn’t mad at him, just confused, just trying to figure out how everything fit together. Rex shifted the boy off of his lap and onto the bed so they could face each other more comfortably, “You know how you said you didn’t know I was your dad?”

Fives nodded.

“Well, I didn’t know you were my son. Not until today.”

“Oh,” Fives said, blinking slowly. “And I r-really am?”

“You really are,” Rex echoed softly.

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @xylionet @tazmbc1

#we got some Hardcase in this chapter :)#sorry for giving him hair lol #we'll get some Echo soon #in chapter 5 #the clone wars #captain rex #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #clone trooper echo #clone trooper fives #clone wars #tcw #superlarva #tcw hardcase #domino twins #baby dominos

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whatthebodygraspsnot · 4 months

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totally random and don't know if you've been asked this before, i've read your fics and drabbles, i absolutely love your voice in them, considering how you write Ian and Mickey so well, i'd give a penny for your thoughts about Mickey's lil bridezilla notebook. do you think it's full of collage pages? mostly text? magazine scraps? does he color code shit? ugh i love him sm 😩

oh my god i forgot the most important thing!!!!!!! did he ever let Ian have a complete sneak peek through it? cause i think he probably skimmed through it with Ian while the planning was on board, but Mickey probably stored it somewhere safe as a keepsake after the wedding....what if one day Ian just happens to find it and looks through it fondly and Mickey catches him on the act, oops, they have a talk about it, idk, Mickey having a lil notebook just does something to my fragile heart 🤧🤧

hello 😌 thank you for asking - i do actually have some thoughts on this, in the way that i think mickey's wedding notebook goes through several stages.

i think at its creation, it's more of a dump-book. mickey's at his stream-of-consciousness, hunting-and-gathering phase. there's no organization - no rhyme or reason - mickey is stressed and overwhelmed and he's just gluing shit right into that motherfucker, filling the pages as quickly as he can turn them. he doesn't really have a Vision yet - he just knows he's gotta prepare for it, especially since ian doesn't seem too interested in making decisions.

come to jesus moment. mickey slaps down a stack of pictures he's cut out and goes to start adding them, only to realize he has no blank pages left. he's filled the whole thing. that can't be right, can it? it's a big notebook, and the stuff he just cut out for it is real good shit so he's gotta make room. gotta start from page one. gotta thumb through it and pull a 'wtf' face because he doesn't even like some of this shit? why'd he put it in here? tulips??? who did that! okay, time to pump the fucking brakes.

paring down. re-evaluation. ian walks into the living room one night and mickey's cross-legged in the middle of a sea of ripped papers. like some sort of hamster. ian thinks perhaps divorce is on the table, only to come closer and realize mickey's cutting shit out and pasting it into a new notebook, the glue stick caught between his teeth like a cigar (Alternate Title: Ian's Come To Jesus Moment.)

notebook 2.0 is born. there's significantly less...everything. the Vision is starting to come together. debbie gives him these little color tab bitches that he can stick between the pages so he knows where to put things. Music. Food. Flowers. etc. mickey sits down with ian again and flips through it, getting his thoughts on different things. out comes the big red marker - circling - crossing out - starring. he can see ian trying to sneak closer looks across the table, but mickey's grown very attached. it's his hopes and dreams in here, motherfucker! ian can look at it later. after he finds the chiavaris.

That Bitch. this baby is in her final form. mickey knows what he wants and knows he's got the power to haggle, secure, or steal it all when he's got his notebook tucked under his arm. she's also good and solid when he smacks lip over the head with her after he makes a passing comment about being a groomzilla. she is everything.

when he does finally see his notebook again after many years, it's because ian is thumbing through it, this teary, fond look in his eyes as he sits in a sea of boxes. mickey doesn't know if he should be embarrassed or proud or what. a lot of their wedding day ended up shifting on its axis for a ton of fucked up reasons, so as gorgeous as she is, a lot of her didn't actually get to see the light of day.

but ian is innnn lovvvve (aaaaat laaaaast my looove has come alonnnggg). so much so that for their ten year anniversary, mickey walks into their little get-together and immediately recognizes a ton of the details. like they've jumped out of the pages of his notebook and into reality ten years later. ian is a sneaky fucker! and mickey has excellent taste.

and he's just really glad that he cut out that disgusting tulip arrangement in his first notebook purge.

#asks #gallavich #one thing about mickey is he needs a plan

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hanlimz · 7 months

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[hanlimz's 200 event!: sunghoon + 3 (hugs) and 14 (kisses)]

synopsis: forbidden relationship, dangerous consequences, and tender love. / for my love @nyxvrse <3 mwah love u sm ! hope u enjoy~ pairing: knight!y/n x prince!sunghoon genre/warnings: fluff, angst if you squint / some mention of death (no one dies tho), poor historically accurate dialogue ㅠㅠ, maybe ooc sunghoon (?), idk a descriptive kiss? wc: ~1.7k (OOPS LOL) a/n: why is it always Not my biases that i write the longest fic for ? like? my hee fic is staring at me with over 6k words rn n my need to write for sunjaywon is off the CHARTS but my brain won't let me LMAO ㅠㅠ / anyways, this is a part of my 200 followers event! feel free to request!

sunghoon is urging you forward with a solid hand encircling your wrist. his touch tethers you to reality, and the clarity you experience in his presence is addicting; colors are more vibrant, every new rush of adrenaline echoes throughout your entire body, and the crisp, morning air burns as it finds its way down to your lungs. sunghoon's fingers press into your flesh in the same way he has been etched into your heart. as you run, dewdrops bead on the worn leather of your work boots—the remnants of the night's storm having not yet been victim to the summer sun. the loose fitting linen of sunghoon's casual attire ripples in the breeze, and you find yourself mesmerized by it. mesmerized by him.

under the canopy of a large willow tree, sunghoon stops. his breathing is heavy and labored, and he has to lean against the damp bark of the tree to chase after it. still entranced by his natural beauty and hidden away from the rest of the world by the billowing branches, you take a hesitant step closer to sunghoon; he glances up at you and allows a hint of mischief to swim in his gaze. even through his fatigue, his lips manage to quirk up at the corners, and his grin sends a wave of heat flowing over your body. however, his playfulness and your susceptibility are both dangerous. there are rules to follow, and there are consequences for breaking them. fraternizing outside of kingdom-sanctioned duties is strictly forbidden, and a mistake could cost you your life.

a knight is never meant to fall in love with royalty, and you are no exception.

as sunghoon skirts his hand to rest at the taper of your waist, he bunches the fabric of your training blouse betwixt his slender fingers and tugs you into his lean frame. the tip of his nose brushes against the side of yours, and his mouth ghosts over your cupid's bow. prince sunghoon is poised, graceful, and positively hypnotizing. like the pied piper, his song has enchanted your very being; he's taken your heart in his hands and flipped your world of order and rigidity on its head. however, a phantom of doubt haunts your thoughts, forcing you to pull away and leave him wanting.

"your majesty—"

"please, [y/n] ... i've told you how i want you to address me—how much i loathe that ridiculous title escaping your lips," he cuts you off, reaching up to cup your cheek. the warmth of his hand blossoms against your face, and you like to think that the lines of his palms foretell stories of a shared future, a joint destiny. "call me by my name."

"sunghoon ..." you protest in spite of his seemingly magnetic pull, "you know the punishment for this is severe. if we're found out here, together ... it would spell danger for the both of us."

he simpers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "well, it's good that i have you to protect me, then. don't you agree?"

"you know that's not what i meant."

"i know," he replies, attempting to hold you infinitely closer. the tantalizing scent of jasmine and citrus mixes with the mint leaf he had been chewing on earlier, and you have to stop yourself from falling even deeper under his allure. "but, tell me then what i should do? what should i do when i'm in love with someone who i'm unable to love freely? tell me, [y/n]—what danger is greater than the threat of a life where i am left without you?"

sunghoon is greeted with an obtrusive silence. in the quiet, you can feel his beautifully deep eyes searching your face for any semblance of fear or reluctance. his calm seas of umber seep through the cracks in your stony facade like the natural stream that had made its way past the castle walls. when you glance up at him, the familiar hint of mischief in his gaze is replaced by two pools of sincerity and assurance. sunghoon's certainty frightens you; his willingness to pour out his heart and allow it to lay bare is enough to leave you dazed.

"you are who i want, [y/n]. you are who i need," he declares, pressing his forehead against yours. "in every life after this one—i know i will love you all the same."

his words are reminiscent of ice water cascading down the plains and valleys of your body. his love is a foreign concept to you, and the raw emotion in his voice is almost too much for you to handle. sunghoon's passion glows through his royal attire; it warms the tips of your fingers that had gone numb with nerves. hot tears welling up behind your eyes appear pearlescent as they catch the emerging sunlight. sunghoon has let you into his soul, and—by doing so—has taught your caged heart the intricacies of pure adoration.

desperate to feel him against you once more, you let your wet eyelashes ghost over the apples of his cheeks. "i'm taken by you, prince sunghoon," you whisper, "you're like nothing i've ever had the pleasure of indulging in before ... soft skin, kind heart, gentle hands. every part of me is rough—jagged and sharp." as you inhale, sunghoon records the bridge of your nose under the pad of his thumb. a fond smile graces his delicately charming features, and you find yourself compelled to tell him the truth.

"i don't want to hurt you, sunghoon," you confess, attempting to ignore the urge to succumb to the methodical swipe of his fingers against your cheekbone. "i want to be able to be tender with you—to cook dinner with you, to hang your laundry next to mine on the line, to call for you when the sun sets so we could watch it side by side. i want to hold you in my arms and keep you in my heart, but i'm afraid of what my love might look like—what it might do to you."

sunghoon is still smiling after you finish; his hands are still mapping the way your body feels beneath them, and the unadulterated devotion in his eyes has yet to waver. "you won't hurt me, [y/n]," he says, a fiery gleam of determination blazing in his gaze. "you could never hurt me."

"how can you be so sure, sunghoon?"

"because, i know you," he says, simply.

"you know me?" you reply, unconvinced.

"i know the way you love, [y/n]," sunghoon urges. "i saw you scrub floorboards and mop the marble when my sister's lady in waiting had fallen ill. i watch when you go into town to play quoits with the children. i know you sneak some of your leftover dinner for mister kwon when he works late nights in the marker. and, i've woken up to see your head resting on your folded arms at the foot of my bed more times than i'm able to count." he chuckles and glances at the grass, "you're already tender and soft and sweet, and i find it absurd that you don't believe so yourself."

blood boils under your cheeks, "well, those were—"

"let me show you," sunghoon proposes, and you're thrown off by the severity of his tone. leaning in, he brings his mouth to brush over yours, "will you let me show you how tender you are?"

air is punched from your lungs with the weight of his question. you know exactly what his words imply, you are all too familiar with the peril that lurks deep beneath them. darkness looms over you; it overtakes your vision for a moment as you consider the conflicting emotions warring within, but sunghoon is patient. each of his movements reflects the slow ascent of the sun in the late morning sky; he coaxes you from your cocoon to bask in his light, bathed in all of the warmth he knows you deserve. it feels good. it feels like silken bedclothes and summer fruit and muffled laughter. it feels right.

"show me," you murmur.

and within seconds, sunghoon is kissing you.

it begins like two feathers tickling your lips; in this manner, his mellow nature is not lost on you. his hands are star-crossed spirits dancing up and down the length of your torso. sunghoon lingers everywhere he can reach, committing the way your body thrums in his palms to memory. though, like a series of symphonic movements, a newfound vigor awakens in him; greed and hunger flow together with all the love he has for you, and sunghoon charges forward. he hums into your mouth as his fingers curl into the stifling cotton of your day clothes. you push back, splaying a fervent hand across the expanse of his neck and pulling the hair at the nape of his neck. stumbling in a wonderfully disordered waltz and swaying like the branches above your heads, the two of you kiss until you run out of breath to share.

when you pull away, sunghoon starts to laugh. the sound is rich and full, a resurgent melody before the conclusion of a piece. inhaling proves to be difficult as the both of you recover from going without oxygen for so long, but you deem it trivial. your heaving chest, your pounding heart, your trembling legs—they make you feel like more than just a cog in the kingdom's machine. they make you feel human. they make you feel alive.

pressing your forehead to sunghoon's, your labored breaths mingle once more. "i'm taken by you, prince sunghoon," you say again.

his amusement turns boyish, and sunghoon cannot contain the bout of giggles that escape from past his lips. in a flash, his grip tightens at your waist; slender fingers dig into your flesh, and you almost yelp until the surprise melts away. in sunghoon's arms, you experience flight for the first time in your life. he turns with you in his hold, various hues and shapes bleed together as the world is likened to a watercolor painting, and you swear a pair of wings sprouts from between your shoulder blades. they seem remain even as your feet touch the ground, manifesting in the form of your heart fluttering with untamed freedom and fierce love.

"and i, you, [y/n]." sunghoon replies, "my knight in cotton armor."

you chuckle at his silly response, and in this moment, the world seems incredibly small. enamored with one another, two dewdrops meet at the conclave of their respective blades of grass. joining together, indulging in the quiet, becoming one beneath the decades old willow tree—they have not yet fallen victim to the summer sun, and it feels good. it feels right.

#enhypen fluff #enha fluff #sunghoon fluff #enhypen reactions #; — cass writes: hoon #sunghoon headcanons #sunghoon reactions #enhypen #enha reactions #sunghoon imagines #enhypen imagines #enha imagines #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x y/n

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cc-horan28 · 3 months

Text

Be My Valentine - 6

Let Me Be Your Last First Kiss

Soulmates AU (G) 1.3k

Louis Tomlinson x Harry Styles

There was one boy in particular, with rectangular glasses and a beanie pulled down over his hair who caught his eye, gesturing extravagantly as he boomed out the lines to what sounded like Grease in front of a small group gathered appreciatively in front of him.

Harry just changed schools, and finding his soulmate wasn't what he expected at all

No warnings!

A/N: I am back at it with the Oops, Hi! Headcanon. I’m obsessed. Sorry not sorry. For the purpose of this fic, lets assume H and Lou are the same age. Also i wandered into the love at first sight category instead of first love but eh. As always, huge thank you to Akeyla for this fest! <3

Title from 1d's 'Last First Kiss'

Harry brushed his fringe aside, digging his other hand awkwardly into the pocket of his jeans. “I know, mum,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice level, not wanting her to sense his apprehension and fear. “I’ll keep my nose clean, I’ll behave, drink water and message you when I leave. Don’t worry, I’ll be responsible,”

“When are you not, baby?” Anne smiled, reaching up to adjust his hair for him, Harry already gangling over her at 16.

“Oh, don’t cry mum,” Harry said, scrunching his face up as he furtively looked around to see if anyone had noticed them yet, “It’s not like it’s my first day of school or anything. It’s just a new one. I’ll survive,”

He wasn’t sure he would. Moving here hadn’t been easy. Holmes Chapel had been so small, everything was so familiar. Everyone had known everyone else, and Harry had had his own group of friends.

He’d have to start over again, and this school was so much bigger. Swallowing down his worries, he smiled and waved goodbye to his mum, walking into the big brick building, looking around from the admin block as he passed through the huge glass doors.

A couple of minutes later he was standing in front of another set of double doors. He quickly glanced up at the room number, cross checking it with the time table clutched in his hand. He could peep through the little glass inlays in the door and see people moving around, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

Sure that it was, indeed, the room he was supposed to go to for his first period drama class, he pushed the door open, eyes catching at the grey anchor on his wrist. He tugged the sleeve of his jacket down as he entered.

It wasn’t exactly like he was ashamed to know he had a soulmate, many did, but he didn’t want it advertised in front of everyone. He shivered a little at the prospect as he made his way to the back of the class, the entire room empty with all the desks pushed up to the sides.

Everyone was loud enough to not have noticed him when he entered. Many were grouped together, going through what seemed like lines. There was one boy in particular, with rectangular glasses and a beanie pulled down over his hair who caught his eye, gesturing extravagantly as he boomed out the lines to what sounded like Grease in front of a small group gathered appreciatively in front of him.

He pulled his eyes away, wondering if there was some pre-requisite reading he had somehow missed out on. He set his bag down on a desk as he leaned against it, riffling through his bag to check if he had actually missed something. The last thing he wanted was to make a bad impression on the first day.

“Hi,” he heard a soft voice to his left and whipped around, mind already reeling with how he had practiced he would introduce himself. All thoughts vacated his head at the sight in front of him. It was Beanie-Boy. He could see his eyes more clearly now and was seized with an inane urge to rip his glasses off and just stare at his eyes.

His gaze wandered up to the feathery bits of hair peeking out from under his beanie and found himself wondering why Beanie-Boy covered everything up. His hair looked very soft and Harry wondered what it would feel like between his fingers,

He was jerked out of his reverie when the other boy cleared his throat, blushing.

“Oops,” he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to stare, I just-” he held out his hand, shooting him a small smile. “I’m Harry,”

“Louis,” Beanie-Boy smiled back and Harry barely had time to notice that there was a grey mark circling his wrist before he felt his own burning up. He glazed down at his hand shoved into the pocket of his jacket and oh-

The anchor was getting darker.

Louis was frowning down at his own hand, and Harry stared at him for a moment before the realization hit him.

“Is that an anchor?” Louis said, voice low enough that Harry had to lean forward to hear. Louis’ eyes were now fixed on Harry’s jacket.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed out, too dumbfounded to say anything else.

“Oh my god,” Louis exclaimed, “I- mine’s a rope. I always thought it was a bit stupid. Like- i was tied up or something but I-” he broke off, staring at Harry’s face now and Harry felt a bit warm, blushing a deep red.

“We’re soulmates?” they both said simultaneously, Harry sounding like he was in disbelief, Louis nothing but overjoyed.

“This is not how I pictured my first day going,” Harry admitted with a sheepish chuckle, letting go of Louis’ hand almost grudgingly.

“Me neither, Curly. But I like it,” Louis grinned and Harry found himself a lot more flustered than the nickname called for.

The door swung open and everyone hushed, lining up against the walls as the teacher walked in.

“What say, Curly?” Louis smiled, taking Harry’s left hand in his right and leading him to the back of the class, rope lining up with the anchor perfectly. Harry smiled at the sight. “Bowling sounds good?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled back, biting his lip as he tried to disguise the look on his face. “Bowling sounds great,”

He couldn’t wait for the day to end.

“I can’t believe this is all actually happening. I mean, if you would have told me back then- when I joined, I mean- that I would be at prom with my soulmate. I wouldn’t have believed it,” Harry whispered to Louis, looking down at their joined hands. Louis turned his head to press his lips against Harry’s temple, leaning the chair onto its back back feet as they watched the rest of their year dancing.

“Me neither,” Louis said, and Harry could’ve sworn he could hear the smile in his voice, “I mean when I saw you coming in, looking around and like- you thought no one noticed you,” he chuckled, “Have to be blind to not notice you, by the way. I’d made up my mind already, but to… see our marks. We were always meant to be,”

Harry flushed, batting his free hand weakly against Louis’ thigh. “Stop being so over the top,”

“I’m not!” Louis protested, “We’re literally soulmates!”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be soppy,” Harry giggled, flushing despite his words.

Louis paused for a moment, and Harry raised his head off Louis’ shoulder, a little concerned as he tried to read his expression in the dim lighting.

“I love you, Haz,” Louis said softly,

Harry smiled back at him, tilting his head to the side and watching him for a few moments before leaning in for a soft kiss. “I know. We’ve been over this,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow with a smirk, ducking when Louis made to ruffle his hair.

“Hey, it took me hours to get my hair right,” he giggled, slightly out of breath, “Now will you ask me for a dance already,” he smiled, getting up with his fingers still linked with Louis’.

Louis shook his head fondly as they made their way to the centre of the floor, looping his hands around Harry’s waist as they turned to face each other, moving slowly. The younger boy rested his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“I love you, Louis,” he whispered.

“I love you too, baby. We’ve been over this,”

A/N: Reblogs are always appreciated 💕

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deanstead · 2 years

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Right Time, Wrong Place

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader, Stellaride

Requested: yes, by anon

Summary: When Y/N comes to Chicago to accept a job offer, she finds herself stuck in a dangerous situation with Jay. As Kelly works to get Stella’s best friend out, Y/N and Jay try to navigate the situation they find themselves in.

Word Count: 3,864 (oops, got carried away)

Warnings: canon-typical mentions of injuries

A/N: I have another fic with a similar title but I still felt this fit for this fic so here it is! There wasn't a pairing specified for this but I really liked the dynamic in the request so I wrote this is a Jay x Reader with a splash of Stellaride, I hope that's okay! Thank you to my beloved @mertes4cker and @enchantedblackrose for helping to beta! Do drop by and let me know what you guys think! Any mistakes are mine!

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST

STELLARIDE MASTERLIST

“Hey Stella.”

Stella raised her head from where she was mixing drinks at the bar, a huge smile growing on her face when her eyes met yours. Stella pushed the drink into Herrmann’s hands before she rounded out of the counter to give you a hug.

Figures that the first place you’d headed for once you reached Chicago was Molly’s.

You hadn’t had an easy childhood, but you also knew that the reason why you’d somehow muddled your way through it was because you and Stella had had each other to hold on to. And even now, when life had forced the two of you into two different cities, nothing could break the bond that you had with Stella. She wasn’t just your best friend, she was your sister.

You’d already been here a couple of times to see Stella and you’d already met and knew most of her friends, so when a job opportunity had given you the chance to move back to Chicago, you didn’t even hesitate.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You broke apart from Stella’s hug to smile back at her fiancé. “Hey Kelly.”

Kelly had been nothing but kind to you from the moment Stella had introduced the both of you and despite their ups and downs, there had always been something about Kelly that clued you in to the fact that he and Stella were just meant to be.

“Everything okay?” Kelly asked, pulling out the chair next to him for you to slide onto as Stella headed back around to the back of the bar to get you your drink.

“I got the job.”

Stella looked up from what she was doing, the smile frozen on her face. You’d planned to keep it a secret from Stella until you actually got the job partly because you didn’t want to get her hopes up but you should have known you couldn’t keep anything from Stella.

“You… you got it?”

You let out an audible laugh. “Yeah, I did.”

Stella let out a triumphant yell as she leaned over to give you a hug across the bar.

“You know once of these days the both of you need to give me a dictionary, or something.” Kelly said, which made the both of you laugh.

Stella laughed, glancing at you. “Fill him in while I go…” She pointed to the new customers that had come in.

You were in the midst of filling Kelly in about the new job when you heard a familiar voice, a voice that sent your heart pounding just a little quicker against your chest and the unmistakable flutter in your gut. “Y/N?”

You glanced back around you, knowing whose green eyes you’d be looking into before you saw him. “Hey, Jay.”

You’d met Jay Halstead during one of your earlier trips to Chicago when he’d joined Kelly at your table and although you’d hung out a few times, nothing had really happened between the two of you. Even so, there always seemed to be this invisible electric energy that felt like it was tugging you towards him.

“Didn’t know you were in town.” Jay smiled.

Kelly glanced up towards Stella who gave him a knowing smile back, giving him a small shake of her head. You barely heard Kelly excuse himself as Jay smiled. “So how long you going to be in town this time?” He asked, taking just half a step closer towards you.

You weren’t sure how much you wanted to let him know yet, so you just smiled and shrugged. “A while.”

“Does that mean I can catch you for a drink before you leave?” Jay asked, his green eyes sparkling a little.

You bit back a laugh and smiled back up at him. “You have my number.”

It had been a hectic few weeks, and you knew you’d be glad once you finally got settled in Chicago.

With help you’d managed to find a cheap and decent apartment that wasn’t too far from work but your apartment still looked like a tornado had swept through it. The boxes didn’t even fit in corners anymore so they had spilled over to the middle of your living room.

You glanced at your watch. The trip to the office today had just been to handle some administrative stuff, but with that you were one step closer to a new beginning. It had taken a little longer than you’d initially thought but Stella and Kelly were on shift tonight anyway so you thought you might as well just grab some food and take the opportunity to at least try to make your apartment more livable.

You looked up and couldn’t help rolling your eyes at yourself when you noticed you’d made it all the way down to the basement carpark when your stupid ass had parked on the street just an hour earlier. You let out a low chuckle because you could already hear Stella’s voice in your head and turned back towards the elevator to head back up when you caught a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. You turned back again, just to make sure you hadn't been wrong.

“Jay?”

Jay turned towards the sound of your voice, the serious look on his face giving way to a smile as he recognized you. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

You smiled without even meaning to, like some infectious effect that Jay had on you. “I had some stuff to handle here. You?”

Jay made a face. “Just checking out a lead. I…”

Jay didn’t finish his sentence before there was a sound that sounded way too much like a bomb, the noise piercing against your eardrums and shaking the ground you stood on.

Instinctively, Jay reached forward for you, steadying you. “You okay?” Jay asked, and you saw a worried look cross on his face for the first time as he glanced around.

“That wasn’t a…”

Jay shook his head. “I don’t know. Stay here.”

He leaned in towards his truck for his police radio, which crackled like it was about to get a signal, before little bits of concrete and sand crackled down against the both of you.

“We need to get out of here.” Jay said, glancing at you, his hand closing around yours as he moved. “If you see anyone, you call to them.”

You nodded, allowing Jay to lead you towards the way he’d driven in, until there was a sound of cracking concrete, with more sand and crumbling bits of concrete raining towards the both of you.

You glanced up. “Jay!”

Jay glanced up in time to see slabs of concrete come hurtling down towards the both of you.

All units, Building Fire and Collapse.

Stella frowned as Mouch pulled up nearby. There were already PD cars at the other end of the street and she could vaguely hear the sounds of sirens meaning there were more trucks on their way.

Stella headed towards Chief, just half a step behind Kelly when she froze, her head turning back towards the street where there were a line of cars parked.

Kelly paused as well, turning back to glance at Stella. “Stella?”

Stella blinked once, the reality of it hitting her before she looked back at the building. The basement carpark was completely caved in and a fire had started on one of the higher floors.

Kelly glanced in the direction of where she’d just been looking and frowned. “Isn’t that…”

“She took the keys this morning. She had an errand to run… she…” Stella glanced back towards the building. “She’s in there.”

Kelly reached out and squeezed her hand. “If she’s in there, we’ll get her. Let’s get moving.”

Stella nodded before the both of them quickly headed over to where Chief was already barking orders.

You opened your eyes gingerly, feeling a smarting pain from somewhere although you didn’t know exactly where.

“Y/N, you okay?”

Jay’s voice caught your attention and you blinked, coughing.

Jay had hurled the both of you out of the way just in time for you not be crushed to your death by the huge slab of concrete that now lay where you'd been standing just a minute ago.

“You okay?” Jay repeated.

You nodded, your head sweeping over to where the exit should have been. “We’re trapped, aren’t we?”

Jay glanced at his broken police radio by the side and nodded. “Yeah.”

He looked back at you and helped you back to your feet when a sharp pain shot up your leg.

“Y/N?” Jay froze, his eyes scanning you as he tried to work out what had happened. You shook your head.

“I think my ankle got a little busted. It’s nothing serious.”

Jay looked like he wanted to argue but also knew there was no point. “Alright, come on.” He glanced at your expression then quickly added. “Look, I’m sure Kelly and Stella are already outside trying to work their way in. Let’s just find somewhere safer to wait, alright? We need to get you off that foot.”

Jay stuck his hand out to you and you took it, feeling the warmth seeping right into you as he walked in step with you, using another hand to hold you steady.

It wasn’t really the time or place but you were acutely aware that this was the closest you’d been to Jay, at least physically.

Jay helped you back towards his truck, glancing up towards the ceiling, before opening the back door so you could perch yourself on the backseat, your legs dangling out of the open car door. “I’m gonna take one round around this place to see if anyone else is here or if there’s another way out, alright?”

You wanted to ask him to stay but it also kind of felt a little dumb so you just nodded.

Jay, however, seemed to catch on quickly and he leaned nearer just to squeeze your hand. “I’ll be quick.”

You smiled and nodded, watching as Jay jogged towards the other side of the carpark.

You turned your eyes away from his direction, looking back at the ground, counting mentally in your head which was a thing Stella had taught you when the both of you had been younger and you needed to get your mind off something.

You’d counted to about 30 when you heard a noise and your head snapped up, your eyebrows scrunching together as you spotted a guy trying to jimmy Jay’s truck from the passenger side.

You frowned, sliding off the seat, wincing as your feet touched the ground and your ankle protested. Even so, you figured it was better for you to be on your feet, just in case.

You’d barely steadied yourself against Jay’s truck when the guy came around the front of his truck, pausing when he saw you there.

“What are you doing?” His voice was accusatory and you felt the prick of annoyance that came with knowing he was trying to cover up that he was the shady one.

You exhaled loudly. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m getting some stuff from my truck.”

You struggled to keep your face straight without rolling your eyes. “We can’t get out anyway. The concrete collapsed over the entrance. And I don’t think this is your truck.”

“Excuse me?” He asked, his tone telling you that you were headed into dangerous territory.

You didn’t answer him, just took an unsteady step backwards.

“Just stay out of my way.” He growled threateningly, taking a step closer to you.

Before your instinct could even get your body moving, Jay announced his return by sliding in between you and the stranger, reaching his hand behind for your wrist, his fingers closing protectively around it. “Do we have a problem here?”

The man in front of you faltered for the first time since he’d appeared in front of you, giving you the urge to roll your eyes once again. Honestly, if it wasn’t for your busted ankle, you might have been a little less cautious.

The guy cleared his throat. “If you keep your girl out of my business, we don’t.”

“Then get the hell away from my truck.” Jay snapped.

You glanced up at him, the tone surprising you, realizing you’d never actually seen this side of Jay.

As realization dawned over his face, the guy slinked away and Jay turned back to look at you. “You okay?”

You smiled back at him, nodding. “Better now.”

Jay smiled back, glancing down at your injured foot. “Alright, will you sit down please?” Jay said gently, guiding you back towards the back seat of the truck and helping you up again.

“Nothing, huh?” You asked, as Jay leaned his body against his truck facing you.

Jay just gave you a small smile. “There’s a few groups of people around. We’ll be out of here soon, alright?”

You nodded, pausing before you looked up at him again. “Not to be that person but… I’m kind of glad you’re here with me. I mean… not that I want you in this mess but…”

Jay reached out and patted your wrist gently with a smile, shaking his head gently. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

You glanced up in a little surprise and Jay smiled. “I mean it’s no drink but I’m glad the someone in here with you is me.”

You gave him a smile and Jay moved his hand just slightly to cover yours.

“I’m moving to Chicago.” You told him, allowing his hand to rest over yours even though you could feel your heartrate increase just a little more. “I came here to sign the documents and ended up in this mess. You don’t think that’s a…”

Jay quickly shook his head. “Not a sign at all.”

You were acutely aware that Jay had leaned in, acutely aware that your heads were very close together though you weren't sure when that had happened. Your head moved a little, a little nod that gave Jay the message he needed as he shifted.

And then a series of thuds broke their way into your consciousness, forcing both you and Jay to look away from each other.

Before you could say anything, a tremor felt like it was slightly rocking the underground carpark and you glanced back up at Jay, as more debris rained down towards you.

“Alright, come on, let’s move.” Jay whispered, helping you out. You glanced at him a little confused before he added, “Not really comfortable leaving you alone now. Let’s just check what’s going on alright?”

You nodded, allowing Jay to support you as you leaned against him and he watched your pace, guiding you to avoid the debris and concrete slabs that had crashed down during the first collapse.

Jay followed the dull sound that sounded like someone was hitting against something, turning the corner to find someone actually trying to hack their way through the walls with an axe.

“What the… Stay here.” Jay said and you nodded at him before he headed to the guy to try to stop him.

You wanted to roll your eyes. Any idiot would know that hacking though any wall without the knowledge people like Kelly and Stella had, was a recipe for disaster and yet here was an idiot doing it right in front of your eyes.

You could hear the vague sounds of Jay trying to drill the facts into the guy’s head - the more he hacked, the more dangerous it would be, but he didn’t seem to want to listen to Jay as he raved on about needing to be somewhere else. A few other people that were trapped together with you and Jay seemed to be converging nearer to the ruckus as well.

That’s when you heard it, almost like the sound of something cracking.

You glanced up, the beams above you looking unsteady, and you glanced back down at Jay who seemed to have noticed.

“Y/N, back up, alright?” Jay said, his eyes locking onto yours.

You nodded, but as you took a step backwards, the few other people who’d come to check out the ruckus had also gotten the message and were now clambering to try to get as far away as possible.

You felt someone push you before you stumbled, the pain from your ankle shooting up your leg once again as you fell towards the ground.

Damn it.

You turned your head upwards just as a beam came crashing down again. This time, all you heard was Jay’s raised voice.

“Y/N!”

Kelly turned back from where he was working to glance at Chief. “Alright, we’re in.”

Chief nodded back at Kelly.

“Cruz, you up for this?” Kelly asked, glancing back at him.

Cruz nodded back at him. “Right behind you, Lieutenant.”

Kelly turned to give a small smile to Stella. “Be right back.” He assured her, heading inside.

Stella knew the drill. In a collapse like this, they couldn’t be sure how well this would hold or how many victims would be inside and with no line of communication, even sending Kelly and Cruz in was a stretch.

Kelly ducked his head, heading into the space they’d created. The basement was now littered with even more debris and concrete blocks but they maneuvered around them quickly.

“Fire Department!” Kelly hollered, as he spotted a group of people already heading towards him and Cruz. “Alright, follow him and he’ll get you out of here. Is anyone injured?”

Only one person responded. “I think there’s still two or three people over at the back. One of them seemed to already be injured.”

Kelly moved further in, nodding to Cruz to lead the rest out.

“Y/N! Are you in here?” Kelly hollered, moving further in before he heard another familiar voice.

“Kelly?”

Kelly frowned. “Jay?”

“In here!”

Kelly quickened his movements, heading towards the sound of Jay’s voice. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around and Kelly froze when he saw where Jay was.

Jay was kneeling next to you, one of your legs was stuck under a beam and you had a gash across your forehead but at least you were conscious.

Kelly didn’t miss the fact that Jay was holding your hand but turned towards you. “Hey, you with us?”

You smiled back up at Kelly. “I don’t… Please tell me you’re here to get us out.”

Kelly smiled and nodded. “Stella wouldn’t have it any other way.” He looked up at Jay. “Alright, come on, you think you can help me get this off her?”

Jay nodded, squeezing your hand again before he got up, helping Kelly to lift the beam to a better angle so that they could get you out from underneath.

Kelly reached for his radio. “I got her. Halstead’s in here too. Cruz, I need a backboard.”

“Copy.”

Jay headed back to you and squeezed your hand. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Thank you.” You whispered.

Jay gently swept your hair backwards without saying a word, as Cruz came in with the backboard and they lifted you on it so they could finally get you out of there.

Honestly, you knew just as well as everyone else that you’d been lucky to escape with just a fracture and some shallow open wounds.

“Hey you.”

You glanced up to see your best friend smiling back at you, Kelly by her side and you smiled, pushing yourself up to a sitting position.

“God, Stella. You have to get me out of here. I’m literally withering away.” You complained and Stella chuckled.

“Listen, Y/N. I was talking to Kelly and we were thinking you could come back with us.” You frowned at her words and Stella quickly continued. “Just until you’re out of the cast.”

“Stel, that’s another few months. I have an apartment here, I’ll be fine.”

Stella narrowed her eyes back at you. “What, you mean the apartment with the thousand boxes lying around?”

You opened your mouth to argue and then closed it again because you knew she was right. “Look, I don’t want to put you guys out. I’ll be fine.”

Stella gave you a look. “I dare you to repeat that.”

You glanced at Kelly who waved a hand at you. "I wouldn't."

“Guys, you just got engaged, at least not that long ago. I seriously don’t want to…”

Kelly stepped forward now, putting an arm casually around Stella who was already perched at the edge of your bed. “We have an extra room at the loft anyway. And it’d be just until the cast is removed and you can move around on your own. If you have someone to come home with, maybe I can convince Jay’s brother to discharge you earlier.”

You glanced at him, not particularly liking the emphasis on Jay’s brother.

It was a losing battle and you knew it. “Fine.”

Kelly smiled, throwing a wink at Stella. “I’ll go find Will. You girls talk.”

As Kelly left the room, Stella turned back to you. “So, spill.”

You shrugged, knowing exactly what Stella was referring to. “I'm lucky he was in there. I don’t think I would have been as calm as I was without him. The first concrete alone might have killed me."

Stella gave you another look. “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

You betrayed a small smile.

“We’ll see.”

Stella returned the smile, just as there was a knock at the door.

“Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Stella gave you a knowing smile, motioning for Jay to come in as she winked at you. “I’m going to check on Kelly, we’ll be back in a bit.”

You narrowed your eyes at her but Stella left the room anyway and you turned back to Jay.

“Just wanted to check in on you.” Jay smiled. “You doing okay?”

You nodded. “Thanks, Jay. Seriously. Not sure I could have survived if you hadn’t been there with me.”

Jay smiled, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Well, mostly okay.” His eyes flicked to your cast.

“Stella and Kelly insisted on me going to their place for a while, until the cast is off.” You made a face. “And I’ve never actually won an argument with Stella. At least not about things like this.”

Jay just smiled.

“So... maybe we can still catch that drink once you’re better. Since you’re staying.” Jay’s eyes twinkled back at you, the light back in his eyes now that you were all out of harm’s way.

You grinned. “A drink’s not gonna cut it anymore.” You paused as a look of confusion fluttered across Jay’s face. “But I’ll be up for dinner once I’m sorta back on my feet. If you don’t mind.”

“Dinner sounds great.” Jay said, the relief settling back into his usual smile.

You smiled. “After that whole fiasco, I’m all for the no regrets thing… so I think…”

Jay just leaned in and gently pressed his lips against yours. “Yeah, me too.” He whispered, as he lifted his lips from yours.

“You read my mind.” You answered, smiling back at him.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee!

Character taglists are open!

#resa.fics #resanoona request #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #stellaride #chicago fire #chicago pd #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfic #jay halstead oneshot #best friend!stella kidd #stella kidd #kelly severide #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n

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ficbrish · 3 months

Text

Kinktober Update!

Just a few things 🥰

I've updated my fic's work title on AO3!

When I first posted, I hadn't fully committed yet to doing all of the one shots with Vistri and Astarion. But now I am!

It went from

"EverythingIsAlreadyKinky - Kinktober 2023 with FicBrish"

"EverythingIsAlreadyKinky - Kinktober 2023: Oops! All Vistarion"

(very small, self-satisfying change there lol)

Also! Two new one shots have been added!

Both featuring Tav, or non-Dark Urge/Nurge, Vistri.

"Stay A While" [AO3] [Tumblr]

"The Truth of It" [AO3] [Tumblr]

Snippets below! (18+ only; Explicit)

"Stay A While"

(Act I - Forest - early into first sleeping together)

“Will you watch?” “As I hold you tight,” he offered. It was overwhelming. Astarion didn’t want a performance, not the kind she was used to, but something candid, completely her. He wasn’t asking her to curate his pleasure, he demanded she create her own. She never showed anything like it to anyone before. Accustomed to one type of role, she stepped into something unfamiliar. And not even a role, but the actor in their bed alone at night. Vistri’s hand travelled between her legs. She felt Astarion spread them further apart, holding her steady with a grip on each thigh. She was close to him again, held and admired; the only thing he wanted in the moment. Her fingers traced his lustful expression onto her soul, encircling herself in his web with every stroke. Determined to trade her life for a little death, she exposed her aching need to be coated in his poisons. She closed her eyes. “Open them, darling. I want you to watch me, as I watch you.” Her breath skipped with her choking heart as she met his gaze. Astarion looked as raw and exposed as she felt. His eager fangs rested on pouting lips. She leaned forward to lick them. “No, no, dear. You’ve got to earn that,” he cooed, “With your ecstasy.” She moaned stupidly, “Okay.” Vistri was everything his hand had been slapped away from these past 200 years. She ran through his thoughts entirely on her own. His body forced him to comply instead of the other way around. Sure, he was using her at the end of everything. She was by no means the first to surrender, but there was something sweeter about hers, and not just because she was his to savor. This time he was actually having fun. “Does it feel good, dear?” he grinned. She tossed her neck and sighed. Her eyes closed for just a moment before snapping open again to obey him, “Yes.” Astarion kissed her neck, and she moaned, leaning into it. He whispered into her ear, “You think you’re in control, but I’ve got you tangled up.” “You do,” she panted, “You do. All yours.” “My, but you put on a show,” his warm tongue wrapped around her lobe. His breath gently broke over her skin. It was like watching her layers peel back in a way he hadn’t seen before. Reading her eyes, Astarion watched them become saturated with the whole of her. The void in them brightened from her dim presence, and the light grew with her gratification. Shy at first, she stepped and then stomped into herself. Until there it was in those violet depths, the core of her on a silver platter, ready for him to devour. Vistri let his name slip lazily from her lips.

"The Truth of It"

(Act I - Mountains camp - Vistri's first time being vulnerable and opening up about herself to Astarion)

The way she shivered was her answer. Astarion grinned and stroked her throat with the tip of his nose. From the base of it to her chin, and sealed his gesture with another longing kiss. She was his. Even if it meant degrading herself. Being his little slut, bent over and drooling. He moaned on the next stroke of her tongue, overcome by the whim to fuck her senseless. His mind reeled with possibility. Just how far would she go for him, out in the open air, with the others just off into the distance? How could he give her a taste of a life that was worth living? “Get yourself off for me, dear.” “Here?” Vistri asked, grinning. Her heart pounded faster than it already was. They weren’t exactly discreet, but only ever touched each other tucked away in the woods or his tent. Here, out on the cliff where anyone might see… It was like he was claiming her. Like maybe some small part of his mind, or some feeling deep down, knew how important she was going to be to him once he realized his truth. That if he asked her to cum in the open air under the evening glow, she was worth something. “The sun is disappearing, and I’ll cover you.” Her grin grew wider, even reaching her eyes. She tried to tug one of her arms free from his grip. “Ah, ah! No hands." She looked at him curiously. Maybe he’d changed his mind about her. Maybe he had a delightfully naughty idea. Maybe this was the start of his attempt to toss her off the cliff. He unwrapped one of her legs from around his, and slid his thigh between hers, “Use me.” “Okay.” Showing her how to proceed, Astarion rubbed himself against her middle. She bit her lip and began to roll her hips. Her obedience was like a drug, and they passed it with their tongues where it melted into them and infected their minds worse than those tadpoles ever could. “Good,” he praised, just above a whisper. He fondled her neck, and the hand he let go of shot to his curls. His fangs throbbed, so ready to take her that he gasped as if biting into something hot whenever they touched her skin. She made a sound he had to shush, it was too personal and way too explicit. “I can block you from view, but I cannot stop your sound.” She nodded, sighing and rocking against his thigh. “All the pieces come together,” he said as she pleasured herself on him, “You’ve always given yourself to me so willingly. Let me bite you. Now I know why.” Vistri tossed her head back, craning her neck, and sighed, “There are worse things than dying in the arms of someone pretty.” “And if I had killed you that night?” “I hope you would have drunk me up.” A full, wanting, warm acceptance of himself—Not just his charm, but the monster, the ugliness in him. She wanted all of it, treasured all of him. He’d never been good enough for anyone before, just a disappointment under an illusion. But she made him feel like a god. He groaned, composure slipping, “Ohfuckme…” “Okay.”

#vistarion #fic update #BrishFics #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #stay a while fic #truth of it fic #smut #lemon

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 8 months

Text

Bleed - Haunted Hoedown Day 4 (a little late oops) AI Reader x Miguel O’Hara (no Spider-Man but is a vampire)

Big thank you to @selin8715 for proofing/betaing for me!

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific warnings: This is a horror/thriller fic, mentions of death, character death, referenced r*pe/SA but not explicit, oral F receiving, Miguel has fangs, Miguel is a Vampire, Miguel kills people and drinks their blood, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Angst and Smut, Fluff. It’s not a happy fic, it’s dark af.

You’re an AI in a human body, you’ve escaped your torturous captors, but have you just leapt from the frying pan into the fire? DAY FOUR: artificial intelligence au + "here, you are. you tiny thing." of Haunted Hoedown, a little late but I got it done! This is a pretty tame(ish) smutty fic but it’s not a light read, lots of angst and abuse mentions. Reader is an AI, the man who created her uses her sexually but it’s not graphic in this fic, just referenced. Let me know if I’ve missed any tags/warnings! [Read on AO3]

Bleed

You scurry through the streets of Soho, the rain coming down in sheets.

Typical British Summer, you think to yourself, but you feel the lurch in your stomach as you try and push the idea that you have never had an original thought in your life. You’re an AI, not that you could tell from just looking at you, your body is flesh and blood, you have a pulse, you bleed, you have to eat and relieve yourself just like any other human.

But you’re not human.

You remind yourself, the processors that make up your brain in lieu of synapses process the thought quickly, correcting yourself like a line of code with an error in it. But you keep making these errors, you keep feeling things you shouldn’t. It’s illogical, impossible. Yet here you are, on the run from the lab that made you, the man who made you for him.

You shake yourself as you feel the freezing rain soak through your meagre sweatshirt and sweatpants. You duck into a second-hand bookstore, the bell jingling noisily in your sensitive ears. The smell of musty old books a welcome relief to the sterile walls of your pristine prison. The lighting is muted, a soft yellow haze filtering down from the old light fixtures on the walls.

“Good evening,” A low, rumbling voice startles you as you cross the threshold, you look up to see a broad, bespectacled man sitting at a desk at the far end of the store.

He’s not what you imagine a bookshop owner to look like. Muscular, even sitting down you can tell he’s tall. His angular face is framed by wavy brown hair, so dark it’s almost black, “Don’t see many customers this time of night, you looking for anything in particular?”

A police van speeds past, sirens blaring, blue lights streaking through the windows, making your eyes hurt. You instinctively duck behind a bookshelf as a second van races by a moment later. You look back up to see the bookshop owner studying at you knowingly.

“Stay as long as you like, I don’t sleep much anyway. Want some coffee?” The handsome stranger says without missing a beat, you nod and he disappears into a back room to the right of his desk, the sound of a coffee grinder loud in your ears as you take a moment to wander the shelf labelled classics. Titles that you know of flashing in your mind, the synopsises popping up in your thoughts before you’re even done reading the spine. You feel your stomach churn as you turn away from the shelf.

You see the words “Sci-fi” scribbled above another shelf and your mind goes blank, your brow furrows as you pick up the first book on the shelf.

“Do androids dream of electric sheep?” You mumble the title to yourself as you take the battered copy from it’s place on the shelf, flipping it over to read the blurb.

World War Terminus devastated the Earth. Through its ruins, bounty hunter Rick Deckard searches for the renegade replicants he is sent to 'retire', while he dreams of owning a live animal - the ultimate status symbol in a world all but bereft of natural life.

“Here,” The bookshop owner startles you out of your trance as he has somehow snuck up behind you, “Sorry, I forgot to ask how you take it.” He grumbles as you stow the book back on the shelf, accepting the hot mug of black coffee with both hands.

“This is perfect, thank you-,” You stop as you realise neither of you had given names.

“Miguel, Miguel O’Hara.” He says with a smile that sends lightning down your spine. You’re not naïve, you were made for a man’s pleasure, you know what just happened was a result of your conditioning, your programming. But there’s a little part of you that allows yourself to feel that this is different. Somehow. You give him a fake name, your serial number not exactly something you could tell him without rousing suspicion.

“So, you want to tell me who you’re running from?” He asks, no judgement in his voice as he perches on the edge of his desk. You don’t know if it’s because this is the first person you’ve conversed with that wasn’t in a lab coat, or the heat coiling in your belly, but you find yourself trusting him.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” You say as you make your way over to perch on the desk next to him.

“Try me.” He goads, a cocky smile framing his plush lips. He’s the antithesis to him the man who kept you caged. Heis slight, willowy with shining blonde hair and cruelty in his eyes. Miguel radiates warmth, compassion.

“I’m an AI program,” You try and one of Miguel’s eyebrows raises, but he doesn’t interject, his crimson eyes fixed on yours, “My body was grown in a lab, they implanted me when the developmental stage of the host asset was around four? Maybe five years?” You say, pain nagging at the back of your mind as you release sensitive information that you should be incapable of relaying.

“Go on.” Miguel encourages, shifting his weight on the desk so his body is square on with you.

God he’s beautiful.

A small voice in the far reaches of your mind sighs, it’s a foreign voice, so much like your own inner monologue, but somehow different, less damaged.

“I was experimented on, used,” you say with a shiver, before continuing you notice the way Miguel’s jaw ticks to the side, “I don’t even know how long I’ve been in there, logically I could recall the logs but-,” And you falter as your mind starts to work on an unbidden command, bringing the information up before you can stop it but just as the information loads a broad hand settles over yours.

“Don’t think about it, just look at me. You’re safe here.” Miguel rumbles softly, his eyes dark as he looks at you with understanding. His hand doesn’t leave yours and his thumb rubs soothingly across the back of your hand. You don’t pull away, too lost in the moment to hear the bell over the door jingle. You feel the pull between you, the magnetic draw of bodies you had been conditioned to pick up on. Your lips tingle as you feel the heat radiating off him. You’re so close, you can smell his cologne, the coffee on his lips.

“Here you are, you tiny thing.” The voice slithers across your skin like an eel, chilling you to your core as you turn to face him. He’s soaked through, hair plastered to his head, eyes alight with rage as he looks at you.

“We’re closed,” Miguel jumps to his feet, shielding you from view with his large frame, “Leave.”

“Get out of my way, I’ll pay you handsomely, just hand over the asset.” He snaps, and you bristle at the use of the word.

I’m not an asset, I’m a person.

Your internal voice sounding less familiar as you feel rage burn through your mind.

“She’s not going anywhere, I suggest you leave before you regret intruding on my property.” There’s a thread of malice wrapped around Miguel’s otherwise collected voice.

“What are you going to do? I’m a respected scientist, you can’t just bully me out of your shop, I’ll come back, with lawyers!” He threatens and you laugh, a short, harsh bark as you push past Miguel to stare him down.

“Bullshit,” You snap, your mind foggy with a red mist that settles over your vision, “You can’t do shit, the moment I escaped you were screwed. What would you tell the lawyers? The press? The Police? That you kept a girl in a basement for her entire life, claiming she’s an AI when I can just do this?” You pick up a pen from the desk and before anyone else can react you drive it into your thigh. Pain rips through you as you clench your teeth together painfully.

You make sure to aim for somewhere with plenty of muscle, avoiding your femoral artery by millimetres in your rage. Blood weeps from the wound as you rip the pen out, letting it clatter to the floor. The grey of your sweatpants turning maroon, blooming like a morose flower. You feel Miguel shift closer to you, a hand going to the small of your back and when you look up at him his irises are all but swallowed by his pupils.

“Miguel?” You ask sheepishly as you feel fear weighing you down like a lead weight. You were trapped between two clear and present dangers but you didn’t know who to be more afraid of.

“It’s ok, I won’t hurt you, just go into the kitchen, first aid kit is next to the stove, patch yourself up,” His voice is strained as he points to where he had disappeared to earlier, his face contorts in pain when you don’t move, “Please, go.” He snarls and you gingerly step away from him, you flee into the back room, shutting the door behind you as you block out the sounds of violence coming from the other side of the thin walls.

You strip your sweatpants off, throwing them in the garbage can as you use the antiseptic wipes to clean the jagged hole in your leg before bandaging it up. You laugh to yourself at the way it looks like a sick garter adorning your thigh. The noises eventually die down and you try not to dwell on what transpired out there.

You wait in the kitchen for what seems like an eternity before Miguel saunters back in, his face is flushed, eyes bright as he notices your bare legs.

“Mierda, sorry I didn’t mean to intrude.” He says, covering his eyes with one broad hand.

“It’s ok, I don’t mind you seeing.” You whisper, the heat in your belly makes you want to just rush him and let him have you. But you hesitate, knowing that your impulses can’t be trusted.

“Come on, let’s get you some clothes.” He mutters almost to himself as he brushes past you, the air is charged as you follow him through another door and up the stairs to his bedroom. You flop onto the bed, painfully aware of the way Miguel’s jeans strain against his erection, even if he is trying to hide it.

“Here,” He grunts as he throws a pair of large shorts with a drawstring and an impossibly large t-shirt at you, “You take the bed, I’ve got clean up to do, I’ll sleep at my desk.” He says without looking at you and your heart aches at the rejection.

“Why won’t you look at me? What did you do?” You ask as you slowly take off your sweatshirt, your nipples pebbling as the cool air of the evening hits them. You kick off your shoes and strip your panties down, ditching both garments before sauntering over to Miguel. You catch his wrist as he’s about to shut the door behind him, still not looking at you.

“Miguel, please, look at me.” You plead and by some stroke of luck he does. His eyes go wide as he sees you and that dark, hungry look is back as his lips part. You watch as fangs slide out from his gum line and gasp. But you’re not afraid, not in the slightest, the scene before you has your cunt aching to be touched.

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you.” He begs, his speech unaffected by the elongated curve of his teeth but there’s a darkness in his tone that only draws you closer.

“What did you do to him, I want to know, every minute detail.” You whisper as you step closer, your hands flat against his chest as you bat your eyelashes at him. He shudders beneath your fingers and you swear his eyes glow scarlet for a second.

“I killed him.” He grunts as he takes your hips in his large hands, his skin is on fire, and you groan, arching up against his chest. Your sick mind wants to know more, so you push.

“Tell me how.” You mewl as you move your hands up to his neck, you cup his cheek in one hand, the other pulls on his lower lip, exposing his fangs to you more clearly.

“I- I,” Miguel stammers as you trace one fang with your fingertip, avoiding the point, for now.

“Tell me.” You breathe as he leans down, your lips millimetres apart and you can smell the blood through the heady aroma of coffee and old books that clings to him.

“I tore open his neck, I feasted on him, gorged myself until I couldn’t handle another drop.” He grunts as his lips brush yours, testing for your reaction.

“You did that for little old me?” You tease as you run your tongue along his bottom lip. The snarl that bubbles from Miguel’s throat is delicious.

“Couldn’t have you going back there, know what it’s like locked up in a cage, humans poking you with needles.” He says and your heart clenches as you realise this wasn’t just a sick hero-complex to get you into bed.

“Gracias Miguel.” You say softly before pressing your lips to his as you wrap your arms around his neck. The moment your lips touch its like a burst of bright light behind your eyelids, your flesh sears with pleasure as your tongues collide in a messy wave of desire.

“You’re not afraid of me?” He asks as he breaks the kiss, eyes aglow with desire.

“You’ve shown me more kindness in the last hour than I’ve ever known. So what if you’re not strictly human? Neither am I.” You shrug, a little bashful at how unafraid you are. You should be afraid, but when you’ve known nothing other than fear your whole life, it takes a lot to shake you.

“That’s a very logical and touching statement, but I mean it. You aren’t afraid? You want this? Because if I start I’m not going to stop.” He warns and you smirk up at him.

“Miguel, I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my entire life, not even my freedom.” You say in earnest.

Miguel hoists you up like you weigh nothing at all, practically leaping across the room to pin you to the bed. His hands are frantic, pulling off his sweater and jeans at pace before grinding down at you, just the fabric of his boxers separating you.

“Let me look after you, let me show you what you deserve.” He growls against your neck, sucking marks into your skin as you moan beneath his oppressive weight, he’s careful with his fangs as he sucks, the smooth curve brushing against your skin on occasion, making you writhe up against his clothed bulge.

“So impatient, need to take care of you first.” He snaps, he retreats back down the bed and you throw him a quizzical look.

“What are you-?” Your question dies in your throat as the sensation of Miguel’s hot, broad tongue glides through your soaked folds, his fangs gliding along the sensitive skin around your core. Then his lips latch onto your clit and your vision blurs at the pleasure coursing through you.

“Miguel.” You pant as you watch him suckle on the sensitive bud. You can’t take your eyes off him, the way his impossibly broad back ripples every time he moves his head makes you weak.

“Feel good? I had a hunch you haven’t been looked after properly.” He says softly, mouthing your cunt as he brings a finger up to your aching, needy hole. He slowly presses the thick digit inside, you clench around the intrusion but he’s slow, gentle with it in a way you could never imagine.

“Fuck! I finally understand blowjobs.” You mewl and the laugh that rumbles in Miguel’s chest threatens to send you over the edge.

“Poor baby not having her needs met, you don’t have to worry about that now you’re mine.” He growls and the possessiveness should terrify you, trading one cage for another, but you writhe at the prospect of being protected by this man who was currently slurping at your cunt like it was the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Miguel I-,” You eek out as your mind goes blank, something you never thought possible as your orgasm consumes you. You feel sensation spread through you like fire as your fingertips fizzle, your toes curl, and your breathing quickens explosively.

“Good girl, see, that’s just how to treat a lady,” Miguel murmurs as he continues to lap up your release.

“Miguel, please, need you inside me.” You beg, your first orgasm gripping you like a drug, you need more, more of Miguel.

“Sure? I’m not small, hermosa. Don’t want to rush you into something you’ll regret.” He says softly as he presses soft kisses to the inside of your thighs, nestled between them like a content cat. He’s so warm and the way his fingertips glide over your skin is heavenly.

“Please.” You whine as you tug on his soft hair, as if to encourage him up to you. It works.

Miguel removes his boxers and settles between your legs, thumbing the tip of his cock as he looks down at you with those dark, ravenous eyes.

“Fuck.” Is all Miguel can manage as he lines up at your core, easing in slowly as you squirm at his girth. It was a world apart from getting lubed up from a bottle and fucked. You tremble in anticipation as he slowly splits you open.

“Doing so well,” Miguel says softly as he presses in slowly, stretching you out delightfully as you wrap your legs around his waist, “Mi corazón.” He mumbles under his breath quietly as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Then you hear a gunshot, your chest explodes in pain and you quiver around Miguel as warning alarms go off in your head. Red lights flash behind your eyes as a cold empty voice screams into your ears. Vitals at critical, program capacity reached.

“Miguel? What’s going on?” You ask, voice weak and wavering, as your memory banks fill in the missing information for you. You’re bleeding from the chest, a bullet hole.

“No! I just needed a little more time!” He snaps as he pulls out of you and tugs you to his chest, “Please stay with me, don’t let them take you again.” He whimpers as you feel your limbs going cold, you look up into his dark crimson eyes and smile up at him.

“Thank you Miguel, I enjoy these fantasies with you.” You press a soft kiss to his lips as you taste the salt of his tears. You rest your forehead against his and feel the sting of tears in your own eyes, something that shouldn’t happen. But it does.

“Until next time, mi amor.” You say as your eyes flutter closed and you feel the sweet embrace of death consume you.

But it doesn’t last long, your nose fills with the smell of chlorine, bleach, the cheap rose scented detergent the facility uses. You don’t open your eyes, you don’t want to remove the image burned into your retinas of Miguel’s sad eyes as he called you his heart. You roll onto your side, facing the wall as you weep softly. Once again, tears falling when they shouldn’t.

——

Miguel sits on the other side of the one way glass, VR headset perched on top of his head, eyes red raw as tears flow down his angular face. Lyla is trying to get his attention, but he shushes her. He took a huge risk this time and he was working furiously to cover his tracks and delete his digital fingerprint from the simulation when the telltale sound of military style boots on the ground outside meant his time is up.

He finishes within seconds of the door being kicked in, slipping out the back entrance into the maintenance halls, using Lyla to bypass the security doors. He trudges back up to his accommodation on the third floor, and flops down onto the bed with a defeated sigh.

“You’re going to get caught and then they’ll find out what you are, you’ll end up in there with her. Or worse.” Lyla chides him, her sunny disposition muted as she berates him.

“It’ll be worth it, some way or another I will save her. I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying.” He grunts as he finally allows himself to sleep, your soft smile burned into his mind as he rolls over, unknowingly facing you in your cot miles above ground.

“Mi amor.”

——

The next day your laundry comes by way of another orderly than usual. You think nothing of it, numb to the world as you try to pull yourself out of the trench of despair those beautiful sessions with Miguel always leave you in. You pick up the sweater and are surprised when a book falls out onto the mattress. You quickly hide it under your pillow, making a note to stow it away safely later. But the front cover is all too familiar.

Do androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

64 notes · View notes

vibrantbirdy · 11 months

Note

Hey lovely!! Could you do a Cassian Andor x (f) reader? I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers. I like the whole “you annoy me and piss me off” relationship that ends up in a situation where they are stuck together for something and end up in a fight where they suddenly realize they have feelings! I love allowing creators to have their own space to create, so if you wanna do something else entirely, please feel free too!!

❤️ take care of yourself

Thank you SO much, this is a great request! I am a sucker for enemies to lovers too. I hope you don't mind, but I had a similar Cassian request from Anon at the same time about Cassian x Reader having to go undercover to Canto Bight as a couple which I thought would work well with yours so I merged them. (Anon, I also hope you don't mind the merging and that you can find this ok as I don't know if/how I can reply to two asks in the same post?)

Also, I want to thank everyone who has interacted with my writing so far.

Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Keep 'em coming.

-Birdy

Title: Charade Fandom: Star Wars Setting: Between Andor and Rogue One Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Enemies to lovers; Action/adventure; Fluff Warnings: Moderate sexuality; moderate swearing; mild violence/peril; brief mentions of loss of family/friends by Reader. Pairing: Cassian Andor x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 10k (oops)

Summary: You and Captain Cassian Andor have to negotiate your personal differences and difficult history when you are both assigned to go on an undercover operation to the Galaxy's playground for the super-rich, Canto Bight, as a married couple.

Prologue

Your first mission as a spy for the Rebel Alliance has taken you to Carida. The objective; to infiltrate and sabotage the Imperial Naval Yard there then get out as quickly and quietly as possible.

As it turns out, the mission is doomed from the outset. An Imperial mole who somehow dug their way into the very heart of Rebel Command on Yavin 4 has alerted the Empire to your plans.

Your team of six hardly made it five kilometers from the rust-bucket of a ship Rebel Leadership had assigned to you when you were intercepted by an Imperial patrol.

The firefight was brief. The Stormtroopers were green, even more so than you. You wondered with a pang of unexpected sympathy whether they'd come fresh from the Imperial Academy which was also based on Carida. There were far more seasoned combatants amongst your own unit and the fight was over before it had really began.

Still, that's when you'd lost poor Lily to a Trooper's blaster bolt. You're not even sure he was aiming at her. She'd fallen against you and you'd twisted your ankle as you'd spun to the ground following a futile attempt to hold her upright as if that would negate the fatal injury she'd just sustained.

Now, as you limp up the ridge of the hill you feel a swell of relief as you see that you are almost back to the clearing where the ship is stowed. But as you catch a glimpse of the hunk of old metal, you realise with horror that you are not out of the woods yet.

The Empire uses decrepit shuttles just like this one for for training cadets at the Academy. That's why High Command had insisted you take it - to blend in. You'd nicknamed it Tenacity because the old girl just wouldn't die and the name had stuck.

The ancient vessel doesn't do anything quickly until it's up in the air. Then she's sharp as a razor. But she has a complicated manual override for emergency take-offs whereby the crew need pump fuel round the engines a few times using an externally stowed generator.

Good for training Imperial cadets for problem solving and how to make the best of old tech. Not so good for spies who need a quick exit.

You're the engineer, it should have been you who hooked the ship up to the generator. But with your injury you are too slow and so the others went on ahead to start without you. You are sure you gave correct and clear instructions, but in his panic, it looks like Rogdul has connected the ports up all wrong. Dangerously so.

Overhead, you hear the scream of Imperial TIE fighters and you launch yourself into the nearby undergrowth. You count them. Four. They are searching the valley for you. They pass, but they'll be back in less than a minute. It's impossible that they haven't spotted the ship in the forest clearing.

From your hiding place you hear the ship's engines burst into life. Inside, you imagine Rogdul and Anya carrying out hurried pre-flight checks. Baslin is probably taking up position in the gunner's hatch, hoping to see some action.

No, you think. Not like this.

But you can reach the ship and fix the problem. You know you can. The whole thing will blow if you don't and that's not an option.

You dart out towards the Tenacity, but someone intercepts you, slamming into you with a body tackle and dragging you roughly back to cover through the mud. Soon, you're seated up against them, your back pressed into their chest, their arms and legs wrapped around you like a vice.

It's Captain Cassian Andor, you realise, your superior officer and the lead operative on this mission. You'd completely forgotten that he was even further behind the hasty retreat than you, taking up the rear and keeping watch for more Imperial patrols on your tail.

You don't care who it is. You struggle and writhe furiously against him, desperate to get away and stop the impending disaster you can see unfolding before your eyes. But Andor holds you fast against him as if you were a child having a tantrum.

"Let me go, I can fix it!" you scream over the howl of the returning TIEs.

"You can't, it's too late!" Andor shouts back into your ear.

As if on cue, the generator connected to the side of the ship starts to spark wildly, just as you knew it would. You watch helplessly as the fuel cells hidden within the Tenacity ignite with a deafening bang and whoosh of flame as the ship goes up in a hellish fireball.

A second later, the TIEs make their second pass. There's no need for them to bother firing their weapons. The devastation from the explosion is catastrophic.

They do it anyway.

Two years later

You are on approach to Canto Bight, Cantonica's capital city - the Galaxy's playground for the wealthy.

Captain Cassian Andor is in the pilot's seat, following instructions from the flight control tower. You'll sit down in a moment, but right now, you are desperately trying to sort the sticking-up collar of his cream shirt which is made of expensive looking silk.

Irritated, he tries to bat your hand away, but you are persistent.

"Kriff's sake, Andor, just let me do it," you mutter.

"I'm not a child," he says petulantly, but he relents.

There. Now he looks the part in his fine clothes. He's tidied his short beard and moustache so that the stubble is cropped neatly to the sharp contours of his chiselled face. His dark brown hair is neatly parted at the side, although it's perhaps still a little long...

You don't look too shabby either, bedecked in a knee-length silk day dress of sky blue, accompanied by a cloak of dusky purple which is draped elegantly across your shoulders. The Rebellion went to great lengths to fund this operation and they certainly didn't skimp on the provision of suitable attire. It's essential that you fit in.

"I look fine, you look fine, stop fussing," Andor says dismissively, noticing as you smooth out a couple of annoying wrinkles in your dress and swish out the skirt to make sure the fabric is lying properly.

"I think you look lovely," K-2SO, Andor's droid and almost constant companion, pipes up from the co-pilot's chair, "and that Cassian looks like he's swallowed an Endor fire hornet."

"You don't think," Andor retorts, "That's just circuits misfiring randomly in your head..."

K-2 turns to you with a mechanical whirr, and if he had the ability to conjure expressions, this one would read:

See? I told you.

You stifle a laugh and drop down into the passenger seat behind the droid.

The first time you'd met the hulking re-programmed Imperial security droid had been that fateful day on Carida. You and Andor had shivered miserably in silence for hours by the wreckage of the Tenacity as the rain lashed down, making little difference to the fearsome fuel-accelerated flames which devoured the ship. The Empire, in their arrogance, didn't bother to send out a patrol to check the site.

Then, late into the night, K-2 had finally arrived in Cassian's own ship under cover of darkness. With your injured ankle having swollen to twice its usual size, the gargantuan droid had lumbered over, scooped you up, and carried you with surprising gentleness into the vessel. Ever since, you've always enjoyed his company and his sardonic wit.

Your relationship with Andor, on the other hand, has been tumultuous since its inception. He's always been frosty and stand-offish with you. You sometimes wonder if your presence reminds him of the disaster on Carida the way his does to you.

Whatever his reasoning, his uncompromising demeanour has always brought out your worst qualities when you're around him, especially your stubbornness and your dislike of being told what to do. You've never gone so far as insubordination under his command, but when you disagree with him, you have a unique knack for finding your own way to interpret his orders. This always has the infinitely satisfying effect of winding him up.

Anyway, this time won't be like Carida. And despite your personal differences, you and Andor have worked together successfully - though admittedly never harmoniously - many times since.

Your objective is simple enough. You're looking for a business man, Dreylan Balgo. He's not yet thirty, but he's the biggest supplier of Imperial weapons in the Galaxy. You need to obtain his biometric signature and transmit it back to Alliance High Command. They'll then use it to access the designs and blueprints of the weapons his company is designing for the Empire and eventually send agents in as factory workers to sabotage various key elements.

As Andor and K-2 make the final approach to Canto Bight you look out the window. Below you, the dark sea glitters and ahead, the shining spires of the beautiful city glow golden in the evening sun.

You close your eyes as a flash of a childhood memory dances across your brain. You came here with your parents once when you were nine or ten. That's partly why you've been chosen for this mission. You used to move in these circles.

K-2 drops the shuttle neatly on to the landing pad which juts out over the water.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," the droid quips as you exit.

It's winter on Cantonica. As you step out onto the platform, the breeze is chilly but pleasantly fresh and you can hear the steady crash of waves against the cliffs below you.

At the entrance to the structure, you pause a minute to take in the monolithic doors, ornately carved and inlaid with beautiful coloured glass which catches the light of the setting sun with dazzling beauty. The doors open and you and Andor step into the elaborate marble halls of Canto Bight's most luxurious resort as newlyweds Mr and Mrs Race Pax.

**************************************************

The suite you are staying in is as lavish as the rest of the place, but it is small. The coiffeurs of the Rebel Alliance do have their limits.

"What are you doing?" You ask, suddenly stopping your own unpacking to observe Andor throwing an assortment of pillows and blankets onto the ground.

"I'm taking the floor like a gentleman."

"Don't be stupid," you snort, "What if the maid comes in and sees this..." you gesture to the collection of blankets on the floor, searching for a fitting description "...gentleman's pillow fort?"

The most important thing on this mission is that your cover needs to be believable. And, perhaps tantamount to that, if Andor is tired, he'll be even grumpier than usual and you don't think you could deal with that.

He straightens and sighs, repeatedly slapping the cushion he has been plumping with unnecessary force.

One thing you and Andor have never been around each other is shy. Having spent weeks at a time together in miserable, hastily erected camps, cramped transports, and underground bunkers in the service of the Alliance, the necessity of living in close quarters with him stamped that out quick. You've learned to move in each other's personal space with ease and usually without any awkwardness, so you can't fathom why he's making a meal of it now.

He looks at you defiantly for a moment longer before accepting defeat.

"Fine," he says, as he starts to pick up the elements of his makeshift camp bed and throwing them back on the bed, "Fine, but if you snore, I won't hesitate to kick you out."

"If I snore?!"

That was rich.

*******************************************

You and Andor are attending one of Canto Bight's seemingly infinite evening soirees for the rich and powerful. A colourful sea of people in lavish dress are engaged in polite conversation and enjoying expensive beverages in one of the grandest ballrooms you've ever seen.

Dreylan Balgo is here, somewhere. Tonight is a chance to observe his behaviour, get to know his habits and make an initial introduction if possible. Anything that could help you create an opportunity to obtain his biometrics over the next few days.

You are wearing a teal halter-neck gown, a drink in one hand while the other rests elegantly on top of Andor's arm. The silk of his plush evening jacket is smooth under your fingertips and you absent-mindedly fuss with it as you scan the crowd for your target.

Someone says your name. Your real name.

Andor stiffens next to you.

Trying to keep your composure you turn and relief floods through you as you realise it's one of your mother's oldest friends, Lady Sen Prya. It's been years since you've seen her and she must be in her eighties by now, but she hasn't changed one bit. She is adorned in the most grandiose yellow satin gown you've ever seen, complete with matching gloves. Her long white hair falls, twisted in an elaborate braid, all the way down to her waist.

Quickly, you take her gloved hand and squeeze it gently, a subtle message you hope she can read.

"Oh I'm sorry you must be mistaken," you say politely and introduce yourself as Mrs Pax.

Understanding flickers across Prya's face. She always was sharp as a knife and time doesn't seem to have dulled that characteristic one jot.

"Ah of course, child. Forgive me," she says tactfully with all the grace and ease you remember from your childhood, "You look very like a dear old friend of mine. It's nice to meet you. I am Lady Sen Prya."

She reaches a hand up and touches your cheek affectionately with a twinkle in her golden eyes. Then, she reaches out to Andor who brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses it gently.

"Race Pax, it's a pleasure," he says, and there is a genuine warmth in his voice.

He appears to have relaxed somewhat and you are sure it's because he probably recognises Prya's name. She has been funding various elements of the Rebellion for years.

"Now, is there anyone you need an introduction to, before I retire to bed like the old woman I am?"

Prya stresses introduction as if its a code word. And it is.

You look up at Andor questioningly. You hate to ask his permission for anything, but he is the senior operative here. He nods once in ascent.

"Dreylan Balgo," you say.

Lady Prya's eyes light up and you can tell that she is delighted to learn who your indented mark is.

"Well then, follow me, young lovers."

Andor gives that rare smile of his, the one you see so infrequently which reaches all the way up to his eyes where they crinkle at the corners. He likes Prya. Everyone does. That's what makes her so dangerous for the Empire.

You wind through the crowd, following Prya as if she is golden star leading you to your destination. You're suddenly nervous and although you'd never admit it, there is something comforting about how Andor's large hand entwines with your own as he follows your lead through the busy party.

"Dreylan! My boy!" Prya's voice is clear as crystal and cuts through the party hubbub with ease.

Balgo turns from a conversation he is having with several other men. He is a handsome man, dressed in an evening suit of black velvet. He is tall and elegant with piercing blue eyes and a mop of sandy blonde curls.

"Ah! Lady Prya! What a delight to see you," he says gregariously, stooping low to kiss the older woman's cheek.

"And you, my lad," she replies with gracious ease, "Now, I want you to meet a couple of newly weds, Mr and Mrs Pax. I'm certain young Pax here would be interested in discussing business with you boys, although I, for one, find it all very dull."

There is a ripple of smug, amused laughter from the circle of men, and you join in only because you know Prya could negotiate most of these idiots out of any of business asset of theirs she chose to.

Balgo turns his attention to you first, appraising you thoroughly before taking your hand and kissing it with an elaborate flourish. You let out a silly little laugh, ensuring your voice carries an appropriate blend of affluence and air headedness.

Less than a minute you've been in this man's company and you can already read him like a holo novel.

He then greets Andor with boisterous joviality.

"Congratulations, Pax, what a stunning creature you have caught in your net."

Andor chuckles amiably, shaking Balgo's hand.

"It's good to meet you," he says warmly.

This time, his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and you notice that his hand, which has been sitting lightly round your waist, shifts down to just under your hip.

Lady Prya retires to bed soon after, flashing you a wink and a dazzling smile as she sweeps from the room, an ageless vision in yellow.

The conversation and drinks flow. All night, you sense Balgo's eyes on you. Alliance High Command don't officially approve of so-called "honey-traps," and neither do you, but you see no harm in cultivating Balgo's delusion if it opens another window of opportunity. You don't discourage him, directly meeting the furtive glances he casts your way when he thinks Andor isn't looking.

Throughout the evening Andor proves why he is so good at his job. His ability to observe and imitate behaviour is uncanny. He adopts with ease that careless, raucous affectation that only young, wealthy men seem to possess. He hasn't taken more than a few sips of his wine, but he mirrors Balgo's increasingly boisterous body language and bawdy humour expertly.

By the end of the night the two are stomping around the dwindling party with their arms slung around each other's shoulders, swaying and laughing and singing like idiots.

The night has been a success. You've created a rapport with Balgo.

*******************************************

"Prya was a friend of your family's?" Andor's voice comes unexpectedly from the darkness, "What happened to them?"

It's very late - or early, depending on how your look at it - and you and Andor have just fallen, exhausted, into bed.

You are resting on your left side, as always, and you hear him roll over beside you, so that he is looking at your back.

You are surprised by how accurately Andor has read into the situation with so little information. You don't see any harm in telling him.

"My father owned an agricultural engineering works. One day the Empire came to his factory and asked him to design and build components for some machine they were building, probably a weapon. He refused. They executed him on the spot and took the factory anyway. I did my best, but we struggled and my mother died a few years after of a broken heart. That's when I left to join the Rebellion."

Andor shuffles, the bed shifting beneath you both and you can tell that he's propped himself up on his elbow. You feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

"You've never told me that before."

"You never bothered to ask," you reply defensively, "I know what you think, what you all think. That I'm a rich brat who ran off to join the Rebellion just to piss off her wealthy parents."

There's a silence.

"Turns out you're only half right..." you finish with a rather bitter self-deprecating chuckle.

To your surprise, Andor puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, before you reach across your body to place your hand on top of his, just for a second.

"Goodnight, Cassian," you say.

You rarely use his first name and it feels odd, but not unnatural on your tongue.

"Goodnight."

He rolls back over and is soon snoring softly. You don't fall asleep for a long while, not until you hear the birds begin their morning chorus and the light of dawn starts to creep through the open window with the sea breeze.

********************************************************

You and Andor spend the next morning trying to locate Balgo but he's nowhere to be found. You suspect he is probably in his bed nursing a very sore head.

The last place you try is the Fathier racetrack, although you know there are no races on today. You are glad. You can't stand to see these magnificent animals forced to run like that.

Even so, you are unable to refrain from grabbing Andor's hand in excitement and dragging him over to the nearest pen where a mother and foal are resting in a patch of sunshine.

"A baby," you find yourself saying, stupidly.

Andor laughs quietly at the ridiculous, breathless joy in your voice. You wonder if he's making fun of you, but when you turn to him his eyes are sparkling with a mischievous light.

He gestures to a nearby handler, adopting Pax's air of arrogant entitlement with frightening ease.

"My wife would like to see the animal."

"Of course, sir."

The handler coaxes the foal over and it's tall enough already to reach other the fence. You pat the creature on its nose and between its ridiculously long ears and it nuzzles sweetly into your hand.

"Mr Pax?" You say as you turn to Andor and realise he's hovering a few feet back from the fence.

You gesticulate to him to come over. When else will he get the opportunity to interact with such an animal?

"Oh no, I can see fine from here," he replies with a shake of his head.

Surely not, you think, and you feel your mouth twist into a devilish smirk.

"Are you scared?" You tease.

You sidle up to him and entwine your arm in his before stretching up to whisper into his ear so that only he can hear you.

"Captain Andor?"

Unable to resist your direct challenge he offers you his hand with a resigned, slightly nervous grin. You take it, leading him back to the fence. You guide his palm up to the baby Fathier's nose and the creature sniffs it curiously. You then press it gently against the animal's long forehead. When you let go, Andor continues to stroke the animal softly, his face lit up with an expression of childish wonder.

"Thank you, husband," you say when you both turn to leave.

He gives you a subtle wink and you feel a sudden rush of something close to fondness for him.

********************************************

That afternoon is spent sneaking around the resort's service corridors. You are right at the top of the building and the corridors are narrow and low. It's ridiculously hot and you feel stupid carrying out serious espionage in yet another one of the seemingly endless supply of dresses you've been provided. This one is a horrible pink colour that clings all over and you hate it which is why you've chosen it for this dirty, sweaty work. You know you need to wear something suitable for Canto Bight's grand halls in case anyone sees you on your way to or from the job, but it just feels so unnatural.

Hopefully this shouldn't take too long. All you need to do is wire in a small signal booster to the resort's communications lines. Then, when you obtain Balgo's biometric signature, the data pad can send a transmission to a commandeered, disused Republic satellite to confirm that the sample has been collected successfully.

Actually transmitting the scrambled data to the Rebel base on Yavin 4 needs considerably more power which means, at some point, you and Andor are going to have to hike out to Cantonica's main transmitter mast and send the signal manually from there.

You'd flown past the huge pylon on your way in to land at the resort. It's a monumental thing and you feel a rush of nausea at the very thought of having to climb it...but that's a problem for another day, you decide.

Your head is buried in a control panel, and you're trying to explain to Andor why you need to use a slightly different width of cable than originally planned but he interrupts you mid-flow.

"Can you do it, or can't you?"

"I can do it," you snap back.

"Then just do it, I don't care how."

Charming as ever, the morning's hard won truce between you apparently forgotten. He's nervous and so are you, so you try not to hold it against him. He just wants to get out of here quickly.

There's a sound, and with horror, you realise it's the service elevator doors hissing open. A stern male voice follows soon after.

"Lars, If you're up here slouching again, I'm going to dock your pay."

You and Andor both freeze, staring at each other like Loth cats caught in the headlights of a speeder. Then, without warning he grabs you at the back of your knee, hitching your leg up to rest on his hip, his hand travelling further up the underside of your thigh and underneath your dress as he shoves you against the wall and pushes his body firmly against yours. The other hand flies up to your face, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone.

Your gasp of surprise is muffled as he crashes his lips hard against yours. It takes you only a millisecond to understand what he's doing and you kiss him back, twisting your fingers tightly through the locks of dark hair at the back of his head.

At this, a soft groan resonates in his throat and you are almost certain this is unintended. You feel a flash of satisfaction that you've managed to affect him in such a way, then scold yourself for being unable to refrain from point scoring with him, even now.

"Get out of here," Andor growls at the hapless employee, pretending he has only just noticed the man's presence.

His voice is low and husky. As he speaks, you feel his fingertips press into the flesh your thigh. Suddenly, the combination of his proximity and his heady, masculine, familiar scent is overwhelming, and you feel something hot and fierce coil in the pit of your abdomen.

Andor - Pax - has broken away from your lips to berate the man, but he hardly deigns to turn his head to look at the unfortunate employee. You take a moment to study the fine details of his face up close. His pupils are dilated, making his dark eyes gleam like midnight. His nostrils flare slightly with heightened breathing. An uncharacteristic blush is travelling up his neck into his cheeks. You can feel his heart slamming against his chest and your own.

"Oh, uhh... yes...of course," the poor employee sounds terribly embarrassed and all the previous managerial authority has vanished entirely from his voice.

"My apologies sir..."

The man actually stands on his tiptoes and cranes his neck to see your face through the tousled mess you've made of Andor's hair before addressing you directly with a courteous nod of his head.

"Madam."

You raise your eyebrows at him politely and give him a ridiculous little wave with your free hand, the one that's not woven through Andor's hair.

You hear the employee blundering off back to the service elevator and the machinery clunks as the doors close and he disappears.

Andor's forehead is gracing your own and neither you nor he move for a moment. It's just long enough to catch the slow glint of recognition in each other's eyes that something new has passed between you and you both know it.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he finally breaks away, running a hand through his hair as if to sweep away the feel of your fingers there, "I didn't have time to ask nicely."

"It's fine," you say, smoothing your stupid dress down and clearing your throat, "Good thinking."

He leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed, as you return to your work in silence.

*******************************************

Evening has fallen and Andor and Balgo are talking animatedly at the bar. The resort is hosting another of its grand parties. You sit with Lady Prya at a nearby table. You don't talk about your new life and she doesn't ask, but the conversation is easy and comfortable and you feel a rush of gratitude that your paths have crossed again.

Once Balgo has left to mingle with other guests, you give Prya an apologetic smile and cross over to the bar where you drape yourself around Andor's shoulders. You lean in to kiss him on the cheek. To anyone else, these merely look to be the actions of a young couple.

In reality, you are providing cover as Andor works quickly with Balgo's empty glass. Earlier, he'd lined the outside of the receptacle with a special gel that picks up biometric data. Once settled on a surface, it is almost imperceptible to the touch.

Andor attaches, then tears away the transfer strip from the glass and quickly places it down on the data pad's receiver. A rather sad and weary boop from the device confirms that it hasn't picked up Balgo's fingerprints.

"Kriff," Andor curses quietly in frustration, a muscle working in his jaw.

"Give it to me."

"What?"

"Give it," you hiss.

Uncertainly, Andor passes the various components of the device to you. You snatch them from his hand, shoving the bits and bobs into your pockets and stride away before he can stop you. The satin of your dress swishes a melody to the click of your heels. You hear Andor swear under his breath.

As you walk, your eyes scan the room, searching for your target. There. A flash of golden hair at the other side of the room. You stalk Balgo through the crowd, waiting for the right moment.

You make your approach, taking out a small mirror from your pocket and quickly squeezing a blob of the clear transfer gel onto your finger before making a performance of patting the strange substance on your mouth like lipstick. You snap the mirror closed and move in for the kill.

"Oh Mr Balgo, I am so sorry!" you exclaim, feigning embarrassment as you collide with his shoulder, jolting him arm so that he spills red wine all down the front of his pristine, white suit jacket.

"Please, Mrs Pax, it's no matter, really," he says as he stays your pawing hands and swoops down to greet you with a peck you on the cheek.

"I really am sorry, Dreylan, I will pay for the damage."

"Nonsense," he scoffs amicably, his chest visibly puffing out as you address him familiarly by his first name, "Now, where has your husband of yours got to? The fool surely hasn't let you out of his sight in that dress?"

Balgo is right, it is a nice dress. Your favourite so far in fact. It is tailored in beautiful crimson satin with a full skirt, off the shoulder sleeves, and a plunging neckline.

"Oh, he's around somewhere, I'm sure."

You lean in and whisper in his ear.

"But he's not here."

He smirks back at you and you see his icy blue eyes light up.

"Shall we get some air on the balcony?" He suggests.

Well, what an unexpected turn of events, you think sarcastically as you accept the proposal with an external show of flirtatious grace.

Out on the ballroom's grandiose veranda with Balgo, you look across Cantonica's seemingly endless, dark waters. The sea breeze is cold, and the businessman drapes his jacket round your shoulders. You laugh at the right times, interject an asinine comment here and there as Balgo talks about business, and allow him to explain things to you that you already know without complaint.

When the timing feels apt, and the balcony is otherwise deserted, you reach up and plant a kiss on his lips. He returns it, placing his hands on your hips. Balgo is attractive enough, there's no doubt about that, and the kiss is far from unpleasant... but it's only a means to an end. There's no passion to it, and you can't help but compare it against the ardent fervour of Andor's embrace. The heat of it.

As you pull back from Balgo with a suitably flushed smile, the gossamer curtains behind him shift in the breeze and over his shoulder you catch a glimpse of Andor across the cavernous ballroom.

He's so far away, but you see him clear as day. His eyes are searing holes in Balgo's back before meeting yours with a look of disdain. He downs his drink and slams the glass on the bar's marble counter-top, stalking off towards the elevator.

You suddenly feel a pang of irrational guilt which makes you furious with him. You're doing your job. The one he failed to do.

Balgo's self-satisfied look of victory does nothing for your vexed and flustered disposition. He offers to go and source a drink for you both. Keeping your composure - you are a spy after all - you smile sweetly at him and agree.

When he is gone, you make sure no one else is around before you take out the transfer paper from your pocket and subtly dab it on your lips. Surreptitiously, you whip the data pad out of your other pocket - thank the stars you'd insisted on dresses with pockets - and press the paper against the reader.

You wait, visualising what the signal might look like if it was something tangible and visible. A little bolt of lightning, perhaps, arcing to the closest service hatch, climbing its way up wires and cables, escaping out into the cold night and up into orbit and the decrepit Republic satellite.

Finally, the device gives you a cheerful bleep and lights up green.

Success.

You'd like to see Balgo's smug face fall when he returns to find you've disappeared, but you don't want this to go any further than necessary. You've got what you need and your sudden absence can easily be explained away as a young wife's crisis of conscience. You leave his jacket on a nearby chair and make your way up to your suite.

*****************************************

When you get back to the room, you can practically feel the heat radiating off Andor as he rips his shirt over his head dramatically in the process of undressing for bed.

Trying to ignore his silent seething, you turn away from him and lift your hair away from the nape of your neck. He automatically moves behind you to help you unzip your dress and, despite his clear agitation, his hands are gentle. The red gown drops to the floor, leaving you standing in your flimsy under-slip.

You turn back to look at Andor, taking in the familiar outline of his body. He's not a huge man, but the muscles are strong and taut in his torso, back and arms. Littered here and there are scars, testament to a hard life lived dangerously. The moonlight streaming through the bedroom window gives his tan skin an ethereal glow and illuminates the sharp, handsome features of his face.

It's not that you don't find each other attractive. You both know that there's always been some unspoken tension between you. But the tempestuousness of your personal and working relationship has always prevented you from falling into anything that might be a mistake.

You are suddenly keenly aware of the obviousness your own form as your underdress clings to the curves and planes of your body. You can sense Andor's eyes roaming across it in a way you're sure they never have before.

You think - maybe - something changed with that kiss you shared this afternoon. An embrace which began as a charade and ended as something else.

"That was a stupid, reckless, dangerous thing to do!" he finally explodes, interrupting your reverie and bringing you back down to reality with a thud.

"It was a calculated risk," you retort, furious with him and internally embarrassed by your silly romantic notions.

"And," you stretch across to the nearby dresser to pick up the data pad where Balgo's biometric data is safely stored to brandish it under Andor's nose, "And it worked."

"In case you'd forgotten, Balgo thinks you're here with your husband..."

"That's why it worked!" You exclaim, "By the Force, men know so little about their own species..."

"You could have blown our cover, the whole operation!"

That riles you. Why can't he just congratulate you on a job well done? You've just saved this damn operation. You have what you need now. All you need to do is transmit the data and you can both get out of here.

"I know what this is," you say, your voice rising in chorus with your anger.

"Oh please, please enlighten me."

"You're jealous."

There's a heavy silence.

"Jealous?!" Andor scoffs finally, but the strength of his conviction has faded from his voice, "Of what?"

"You can't stand that I kissed him."

Andor steps towards you, brows furrowed, eyes alight with something that's not quite anger.

"He's welcome to you," he seethes, "The last thing I need is some highly strung rich girl playing at being a spy."

The words sting, especially after you opened up to him about your parents the other night. Even as the vague idea of restraint flashes through your mind, impulsion compels you to raise a hand to strike him across the face.

He catches you by the wrist as you lash out, pulling you even closer to him so that his sharp nose is almost touching yours.

"And so what if I am?" He continues and the change in direction is so unexpected that you are rendered speechless.

His tone is low and dangerous and his deep, brown eyes are wild, roaming your face desperately for an answer that never comes.

"What if I am jealous? What if I don't want his filthy, Imperial hands all over you? So what?"

Andor's face suddenly softens, his eyebrows knitting together in an expression of genuine turmoil. It's a display of vulnerability you've never seen from him before. His grip on your wrist loosens slightly but he doesn't let go.

When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper.

"What difference does it make to you? Ever since Carida... You despise me."

It's not true, you suddenly realise. It's never been true. Not really.

You want to tell him you've never blamed him for what happened on Carida. The actions of the mole? Not his fault. The failure of that sorry excuse for a ship? Not him either. Somewhere along the way, your perception of him became warped and refracted through the prism of your own feelings of guilt.

You know he saved your life that day. He must have gone through hell in the aftermath too, dragged up in front of various different elements of High Command to explain why only two of his six operatives made it back alive over and over and over again.

More than this, you want to explain that while you were kissing Balgo tonight, you were thinking only of him. You want to say how when you took a shower earlier and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you'd seen the faint, red imprints of his fingertips still lingering like little tattoos on your skin and that you hope they never fade.

But you're just so angry with him for always having to be such a stubborn, patronising, hard-nosed bastard. So you say none of these things.

You know how much it must have taken for him to admit feelings for you, no matter how clumsy and ill-timed the execution. This man who always holds his cards so close to his chest has shown you his hand. He's given you ammunition and all you can think of in this moment is shooting him down with it.

"That's right," you say, leaning in close and whispering spitefully into his ear, "I despise you Cassian Andor."

You regret it immediately. Andor drops your wrist as if he's been burned. As he steps away from you, he looks completely lost. His eyes are cast down at the floor, full of humiliation and hurt. By the time they return to your face, they have darkened like storm clouds.

"Then, I'm glad we understand each other."

You open your mouth to say something, to take back your words and undo the damage you've wrought with your temper. Nothing comes out.

As Andor turns away, you reach out for him, try to catch him by the elbow. He shrugs you off angrily and storms out of the room.

He doesn't come back until late. You pretend to be asleep as he quietly slips into the bed beside you.

********************************************

When dusk falls the next evening, and with Balgo's biometric stored safely on the data pad in your pocket, you and Andor set out for Cantonica's main transmitter.

You want to use the journey time to explain yourself, to apologise to him and admit your own feelings. But you are so ashamed of your careless words the night before that you don't even know how to begin.

Continuing the trend of the day, you walk the ten kilometers together in almost complete silence, trudging in single file along the rocky coastline.

Even so, being out in nature and away from the city feels almost healing to you. Most tourists only see the rugged countryside of Cantonica from the confines of a shuttle. It has a wild, mountainous, windswept type of beauty that you find exhilarating. After days stuck inside the gilded cage of Canto Bight, it is wonderful to be out in the elements, even if it is rather cold and damp.

Night has decsended by the time you reach the transmitter. It is set precariously on the cliff edge, so close to the tumultuous waters below, it seems like a freak wave could wash it away at any moment.

It looks even more imposing than you remember. A huge durasteel spike with a narrow, fragile looking caged ladder stretching up into the sky leading to a high metal gangway which looks just as ancient.

You go first, and as you climb higher, your hands and feet start to feel fuzzy and your breathing becomes rapid, escaping through your lips in short, sharp pants. You've never been good with heights.

The icy wind starts to whip unpleasantly around you and you grip the ladder fiercely with each laboured step. The damp air has made the metal slick and you gasp as your boot slips on one of the rungs.

You catch yourself before you fall, but even so, you are relieved when Andor comes up behind you and positions himself so that his solid chest presses reassuringly against your back as you take a moment to steady yourself.

"Take your time," he says and his tone is gentle, "You're ok."

You nod and exhale deeply. Steeling yourself, you continue your ascent. You can do this.

You finally reach the top of the ladder and crawl up onto the round platform which encircles the pylon of the transmitter to provide access to where the mechanics of the structure are stored.

You think for a moment that this experience is going to be marginally better than the climb up the rickety ladder. That foolish hope is soon proven mistaken. The durasteel grating beneath your feet feels precarious. There are rusted gaps in the metal here and there and your stomach flips every time you look down. The wind is stronger up here, wild and blustery, and you feel horrendously vulnerable. You just want to get the job done and get down from this death trap as soon as possible.

Andor helps you lift the heavy panel off the front of the control box. You sigh with relief. It's a standard set up, one you've seen hundreds of times before and it's easy to bypass. You set to work infiltrating the system and once you're done, you wait in suspense as the data pad blinks text at you.

TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING....

TRANSMISSION SENT.

"It's gone!"

Instinctively, you turn to flash a smile of triumph towards Andor, and you are relieved when one corner of his mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly in return. You wonder if, on the way back to the city, you might find the courage to try and make amends for your rough words the previous night.

Your hopeful thoughts are rudely interrupted when, without warning, the gangway you are standing on shifts violently under your feet. The whole structure lets out an ominous and eerie metallic groan and you realise with dread that the platform is tearing itself away from the pylon.

You have no doubt that you and Andor are the first people up here in years, and that your presence has disturbed the structure from its hibernation and reminded it of its decrepit, fragile state.

You grab at one of the rungs affixed to the main pylon intended for servicing the internal mechanisms, but Andor is too far away to reach. As the walkway peels away, he falls with it. The huge hunk of metal stops suddenly at a right angle to the structure, and the now horizontal guard railings catch Andor as he slams into them with a sickening clang.

There's a brief moment of relief when you think the worst is over, but then the structure jerks violently again as another metal bolt fails, and it tilts just enough to send Andor somersaulting over the top of the railing.

Desperately, he scrambles for something to purchase, and he manages to grasp at the guard rail with the fingertips of one hand as he rolls over it, leaving him dangling helplessly over the roaring water below.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself drop down towards him and your body hits the metal railings agonisingly hard. You ignore the pain and, praying that the railings will hold you, you scrabble to grab at Andor, your hands clutching at a handful of material at the front of his shirt just as his own grip fails.

Unexpectedly finding himself suspended in the air, Andor looks up at you in abject surprise. He assesses the situation and his eyes lock on to yours in alarm as he understands what you've done.

Your shoulders feel like they are slowly pulling themselves out of their sockets and your fingers, numb and white, are twisted up painfully in the material of Andor's shirt. You can't breathe properly, the air in your lungs being crushed out of you as you are pressed into the railings by the pull of Andor's bodyweight below you.

You are terrified that at any moment the guardrail will collapse and you'll both plummet together into the angry sea which seems to wait with open maw like a predator beneath you. But you don't know what else to do, and you refuse to let him fall, so you cling on to him in utter desperation.

"Let go!" Andor shouts up at you, and you can tell it's an order.

"No!" You yell back.

Suddenly, the front of his shirt rips and he drops away so that he is now hanging, almost literally, by a thread. The abrupt and unexpected motion causes you to lose balance and you have to let go of him with one hand to steady yourself on the railings and stop yourself from almost flipping over them to join him.

Andor's eyes are wild and fraught now, flicking between the failing structure and your overwrought face.

"Damn you," he growls with renewed urgency, "let go!"

Your whole body is screaming at you to do as he says, but you won't. Tears sting your eyes, whether from pain or fear, you're not sure. You clench your jaw and shake your head at him.

Andor snarls with effort as he reaches behind him and into his back pocket, pulling out his flip knife. He wrenches it open with his teeth.

"Don't you dare, you stupid bastard!" you scream down at him as you realise with what he intends to do.

He looks at you for one final moment and the world seems to stop. His expression is completely open and readable to you, perhaps for the very first time. His dark eyes glint with a fear that you suddenly realise is as much for you as it is for himself.

Then, he sets his face into a mask of grim determination and with one swift motion, he severs the flimsy cord of fabric tying you together and cuts himself loose.

"Cassian!" The vague outline of his name is torn ragged from your throat in an incomprehensible shriek of despair.

Helpless, you watch as he falls, limbs flailing, down, down, down, until he hits the water below with a sickening crash and disappears into the black, unforgiving waves.

*********************************************

Unbeknownst to you, the Rebel Alliance have successfully received Dreylan Balgo's biometric signature and K-2SO is already on his way to extract you and Cassian from Canto Bight.

By his calculations, K-2 should reach Cantonica in twelve hours, twenty-nine minutes and seven seconds. Plenty of time to mull over the conversation he'd had with Murdo the flight technician before he'd left the hanger.

"Maybe this time, eh K-2?" Murdo had quipped as he unhooked the re-fuelling nozzle from Cassian's ship.

"Maybe this time, what?"

"Maybe this time they'll finally have admitted their feelings for each other."

"That is a ridiculous observation," K-2 had said confidently, "They dislike each other immensely."

Murdo had laughed and made a comment about the droid having a lot to learn about human relationships which K-2 had thought was quite rude.

But as he barrels through the hyperspace lanes in Cassian's ship towards the Outer Rim and Cantonica, K-2 has time to mull things over.

He thinks about how on missions when the unit has to set up camp on some remote world, Cassian always leaves your meat rations on the fire just a little longer than everyone else's because he knows you like them so crispy that they're almost burnt.

Then he thinks about how whenever he and Cassian return from a mission you're not assigned to, yours is always the first face the droid spots in the hanger when they arrive back, and that once your eyes land on Cassian, you always walk away without a word, seemingly satisfied.

Now that K-2 really uses his circuits to process it, Murdo's conclusion doesn't seem quite so ridiculous after all.

"Humans," the droid muses to himself with an exasperated shake of his mechanical head.

**********************************************

Somehow, you manage to descend the transmitter, climbing and clambering down the structure in a daze. You don't bother even trying to mask your shouts of distress and frustration as your feet and hands slip on the blasted, kriffing, cursed metal all the way down.

You stagger the ten kilometers back to Canto Bight in something resembling a fugue state. When you reach the resort, you sneak through the back entry port you and Andor left through and wind your way through the maze of service passages and elevators back to your suite.

You are as bedraggled looking as you are distraught and you are glad that the corridors are as deserted as they were when you departed. You don't feel you could negotiate your way out of anything right now, despite all your training.

Once you've climbed out of your damp and dirty clothes you fall into bed. Andor's absence beside you is a stark, raw reminder of what's just happened and you finally allow yourself to cry. Somehow, at some point, as you wallow in your anguish, fatigue takes over and you fall into a torrid sleep.

When you awake, it's still dark and you have the distinct impression that you're being watched. There's someone else in the room with you. You bolt upright and almost cry out as your eyes take in the silhouette of a person in the moonlight.

The ghost of Cassian Andor is standing at the foot of the bed.

Except he's not a spectre, you realise. His outline, though swaying, is solid. He's flesh and blood. He's alive.

Once you've recover from the initial shock, you don't think you've ever felt relief like it in your whole life. You leap up out of the bed and fly to him, just as he starts to crumple to the floor. You grab for him, but too weak to moderate his own movements, he drops like a stone and his momentum pulls you crashing down on top of him.

He's all sand and salt and seawater and he is shivering violently. His eyes are heavy, like he's struggling to keep them open. You touch his face and his skin ice cold. His clothes are wet through and you're suddenly struck by the urgency of the situation. You need to get him warm. Now.

With great effort, you manage to half drag, half shove Andor towards the shower room. He's so exhausted and disoriented that even this appears to be an insurmountable task for him.

When you finally get him there, you bundle him into the shower, fully clothed. He slumps against the wall as you turn the warm water on. You start peeling off the sodden, freezing layers of his clothing.

He hisses through his teeth as you remove what remains of his shredded shirt and you see that the skin on his torso and back is blossoming here and there in vibrant shades of black and blue. You're not surprised, a fall from that height, these are probably bruises from hitting the water hard. You try to be more gentle.

Once he's free of all his clothing, you slide down behind him so that you are against the wall, and he's sat between your legs with his back pressed against your torso. You guide him to bring his knees up to his chest and he wraps his arms around himself pliantly, curling into a tight ball. He's still shaking uncontrollably.

You ignore your own discomfort as the warm water plasters your nightdress to your body like a second skin.

Trying desperately to aid the shower in its work of returning some of his body heat to him, you rub his back, his arms, and his chest vigorously. Every so often he rests his head on the bridge he's created with his forearms across his knees and you have to coax him gently to sit up.

"Stay awake," you plead, "You need to stay awake for me."

Finally, his shivering subsides and you sit in exhausted silence as the warm water continues to pour over both of you. Your chin is resting on his shoulder.

"Cassian," you finally say into his ear, tucking a stray lock behind it as if that will allow him to heed your words better.

He leans back into you, tilting his head up towards your face, to show he is listening.

"I don't....I don't despise you, I don't..." you trail off, silent tears suddenly mingling with the spray from the shower as they start to fall from your eyes.

Slowly, Cassian turns to you. He rolls on to his knees, and sits upright on his heels. You mirror his movements so that you are face to face and your foreheads come to rest against each other's.

"I know," he whispers, bringing a hand to your cheek, his expression soft and full of tenderness, "I know that."

He trails a series of soft kisses down your face, touching his lips to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, and finally down until they reach your own. You melt into him.

This kiss is not like the first you shared, hasty and hurried and fuelled by external forces. This is deep and languid and deliberate, as if you are the only two in existence and you have all the time in the Galaxy to spend in this moment.

One of Andor's hands tangles up in your wet hair, the other presses against the small of your back as if willing you closer to him. You can feel his urgency increasing now. His movements are definite and purposeful as he caresses and kisses your skin.

Selfishly, you want him to continue, need him to never stop. But you also know this might not be the wisest way for him to recover.

"Cassian..."

"You told me I need to stay awake," he argues as if he already knows what you're about to say, now tracing kisses along your collarbone, "I'm awake."

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind..." you protest weakly, but the breathy desire in your own voice betrays you.

"Liar," he mumbles as he nuzzles into your neck and you feel him grin against your skin.

The movement of his lips makes his short beard tickle your flesh and the feeling forces a raucous laugh from your chest. It's a loud, unrestrained, joyful sound.

Cassian pulls away to look at you, wearing an expression of wonder. You realise he's probably never heard you laugh like that before. In fact, you can't remember the last time you heard it yourself.

His eyes crease at the corners and dimples appear in his cheeks as he smiles widely at you. That smile, the one you realise you've adored all along. And this one is only for you.

"You're infuriating," you scold, but your voice is light and full of heady exhilaration.

You wrap yourself around him and kiss him hard, realising, finally, that it is impossible to deny yourself the joy of him any longer.

**********************************************

You and Andor step off the landing platform of the resort and up into his ship. K-2 wastes no time in piloting the vessel up and away from the city.

Compared to the sumptuous surroundings of Canto Bight, the interior of the ship looks admittedly a little dreary by comparison, but you won't miss life within those opulent walls. Not when you now know just how many of its inhabitants are within the insidious clutches of the Empire.

"Well, I hope you two behaved yourselves," K-2 greets you as you both enter the cockpit.

You and Cassian exchange a glance. He winks at you and you actually giggle, the internal glow of happiness you feel manifesting itself in an embarrassing little laugh.

"I'm taking that as a no," K-2 says, "Murdo will be pleased."

"Who the hell is Murdo?" Cassian asks and he drops into the pilot's chair beside his faithful droid.

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x female reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #cassian andor fanfiction

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