#my two fav worlds combined | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fyorina · 2 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 DRIVE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: against all odds, you come across dazai osamu again, and you somehow find yourself roped into being his date for an event celebrating the armed detective agency. you're not falling. you swear. (you're lying). {wordcount: 9.2k; fem!reader, sfw, romance}

AUTHOR'S NOTES part 2 is hereeeeee! i hope you guys enjoy, this scene had one of my favs to write so i hope you like it too!! reblogs definitely appreciated!! i’ll reblog with the taglist as soon as it decides to show on the dash & in the tags!

SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B

“We really need to stop meeting like this.”

You aren’t sure how you feel as you stare at the man hanging upside down, tangled in a tapestry—amused, concerned, partly puzzled, a combination of all three really. Dazai Osamu looks half out of it as his gaze focuses on you; you wonder how long he’s been hanging like this, and how he managed to get in this position in the first place.

For the second time in two weeks, the man manages to catch you off guard, this time on your way home from a date that had gone horribly, horribly wrong with a classmate; you’d already spent the past two hours wandering the streets upset over all of this and you were ready to get home, but now you find yourself hesitating.

“Ah, my sweet, sweet belladonna, my lovely savior,” Dazai sighs, directing a quick, flirty smile toward you. “Won’t you help a poor, suffering man?”

“How did you manage this, Dazai?” you ask, letting the entertainment slip into your tone to distract yourself from the stress of the failed date as you look around and try to figure out the best way to get him down from where he’s entangled. You’d have to climb up onto the nearby dumpster to get enough reach to cut him down but you don’t even have anything to cut him down with.

“I tried to jump off that building,” he sighs, and you follow his gaze up to the tall building right to the left of the two of you. Your lips part in shock, you suppose you should have figured something like that because how else would he end up tangled upside down in a tapestry, but it’s still jarring to hear. “But I hit this on the way down and got stuck. I’ve been here for way too long, so many people have passed me by without helping—what a cruel, cruel world.”

“You are either the luckiest or unluckiest man alive,” you murmur, catching sight of a jagged piece of metal underneath the dumpster, picking it up and doing your best to climb onto it, but it’s difficult in heels and a dress. “Why are you so intent on dying?”

“Why are you so intent on living?” Dazai hits you with a question back instead of responding, peering up at you as he slowly spins in the air while you do your best to cut through the thick tapestry.

You frown at the question, brows furrowing. “Because I have things I still need to accomplish. Goals to achieve. Don’t you?”

“The only goal I need to achieve is finding a beautiful lady to do a double suicide with,” Dazai says, lips curling up into another charming smile but the effects of it are diminished because of the way he was still hanging upside down, spinning in slow circles. “Would you like to join me, bella?”

“Maybe in fifty years,” you say dryly.

“I’ll-”

Dazai doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you finally cut through the tapestry and he tumbles down head first to the ground. You bite back a smile as he lets out a loud yelp, crumpling on the ground in an unceremonious heap. You lower yourself back down to the ground, eyes settling on him as you watch him push himself into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head.

He looks up at you through his lashes, the charming smile on his lips a bit more lazy and casual as he looks over you. “My, aren’t you dressed pretty? What’s the occasion?” As you prepare to give a bullshit excuse, he holds up his hand and says: “Wait! Let me guess. A long day of work and no one to go out with after, so you decided to get all dressed up and walk around the city to see if fate would lead you to someone, and since our fingers are tied by that thin red thread, naturally, you were led right to me. Oh, my fated, no wonder I’ve evaded death so easily despite so many attempts, destiny refused to let me die as we’re predestined to be together.”

You stare at him, watching as he presses the back of his hand to his forehead, tilting his head back because what the fuck?

“I was on a date,” you say, ignoring the entire rest of what he said to answer his question, truthfully at that because his whole tirade about destiny and fate had thrown you off.

Dazai wilts, but then straightens up again and says, “Well, it couldn’t have been a good one if he didn’t at least walk you home.”

You grimace. “I think I should be insulted by how pleased you look at my night being ruined,” you mutter, holding your hand out to him to help him up.

Dazai places his hand in yours; long, thin fingers wrapped around your hand as you help him to his feet. He doesn’t let go immediately, nor does he back away, brown eyes lidded as he looks down at you, so close that your clothes were brushing his. The corner of his lips tilt up, his fingertips grazing your inner wrist. “How about we make the most of a ruined night then?”

You raise your eyebrows—you think you should get back to your apartment, get some work done to make up for how much of a mess the night had turned out, but you find yourself hesitating because do you really want to go wallow alone now?

“How do you plan we do that?” you ask instead of giving him an answer, although he evidently takes it as an answer considering his face lights up at your words.

“Come on,” he says, tugging your arm as he turns to make his way down the sidewalk, dragging you along with him. “I’ll show you someplace.”

“O-okay,” you fumble over your words in surprise, but it isn’t like Dazai is giving you much of a choice considering the way he’s pulling you along with him.

Your face feels hot when you notice the people still prowling the streets shooting the two of you odd looks—Dazai doesn’t seem to care, focusing on getting you to whatever destination he has planned, but you can feel their eyes burning into you with every step you take.

“Ignore them,” Dazai says, as if he can read your thoughts. He tosses his head over his shoulder as he looks at you, the corner of his lips curling up into another lazy smile that makes your breath catch. “They don’t know how to have fun.”

“Yeah,” is all you reply with, a bit doubtfully as you turn your gaze up to the dark skies, where the dark clouds you had noticed earlier in the day are now gathered over the city. “It’s going to rain.”

Dazai only raises his eyebrows, face riddled with disbelief as he turns fully to look at you, walking backwards without a care in the world as he forces people to walk around him. “Now, you care about rain?” he asks, referring to your first meeting.

You let out a puff of laughter. “I guess you have a point.”

“Naturally,” he says, teeth gleaming beneath the streetlamps as his grin widens. “I’m one of the Agency’s sharpest detectives, after all.”

“How humble,” you note, but your voice is light, teasing, and you’re almost embarrassed.

Dazai is unbothered by your playful dig, spinning back around to turn down the sidewalk onto a busier street, carelessly pulling you along with him and causing people to swerve around the two of you. You try to fumble out apologies as people shoot the two of you dirty looks but Dazai barely gives you enough time to speak the words as he continues down the street.

“Have you heard?” Dazai asks, returning to walking backward so he can look at you, garnering even more angry looks. “We’re heroes now.”

You have heard, of course, it’s all over the news. You hadn’t been in Yokohama when everything happened, you were visiting a friend outside of the city, but you’d seen it all going down on the TV as it was happening. And naturally, it’s impossible to avoid all of the news articles honoring the Armed Detective Agency and their part in taking down the threat to the city afterward.

“I have,” you drawl, and then add after a moment’s hesitation: “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating instead of…”

Instead of trying to kill yourself.

“This is me celebrating,” Dazai says mournfully, so casually that it takes you aback as he tilts his head back in grief. “It was supposed to be successful this time.”

“Well…” You aren’t sure what to say to that, the words dying on your lips as the first raindrops begin to fall from the sky. “I’m glad it wasn’t successful,” you finally decide upon, averting your gaze as Dazai’s face shifts into one of surprise as he looks down at you.

His lips part as if to say something, but seems to decide against it, instead letting a smile slip onto his face as he says: “Speaking of celebrations, my sweet belladonna, this hero needs a date to the celebratory event that the government is hosting for us in two weeks. Join me?”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, as the rain begins to come down harder—a flash flood, you realize. You watch as people start scattering around you, running for cover, but you and Dazai remain standing in the middle of the sidewalk, him awaiting your answer and you trying to figure out how to politely say you’d rather die than go to a celebratory event with people you don’t know.

You wonder if Dazai suspects your answer because he does not, in fact, give you the chance to speak.

Your eyes widen as he tugs you closer to him. “What’re you doing?” you stutter over your words as his free hand finds your hip and he spins the two of you around recklessly, forcing several people to dodge again as they run past the two of you and into a store to wait for the sudden rain to pass. Only his firm grip on you keeps you from slipping on the puddles forming on the sidewalk beneath the two of you. “Dazai!”

“Dancing,” is all he replies with, eyes shining as he lifts his arm to twirl you beneath it, your heels splashing in a puddle as he drags you along with his dance like a puppet. “It’s supposed to be romantic—dancing in the rain—I’ve seen it in movies, are you romanced, yet?”

You aren’t sure what makes you want to laugh, maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation or the way Dazai keeps having to blink away the raindrops that fall into his eyes, but before you know it, you're biting your lower lip to withhold the giggles rising through your chest.

“Are you laughing at me?” Dazai gasps in mock offense as he spins you outward once. You nearly trip over your heels but before you can, he’s spinning you back toward him, arm wrapping around your waist as he dips you down. “And here I was thinking I was doing a good job romancing you.”

His voice drops an octave as he lowers his voice, dark eyes searching yours, and you think that there’s absolutely nothing romantic about this. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, his hair is wet and matted against his forehead, dripping in your face as he hangs over you, you can feel his breath fanning against your lips and his body heat radiating against yours. Lightning webs across the sky above him, illuminating his face in a way that has your breath catching. You’re in heels and a dress and you can so easily trip and break your ankle, it’s only his hold on you preventing that from happening. It’s dangerous, and stupid—and maybe it’s a little romantic.

“I-”

You aren’t even able to get the admission from your lips because as soon as you begin to speak, someone slams into Dazai from behind. You yelp and his eyes widen as he stumbles forward, twisting the two of you around so he takes the brunt of the fall. He hits the ground hard with an ‘oof,’ half in the muddy grass and half on the sidewalk, and you fall on top of him, lips parted in shock.

“Well,” Dazai finally says after a few moments of stunned silence. “This is distinctly less romantic.”

And you laugh. Unable to hold it back now, you burst into laughter—hands braced on his chest, body flush against his, there’s mud splattered across his face and you’re pretty sure your makeup must be running down your cheeks from the rain. You think that your heels are probably ruined and you’d have to spend hours getting the stains out of your dress, but you laugh because you can’t remember the last time you actually had fun and weren’t stressed about school and the future, and your night had been going so horribly that you’d lost any hope of it taking a turn for the better. You might’ve been crying a bit too, you aren’t sure why, but it’s raining so you hope that he doesn’t notice.

You notice Dazai’s eyebrows lift a bit in surprise before his face seems to soften, a small smile tugging at his lips as he lets his head fall back against the mud.

“So,” he says, “about that date?”

“Nobody believes I have a date for the event,” Dazai complains two weeks later as he enters your apartment and throws himself onto your couch, watching as you dab on some dark red lipstick—an occurrence you’d become quite used to the past two weeks, because evidently Dazai Osamu does not need a key nor invitation into your home, he just picks the lock and comes right in. At least you’re expecting him this time. “Atsushi-kun laughed in my face. He laughed in my face! Can you believe it? After everything I’ve done for him, the nerve.”

You grin, glancing up into your mirror to catch his eyes. “To be honest, I still don’t believe you have a date for the dinner and I am your date.”

Dazai blanches, throwing his arm over his face as he slumps into the couch. “Et tu, bella?” he sighs sorrowfully and you laugh, spinning around in your chair to face him.

“Think of it this way,” you say, twisting your lipstick back into its container and placing it into your purse. Dazai peek up from the couch, eyes focusing on you as you speak. You almost feel a bit flustered under his gaze, it’s more intense than you expected. “You’ll get to see the looks on their face when they realize that you do actually have a date.”

Dazai brightens a bit at your words and then, as if a sudden thought passed through his head, he begins cackling like a madman—although you’re beginning to think the description is far more apt than you believed, Dazai Osamu is simply not sane. “Kunikada-kun is going to be so mad that I have a date and he doesn’t.”

“You’re wrinkling your suit, sit up straight,” you say and turn your attention back to the mirror, discreetly watching as Dazai lets out an exaggerated sigh before doing as you ask. Your eyes linger on him for a moment—he looks different dressed up nicely in a sleek, dark suit than his typical tan trench coat. He still wears those odd bandages all over his body, but you suppose that’s just a him thing, and no fancy event would get him to take them off. You can’t quite place what the exact difference is but you find that your gaze keeps dragging back to him.

He catches you staring and winks, you roll your eyes and look away, grateful that your embarrassment doesn’t show on your face as you glance one last time at yourself in the mirror to ensure that nothing is out of place

Dazai, you have learned over the past two weeks, can’t stand silence, so you aren’t surprised when you hear him start complaining about something else as soon as the conversation dies down.

“Did you know I pushed two of my little protégés to work with each other?” he asks, reaching out to grab the papers on your coffee table when he thinks you aren’t looking. You throw one of your makeup brushes at him. He yelps and draws back his hand.

“That’s nice,” you say absently. “Do they work together well?”

“Oh, they work together great,” Dazai says, and you glance back at him when you notice the sheer bitterness in his tone. “I think they love each other now.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of why Dazai seems so irritated by this. “That’s… great, isn’t it?” you asked slowly.

“No!” Dazai says so vehemently that you think he might leap to his feet in outrage. “That is not great. They are not allowed to be in a relationship before me. I forbid it.”

Your lips part a bit, a noise caught between a laugh and shock escaping them as you look over at Dazai again. “Okay,” you say, dragging out the word in amusement. Dazai shoots an affronted expression toward you in response, but you don’t give him the chance to speak again. You rise to your feet and swing your purse over your shoulder, glancing at the time, realizing you had about fifteen minutes to be at the City Hall, which is a forty minute drive without traffic and it’s a Saturday evening, so there’s always traffic.

“Oh god, we have to-”

You turn to leave only to bump right into Dazai. Blinking in confusion, you look up at him to ask what he’s doing but the words die on your tongue.

He’s too close as he looks down at you, you can smell the faint scent of his cologne and you can feel his body brushing yours, the corner of his lips twitching up. “Have I earned a kiss yet?” he hums, leaning his face down a bit so that his lips are almost barely grazing yours.

“Maybe,” you say, eyes flickering down to his lips for the sparest second before you watch his eyes light up only for you to take a step back, “but even if you did, you’re not messing up my makeup.”

Dazai looks as if he’d been shot in the heart, head dropping back as he groans and pouts at your words. “You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs, voice a long whine. “Won’t you indulge me with just a taste?”

“No,” you say, slipping past him to make your way over to the door where the keys to your car are hanging on a small hook. “Are you ready? We’re going to be late.”

The exaggerated grief that paints Dazai’s expression instantly disappears as he eyes your keys with a look that’s nothing short of devious. Distantly, you frown and close your fist around your keys, putting them out of his sight, but Dazai is undeterred, walking over to you.

“I can drive us,” he says, that same expression on his face as he holds his hand out. You don’t trust the look on his face, nor do you trust the way he’s all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s the least I can do, right?”

You’re doubtful, looking down at his extended hand as he waits for you to drop the keys in them. “I can drive,” you say, but Dazai immediately pouts at your words, looking genuinely bummed out, and you feel a little bad because you don’t even like driving, you just don’t trust Dazai to be a good driver. You hesitate. “Do you even know how to drive?”

“Of course,” Dazai says hurriedly, dark eyes lighting back up.

You exhale, reaching out to place your keys in his hand—the smile on his face is wicked, dread builds in your gut. You think you might have made a mistake.

You’re surprised that your car is still in one piece as Dazai parks crookedly across three spots in the parking lot of the city hall. You’re surprised that you are in one piece. You don’t move for a second, fingers still biting into the leather seat you’re buckled in, eyes wide and barely breathing. As Dazai turns the car off, you finally turn your head to the side to look at him before getting out of the car, grateful to be standing on solid ground.

“Never again.”

Dazai’s unbothered, as always—his smile is wide and restless, eyes exhilarated as they dart around the car, fingers clutching the keys as he finally steps outside. He looks as if he’d just won the lottery, that gleeful over having been given the chance to drive. You knew you should have gone with your gut when the man first asked if he could drive, and as miserable and anxiety-inducing it was racing through the streets, in between cars and half on the sidewalk, you think it might’ve been worth it, a bit, considering Dazai’s reaction.

“Maybe once more,” Dazai bargains, holding out his arm to you.

“Never again,” you repeat, but your voice is light as you take his arm and let him lead you up the steps to the city hall. “I cannot believe you didn’t get us pulled over.”

“Must not have been that bad then,” Dazai says, proudly.

“Ha! More like they didn’t want to risk their own lives trying to stop you.”

Dazai pouts terribly and then adds petulantly, “But it was fun.”

“It was something alright,” you agree idly. You aren’t sure if you were having fun in the moment, you were more scared for your life and your car, but you suppose looking back on it was a bit entertaining.

“You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs exaggeratedly. “You refuse my well-earned kiss, you mock me, now you insult my driving skills.”

“The only thing insulted tonight was my car,” you mutter to yourself, glancing back once more at it before Dazai steps forward to push open the wide doors to the city hall.

Instantly, you’re met with the sound of loud chatter and laughter and a young, unfamiliar voice calling, “Dazai-san!” excitedly.

Your gaze drifts up from Dazai to where a teen with silver hair and pretty eyes rushes up to the two of you. He’s so tunnel visioned on Dazai that he doesn’t even notice you until he’s standing right in front of you, and when he does, his eyes go so wide that you think they might pop right out of his skull. He looks between you and Dazai questioningly, lips parting and closing like a fish out of water.

Dazai looks like the cat that got the canary, eyes gleaming at the expression on Atsushi’s face and lips twitching up into a wicked smile.

“Atsushi-kuuuuun,” he drags out the boy's name in a long sing-song. “Meet my sweet belladonna, the one you so rudely claim didn’t exist.”

Atsushi looks flustered as he turns his attention toward you, eyes wide with panic and redness rising to his cheeks. “I didn’t-I mean-I just-” he stutters so badly that you’re forced to take mercy on the poor boy.

“Don’t worry,” you say with an easy grin. “I wouldn’t believe I existed either coming from Dazai.”

Dazai gapes. Atsushi snickers, hand coming up to cover his mouth to hide his smile. Atsushi glances once at Dazai and then looks back at you and whispers, “Is he paying you?”

Dazai looks thoroughly offended.

“Unfortunately, he doesn't need to,” you say with a snort, "but I'm sure he would if he had to."

Dazai gasps.

Atsushi snorts loudly and then looks a bit embarrassed. A woman with pretty eyes and short dark hair comes up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She throws a sharp grin at you. “You must be the infamous woman that Dazai has been talking about nonstop for two weeks,” she says, ignoring how Dazai looks like he wants to wither as you raise your eyebrows at him. “Blink twice if you need help.”

Dazai looks appalled now. “Yosano-sensei,” he complains, “That’s so-”

You pointedly blink twice. Yosano barks out a laugh and nearly chokes over it, Dazai gasps again, louder and far more dismayed. He slumps over your shoulder, burying his face into the top of your head.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he grumbles, voice muffled against your hair.

You pat his waist as another man approaches the group of you, blonde hair tied back neatly in a ponytail and glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. His eyes are sharp and narrowed as he looks at where Dazai is draping himself all over you. “Oi, you shitty waste of bandages, have some decorum, would you? We're at a government event, stop throwing yourself at people.”

Dazai perks up, that unscrupulous smile instantly returning as his gaze focuses on the blonde. “Kunikida-kuuun,” he now sings the other man’s name, arm slipping around your waist to tug you into his side as he says. “Come meet my date. She’s a grad student at Waseda University.”

You have a distinct feeling that he’s rubbing it in Kunikida’s face, and from the way the man’s expression twists in genuine surprise at Dazai’s words, you figure that said feeling is correct. Kunikida turns his attention toward you. “And you’re with him?” he asks so distastefully that you almost laugh. “How did you even meet him?”

You give Dazai a side-eye, considering whether or not you should tell the truth. You notice the pleading expression on his face and squint, but before you can make your decision, he speaks up, voice loud and exaggerated: “A fateful encounter under the moonlit shore of the Zushi Beach, we stumbled into each other as if guided by the hand of god himself. I-”

Suspicious now of the sideways explanation he’s giving about your own meeting with him, and recalling the tale he regaled you of his meeting with the very boy standing a few feet away from you, you cut off Dazai and turn to Atsushi. “Atsushi-kun, how did you and Dazai meet?”

Dazai flounders, hands flying in front of as if to wave Atsushi off from answering, but Atsushi only scowls and says, “I had to jump into the Tsurumi River to free him from where he was floating upside down in a barrel trying to drown himself. Then he had the nerve to yell at me for it.”

Pointedly, you look at Dazai, who at least has the decency to look sheepish as he glances at you. “I did take him out to dinner after though,” he offers.

“With my money,” Kunikida rages loudly and Dazai throws his head back with a loud sigh of complaint.

“None of you have my back. Not a single one of you,” Dazai accuses. “I would be a good wingman for you guys.”

Kunikida looks downright insulted. “You are the opposite of a wingman,” he spits. “In fact, you go out of your way to embarrass me in front of women, you lousy liar-”

“I will not have you make me look bad because you’re jealous any longer,” Dazai proclaims, holding his hand up as if to silence Kunikida.

“Jealous?” Kunikida booms after Dazai, but Dazai is already dragging you away, stealing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one over to you with a misleadingly innocent smile.

“It’s true, he’s jealous,” Dazai says, lacing his fingers into yours as he idly walks around the event hall with you, sipping at his champagne. “He has fifty-eight criteria for his ideal woman, you fit at least forty of them. He’s probably soooo mad you’re here with me.”

You blink and look at Dazai, wondering if you heard him correctly. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask with a laugh. “Fifty-eight-”

“Criteria, yeah,” Dazai confirms, “and he wonders why he can’t get a girlfriend—blames it on me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m sure you don’t help.”

Dazai pouts but then his amusement fades a bit as his eyes scan the crowd of people, dark eyes taking upon an uncharacteristically serious visage. His lips tighten and the corner of his eyes wrinkle as he squints, as if something about the whole event is bothering him.

“You okay?” you ask and Dazai looks at you, a bit startled.

“Yeah,” he says, and you watch as he smooths his face out—as if you’d seen something you weren’t supposed to see and now he was trying to play it off and pretend you didn’t. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You’ve noticed over the past two weeks, as you’ve gotten to know Dazai Osamu a bit better, that he’s far more complex than he likes to portray himself to be. He puts on a theatrical show with bright smiles, loud words and over-exaggerated clownlike behavior, and he’s very good at making sure that the mask he puts on rarely wavers. You’ve only caught it faltering a few times, including that first time you met when you’d woken up in the middle of the night and caught his empty expression as he stared out into the storm.

He doesn’t take well to people pointing it out though, you’ve realized. You tried to once a week ago when you caught him looking a bit lost and alone at a picture you had of you and two of your friends at a bar downtown. He’d broken into your apartment, as you’ve grown unfortunately used to over the past two weeks, and he was waiting for you to get back from class, snooping around while he waited. You weren’t supposed to be back until much later but your five o’clock class had been canceled, and he was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard you enter your apartment until you were a few feet away and asking if he was okay.

He promptly fled with a half-assed excuse about an urgent mission and he didn’t come back to your apartment for two days. When he finally did, he acted like nothing happened. You think that it’s not really your right to push and you don’t want to step over any boundary of his, but a part of you is starting to long to figure out what exactly is behind the mask he wears and that scares you. You find yourself smiling a bit too much whenever Dazai is around, your face always feels a bit hotter and your brain always feels a bit fuzzy—the tell-tale signs of falling are starting to appear and you want to know the man behind the carefully constructed mask before you start to fall only to realize that there’s no one there to catch you.

“You looked a bit lost in thought,” you finally say, testing the words on your tongue and scanning his face to see if even that would be too much of a push for him.

It is.

“You see right through me, don’t you?” He laughs it off as a joke, but you can all but taste the bitterness in his tone and you can see the mirth thinly veiled behind his eyes. “I’ll be right back, the boss is calling me over.”

Dazai doesn’t wait for you to respond, he tosses you a wink and another casual smile before he sets off across the room but you aren’t fooled by the faux-charm this time, knowing that he’s fleeing because you got a bit too close to asking something that he doesn’t want to answer. Lifting your champagne glass back to your lips, you idly watch him make his way over to a handsome, silver-haired man who’s in deep discussion with a young man with messy black hair.

You sigh and wave over a server to grab another flute of champagne before you even finish the one in hand, disappointment sweeping through you as you realize that the night is likely going to be a very, very long one.

You’re finishing your fourth glass when you hear someone call your last name and pause a bit in confusion, turning around to face a tall middle-aged man with graying hair. Your eyes widen a bit as you recognize Tonan Tanzo, the Vice Minister of Justice, making his way toward you with a glass of wine in hand.

“Tonan-san,” you greet, nodding your head a bit in respect for the older man, who you spoke to briefly at the Ministry’s panel at your university a week and a half ago. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you,” the man replies distantly, more a nicety than anything else. “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. You’re acquainted with the Armed Detective Agency?”

There’s an edge to his voice, one that you’re not sure if you like. You wonder if he has an issue with the Agency, but you don’t see why he would, they’ve been nothing but helpful in fostering peace in the city.

You only smile idly. “Vaguely,” you respond, not giving away all too much. You wonder if Dazai knows anything about whatever the man’s issue is—you’d have to ask him later.

Tonan hums, as if your answer wasn’t satisfactory, and then he says, “I was meaning to email you about the internship you were hoping for under Minister Hasegawa—all of the chaos of the past week has prevented me from doing so. I’ll be sure to do so by the end of this week so we can work to finalize something for winter break and the summer. Perhaps we can figure something out with your schedule to get you some training at the office before the semester ends.”

Your lips part a bit in shock at the suddenness of the offer but you school your expression quickly, mind racing as you force out, “I would appreciate that very much, Tonan-san. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Tonan Tanzo only hums again, nodding at you once before his eyes flicker up above you, a bit distastefully, just as you feel fingers brush your lower back. Tonan doesn’t even bother to greet Dazai as he turns to leave with a faint parting to you. You look up at Dazai, whose expression is cold as he stares after Tonan until the man disappears down a nearby hall.

“What was that about?” Dazai asks, the cold expression melting as soon as he looks down at you, dark eyes warm and curious as if he hadn’t just abandoned you for almost an hour. You almost feel a bit flustered beneath the gentle stare. Almost.

“I think he just offered me the job I was trying to get at the Ministry?” you say, still a bit dazed. “Although, I don’t think it’s necessarily because he wants me there, but it doesn’t really matter, I just need it for my resume.”

“Hm,” Dazai says to himself before his lips flicker up into a smile. “Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose. Good thing I grabbed us some more champagne.”

He lifts his other hand pointedly, showing off the two flutes he’d grabbed on the way back and you grin a bit, taking one from him, feeling a bit giddy now even though you’re pretty sure Tonan only hit you with the offer because of your affiliation with the Armed Detective Agency.

“You should probably slow down,” you note as you sip your own glass. “You’re on like seven now.”

“I’m fine, and you have no room to talk,” Dazai shoots you a playful smile. “Dance with me.”

“What?” you ask, eyes widening as Dazai takes the glass from you before you even take a second sip, placing it down on a nearby table with his as he grabs your arm and drags you to the center of the room, onto a dancefloor that nobody is using. “Dazai, no.”

“Dazai, yes,” he corrects with a wild grin and your face is aflame as eyes begin to turn in the direction of the two of you, curious as to what’s going on.

You want to die when Dazai forcibly spins you under his arm, much like that night out on the streets of Yokohama when the two of you ended up drenched and muddy except now there were dozens of eyes on you whereas then, people were more focused on trying to get to cover from the torrential downpour.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss, embarrassment flooding through you because for as thin as Dazai is, he’s deceptively strong and you cannot break free of the grip he has on your hand and waist.

“Please,” he breathes out longingly. “A death at your hands would-”

“Stop.”

Dazai pouts, and then as if punishment for interrupting him, Dazai launches you into a dramatic dip, leaning down with a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat’s to shame as he nudges his nose against yours before pulling you back up and spinning you beneath his arm again.

“This is embarrassing,” you say, but Dazai is paying no mind to the attention that the two of you are gaining—in fact, he looks utterly pleased with himself. “I-”

“Look! Yosano-sensei and Atsushi-kun are joining us!” Dazai cheers, turning the two of you just enough so that you can catch sight of Yosano physically dragging a protesting Atsushi out onto the near-empty dance floor.

“Yosano-sensei, please, I’ve never danced before,” Atsushi pleads, tugging his wrist away from the older woman but her grip is iron clad as she tugs the boy toward her, taking the lead in a wide ballroom dance.

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai sings. “Don’t look so nervous.”

Atsushi shoots Dazai a withering look, clearly blaming him for the unfortunate turn of events, and you relax a bit as you realize that Yosano pulling Atsushi onto the dance floor triggered a wave of several others: a dark-haired girl dragging an orange-haired boy onto the floor, the president of the Agency holding a hand out to a young girl who keeps shooting longing looks in the direction of the people dancing, a few older couples.

“See, everyone was just too nervous to be the first,” Dazai preens, tugging you close as he shifts from a wide and theatrical ballroom dance to a slower and more intimate one.

Your breath catches as he wraps an arm around your waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your lower back as his hand flattens. His other hand slips from where it’s intertwined with your to join his right on your waist. You’re so close to him that you can smell the faint scent of champagne on his breath as you loop your arms around his neck with a small smile.

Dazai’s dark eyes are glittering as he looks down at you, warm as melted honey and soft as velvet, you’re almost entranced. His lips are curved up into a gentle smile—you think you want to kiss him, and you swallow nervously as soon as the thought crosses your mind. You also think he might be able to read your mind, because his smile becomes a bit more mischievous as he leans down.

He doesn’t kiss you, but you think he might as well from how close he is to you—you swear that his lips are all but brushing yours. You feel a bit dizzy, and although there are enough people swaying and spinning around the two of you that you don’t really have to worry about any attention being on the two of you, you still feel a bit flustered by the thought of so many possibly seeing this.

“Now, do I get my kiss?” he whispers, and your lips part to respond but no words leave them. You think that’s dangerous because you definitely should not kiss him right now but your brain will not cooperate in formulating the words. Dazai lets out a small puff of laughter, his breath is warm against your lips and you want to kiss him even more—dangerous, you think again. “Fine, fine, I’ll wait just a bit longer.”

He doesn’t back away though and your heart feels like it’s lodged in your throat as he hums along quietly to the music playing, swaying back and forth with you tucked neatly in your arms. You think this is far too intimate for two people who aren’t even technically dating (you won’t admit that you’d been questioning it earlier with how often he frequents your apartment and his casual intimacy with you and felt a bit embarrassed when he made his comment about his proteges being in a relationship before him), and you think you should probably back away, but instead you find your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

There’s something indecipherable in his eyes—conflicted and confused, but with a far heavier emotion thinly veiled behind it, something caught between longing and adoration but with a hint of melancholy. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you figure that now’s not the time and he’ll probably just blow you off in the same way he did before.

So instead, you just give him a small smile and watch as his dark eyes widen a fraction at the action—you wonder if he realized that you noticed that something’s up with him and more importantly, you wonder if you weren’t supposed to notice. With bated breath, you wait to see whether or not he’s going to close off.

Around the two of you, the President lifts his arm to let the young girl spin beneath it, Atsushi is still letting out panicked protests as he and Yosano sweep across the dancefloor, an older couple laughs loudly as the man dips her and the teenage girl with dark hair is giggling as she takes the lead in the dance with the orange-haired boy.

Dazai doesn’t react for what feels like an eternity.

But then he smiles—it’s light and soft around the edges, matching your own, and though that indecipherable look is still in his eyes, maybe even more wistful now, you can’t help but notice that his shoulders feel much less tense beneath your arms.

You consider it a win.

Dazai thinks that he might be in trouble.

His gaze lingers on you as you make your way across the room in the direction of where Atsushi and Kyouka are talking. Atsushi had waved you over after everyone finally made their way off of the dance floor, Dazai’s a bit insulted because Atsushi and Kyouka both made it abundantly clear that they only wanted you to join them, which Dazai thinks is quite rude but what does he know?

And Dazai’s heart is racing, his cheeks feel warm, his lips are tingling, and he wants to blame it on the alcohol but he knows deep down that the alcohol is not the issue, you are.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The thought rings through his head as he watches you walk away, eyes tracing your figure while an emotion that borders on longing wreaks havoc on his heart. His throat feels clogged with it, his lungs feel as if they’re filled with ash. You make it to Atsushi and Kyouka and Atsushi is immediately talking, animated and excited.

He thinks you look beautiful—you’re wearing a red dress and it clings as if it was made perfectly for you even though he’s pretty sure it’s a dress you’d found on Uniqlo’s clearance racks, he remembers you raving about your luck with it last week, and as you look over your shoulder in his direction, your eyes glitter as brightly as the rhinestones sitting on your collarbone, teeth gleaming as you smile at whatever Atsushi is saying to you. Dazai doesn’t dare to ponder what his protege could possibly be telling you to make you look at him like that, he doubts it’s anything good, but he finds that he doesn’t even really care because he thinks that he’d sacrifice all of his pride and dignity if it means you’d continue to smile like that in his direction.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

It was meant to be a little fun once he realized that you were just a civilian with no connection to the underground—a distraction, a way to gloat a bit to Kunikida because of course Dazai can pull a girl that fits almost every single one of the man’s ideals while Kunikida himself can hardly dream of it. He convinced himself that he was playing a long game by spending every waking second outside of work at your apartment, wooing you so that he could get a kick out of Kunikida’s inevitable explosion. He convinced himself that the fluttering in his chest whenever you laughed at him was just some strange heart palpitations that have arisen as a chronic consequence of one of his attempts, paying no mind to the fact that it only happens when he’s with you. He convinced himself that his face is warm whenever he’s around you because of the weather even when the temperature chills and the wind is bitter.

But it’s hard to convince himself now—his lips tingle from where they’d just barely been brushing yours, there are goosebumps on his skin where your fingers had once been, and the image of your smile is branded behind his eyelids, the gentleness of it and the understanding. And he thinks it’s ridiculous honestly, because he doesn’t think that there’s anyone left in the world that could possibly understand him, but since that first day he met you, you’ve seemed to be able to see through him in a way that few people have ever been able to, going out of your way to try to make him feel more comfortable in a way that no one ever has.

When did he start to…

He can’t even finish the thought because acknowledging it means that it’s real and if it’s real, then Dazai is in trouble because Dazai is not a man who is capable of love anymore—or maybe he still is capable of love, or something close to it at least, what he feels for the members of the Agency proves that at least, but he’s not a man who’s capable of being loved.

Not for who he is.

Even if you do fall for the facade he puts up—the smiling jester who laughs and jokes and never lets anyone close enough to realize that the only thing within him is a black hole that consumes anything and everything he touches—you’ll realize one day that the man you fell for is a fraud and you’d leave. Dazai has been left behind once, in a way that was so excruciating that it’d almost entirely killed off Dazai’s withered heart, and he’s decided that he’ll never be the one left behind again. He’ll run before people can leave him, and he’ll keep everyone else at arm’s length. He’s probably wrong anyway; he doesn’t care for you, not like that, the line between obsession and love has always been dangerously blurry for him. He-

“Atsushi’s taken to her pretty fast, don’t you think?”

Dazai starts at the sudden sound of Yosano coming to stand next to him, a half-empty glass of wine in hand. There’s a lazy smile on her face as she watches where you, Atsushi and Kyouka are all chatting—well, you and Atsushi, mostly, but Kyouka seems enraptured in whatever conversation the two of you are having.

“Yeah,” Dazai agrees, and his voice is a bit more rough than he meant for it to be. He pointedly takes another long swig of his drink. “That’s a first.”

“Isn’t it?” Yosano laughs loudly, drawing some attention to the pair. “A good sign, he’s got pretty good instincts.”

Yosano nudges his shoulder playfully but Dazai can hardly gather the energy to mask the sudden and unwelcome sorrow weighing on him. He manages, if only scarcely, but it’s unconvincing if the way Yosano’s brows furrowed has anything to say about it.

He speaks before she can question it in an attempt to distract her from her concerns. “She’s quite the catch, I know. My sweet bella, if only she would join me in a double suicide, I don’t think I could even dream up a better way to go.”

Yosano only waves off his comment, and Dazai knows that she’s right—maybe it’s his tiger senses or maybe it’s just his intuition, but Atsushi usually has a good eye for good people. His lack of reservation around you, when he was even reserved around the Agency at first, is certainly a nice sign, even if it is partly because he’s had a few glasses of champagne. But Dazai also just can’t find it in him to be pleased over it because yeah, it confirms that you’re a good person but Dazai, no matter how hard he tries to be, is not one and he’s not sure if anything will ever change that.

The thickness in his throat returns, his eyes flutter shut momentarily as he tries to regain some semblance of control over himself.

When he opens his eyes again, his gaze instinctively is drawn back toward you and-

Oh, Dazai thinks, his breath catching and lips instinctively turning up as he watches you start to giggle and lean into Kyouka, who must have finally joined the conversation, while looking over at him. There’s a hazy look in your eyes, courtesy of the constant stream of champagne Dazai has been supplying you with all night, but you can’t seem to draw your eyes off of Dazai and Dazai can’t seem to draw his from you.

Yosano nudges his shoulder again to try to get his attention but Dazai can’t look away from you so he hums as if to tell her that she has his attention—if only partly.

“Enjoy it, Dazai,” Yosano says quietly and Dazai finally glances over to her, catching the oddly coherent look in what should’ve been drunken, glazed over eyes. “Don’t sabotage this for yourself. Enjoy it.”

Dazai thinks maybe he was wrong about you being one of few to be able to see right through him. Maybe he’s not as subtle as he thinks he is—or maybe it’s just his shared connection to Yosano through Mori that has her able to read him so easily. He avoids Yosano’s gaze as he looks back out into the crowds. Naturally, he finds himself seeking you out again, and you’re already looking at him. There’s a soft expression on your face as you admire him, not having realized he’d caught you staring yet, and you look as if you’re barely listening to what Atsushi is saying, and Dazai’s heart seizes because no one has ever looked at him that way before.

Well, he decides, maybe Yosano is right. He might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Once you realize that the front he shows you is just a mask to hide the rotting carcass that lies beneath, you’ll turn tail and run, and then everything can go back to normal again. He just can’t let himself get more attached than he already is—that way it won’t hurt when you leave.

Dazai catches his lips turning up as he watches you start giggling at something Atsushi and Kyouka say, Dazai’s heart does that damning flutter again, and immediately, he averts his gaze.

Still, he thinks, he’s far too sober for this.

Later in the night, when people have begun to say their goodbyes and you start to make your way to the restrooms to freshen up before heading out, Dazai corners you against the wall of the hall leading out of the event venue. You don’t even hear him following you or notice his presence until you feel his fingers snatch your wrist as he yanks you back toward him.

Your eyes widen but you’re able to bite back the yelp that nearly escapes your lips when you recognize his dark eyes looking down at you, mischievous and glittering beneath the soft lights.

“Do I get my kiss now?” Dazai breathes out. The wall behind you is cool against your back, and you can hear the chatter from the event down the hall as the event begins to come to an end. You part your lips to respond to him, with what? You aren’t entirely sure, but it doesn’t seem to matter because no words leave your lips regardless. “The party’s over, no need to worry about messing up that pretty makeup now, bella.”

“Only one,” you finally say, voice a bit more throaty than you would have liked but it’s hard to concentrate with Dazai’s fingers grazing your hips and his body brushing yours. You wonder if the man has ever learned about the concept of personal space—you severely doubt it. “Make it good, and maybe you can have a second.”

The smile on Dazai’s lips is nothing short of sinful as he brings one hand up to cup the side of your neck, thumb running along your jawline and fingers entangling with your hair. He doesn’t waste a second as he dips his head down to press his lips against yours, they’re warm and soft, and taste distinctly like the champagne that had been served earlier in the night. You let out a quiet noise of surprise against his lips, eyes fluttering shut.

The kiss is tamer than you expected it to be—he makes no move to deepen it, lips moving slowly and gently against yours as if he’s hesitant to take it any further, but Dazai Osamu has never been hesitant about anything in all of the times you've encountered him. Your hands rest on his forearms as he keeps you pressed up against the wall, unconcerned with the fact that all of his coworkers and many government officials are naught but half a hallway away.

You think to yourself, a bit embarrassed, that you might be able to spend an eternity kissing Dazai Osamu and never grow tired of it, and you wonder why it's taken you so long just to give in to his request from nearly a month ago.

You aren’t sure if ten seconds, ten minutes or ten hours have passed by the time he finally separates his lips from yours. He doesn’t move far away at all—his nose still nudging yours, his soft lips still brushing your own, he leaves no space at all between the two of you as he asks: “Good enough for a second?”

Your lips curve up into a smile, eyes meeting his dark ones as you look up at him through your lashes. Though, you have half a mind to agree, your previous thoughts still ringing through your head, you can't help the teasing words that spilled from your lips: “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll sleep on it and let you know my answer the next time we see each other.”

The laugh that Dazai lets out is breathless.

“Deal.”

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

509 notes · View notes

hopelesslyromanticshark · 2 months

Note

Hi! Can you pretty please do a Percy x child of Hebe headcanons where they both are out of Tartarus and healing? Thanks ur the best! 💜

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x child of hebe! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x child of hebe hcs warning: in depth conversations about trauma and all the icky stuff that surrounds tartarus author's note: a little short but so so sweet!! comfort like you've never been comforted before. this is actually such an interesting concept that i wish i could dive into with the other boys like...what would jason do in tartarus??? my fav boy leo??? franky-poo???

one year out

it's been one year since you and percy finally got out of tartarus

so why did you still feel like you were trapped down there?

the nightmares were never ending and the tears felt just as bad

it helped that percy, your beloved boy, was going through it with you too

there were nights in which he couldn't let you go, scared you'd slip away in the darkness and he'd never see you again

scared you'd fall, this time with no one to catch you

he couldn't be apart from you on this nights, even following you into the bathroom, sitting on the lip of the bathtub while he waited

it was exhausting for the both of you and you rarely got full nights of sleep anymore

so on this horrid anniversary, you and percy had a plan

you'd talk to clover over in the hypno cabin, kindly requested anything to help to the two of you sleep

he'd been more than happy to hand over his demigod level melatonin gummies, in the shape of pegasus and sheep and little lions

the two of you stocked up on favorite childhood movies, snacks, and - your favorite - coloring books

and you sat inside the poseidon cabin, determined to not be bother the whole day

every interaction with anyone outside of the pair of them would be a reminder of what day it was, which would bring all those terrible and gross feelings bubbling to the surface

and you two were determined to have a care free day, DAMN IT!

you were coloring and smiling and cuddling and just enjoying each other's presence

as a child of hebe, you loved coloring books!!

made you feel like a little kid again, that innocence of no one telling you whether or not it was good or bad.

it just was

then, as the night was coming to an end and you and percy had just started to reach for the melatonin gummies, a huge bang! rang through camp

followed by shouting, tons and tons of shouting, leo's voice easily heard above the rests

"I SAID NO, YOU LITTLE SHITS!! YOU THINK THAT'S WHAT THEY WANT?? FIREWORKS?? TO CELEBRATE WHAT, EXACTLY?? GET BACK HERE, YOU-"

your breathing had picked up and your hold on percy's bicep had tightened nearly enough to draw blood

he froze too before pulling you into his chest, shushing with a broken voice as he ran his hands through your hair

and you were getting flashbacks, your brain tricking you into thinking you were hearing rushing wind again and the way percy was holding you was just so similar and-

"breathe, y/n. it's me and you, always, but you gotta breath," percy whispered, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a sword

"okay, okay," you muttered back, resting your forehead to his chest and attempting to match him the best you could

admittedly, his breathing wasn't exactly even either, but it was better than yours

"i love you. so so much, baby." percy whispered this and similar sweet nothings into your ear, desperate to sooth you and himself

"you know, you're the best thing that ever happened to me, percy jackson," you managed to get out, looking up at him like you've never looked at him before, something more than devotion and admiration and love all combined. a look that rivaled aphrodite's definition of love

"i'd say im the luckiest guy in the world to have a girl as precious as you by my side. i- i don't deserve-"

"don't you dare. not today, percy, not today of all days," you cut in, shaking your head against his chest.

and percy could breath again, unknowingly needing that reassurance more than anything on that day

that cursed day that they were determined to stain with good memories, memories so fond and love-soaked that the bad ones simply faded away.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #hoo #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

456 notes · View notes

old-lorarri · 1 year

Text

❨ main f1 masterlist | football masterlist ❩

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐂

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒 → max verstappen x fem! reporter! reader x charles leclerc

a interview filled with chemistry has people picking sides team charles or team max when little did they know there was no need for them to begin with

𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 → charles leclerc x fem! miss universe! reader

invited to the final grand prix of the year by mercedes leaves you with a lot more than she bargains for

𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 → charles leclerc x fem! heiress! reader

after being failed time and time again charles well hidden gf finally had enough and decided to take matters into her own hands

𝐆𝐘𝐌 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐔𝐏 → charles leclerc x fem! gf! reader

a normal early morning gym session turns into your boyfriend pulling up in his ferrari to make a point to a gym rat that is flirting with you

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 → charles leclerc x fem! actress! reader

a year after getting divorced Y/N's self care era is in full swing and with that also comes a very unique way of announcing her new relationship

𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 → charles leclerc x male! indie! singer! reader

people hate that their fav indie guy is dating a certain ferrari driver but hating on him will not be tolerated by said singer

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑 → charles leclerc x fem! verstappen! twin! head engineer! reader

head engineer and a verstappen clearly is a winning combination as max's younger win attracts potential suitors but is shut down before his special day what a present

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋 → charles leclerc x male! actor! reader

their two worlds were never meant to meet but somehow they did and now they are showing it to the public

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 → charles leclerc x fem! santos! redbull! f1 driver! reader

the youngest sibling of neymar jr forges her path in formula one and hide a big secret from her over protective brother and the world

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐌 → charles leclerc x fem! kpop idol! blackpink! reader

charles attends coachella for the first time and gets caught slipping for a certain k-pop idol who happens to be headlining

𝐑𝐄𝐃 + 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 → charles leclerc x fem! chelsea! footballer! reader

after the champions league final, chelsea's star player Y/N L/N reveals her relashiopship with ferrari's golden boy charles leclerc | part 2

= 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄 → charles leclerc x fem! chelsea! footballer! reader

Y/N L/N's and charles leclerc's relationship saw all f1 drivers become part time footballers and Y/N marries on too | part 1

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐌𝐄! → charles leclerc x fem! gf! streamer! reader

it's off season and charles fellow drivers thought it would be a good idea to challenge his streamer girlfriend to see who is better at f1 2023

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 → charles leclerc x fem! korean! engineer! street racer! reader

two unlikey world meet and when the intent finds out everyone is completely shocked and wonder how this came to be | part 2 | part 3

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 → charles leclerc x fem! korean! engineer! street racer! reader

trouble in paradise arrests and accidents oh my and the internet mourn there favourite couples sudden break up | part 1 | part 3

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 → charles leclerc x fem! korean! engineer! street racer! reader

after breaking up with each other it’s clear they are missing the other (even if one of them would never admit it) so Y/N’s friend decide to play cupid | part 1 | part 2

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 → charles leclerc x fem! ex gf! reader

in which a series of texts shows the time line of a 5 year long relationship and how somewhere along the line it all went wrong

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 → charles leclerc x fem! nicks! singer! reader

everyone's fav couple has broken up but not to fear nothing brings people back together more than vegas

157 notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 2 months

Text

OUTERBANKS: THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AU — THE LORE ♡

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

CW: depressing tones, violence, death, blood, gore.

AN: okay, so i don’t really know what this is — but i wanted to open this up as an au i could write drabbles for with reader x character and i decided to write some extensive lore behind the universe i’m creating. i’ve always loved zombie media so i wanted to combine my fav things n create this little au for you guys. this isn’t really a fic but more so an opener to inspire drabble requests n ideas in my inbox, kind of like an experimentation. okay, hope you enjoy !! ౨ৎ

“We got gate one locked down, I repeat Pope— we got gate one locked down. Proceed with opening gate two. Over.”

“Got it, thanks JJ. Over.”

The squealing of mechanics shakes the dusty ground as the old gates begin to slowly slide, squealing as they open up revealing the long forest road up ahead. John B readies himself for a simple supply stake out, headed out alone to check out an old warehouse one of the runners had scoped out a week prior. As he exits the gates, he looks right and then looks left — stepping on the squishy skull of a previously dealt with Infected, its body lulling out from the old rickety grafitti’d sign reading Kitty Hawk.

The world went to shit back in 2020. Some sort of pandemic that had people biting others, their brains overpowered by aggression and hunger for flesh. One day everyone was cleaning up the beaches after Storm Agatha, the next day people were tearing into flesh right infront of your very eyes. At first, the people of the Outerbanks had moved out onto their boats, living out on the water with the occasional supply run. It worked for a while, the infected couldn’t swim so as long as your boat was afloat — you were safe from their bloody unforgiving jaws. However, supplies started to run out pretty fast, and people began to turn on eachother. Hopping boats and pirating until no one was left standing and the water was tainted with blood— the infected gathered on the shore to feast on the bodies slowly being washed up by the tide.

The pogues had found you by week six, your body curled on the pier by the Chateau crying into your hands having lost everyone you’d ever known. You were sure to soon perish— no supplies, no weapons, no food. Life had become bleak, hopeless — until for the first time in your life you’d felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed to the back of your head.

“Who are you and why are you out here?” Kiara barks, a khaki green bandana tied to cover her nose and mouth.

“I’m— i’m just looking for shelter. I don’t have any weapons on me I swear I’m safe, please just —”

“Are you bit?”

“No!”

“Turn around.”

When you slowly turn, you’re met with two female faces, one more familiar than the other. Besides Kiara stands Sarah Cameron— a girl you went to school with. She looks more unsure than Carerra, hand resting on the pocket knife wedging out of the waistband to her denim shorts.

“I don’t think she’s bit Kie… hey, I think I know this girl.”

It was Sarah who had convinced Kiara to bring you back to the Chateau and let you stay. It was also Sarah who got you accustomed, explaining the role everyone played. She was a negotiator, her social ranking in the old world aiding her in communicating with people outside of the barricades they’d made. Kie was in charge of supplies, stock take and recruiting. She decided who was in and who was out. Pope was the brains, did all the mathematical equations to help the group understand their circumstances and chances of survival better. JJ, a fighter — most skilled in dealing with firearms and building bombs, which came in pretty handy when clearing out what was left of Kitty Hawk. John B was their leader, he often came up with the main strategies and stuck his neck out on the line.

Everyone was their own cog in the well oiled machine they’d built to aid them in surviving an apocalypse. It was uncertain what you could bring to the group until you’d mentioned that you’d been studying to be a nurse.

“S’good thing you come in useful ‘cus I was totally gonna suggest we use you as bait. Y’know, cos of the whole doe eyed damsel in distress thing you got goin’ on.” JJ jests with a smirk, and you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you to make sure you knew he was only kidding around.

You became a lot more useful for patching people up once you’d cleared out Kitty Hawk. The pogues and yourself had began to collect a larger group of survivors, creating a small town to live in what once was the behavioural-correctional camp. You’d collected gardeners, seamstresses, doctors — people of all ages looking for shelter and safety to live in the many dormitories the land had to offer. You had the evening shifts, patching up any runners that had return from their time outside of the gates with injuries.

You remember the day Sarah got bit so clearly.

The Twinkie had come barrelling through the gates so fast, the townspeople that protected the entrances barely getting them open in time before the vehicle was speeding in— Kiara and John B ushering the blonde out the doors yelling out for you urgently with devastation in their voices, begging you to amputate the arm she’d been bitten on.

The pogues had gone for what was promised to be a civil meeting with Ward and Rafe Cameron. The two had taken over what was left of Kildare, creating a strong colony in a gated community that Ward had just come into possession of right before the outbreak. They were feared, respected — and they wanted Sarah to return to them.

Of course, the meeting was a set up— and when Sarah had refused to go with them — they opened fire, attracting rogue infected to swarm in on the group. In the chaos, Sarah was bitten — and JJ in a fit of rage had shot Ward Cameron straight through the skull infront of his only son. This started an all out war.

You recall arriving to Sarah, and your heart sinking. It was definitely too late, her eyes blood shot and skin uncharacteristically pale. She was whispering “Its okay.” Over and over. You wasn’t sure if she was convincing you or herself.

Kiara took her out to the forest to put her out of her misery before she got the chance to turn into one of the brainless monsters that had existed outside the gates. She was stronger than you could ever be, holding back her tears as she aims the barrel to the blondes head. You weren’t there, but you heard the gunshot as you were patching up JJ who was skimmed by a bullet. You slept by his side that night without uttering a word about it.

Everyone got a little more serious from that point on. You often stared at the heart with her initials she’d carved into her old bunkbed that now sits empty in her dorm, her things laid out like she was still coming back to collect them one day. John B got a little more stern as a leader, over protective of you as he made it clear he didn’t believe you’d be able to protect yourself out there — banning you from leaving the gates. JJ became a more ferocious fighter, busying himself with target practice out in the forest shooting bullseyes each day to ensure he could quickly take down whoever he needed to. Pope got more reserved, more moody — hanging out by himself infront of maps or in the radio room with Kie trying to find new survivors. Occasionally, just occasionally — the bunch of you would get together and drink round a camp fire. Things would feel normal again, just for one night — the group laughing and telling stories the same way they might have done before the outbreak.

You wondered how long this could last, if there was ever an end to any of this. You also wondered if there was a reason to it all happening, if you were being punished for the way you’d behaved as human beings. Mostly though, on a day to day basis— you wondered when Rafe Cameron would return for his revenge. It was only a matter of time.

#jj maybank prompt #john b prompt #rafe cameron prompt #pope heyward prompt #apocalypse!au

217 notes · View notes

marshallsgirl · 2 months

Text

Marshall revealing his new song to Y/N

Pairing: Eminem x Fem¡Reader

Warnings: 🔞 MATURE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Recommended song: Remind Me - Eminem, In Too Deep - Eminem

Author's note: Hey, guys! I was so bored and I wrote this. I may delete it later or idk. Hope you all enjoy it. I love you guys so much! Sending all of you a warm hug🫂🤍

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■♡■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

"I have a surprise for you" Marshall said to me as he enter the living room. Inmediatly I turn off the tv and give all my attention to him. "Guess what" he said.

"What?"

"The song is complete!"

"Whoa baby!"

Here's the thing. He told me he was writting a song about us, but that's it. He didn't talk about ever again. Even if I asked him about it he had changed the topic. So, I was very nervous about it. Because this has happened before. It was with the Revival album. That one song called Remind Me. That one was for me. I still remember when he show me that song.

" did you...That's my fav rock&roll song!" I said when I heared the beat.

"Yeah, that's the song you kept singin' and singin' while you're cooking" he said wanted to laugh at me.

I loved that song. Perfect combination but it was crazy. I mean...he did that for me? He united rock&roll and rap that was so crazy.

"Damn, that's crazy babe" I said.

"See y/n, u make me do things I normally wouldn't do"

"Awww, I love it and I love you baby!"

So, this time I was really nervous because I've been singin' a lot and very different genres. And Marshall...Well, he is so crazy. I didn't know what to expect.

"Are we going to the studio?" I asked him ready to go change if needed.

"No, let's just get in the car". So, we got inside his car. "Are u okay?" suddenly he asked me.

"Yeah, I'm good! I need to hear your song!"

I got too excited and I get very excited when I'm nervous I don't know why, but It's like I got a lot of energy all of the sudden. Anyways, so he says:

"Okay, okay but you need to know that I just got the final mix and I haven't heard it. I mean I know the entire song but I didn't hear the final mix yet" he explained.

"Omg..."

"What?"

"Wait, let me just make myself comfortable" I said while adjustin' my seat a little bit.

At this point he doesn't even hide that he's laughing at me.

"Ready?"

"Yeah, ready"

"Wait, look at me" he ordered and I obey. "I love you"

"Okay, now play the song!"

"Yo, say it back!" he replied.

"I love you, babe!"

And so the music started and he is lip singin': "This could never work, " is what we said at first. But whatever this is, it's working. But we're in two different worlds and (yeah) I'm not your husband (nah), you ain't my girlfriend. All I know is that (what?) When I'm with you, I'm a different person, yeah. And I ain't never met a chick as perfect. Girl, you're a ten, so here I am (yeah)

I literely screamed and Marshall had to stop the music.

"No, keep it goin'!" I argue.

He laughed and let the music continue: ...Can't tell if I'm cheating on her with you or cheating on you with her. But really, nobody's at fault, can't help who you love. Hope they don't ever hear us talk

'Cause we both are getting sloppy. Probably subconsciously part of me's hoping we get caught 'cause I'm not happy here (nah)

With her. Rather have you (yeah) Rather have me too. 'Cause you're not happy there (you're not happy there) With him. Rather have me (I know, but) We just in too deep (I'm in way too deep)

Marshall started singin' it out loud and I was vibin' with it the whole time. It was a good damn song. Honestly, I loved it. It truly was about us, about the start of our relationship, but there were a few things that weren't true like me havin' a wedding ring. It should say: I got a wedding ring. So it's her instead of you.

"That's it. What do u think?" he said not being able to stop smilin'

"Please, play the song one more time"

And he started to laugh again.

"Marshall!"

"Are for real? Did you loved it?" he was surprised.

"Yes, I love it!"

"Y/n..." he laughs again.

"Marshall! You're being so freakin' annoying. Play the song one more time!"

"Yo, you are just sayin that. You didn't loved it!"

"What? I do love it! Marshall!"

"Okay, okay"

He played the song again.

"I'm gonna cry" I said.

"Yo, you're hillarious!"

"That song is good as hell!"

#eminem #eminemslimmarshall #marshall mathers #slim shady #the real slim shady #rap god #eminem pics #marshall mathers x y/n #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem x y/n #eminem x you

125 notes · View notes

thewulf · 6 months

Text

Annoyed || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Could you please write Jake Seresin x Reader! where Jake loves annoying Reader with witty comebacks and what not and usually Reader just smiles or gives it back. One day after work, she comes home from work and just wants to relax... Read Rest Here

A/N: Jake is just my fav. Loved writing this slightly angsty to hella fluffy one shot. Thank you for the request @catsandbooksandstuff

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 2.8k +

It had been the day from hell. Quite literally. Your boss announced he was quitting on the spot. The company decided to put in a temporary boss who was an absolute terror from the instant you met him. He wanted all the spreadsheets you’d worked on over the last year sent to him to review, hell.

Then once lunch rolled around you had remembered you conveniently forgot your lunchbox sitting on the counter at home. To make matter worse there wasn’t a single thing from the cafeteria that sounded even remotely appetizing. There wasn’t enough time to run out, so you settled on the vending machine snacks, delicious.

When the hellish day finally ended you were nearly in tears when you got to your car and got the ‘flat tire’ light. You tried to ring Jake, your favorite roommate, but it went right to voicemail. He must’ve still been in the air. Triple A it was.

After nearly fourteen hours away from the house you finally made it home. You weren’t in the mood for your usual banter with Jake to say the least. Normally you adored it, welcomed the casual back and forth that came so easily between the two of you. He had perfected annoying you but not getting under your skin and vice versa.

“How was your day?” Jakes voice snapped you out of your stupor. You’d been lost in your thoughts not even hearing the damn front door open.

Your jump up from the couch cushion you were sitting on was enough to alert him something was off.

“Shit.” You answered him honestly, “Just a long not great day.”

He gave you a slight smile before setting his things down, “Hate days like that. Good thing it’s Thursday then right?” That was always like him. He always tried to find the bright side of things. A quality you’d come to love but found oddly annoying right now. As good of a trait as it was sometimes you just wanted to bitch and have someone agree with you. Sometimes you didn’t want to heart the fucking bright side. Sometimes you just wanted to wallow. And this was that sometimes.

He nudged you on one time too many. You didn’t mean to take it out on him. You really didn’t. But the combination of the day. Your irritation and his incessant nagging you’d had enough, “Christ Jake. Can’t you tell I’m not in the mood?” You huffed before standing and walking away from the couch. Everything was annoying you. The confused and surprisingly soft look

“I’m sorry…” He stood starting to walk over to you before you shook your head.

“Please just stop. I’m annoyed. Please. Just let me be.” Your voice was laced with unusual irritation that he wasn't used to. In the eight months that you’d been roommates he’d yet to see this side of you and it terrified him that he could be the cause of your disdain.

He put his hands up letting you walk out of the shared living room and right into your room. You didn’t slam your door which was a good sign, but you clearly weren’t happy. Hopefully at the world and not directly at him.

Jake took a moment to contemplate his next actions. He’d wanted so desperately to go knocking on your door, but he also wasn’t dumb. You’d looked and sounded exasperated when you asked him to back off. You needed space and he needed to respect that as much as he wanted to go in and comfort you.

You shut your door and dove straight onto your bed feeling oddly guilty about the encounter you’d just had with the man. He was doing nothing but being his usual self and you’d snapped at him. You’d surely fucked whatever weird relationship you were building with the man right on up. Deciding to apologize later you’d let yourself wallow in whatever self-induced pity party you were ready for.

He opted to eat dinner then he’d check in on you. That’d give you about an hour to cool off. Maybe he was an idiot for going to check in on your so soon after you’d deliberately told him to fuck off. But Jake was a glutton for your punishment. He’d never admit it to your face, but he’d do just about anything for you. He was a smitten man. Whipped as could be. You were as clueless as could be though.

With sudden nerves he powered through and knocked on your door lightly. When he didn’t get a response he knocked a little louder knowing you really couldn’t have gone too far.

“Yeah?” He heard you mumble.

He smiled knowing it wasn’t the ‘go away’ he was expecting, “Can I come in?”

You contemplated for just a second before you gave way, “Sure.”

Jake didn’t take another second before he was in your room kneeling on the ground beside your laying body in bed, “Hey.” You spoke after a moment of silence, neither of you really knowing how to approach the situation.

“Am I annoying?” He asked you without missing a beat. You’d learned quickly how the man never really beat around the bush. He spoke what was on his mind.

You groaned knowing you’d never be able to get out of discussing your semi-meltdown with the man. He’d never let you get away with that, “No, you’re not annoying Jake.” You turned away from him not being able to bear the stare he was giving you, “Sometimes you are annoying. Sometimes I’m annoying. But no, you aren’t annoying. I’m just irritated with the day.”

He gave you a soft smile that you couldn’t see. You felt the bed dip as he sat near the end of the bed at your feet, “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on it.”

You shook your head deciding to sit up. You turned yourself so you were facing him now, “It’s fine. I didn’t give you a chance. I should be apologizing.” You admitted feeling a tad more than embarrassed by your outburst earlier.

He smiled seeing your face. God, if he was sure of one thing it’d be his feelings for you. He hadn’t admitted it to anybody. Not even his buddies. But one day he found himself rushing home so he could be with you. Spend time with you. He looked forward to cooking with you. Eating dinner and bitching about each other’s days. He’d adored domesticity with you.

Quicker than he’d like to admit he started liking you. That was six months ago now. He’d yet to lay a kiss on your lips but he was sure he’d fallen hopelessly in love with you. Your entirety. He’d found a best friend by chance. It’s like the universe was forcing them together and for once he accepted it. Enjoyed it. Looked forward to it. He got upset when he was sent away for a week for training. He’d normally be stoked to go out and explore someplace new. Not now, nope. He just wanted to spend his free time with you. Even if it meant doing absolutely nothing.

“S’okay darlin’.” He grinned at you lazily. Before he even realized what he was doing his hand found itself brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. To say your brain was short circuiting was an understatement. It was already a little overwhelming having him so close to your face. But this? His touch, so light, on your face was sending your brain into an absolute tizzy.

He must’ve sensed you were at a loss for words as he stood from his spot holding his hand out, “Come on, time to get you some dinner. Then we can keep watching Love Island?” His hesitant smile let you know he was really trying despite how annoyed you were moments ago.

“But I’m so comfy Jake.” You sighed knowing you were never going to win this battle with him, not when it came to you skipping meals. You’d had a nasty habit of it prior to living with him. He was horrified when he learned of your terrible eating habits and all but forced a normal schedule on you.

Rolling his eyes, he decided to play along with you, “Then I’ll bring you your dinner and feed it to you princess.” He smirked thinking you’d reject the offer quickly.

“You’d do that for me?” You smirked deciding to let him see how this was going to go.

He started snickering and shaking his head deciding to let it all out now, “Of course. I’d do a whole lot for you Y/N.” Because why not? What’d he have to lose? He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t let that happen. He needed to make a move, he was slowly going mad having to live and love you without living and loving on you.

You’d returned the favor of rolling your eyes before taking his hand, “As tempting as that is I think I can feed myself.”

Instead of dropping your hand he pulled your right along with him to the kitchen, “And you’re going to deny me the chance of feeding you?” He frowned as he set down a plate in front of you he’d kept warm in the oven. You couldn’t deny the teeny tiny little blush that coated your cheeks as you took in his act of kindness towards you. You were a sucker for a guy who did the small things like that for you. And Jake… Jake was one of the most thoughtful guys you’d ever met. He always thought of you first. Your show was on? He’d change the channel. If you were overly stressed he’d do more housework for you. If he noticed you didn’t make it to the store he'd pick a few of your regular things up. Jake was just, Jake. A guy unlike any other. A guy you were far too afraid to make any sort of move on.

Shaking your head, you couldn’t hide the giddy smile on your face. He just made you feel good. Unlike any other, “You’re something else Jake.”

“Hopefully that’s a good thing.” He sat down opposite you with a glass of water in hand knowing you far too well. You wouldn’t eat unless he had something too. It was entirely too awkward to chow down on your dinner if he wasn’t somewhat occupied too.

“Course it is. I’ve never met any guy like you before.” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could even attempt to stop them. He could take it so many ways you just hoped it didn’t ruin anything you’d had between him.

His eyes locked with yours deeply it sent panic throughout your entire body, “Are you flirting with me Y/N?” He asked giving you that signature Jake smirk that always seemed to get him whatever you want

Shaking your head quickly your eyes looked anywhere but at his, “No, in your dreams.” You fired back all too quickly.

But he’d decided right then and there he didn’t just want to be friends with you. He’d wanted so much more with you, “You’re right darlin’. In my dreams you are flirting with me… all the time. I’m flirting back, naturally.” He gave you a devilish smirked before continuing, “I even ask you out. And guess what?” He asked leaning forward a bit from across the table knowing he has your attention fully.

You just gave him a look of bewilderment as you took in his words, “What?” Your curiosity took over as you were entranced in every single word coming out of his mouth.

“You say yes.” He looked at you as if you were his light

It was like he stopped your racing heart right there, “Did I?” You were nervous, terribly nervous. What was he doing? You never even thought of the possibility of him possibly liking you back. No, he had to be messing with you. Had to.

He nodded slowly, “You did. You looked awfully cute too. Just like you do now.” He looked too proud of himself with that comment. You had to admit it was a smooth. Jake was always smooth though. He had such a way with words you could really only dream of having. You’d often found yourself tumbling over your own thoughts instead of forming coherent sentences.

“What?” You shook your head trying to make sure you were actually in reality and not dreaming yourself.

He shrugged, “You look cute. You often do. Cute as hell, all the time. Beautiful. Gorgeous even.” He held back on laying it on too thick in fear of chasing you off, but he certainly decided he wasn’t going to be shy about it. Not anymore. Nope, he’d crossed the line and he was jumping all the way over.

You shook your head once again not quite believing it, “Again, what?” You had to ask once more, just for confirmation. Because this wouldn’t have happened, not even in your wildest damn dreams.

He stood from his seat taking the seat right next to yours, “I like you. I think you’re stunning. Will you go out with me?” He grinned as he watched the gears turning in your mind.

You sat up a little straighter in your seat. Setting the fork down your turned your body towards him, “Me?”

“Yes, you.” He started laughing. He took your hand in his. Giving it a squeeze, he looked up to you, “I thought I made it obvious darlin’.”

You gave him a quiet laugh, “You probably have. I’m just clueless.”

Those eyes that drove you mad on a daily basis looked you over for what felt like the first time as something other than friends. More than friends. Something you’d never thought you’d see come to life.

He grabbed at your other hand holding them both tightly, but gently, in his own hands, “You’re one of the smartest people I know. But you are quite oblivious sweetheart.” He had to agree sending both of you into a fit of laughter. Both of you feeling easier in each other’s company. You knew it’d be semi-awkward for a while before the two of you found a rhythm once more.

“You weren’t supposed to agree Jake.” You stuck your tongue out at him knowing it’d help lighten the mood further, something the both of you needed.

He couldn’t contain himself as he scooted closer. He just wanted to be by you. He always did. Always, “Well you know I’m not a liar sweetheart.” His chair was touching yours now.

“A little white lie doesn’t hurt Jakey.” You’d never advocate for a full out lie but a small one to make somebody not feel like a total piece of shit never hurt your feelings. Not that Jake made you feel like a piece of shit, no. He made you feel quite the opposite of that. Loved and secure. Something you’d been craving for in a relationship since you’d left your family all those years ago but could never seem to find. Until him of course.

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Jakey?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I’m testing out new nicknames, sue me Seresin.”

He dropped your hands earning a frown, pout, and glare in his general direction. You too craved his touch as much as he craved yours, even if he’d never admit it, “I liked Jakey better.” He placed his hands on either side of your face catching you completely off guard.

“Jakey it is.” You mumbled feeling like you were melting right in his hands. How in the hell did this man have such a strong hold on you like that? One little touch and you were putty already? God, you were absolute toast.

“No, no. You still got some more to try out darlin’. I know you do.” He spoke while running his thumbs along your cheek bones. A mess, you were an absolute pitiful mess being held up by Jakes hands presently.

You nodded as best as you could, “Sure, you got it.” You hummed feeling absolutely helpless in his hold. It was a weird yet thrilling experience. Letting yourself fall in love with him was different than any of the other guys you’d been with before. He was your friend first. You’d learned about Jake before you got to start loving on him. You knew his quirks, ticks, annoyances as best as anybody who lived with the man could. Now, you got to take what you’d collected and put it to good use.

“Y/N?” He asked after a moment of the both of you staring right at each other. Your food had long since gone cold sitting right beside you. Jake was a damn good distraction.

“Yeah?”

You watched as his eyes bounced back and forth between your own eyes and lips. A thrilling chill raced around your body before he finally spoke again, “Can I kiss you?”

“Thought you’d never ask J.” Your eyes met his. A smile broke out onto both of your faces. Everything felt so right, so correct. You’d never been so damn sure of decision in your entire life.

He hummed, “I like that one.”

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mayhemmanaged33 @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

347 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 4 days

Note

speaking of a cod apocalypse (i think actually idk i just skimmed over my tl) thoughts on the boys becoming some sort of fucked up mutated creatures?

like they're soldiers, right? and assuming the government sends them out to deal with whatever apocalyptic shit there is, surely one of them makes a stupid mistake that'll cost them their lives. fast forward to them succumbing to whatever radioactive shit decided to live in their bodies, and they're dead but alive? and like... just grotesque things. they're still them, just more brutal and monstrous. maybe their skin is melting off, maybe they're growing another limb or two, maybe they have teeth growing on their head.

anyways, thoughts on this kind of genre???? :))))

(i think itd be cool if like.... some of them merged together, just a mass of limbs and skin :33)

Okay, consider: Horizon zero dawn world, full of killer machines and tribes n shit, combined with the virus from the Prototype (that and darksiders are my fav games of all time tbh) also body horror, specifically the blend of machine and flesh bh, is my favorite shit :Dd this is a rough idea

So like as killer machines were sweeping across the planet, devouring everything in sight and replicating, a disease was created that, it was hoped, would be able to infect and eat away at the metal. But it fails, the virus ends up infecting the soldiers that are fighting against the machines and just, combining the human and machine.

The world eventually goes so far to shit that everything on the planet dies. The war machines become deactivated and some of the machine/human mutants are sealed away in bunkers to be used as experiments.

And just like, the 141 becoming a blend of steel and flesh in the grotesque approximation of what they used to be, able to strip away parts of other machines and graft them to their own forms.

Gaz was the first, fighting on the front lines back when he had foolishly believed the killer robots could be defeated. He had gotten separated when he got infected, the fear secondary only to the pain as his flesh literally melted into the corruptors, bone and muscle becoming tangled in gears and wires until all he could feel were his numerous stilt like legs now scrambled to gain purchase on the blood soaked ground . Turned into some weird metal scorpion bellow the waist, weaponry weighing on his back and coolant full wires snaking across his body, Kyle had passed out from the pain, his body further changing in his slumber to grow skin and eyes over the raw metal.

He woke up deep underground in a bunker, turned into a science experiment.

Price was next. He was a soldier turned scientist, working on a subfunction of the teraforming AI that would work to clear the world of the virus that had unleashed. He was the soft voice of comfort Kyle would listen to when they pricked and prodded him, the person Kyle spilled his heart out time and time again.

It came as little surprise when Price became infected. He had started to feel lethargic and sick for the few days, all of it going unnoticed as no one knew how the virus affected humans. That was until he came in contact with a Plowhorn, that changed him into a bulwark of flesh and metal, a living tank with a heavy crest of horns sitting on his head and thick metal plates to protect him.

Price and Kyle kept each other from going insane, figuring out the worst part of the virus — they had become immortal like the machines, but still felt pain like people, pain muddling their brains when pistons and gears would grind against flesh again and again until it regrew in a different way.

They were finally freed when the people experimenting on them died and the AI released the locks of the doors. They emerged hell knows how many years later, taking the first steps into a reborn world that was still crying in it's cradle.

Soap was amongst the first humans to emerge from the mechanical cradle, thrust into a wild and untamed world full of strange machines, with no tools but his hands. While out trying to scavange some of the metal from downed glinthawks he was attacked by Scrappers, ending up infected with the virus that had been slumbering in the earth. Soap became like the sphinx, glinthawk wings attaching to his back with wires, talons merging with skin and pushing out bone, the body of the scraper combining with his own until he was unable to stand on two legs, forced to crawl on all fours and screech in pain through distorted vocal chords until Price and Gaz found him. They took care of him until he was used to his body enough to soar through the air about as well as he could run across the earth.

Simon was the last, born to a tribe that valued strength and worshipped the machines above all. And Simon is the only one who's convergence to steel has any semblence of thought or preparation. He had spent years hunting Fireclaws, tearing off the intact pieces and pistons after every hunt until the shamans of his tribe deemed him ready to become one of the metal gods. The change was slow and painful, bones melting and hardening around new metal, body getting bigger and flesh stretching to fit the new frame, heavy claws weighing on his muscular arms until Simon had become Ghost.

It wasn't what he expected. What he had done in an attempt to fit in amongst his kin served to further push him away as his tribe worshipped him as one of the machine gods, erasing his name as Simon. It was a relief when he met the others, finding comfort in their disfigured and grotesque bodies that looked so similar like his own.

And then you meet them.

Maybe you're a foolish mercenary that stumbled too far into the wild, maybe you're one of the subfunctions of the original teraforming AI that gained sentience. Either way, you didn't fear them, you tried to talk to them, to get to know them even when every societal law of your tribe deemed them as monsters and demons.

And on one random evening, when they had all settled into a rough cuddle pile, scarred flesh over sharp metal creating enough of a cushion for you to sleep in the middle of them all — safe and warm... It occured to them: you are nice, you are kind, and they want to to stay by their side.

#gnome correspondence #trinckets of the hoard #cod mw2 #horizon zero dawn #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x reader

60 notes · View notes

miquellaluciscaelum · 2 months

Text

"Pure and radiant, he wields love to shrive clean the hearts of men. There is nothing more terrifying".

I warn you! It gotta be long, very long. And it's of course mostly my personal opinion, speculations, theories, ideas about my fav character in this game!

If you are ready, let's go!

A rather interesting and ambiguous set of phrases, especially in combination with the visuals.

I'd like to think about what these phrases mean for Miquella in the context of his character. In the fandom, Miquella is actually a pretty unique character. The main reason is how contradictory people's opinions about him are. He is perhaps one of those about whom we know the least, but at the same time people usually attribute some things and qualities to him with such conviction, as if we have his entire biography laid out on the table instead of a set of very ambiguous descriptions of items that often don't even have a direct relationship to him or they aren't reliably verified belonging to him.

First of all, objectively, Miquella is perhaps one of the most sinless characters in the world of the Elden ring. He is not a warrior who killed for the Golden order. He is not a person who has been proven to have organized and committed a conspiracy to kill another person who is a killer's relative by the way. He did not curse the whole region with rot and slow decay. He wasn't engaged in some super vile heretical practices, wanting to gain at least some power. He didn't even burn Minor Erdtree, do you understand? Hi, Rykard! And most importantly, he was not voluntarily associated with any outer god, who bring mostly destruction on Lands between, at least as far as we know.

We know for certain about Miquella that:

1. The main goal for him was to cure his sister from the curse. He was ready to renounce the Golden Order in trying to seek answers elsewhere, in other branches of magic and faith. It costs a lot. Considering than the closer time came to the Shattering, the more rigid and radical the rules of the Order became under the rule of Radagon. Blasphemy, and this is blasphemy, was punished very severely. Radagon was literally at war with his own son because he had renounced the Golden Order. Hi, Rykard again! And it was Miquella who rejected the Golden order and its practices in order to save his sister, and later most likely completely refused from faith, realizing how much the order was rotten from the inside, from its roots literally.

2. Miquella is a genius. Most likely, he is the smartest of all the demigods and people living in Lands between. His inventions in the fields of magic, engineering, and botany are either rare or legendary items in the game. Prosthetics, armor, needles, lilies, spells. The pure gold needle alone is capable of suppressing the influence of outer gods such as Goddess of Rot and God of Frenzied flame, this actually calls into question their power in the lands between. In this way, this confirms Malenia's words about the most fearsome Empyrean. And indirectly it can make it clear where Miquella's curse came from. Here I agree with @miquella-everywhere that the most likely candidate is Greater Will, which probably saw in Miquella the same threat as in Marika. Anyone who can overcome the influence of at least one god can potentially overcome them all.

3. Miquella is known for hosting all those abandoned, rejected and forgotten by the Golden order. Omens, crystalians, demi-humans, albinaurics, tarnished, assassins, wandering merchants. From his face or under the name of his alter ego Saint Trina, he helped and saved more creatures and people than we know for sure anyone else did. The fact that this content was cut from the game at the final stage of production does not mean that it does not exist.

4. He has a reliably good relationship with most of his family members. He and Malenia feel like two parts of the same soul. He should also have a fairly close and warm relationship with Godwyn, it is shown through the statue in his Haligtree and the description of the sword Golden Epitaph. For a while, he must have had a good relationship with his father, with whom they learned the wisdom of the Golden order together. There is also reason to believe that he had a good relationship with some part of the Carian family. Considering the swords of Miquella's knights, made according to the Carian pattern, and knight Loretta, who guarded Elphael in the end.

5. Miquella definitely has special abilities. Whether it's the properties of his blood, or the traits of his character.

Speaking about this property of endearing people to themselves, I think it is logical to assume that until proven otherwise, that:

- first of all, his role as a CHARISMATIC LEADER. Understand that when his curse revealed, he objectively could not become a warrior like all the other members of his family. He was most likely trained to become a ruler, sage or adviser, commonly a politician. This is charisma training, the ability to win people over, the ability to lead people, the ability to convince and achieve your goals. This does not mean that he is a liar or a manipulator, it means that he is a good person in bad conditions, who uses the tools available to him, can sometimes make gray borderline decisions, but at the same time do it for a better future. In an environment where his curse puts him below everyone else and the military career ladder, the faster way to the top, is inaccessible to him, he has to struggle with acquiring some kind of position even more. In the end before and during the Shattering, by the way, he ruled the entire fucking city with his sister, speaking of charisma and leader characters.

- secondly, the possibility of a special persuasion arose from some kind of natural magnetism exists, perhaps even uncontrolled by Miquella himself. We could all have noticed some insect-like features that Miquella has, wings, cocoons, etc. It is quite possible that there are some special pheromones that soften people's reactions to him and cause instinctive affection, like butterflies have, for example. I.e. partially it may be uncontrollable.

- thirdly, this "gift of persuasion" can be completely hereditary, i.e. it could have come from Marika herself. She still somehow forced the last giant to obey her and guard Forge of the Giants.

That is, his so-called manipulation could be partly uncontrollable, and partly caused by his upbringing and the initial limitations of his position due to the curse, which he absolutely needs to overcome because otherwise he will not have enough knowledge or resources to cure Malenia or himself. Can you blame him for using the tools available to him and perhaps even using his innocent appearance to achieve his goals more easily? I wouldn't. (Honestly, if in the end his darker and more ominous side will be revealed to us, and the guess that he bewitched people will become the truth, I won't start love him less🤣, but now all of these are still just speculations) Moreover, it is not mentioned anywhere that he compeled and controlled people on some cosmic scale, deprived them of their will and forced them to madly love him and follow his ideas. He didn't want to put himself on a pedestal, create a new order, or become an almighty god. If he has the kind of potential that you believe he has, if he is one huge reference to Griffith as you believe, he probably could, but it literally contradicts his whole character, goals and motivation.

But what I absolutely deny and hate is the version that it was Miquella who bewitched Mogh in order to use him for his own purposes and achieve a breakthrough in breaking his curse earlier. I think this is absolutely a piece of SHIT and smacks of VICTIMBLAMING. All Miquella got from his kidnapping was a cursed body; an abandoned and slowly degrading sister, whom he was actually trying to save; a dying rotting tree, he tried to grow with so much effort; and he, who fell under the influence of an outer god, the thing he tried to avoid himself and from which he is still trying to save Malenia. Moreover, we know literally NOTHING about what Mogh did to Miquella while he was with him and in what condition. And believe me, you don't want to know what they write about this in fanfiction and what boarders it sometimes goes beyond. I can't imagine any way in which Miquella could have planned something like this.

Returning to the set of phrases at the beginning of the trailer.

"Pure and radiant, he wields love to shrive clean the hearts of men. There is nothing more terrifying".

Two interpretations.

One based on his "special influence on people." Then it can literally be said here that he is able to change people's consciousness and worldview for the better or for the worse. To free people's hearts from evil and evil thoughts, perhaps any thoughts in principle. This means that he has great power. Whether he uses it or not is another matter. This interpretation echoes Malenia's words and seems to be the most obvious and quite ominous.

However, when I watched the trailer over and over again and this moment in particular, I realized something. The words about a pure innocent soul and strength contrast very strongly with the visual. He is literally so disgusting and repulsive compared to the image of Miquella that they create in our heads that it becomes strange.

And then I thought, what if there is another meaning?

What if it means that such a pure innocent soul has great potential to make the world a better place, to make people living there better. But the higher you fly, the more painful to fall. The more hope you have, the more terrible to experience the defeat. What if this literally means:

Such a pure innocent soul with enough love in her to purify people's hearts. That makes the end of these aspirations even more terrifying.

And they show us Miquella's bloodied, emaciated hand from the cocoon. All his desires: save his sister, save his brother, save himself, make the world a better place for the abandoned and rejected, let life and abundance flourish, ended here. In the hands of a pervert and his perverted god, in a stinking bloody swamp, buried deep underground without a single ray of sun, deep in a dream that has no end, abandoned and left alone. The road to hell has been paved with truly good intentions.

Fuck, I'm crying. Let me save my boy😭

I really don't understand how you can compare Miquella to Griffith when it's literally the same type of character that Miyazaki uses in every bloody game he creates. If you want to call it a rebirth of the world, let it be. Gwyndolin, Lothric, Kuro, Miquella. A boy cursed or weak from birth, different from generally accepted norms, with great responsibility and duty on his shoulders, a defender of ideals in spirit and a fighter against fate in fact, with problems in the family and a legacy more burdensome than beneficial, but most often with loving brothers and sisters and a strong warrior behind his back, master in magic or science, cold-blooded, but very naive at heart. Unwilling to give in to fate, gods, and the world that always expects something from them. Unwilling to surrender to death. These are very similar stories and there is no place in them for what you are looking for. I just hope that there will be no place for a bad ending in the new story either. 😭

Thank you for listening to my Ted talk about some cute soulsborn femboy✨. I even cried at the end. Hope you didn't get bored in the process. Trailer touched me on many soul layers.

#elden ring #elden ring dlc #elden ring miquella #miquella #miquella the unalloyed #long post #lore #shadow of the erdtree #Spotify

113 notes · View notes

nzia-writes · 1 year

Text

•{Speak life unto me}•

RATED SLUTTY 18+

Sums: Riri let’s you practice a majorette dance routine in her garage while she remodels her prototype.

I feel like Dom would channel Riri in this manner. It’s a sappy little something that’s heavy with dialogue. You have been warned. Enjoy.

Interact please and thank you

(tagging a couple folks I seen under riri fics: )

@donewit51life @mysticalmarss @shinsousliya @c0cac0laguns2 @mlmilani @melodykisses @doms-fav @verachii @luhreen @zayswriting

Riri Williams

You draw a breath, trying your hand at Coach’s complex combination once more. You fail with ten steps off count, ten seconds off beat, and ten milliseconds from freaking out.

This is the 100th time and disappointment has been the only result. Come on man. Seems as if fuck-ups is what you run into and a fuck-up is what you are. What else do you call someone allergic to consistency within performance in life and in art?

Coach is gon’ tell me that my efforts ain’t worth a damn again.

Skylar, the captain, gon’ call me all sorts of expletives again.

Maybe they are right. You are not the dancer you presumed yourself to be. You aren’t exhorting enough passion. You aren’t going to succeed with a dancing major. You aren’t going to dethrone Skylar from her rank as captain. Not with all of this lack. So much lack.

“Imma failure, man,” you grit.

The shrill of Riri’s hand-held power tool spurs the cacophony all the more. There is too much going on. There is too much not going on. Failure. Tears. Doom. It is an incessant thought.

You have had enough.

A reverberant scream rattles every solid item within the garage. “Fuck! Fuck Fuck!” Your vocal chords give a roiling wave of heat.

A startled RiRi flips up her welding helmet and lays her tool on the floor. By the time your hollering simmers down, your big brown eyes leak with the pressures of failure and your edges coil from sweat; a newly installed thirty-six-inch buss down gone with the speed of light.

“Y/N.”

A boisterous scream again.

Riri jumps in fright. Damn.

You labored pants follow thereafter.

“I keep on and keep on failing! Busting my ass day in and day out. Still coming up short!” You yell. You yank up your duffle, lodging your belongings inside as aggressive as your body allows. Surely it allowed just the right amount. It wasn’t offering much in many other departments. Useless, it was.

As she powers off her prototype, Riri hesitantly speaks. She’d be damned if she triggered more rage and hurt. Then there’s two bitches arguing and one leaving. “Sugg.”

“Uh uh I’m leaving. I can’t keep doing it, Ri.”

“And what you plan on doing after?”

“Ion know! Lord knows these folks don’t wanna see me win. Lord knows I ain’t got the talent in me to win!” You zip your duffle and turn to Ri, face stricken with defeat. “I’m just tired. I’m not cut fah this shit, ya heard meh?”

“Rest. You need some,” Riri says. She’s so calm, you have no other choice but to be.

“Rest? You think the world gon’ let a nigga like me rest?! Outta’ yo’ damn mind. I’m out.” You turn to go.

“You need cooling and I got it for you. Come talk to me real quick.”

“Ri…”

“Come here, boo. Please.” Her eyes plead beneath fanned out eyelashes.

She removes her welding helmet and places it on the table congested with her quantum technology and hammers. Once she shakes out her box braids, she waves you over. Maybe..just maybe..entertaining what she has to say will end with weights being lifted.

Your bag slumps to the floor and you make your way to Riri. She keeps herself true to her concern and wipes away your tears the moment you are in arm's reach. She reeks of oil and burnt metal but her aura is sweet enough to mute the most unpleasant fumes.

“I can’t stand seeing you like this..” She leans against her work table while you stand before her. Her hands work with caution to fix your disheveled appearance. “Worryin’. Stressin’. You too pretty for that.” She then laughs a bit inwardly. “Got yo’ minks lifting like they got something smart to say.” She simply peels them off and sets them aside.

You persist with a hardened mug, ever the one to cradle rage until everyone feels it.

“Come here,” she sighs, inviting your rigidness into all of her softness, raising on her tiptoes to wrap the parts of you in need of double love. “Let that shit out, sugg. You owe yourself that much.”

She is right. You do. Your rage has cracked a series of dams, but Riri’s love has cracked many more. You whimper and squeeze her small frame tight. “I love you, girl.” The words shake as you inhale. “I love you s-so much.” You squeeze tighter, rocking from side to side.

When the tough battles are fought, she’s the only man standing, willing to fight with you no matter who the enemy may be. She’s going to step about her Sugg.

“Imma always be here when everybody else ain’t, you understand me?”

“Yeah,” you exhale. She coaxes with back rubs and encouraging words until the sniffles are no more. You both soon separate to lean on the table side by side. Her fingers brush yours.

“Whatever rage you feelin’, you entitled to feel. Let it all out, much as you can.”

“Tell that to my mama. To coach. To that doghead bitch Skylar.”

Their hatred and high expectations have silenced your innermost parts. The Y/N you strive to be. And you keep silenced to keep safe, for life has become something that needs to be survived. Not lived.

Riri frowns. Your strength is admirable. You were forced to the bottom at such a young age, unheard and treated unfairly, yet here you stand with the dignity of a knight. She has sworn to sit for hours if it means you are being seen and heard and validated. She will be the change you need to see if no one else will.

“The only way out of this hurt is into it. You gotta face it.” As harsh a truth it is, life will not progress until it is experienced.

“Please… ion know the first thing about facing life. I’ve hid from most of it.”

“It ain’t something you know how to do, it’s something you learn to do. I’m here to help you find your way back. Always.” She slides her hand in yours. Squeezes softly.

“Thank you..so much.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to do. Now go ahead. Tell me how you feel. I wanna hear your heart.”

“I just got too many folks praying on my downfall. Especially back home where my mama swears my dance major ain’t worth it. No support from them unless it’s to flaunt their lavish lifestyle.”

That’s that shit right there, Riri thinks. Makes her want to disrespect your entire bloodline. But she holds back for your sake. You love them, after all. “Listen here.” She turns your face toward her, eyes locked.

“We are two young black women who made it out the slums with what we had. Talent and brains. Your ‘mama nem’ can’t take credit for that shit. You got out and did the work. That’s truth. Don’t let nobody tell you no different. Not even yourself.”

You nod. It is hard to believe, but is isn’t impossible to believe.

“Now as for the dancing. What’s up with that? Had you saying you not talented enough and whatnot. I don’t want you talking about my girl like that again, alright?”

You cheeks flush. “I don’t see nothing untruthful about it, Ri. I’m last…always. Coach and Skylar make sure of it. I’m trying for captain but… as you saw earlier I ain’t got it in me. I fuck up more than anything, ya’ know?”

Riri lets that process. She then gestures to her prototype. It’s a polished transformer looking thing. “From one creator to another, the best work is produced during our moments of strife. I’ve failed more times than I have succeeded, but that’s what makes a legend. You are a legend in the making. Don’t give up.”

“I ain’t say I was allat na’. I’m just dancing to somebody else’s shit, ya heard meh?”

“You are always so wrapped up in all you lack that you don’t take the time to see how blessed you truly are. Mama, you got it good. Real good. You shine bright and you have this remarkable essence. That shit changes people and I need you to see it for yourself.”

The more one disregards their gift the quicker it is lost on them.

Riri continues. “Hear me out..if you ain’t invited into somebody else’s circle, form your own. You were co-creator of some of the most viral dances in the loop. You got the smarts, the talent, the moves..” her eyes drink you in from toe to head “the body,” she smirks. “You can do it.”

You lick your lips and look away. Forming a dance team? Hell no. Impossible. There will be too many odds: people willing to sabotage, your own self-esteem, and the pressures of adulthood. It wouldn’t work.

“Nah I’m good on that. I’ve hid from the spotlight, cast as a shadow all my life. I’m fine where I’m at.”

“Did you hide in the back? Or were you forced to the back?”

“I um…”

You are sent on a voyage of memories that were to not be seen again. Now here they are demanding you see yourself for who you are. You have existed so long in this world as nobody. How would it feel to actually be somebody?

“Gotcha,” she laughs.

“You did,” you chuckle. “Look at you being a ghetto monk and shit.” You tug her to stand between your legs.

“And look at you flodgin’ like it ain’t making you feel something good inside. Let yourself feel it, boo. It’s what you deserve.” She flattens her palm on your abdomen, teasingly trailing it up your chest. She outlines the swirly ink sheathing your neck, acrylics lightly scraping brown skin as her hand curls around it.

“You think so?” You bite your lip, fighting the inner-princess.

“Mhm.” She knows it so. “You cool with the backseat?”

“But you all dirty and dusty.”

She tilts her head, braids falling to one side. “Under these clothes I ain’t.”

“I-“ Eyebrows raised. “Girl go head, hea’? Lemme get in this backseat.”

She laughs like the goddess she is and removes her fire-proof apron with the rest of her gear. “On your back for me too.”

“Yeah, mama.” The words melt off your tongue.

Yes, you feel as if you are gliding on your toes, carrying your heart with less strain. It is the Riri effect so it seems. You are truly grateful for a friend with a lethal mouth.

~¥~

The back of Riri’s car is humid and smells of sex. You lay across the seats, thighs forced back into their plushness, pussy spread open for her filthy onslaught. She is situated in a sniper's position with her small feet dangling out of the open car door. Her devious eyes bore into your own. This has surpassed casual sex long ago. This is love-making.

“Damn girl,” you gasp as she jerks your thighs open the moment they close in on her face. She hums against your bundle of nerves, wagging her head for a deeper dive into your oasis. You sweep her braids into a makeshift ponytail, gyrating lusciously. She eats it like she’s starving; so precise and sloppy.

“Riiii. Just like that.” You nearly force your face to become one with the seat cushion as she swiftly slides her favored fingers inside, stroking your gushy walls, twisting deliciously. She had made the quick decision to pop those acrylics off before the escapades began.

She comes up for a breath, licking her lips slathered in your nectar. “Come on, mama,” she whispers sweetly. “Don’t close up on me. I need you to take it for me, okay?”

“Okayyy. fuuu…uhhn.”

“There we go,” she whispers, glancing down. “Look at you.”

It takes all the strength in you to open your eyes to look down on command. “Shiiiit,” you whine. You didn’t feel yourself creaming.

“She’s creaming like this for me?” Riri bites her lip.

Your response sounds scrambled. You were sure it was a stammered, “all for you.”

“That’s my sweet girl.” She means that in a myriad of ways.

“My god,” you cry softly, “Baby.” You use two fingers to widen pretty brown folds, the back of your head sinking into the seat as she plunges her fingers deeper. Wet squelching noises and breathy moans surf the wind. Your brain is shoved into a mind-bending utopia, it feels so fucking good.

You glance down again to see a string of arousal dribbling down the valley of your ass only to be slurped up by the very lips milking you out. Fuck. The lick is long and ravenous, from the crack of dawn to the peak of your mountain, pouty lips suckling as if it were a dreamsicle in sticky heat.

The more speed she exerts the lower your moans drop. You are now whimpering and whispering incoherent babbles, trying your hardest to fuck back, but you consistently run up the length of the seat from Riri’s freak nastiness.

“That’s it, beautiful.” She hooks her fingers, submerges them to their deepest, and holds still. Her thumb flicks your nub deliciously. Your sharp inhale churns her brain in the best way there is, smooth skin prickling in awe of your slick muscular body and your contorted faces. So beautiful, she moans.

There is a pause in time. A hitched breath. A stuttering heart. Love. So much of it it spills over the both of you.

Riri transmutes it powerfully, keeping the pad of her fingers rubbing that raised sensitive spot inside. Your eyes cross and roll back. “Oh yes yes..” Your hand comes down to plunge her fingers in deeper so she can get in that. “Fuuck…..gonna cum. Cum…” You whine in melody, pushing out a river of glistening slick. It drizzles down Riri’s fingers just as promised. “Uhh my god.” You exhale deeply.

“There we go. Feels good to let go?”

You nod, moaning uncontrollably. She crawls up your body to enrich your lips with a salacious kiss. It’s a moaning mess clouded with a tenderness neither of you will choose to acknowledge until your hearts see fit. You spread your cheeks as she slides her fingers in and out of your creamy canal, white fluids oozing out as you clench and unclench.

“You so…” you hiss in pleasure as she slips her fingers out with care, gathering all of what you spilled with an idle circle of her fingers.

“Talk to me nice,” she hums. “Unless you want it again.”

“I can’t do it again,” you exhale, eyes heavy. You palm her cheeks, kissing her lips sweetly. Her long braids fall over your faces but you don’t care to move them.

She brings her fingers up and plunges them in your mouth. You leave not a drop leaking as she slides them out and leans in to suck it off your tongue. You both pull away to stare. You see it. She sees it. Feels it. Smells it. It’s there and it’s mighty.

“Thank you fah that, baby,” you grin. You pronounce it as beh-beh. That ‘nawlins’ never left.

“You know how deep my love runs for pussy. No need to thank me.”

“Mhm. Cute ass.” You press another fat kiss to her lips, running your hands down to her ass to grip her up. She bites her lip and breathes through her nose. She loves that shit.

“I need me a cold drink,” you chuckle.

“Guh you and me both,” Riri laughs.

End note: Imma eat every single time. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Fun fact: I write the smut quicker than the story itself.

#riri williams x black!fem!reader #riri wiliams x reader #riri williams x black!reader #riri williams x reader #shuri x riri #riri x shuri #riri williams black panther #riri x reader #riri imagine #riri smut #riri williams #wakanda forever fic #wlw love #wlw lesbian #wlw literature #smut minors do not engage

537 notes · View notes