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slayfics · 2 months

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could you do a husband pro-hero dynamight x fem reader? 😭🩷

Katsuki prepares to propose.

1,000 words~

Eijiro took another sip of his drink, his thoughts now starting to become clouded. It all started with Katsuki abruptly instructing him to tell Mina he'd be home late tonight.

"Tell Racoon Eyes we're going out for drinks tonight and not to wait up," he said in passing. Eijiro obliged wondering what Katsuki wanted to talk about. It wasn't often his best friend wanted to drink so Eijiro took the hint that something big must be on his mind.

It wasn't till 10 minutes into their drive that Katsuki dropped the bomb that they were actually going ring shopping.

Katsuki stormed into the jeweler demanding the biggest ring they had because he's "the best at everything". It didn't take long for Katsuki to find a ring that was entirely too huge and decide without a doubt that was the one.

Now the ring sat in the middle of the table between the two boys as Eijiro took sips of his drink and Katsuki uncharacteristically threw back drink after drink.

"I don't know how I'm gonna do it Eij," Katsuki said nervously, shaking his leg, hands interlaced under his chin as he eyed the ring.

"Do whatever feels natural," Eijiro encouraged.

"Tch- it's gotta be perfect," Katsuki said.

"Hasn't she given you any hints on how she wants to be asked?" Eijiro asked.

"HAH? No!" Katsuki exclaimed, finishing off the rest of his drink and signaling the waiter for two more.

Katsuki turned his attention back to Eijiro. "Racoon Eyes has given you hints?" he asked.

Eijiro gave a silent nod of thanks to the waiter that dropped off two more drinks. Although internally his stomach turned and the thought of finishing another. "Yeah, I mean we've talked about getting married before and what it might look like ya know?"

"No," Katsuki exclaimed in a huff.

"You two haven't talked about it before?" Eijiro clarified.

"NO. Fuck- should we have?!" Katsuki asked panic setting into his eyes. "Fuck- am I making a mistake?!"

"Relax man! Its ok! Every couple is different," Eijiro said trying to calm his friend. But it was too late, Katsuki saw the shock in his eyes that he never once talked with you about the future of your relationship.

Katsuki threw back more of his drink, "What if she says no?!" he asked rubbing a hand over his distressed face.

Even though Eijiro was one of the few people Katsuki would be vulnerable in front of, it still took him off guard every time Katsuki opened up to him.

"Relax man, after everything you two have been through- no way she says no," Eijiro said calming his friend and taking another small sip of his drink. His already spinning.

Katsuki let out a grunt in acknowledgment as he continued to drink. The rest of the night continued in a similar fashion. Katsuki found something else to be anxious about regarding the proposal and Eijiro did his best to calm his nerves.

Meanwhile you and Mina sat I her living room. The two of you decided to have a girl's night since the boys went out.

"I'm telling you Mina something is up. Katsuki has been super on edge recently and I don't know why," You spoke opening up to your friend about your recent concerns.

"Maybe it's just stress from the agency?" Mina suggested shrugging her shoulders.

"Yeah maybe... Hopefully some time with Eijiro will help... He always knows how to get to him," you replied, as Mina's phone lit up with a call from Eijiro.

"Hey babe," she greeted. "Wait what?!... Both of you??" She exclaimed her eyes wide with surprise. "No no! Of course it's not a problem, we will be right there. Ok see you soon," she said and hung up the call.

"What happened?!" You asked eagerly.

"Eijiro said they both got carried away with drinks and need to be picked up," Mina said.

Your mouth hung slightly agape. "Katsuki is drunk?!" You exclaimed in disbelief.

"That's what Eijiro said." Mina confirmed.

"See I told you something is up! Katsuki never gets drunk," you said as you both headed for the door to pick up the boys.

"I'm sure everything is fine. Sounds like he at least had a good time tonight," Mina said attempting to comfort you, but you still had your suspicions.

When the two of you entered the restaurant Katsuki spotted you right away.

"There she is!" He exclaimed excitedly gesturing at you. "Damn she's hot as fuck," he practically yelled. Heads turned in the restaurant to eye the noisy blond.

Your face flushed at his words, and you turned to Mina. Your eyes wide as if to say, 'What the hell is going on?'

Happy about the distraction, Eijiro quickly grabbed the ring off the table and hid it in his pocket. Barley remembering it was on the table in full view.

Another restaurant goer laughed, "I'd be excited too if my girl looked like that," he stated.

"HAH! You wish you damn extra!" Katsuki barked back. "Babe- come here. Sit in my lap," he said tapping his lap.

"What?" You asked in bewilderment as you made your way to their table.

"The hell you mean what?!" he asked as he guided you to sit in his lap. "You always do this," he said his bottom lip puffed out in a pout from your hesitation.

His puffed-out lip quickly changed back to a grin as your ran your fingers through his hair, "Yes- but I'm here to take you home," You reminded him.

"Hell yeah you are!" He said with a laugh. "Take me home and have your way with me," he said, squeezing your waist and pulling you further into him as he placed a drunken kiss on your cheek.

You couldn't help but giggle and look over at Mina and Eijiro who looked just as shocked as you felt at Katsuki's affection.

"Come on let's get you home then," You laughed standing up and pulling Katsuki with you. Katsuki followed your commands, taking your hand as you lead him out of the restaurant. His eyes hungrily sweeping over his soon to be fiancé.

I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you really had in mind. I have just had this scene playing out in my head for awhile now. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the request!

Tags: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif

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thisismeracing · 5 months

Text

Pretty Liar | LN4 (Patreon exclusive)

― Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader ― Word count: 5.6k ― Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol; +18! graphic description of sex (p in v, oral - both, fem and male receiving). ― Summary: Ever since Lando was a kid he knew his future would bring fame somehow, always involved with racing and having just what it needed to become a Formula 1 driver, he was happy with everything it entailed, up until said future became his present and he realized there was also a rough side to the fame. That’s why, when he found you – someone who had no idea who he was, he kept his career from you. He would tell you, and he would eventually clarify the situation, he had it all planned, however, all it took was one week. One week for you to discover that what you thought started as a beautiful story, was actually a perfectly told lie. Lando was pretty, but he was also a liar. Now he had to find a way to explain everything, and you had to find it in you to forgive him.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Some scientists believe that it takes around ten minutes for an average person to make an everyday decision. Yet, the moment Yn’s eyes met Lando’s, and he smiled at her, she knew they would go home together that night, and this exchange took less than a second.

His face seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember where. She thought maybe it was from an old Instagram post their friends in common had made. Maybe they saw each other in a pub before. The city wasn’t that big, their crowds were similar, and they were both young.

Lando seemed surprised with the news, “You don’t…know me?”

“Should I?” Yn asks, quirking her eyebrows with a glimmer of humor in her stare.

He shook his head before Oliver, their common friend, could say something, “Nah, it’s just…I’m a DJ, I thought maybe you had seen something about me around a party you know?!”

Yn bit her lower lip, chuckling. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you must be a great DJ, but I’ve never heard of a Lando Norris before.”

“Now I’m hurt,” the Brit turned to their friend, and Oliver’s laugh boomed around.

That was how their first interaction went, with both aware of the tension line being pulled. Lando had never seen someone match his energy like she did, and Yn had never felt that giddy with a guy before. When someone grabbed Oliver away, the speakers gave space to a remixed tune of Zedd and Yn asked what Lando was playing that night, or if he was playing at all.

He smiled at her showing the small gap between his teeth which she decided was one of her favorite features of his, after his eyes, “It depends. What do you want me to play?”

“Oooh, smooth, I like it!” she giggled, taking a sip of her drink, and using the seconds to breathe in some air. “Would you mind playing Rihanna?”

“Most recent ones or oldies?”

“Around 2010s would be perfect.”

“I know exactly the song,” he announced like a promise, and Yn nodded, grabbing his hand, lacing their fingers, and starting to head in the direction of the bar. It would be an hour or so until the pub’s DJ finished his thing.

“Do you wanna drink something?” Yn stopped to say in his ears now that the song seemed much louder and so did the crowd. Lando’s free hand grabbed her waist, and he shouted back that he had just grabbed his refill, but he was fine going with her.

Truth was, Lando didn’t even like the bar area that much, drunk people would tend to gather there sometimes, spill their alcohol, scream, and try creating scenes, but something about Yn’s eyes would make him follow her to hell, and they had just met. That felt a tad scary, but he wouldn’t think too much about it, trying to focus his mind on Danny’s words about enjoying the butterflies, enjoying the naivety, and enjoying the nerves that came with it.

**********************

“I still gotta learn how to bake properly.”

“We could try together. I know a thing or two about sugary recipes,” she suggested. “Meanwhile, you cook the main dish and I make the dessert—” she stopped mid-sentence, putting the palm of her hand on her forehead. “We forgot about dessert, Lan!”

But the pilot can only grin, watching in awe as her lips pout slightly.

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” her tone started with a confused hint, but when their eyes met and Yn caught the way his gaze drifted across her body like a caress bringing a shiver along. Her legs instinctively crossed in search of the slight tinge of pressure.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” his grin was wicked, and the way his head pointed to the space in front of him at the table almost made Yn whimper. Lando pushed the plate and glass to the side, watching as Yn got up and walked to him. The noises of the city came through the open windows, just like the cold wind, creating the perfect harmony with the way her bare steps hit the ground, the slight sound coming from it.

The legs of Lando’s chair scraped on the ground when he pushed it just a tiny bit to make room for Yn. She sat on his lap, legs on either side of him, caging him in place, and giving him the feeling of her bare cunt against his dress pants.

“Aren’t you wearing anything under the dress?” he asked, mocking shock on his expression.

Yn merely shook her head, “It would just ruin it anyway.”

And just like that cooking conversations and random subjects were long forgotten, their lips smashed together in a heated kiss, and Yn moaned into his mouth when Lando gripped her waist and guided her movements on top of him, his cock hardening with each motion.

*****************

“Come in my mouth,” she rasped, it sounded like a plea, and Lando couldn’t help but give it to her. At that moment he would give her anything and everything she asked for. The way her eyes blinked at him from between his legs, mascara a bit smudged on her cheeks, lips swollen from sucking, she looked like an angel.

And he couldn’t deny an angel its request.

So when her mouth enveloped him again, cheeks hollowing and tongue twirling Lando gripped the table, hips buckling slightly and body finally succumbing to pleasure. He watched as his cum leaked from her mouth, his dick still spurting the white liquid and making it land on her chin and collarbone.

Yn grinned up at him, licking her lips.

He scooped cum from her chin using his finger and she eagerly opened her mouth, sucking his thumb and smiling up at him again. At that moment, he wanted them to be intimate enough, so he could grab a camera and save that image. Frame it. Store it under locks. Have it with him forever. Something about the way she looked and what they had just done stirred his insides again.

“Can I have mine now?” he scooped more cum this time from her collarbone and Yn nodded, parting her lips to him again.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this piece. I've been meaning to write a long piece for Lan for a while now, and it felt good to put this together, I'm looking forward to writing more for him, let me know if you wanna see it! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading and beta-reading this (Ily, Dee!).

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 2 months

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hi gorgeous!! The way you write james has me thinking non stop about him for days (i need him fr) so on that note, can i please get a request where reader gets jealous for some reason and he doesn’t notice at first cause he only has eyes for her but she kind of gets clingier and a little grumpy so he talks to her and just lots of fluff and cuddles? Thank you <3

thank youu! comments like that make me want to be writing all the time really hope you like it!! sorry i got a little carried away length-wise

a confession among friends: getting called my boyfriend's sister actually happened to me once and i was soo pissed lmao

pairing: James Potter x reader word count: 4.1k (not completely proofread)

Boy-friend

You weren’t much in the mood for a party. No matter how many times Sirius clarified that it was only a “get together,” it was a party. Still, James had wanted to come, and there’d been plenty of times he’d come out because you were the one who felt like it, so you were happy to try to make the most of it.

James comes up behind you now, surprising you and tickling you with no warning. You break out in full laughter but contort to smack him away.

“Stop! stop!” you half laugh, half yell.

“Alright, shortcake, but if I catch you looking grumpy again, you’re gonna get it,” he replies cheekily, giving you a playfully accusatory squint. “Shortcake” wasn’t your favourite of his nicknames, but it had stuck after one night the boys had had way too much to drink and way too much fun making fun of you for being the shortest of the group, not bothering with your contention that it wasn’t fair since you were the only girl.

“I was not looking grumpy.”

“Given I’m the one who could see what you looked like, not you, I think my word counts for more here.”

“What are you two on about?” Sirius interrupts, wrapping an arm around James’s shoulders in their typically brotherly way.

“Was or was she not looking grumpy just now?” James asks.

“Was,” Sirius nods affirmatively.

“Whatever, you losers,” you roll your eyes at them. “Anyway, if I’m looking bored” — you glare at them before either corrects your word choice — “I feel justified in blaming the host of the party,” you smirk at Sirius.

“It’s not a party; it’s a get t—“

“A get together,” you both finish for him.

“Yes, yes, we know, mate,” James laughs. “Lots of people in your flat for a ‘get together,’ don’t you think?”

“Well, I’ve just made lots of cool friends recently. Thought it’d be nice for them to meet each other,” he shrugs.

“Always so generous,” you tease.

“‘Course,” he shrugs. “How else are you two annoyingly romantic recluses going to meet anyone new? You never leave your flat.”

“We do so,” you try, but it sounds damningly defensive. You cringe before Sirius can pounce and add, “Well, we’re here now aren’t we?”

“Fair. Glad you’ve graced me with your presence, L/N,” Sirius smiles.

Just then a small toy football whizzes past Sirius’s head.

“Oi!” he yells, turning towards the source of the projectile. “No indoor football!” Then he grins his characteristically wolfish smile. “Not before I get to pick teams! I am host after all.” He grabs you by the wrist, dragging you with him. When you begin to object, he just shushes you with, “Weren’t you just complaining about being bored?”

James comes too, no dragging necessary. You’re surprised to find Remus, usually so responsible, in the midst of the ball game crowd.

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles, shrugging and telling you, “It’s Sirius’s flat. Do you think we’d even be able to tell if something got damaged?” He looks around at the messy space.

You all start what was initially some kind of football game, but it just devolves into a drunken monkey in the middle situation.

You get stuck in the middle, for frustratingly longer than most. It’s not fair Remus is so tall, and James so athletic. When you’ve finally had enough, you jump at James when he catches the ball, wrapping your arms around him, not even going for the ball.

“Hey!” he yells as he’s laughing. “Ref! Foul!” He shakes you loose, not without a fight from you. “That’s not the game,” he chides you. He lifts the ball high, and you make the mistake of reaching for it, obviously having no chance. “Gotta try better than that.” He hasn’t stopped laughing as you jump up and down like an idiot.

“I give up,” you announce, winded but smiling slightly.

“Such a sore loser,” he teases, ruffling your hair a bit and giving you a gentle playful push.

“Whatever,” you push him back. “I’m thirsty. You want anything?”

“I’m good. Catch up in a sec.”

“‘Kay.”

He throws the ball over your head at a ready Sirius as you weave your way to the kitchen.

You lean on the counter, drinking some water. You look back over toward your silly boyfriend and best friends, who are still playing the game, but your view is mostly blocked by a couple of girls who are also watching the shenanigans. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but they’re standing very close to you.

“He’s so cute,” says one of them, a strikingly attractive girl in heels that make her a whole head taller than the other girl.

“Why am I not surprised? You have such a specific type,” laughs her friend.

The gorgeous girl just shrugs, owning it with no shame.

Having witnessed your fair share of such reactions, you automatically assume they’re talking about Sirius. You just smile and roll your eyes, used to it.

Soon the boys are over the antics too even though the game continues without them, and they come get some water as well. James stands next to you as he downs his glass. He bumps his shoulder against yours, a common gesture between you.

The girls turn toward your group now, and the especially pretty one says, “Thanks again for inviting us, Sirius. If I’d realized it was going to get so… physical” — she emphasizes the word seductively, as she nods back to where they had just been throwing the ball — “I wouldn’t’ve worn such high heels.” She kicks her foot back a bit, as if to show the heels she’s blaming, but you don’t miss her turn into it, showing off her (amazing) body.

Sirius just grins knowingly, unfazed.

“You could always take them off,” he suggests nonchalantly.

She giggles and retorts, “But they look so good on me.”

You can’t help but think it’s incredible people actually just talk to each other this way. You feel like you’re watching a movie, sure you’d never feel bold enough to say something like that unless the other person knew it was your line. You’d never been particularly good at flirting, and getting together with James since back at school, you hadn’t had the need in a long time. Even with James, though, you’d never talked like this, not back then, not now. You were glad you didn’t feel the need; everything just came naturally when it came to James. He used to make you nervous from how much you liked him, sure, but for years, you’d become completely comfortable with him. The closest you came to flirting was your quite frequent teasing, but you teased Sirius and Remus as well, and they you.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends?” The girl’s question breaks you from your thoughts, drawing your gaze to her. Her gaze, you come to find, is not on Sirius, but on James. Directly, aggressively on James.

Oh god. Maybe it wasn’t Sirius after all.

“Oh, how rude of me,” Sirius says, typically theatrical. “Lads, this is Jules and…” Jules introduces her friend, but you miss her name as a group of people near you laugh loudly. “And these are my best mates, Remus, James, and Y/N,” he gestures at each of you in turn. “We go back to our school days,” he adds kind of adorably.

“Oh, how cute!” says Jules.

Ok, not that adorably. You cringe internally at her then feel a bit guilty for disliking this girl for very little reason. Well, maybe there was a reason… but it wasn’t one you felt often.

She hasn’t stopped staring at James the whole time, and you steal a glance at him now. He’s pouring himself more water, quite unaffected. He looks at her only when she addresses him directly.

“You were so good at… whatever you all were doing over there,” she giggles. “James. It was James, right?”

Oh please. She obviously remembered.

“Yeah,” James smiles, wiping some water that had condensed around his glass. “Thanks,” he chuckles and shrugs. “Not much competition, though,” he adds teasingly, shoving Sirius on one side of him and splashing your face with the water droplets lingering on his fingers on the other.

“Oh don’t be mean,” she says exaggeratedly, playfully hitting his shoulder.

You are not a fan of how angry such minimal contact makes you.

“I thought you put up a really good fight against someone so tall and clearly athletic,” she says to you, looking back toward James at the end of her sentence.

James just laughs lightly and, turning to you, bumping your shoulder, asks, “What do you think, shortcake? You think you put up a good fight?” His tone is all teasing.

“You two are too cute,” says Jules.

Weird angle for her obvious flirting, you think.

“Is this your sister?” she asks, pointing between the two of you.

Oh god. You are simultaneously mortified and infuriated.

Sirius breaks out laughing, saying, “I told you I bet other people play siblings or dating with you two when we go out.”

James starts saying something, but just then, the ball from the continued game hits the counter right next to you, knocking over a bunch of water glasses and startling you all.

“Alright,” Sirius chuckles. “Maybe enough with this shit.” He grabs the ball and goes to toss it in a closet. James goest to dry his arm where it got splashed. Remus starts cleaning up the mess. A loudly apologetic bloke you don’t know comes over to help.

The slight chaos has moved the conversation away from what was just happening, and you have no idea how to clarify things without being incredibly awkward.

His sister? What the fuck? Did this girl really not mind being a total bitch to get what she wanted or, worse, did she actually think you were siblings? Did you look like siblings to the rest of the world? Should it bother you so much if you did?

You’re reeling, and start thinking back to what could’ve given her that impression. Your stomach sinks at the realization of so much playful bumping, hair ruffling, and the like. You can’t remember kissing James once tonight. Maybe this isn’t out of the ordinary, with your slight aversion to PDA, but not once? You realize also how many of your gestures toward James you’d also done toward Sirius. How much they behaved similarly not just with you but with each other. Oh god. Were you that sisterly?

You panic, reach for a kitchen towel, and start drying your damp boyfriend, getting way too close and speaking way too loudly when you say, “Let me help you with that, baby.”

James is a little taken aback. You never call him baby. In fact, though his calling you pet names is common, the reverse is rare. You usually stick with “Jamie” … or some dumb teasing insult like “loser.”

“Uh, it’s fine,” he chuckles confusedly. “Wasn’t that much.” You nod and put the towel down. “You okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” you say too quickly.

You glance toward Jules to gauge her reaction, but she’s busy also drying off, her friend having gotten the worst of it, and you’re not sure whether she heard you.

“Wanna go sit down? I’m tired,” you tell James, dragging him by the hand, which you don’t let go of even after he’s clearly following you, back to the living room.

You pull him down to the couch, where you proceed to sit way too close to him despite there being more room on your other side and wind your arm under his as you continue to hold his hand. You kiss his cheek as he settles in.

He’s smiling but asks, “What’s with you, love?”

“Nothing,” you say, but your voice sounds off even to you. You kiss him again, and even more confusion seeps into his smile.

You’re trying to think of something “couple-y” to do but come up with absolutely nothing, an awkward air arising between the two of you as you squirm. You literally cannot remember the last time you felt awkward with him, and now you add feeling guilty into the mix. At your insecurities, at your jealousy, at his slight discomfort, you’re not even sure at what, but it’s awful.

“You sure you’re alright, sweetheart? You’re all tense, and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost circulation in my hand at this point,” he chuckles. You notice your grip is vice-like.

His tone is light, but yours is not as you snap, “I’m just holding your hand. I’m your girlfriend; that shouldn’t be weird.”

His smile fades quickly as he answers, “Uh… I didn’t say it was weird, Y/N. Just too tight?” It sounds like a question, but that’s probably just because he seems very confused overall.

“Right. Sorry.” Your voice is much softer now as you let go of his hand.

“It’s fine. Obviously. I just… Um…” He’s searching for what to say, wanting to comfort you but unsure what you even needed comforting from. He opts for just reaching for your hand again, straining a smile though his eyebrows remain in a confused furrow.

“You wanna go disorganize Sirius’s beloved record collection?” he asks mischievously.

“No, not really,” you say softly, not feeling like a prank right now even though you usually did.

“Um, ok.” James looks a bit awkward. “You hungry?”

“No.”

“Right.” A silence. “Let’s just sit here then,” he says, probably a bit more sarcastically than intended.

“Is that so bad? Do we always have to be doing something for me to be fun?” you shoot, standing up. “Why don’t you go find Sirius or Remus, James. I’m sure it won’t even make a difference.” You turn away angrily, but he follows you up quickly and stops you.

“Whoah, what’s up, shortcake?” he asks, eyes wide.

“Don’t call me that. It sounds like you’re teasing your little sister.”

You see something in his eyes at the word “sister,” but you turn and keep trying to walk away before you have time to really analyse it.

James is following you but he has to weave between a group of people you managed to avoid, so you get to the bathroom before he catches up. He knocks a second later.

“Y/N? Can we talk please?” You don’t say anything. “Come on, Y/N. Let me in. Or you come out.” You lean against the door but still don’t say anything.

“I just want to know you’re okay,” he says more softly this time.

“I’m fine,” you say, softly too. “I just need a second, okay? I’ll be out in a minute.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

“Alright, love, but just come back quick, alright?”

You’re not even really sure what you’re doing in here. You just need to collect yourself, you guess. You fiddle with some stuff on the sink then find yourself looking in the mirror.

An ugly thought arises, and you hate it, trying to push it away. It comes back anyway.

She’s much prettier than me…

That distorted inner voice doesn’t stop there.

And better at being a girl.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you whisper out loud to yourself. “Completely ridiculous.”

You wash your hands even though you haven’t used the toilet, shaking your head, your gaze fixed on your hands. Then you go back out into the party.

James is across the room, talking to Remus, but staring at the door you just came out of. As soon as he sees you, he pats Remus on the shoulder, saying something quickly, and starts moving toward you.

He’s stopped in the middle of the room by a perfectly manicured hand on his chest. It’s attached to Jules, of course, and your glare hardens. You’re too far away to hear what she says to him, her hand lingering on him.

James shakes his head a bit at whatever she’s saying, his eyes coming back toward you quickly. He gives her a glance again and a nod then his hand comes to her shoulder. You’re eyes are glued to where they connect, and so your gaze follows the motion of James’s hand gently pushing her body aside. A moment later, it detaches as he continues walking toward you. You haven’t moved when he reaches you.

“Hey,” he says simply.

“Hi,” you return. You look away from his face, shy and confused about what to tell him.

His hand gently guides your chin back up, and you lose yourself in his beautiful eyes for a second. He gives you his warmest smile, and you give him a pitiful but sincere one back.

“You wanna talk about what the hell just happened?” he laughs lightly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you try. You’re not sure you want it to be, but you’re too embarrassed to explain and would take any option that meant you didn’t have to.

“Actually, it wasn’t,” he chuckles. “When you got weird, I thought it was just because you didn’t want to come tonight,” he starts. “But I still didn’t understand the specific… I don’t know, kind? of weird you got.” His lips quirk into a teasing-adjacent smile here, but your face immediately contorts in embarrassment. You cover it with your hand, but James quickly removes yours with his. “Hey, hey, no, sorry. I’m sorry. It’s alright, lovely.” He caresses your hand he’s still holding. “I’m not teasing, okay?” He smiles at you, and you just keep watching him, but your face relaxes a bit. “Then,” he exhales dramatically, “Remus asked me how you reacted to that girl flirting with me right in front of you then calling you my sister.” He grimaces.

Thank God for Remus, you think, the only emotionally aware man you’ve ever met.

“I hadn’t noticed the first part, sweetheart,” James adds. “The flirting part, I mean. I’m sorry, pretty girl. I mean, she didn’t know I had a girlfriend — clearly — but I would’ve just told her I did if that ball hadn’t hit us.”

“She was really into you,” you say before thinking, unsure where that’s supposed to take the conversation.

“Was she? Huh.” He sounds slightly amused, but you know he’s acting to amuse you.

“You really couldn’t tell?” you ask him. There’s disbelief in your voice, but you’re smiling a bit at him. He takes a step closer to you.

“I mean, I guess in retrospect, it makes sense,” he says honestly. “But I guess I’m out of practice,” he laughs. “And more importantly, I don’t care who’s really into me because I’m really into you, you silly girl.”

You exhale, your heart warming and most of your heavy emotions leaving you. You squeeze his hand, and shaking your head at yourself, bring it to rest on his chest. James chuckles into your hairline, kissing the top of your head and holding it close, his fingers interweaving into your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, your mouth squished against him.

You can feel him shake his head since he’s resting it on yours.

“No need,” he smiles. “I’m sorry. Was quite daft.” You laugh into his chest. You wipe away a tiny tear you’d been about to shed then rest your hand on his chest. The image reminds you, and you jolt upright, looking into his face again. He looks startled but amused.

“What?”

“What was she saying to you? Just now?” You nod toward where they’d been talking. He laughs a full laugh.

“She was telling me we should ditch this get together and go to her place.” He wiggles his eyebrows goofily.

“Jamieee,” you scold, smacking his chest. He grabs hold of your hand and holds it to his heart, thumb caressing the back of it. His other hand still at the nape of your neck.

“She was telling me,” he leans in conspiratorially, “‘sorry for not realizing your girlfriend was your girlfriend,’” he chuckles again. “I guess your little show worked afterward.”

“And what’d you say?”

“Does it matter?” It’s not harsh; he’s all warmth now. Knowing him, you realize he probably just doesn’t see the point of lingering.

“I just want to know,” you say.

“I said I didn’t care and it was fine or something.” He shrugs. “Can’t remember my exact words. Had more important things — a more important person — on my mind, to be honest.” He smiles at you. You smile back.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you too,” he replies with a laugh as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So much,” he adds, a bit more seriously, and kisses your forehead.

You just stand there, close to each other, your head back on his chest, his arms around you, for a few moments.

Then, leaning back to look at his face, you ask seriously, “Do you really?”

He looks confused by your question, its sincerity. “Of course I do. I adore you. You don’t know that?” His question has more than a tinge of hurt under it.

“No,” you chuckle. But before he can get the wrong idea, you quickly continue, “Of course I know that.” You smile earnestly, and he seems comforted. “I mean, do you really not care? That she couldn’t tell I was your girlfriend?” Your voice grows softer and softer as you ask, and it’s a mere whisper by the end.

“No, sweetheart,” he smiles. “I don’t. I know. And you know. Who cares what other people think?”

“I did,” you scold yourself. “I’m sorry I got so weird. I just… I got really insecure about being just like Sirius or Remus to you. I know I’m just one of you in some ways —“

He cuts you off, “Yeah, baby, you’re one of us in some ways, but not in every way. The four of us, we have something special,” he nods. “But the two of us, we have something special too.” He tightens your embrace. “Seriously special. Yeah, we’re… what? friendly? sometimes. But, darling, you are not like Sirius or Remus to me.” He brings his hand to your face, caressing your cheek. “For starters, I don’t want to kiss Sirius or Remus, and they’re pretty good looking blokes,” he jokes. “And I don’t want to tell them about every single thing that makes me smile — just a lot of them — and about everything important in my life. I don’t need to make sure they’re happy and safe absolutely all of the time. I don’t feel warm and happy to be alive every time I look at them, and I don’t love cuddling with them at night, waking up to them in the morning. Not to even mention the other things that happen in that bed…” Now you laugh too.

“Yeah,” you nod, getting convinced.

“Yeah?” he pushes.

“Yeah,” you say certainly.

“Good.”

You hum a warm assent.

“Now what do you say we ditch this get together and go back to our place?”

You roll your eyes at him but laugh as you nod.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

He’s nodding as he shifts his arm across your shoulders, kissing the top of your head and continuing to hold you close as you walk toward Sirius and Remus to say goodbye.

“Leaving already?” Sirius complains, teasing you about being antisocial and lame.

“Sorry, mate, but I really want to cuddle up with my girlfriend right now, and this doesn’t seem like the best place for that.”

“Ugh, so cheesy, Prongs. Just leave already,” he says, feigning disgust and pushing James away.

“Good night, gorgeous,” Sirius tells you, kissing your cheek carelessly like he’s done a million times. Similar words, similar gestures, yes, you think, but they don’t feel the same at all. You smile.

“Good night, Siri,” you say. You and James hug Remus too.

James puts his arm back around you as you go to leave. You smile up at him, then, mischief in your eyes, you push him away and walk faster.

“You’re all sweaty, Potter. Gross.” He laughs and play chases you all the way out the door.

Once you’re on the other side of it, enveloped by the welcoming quiet privacy of the night, he catches up to you and pulls you to him. You resist for only a moment, your laughter intermingling with his, then you melt into his embrace.

“C’mere, gorgeous,” James huffs, kissing you ardently. “Can’t wait to get home with you,” he whispers before kissing you again.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfic #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #harry potter fanfic #established relationship

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lxmelle · 29 days

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Geto was loved even in death.

Wouldn’t it be nice if he were judged by his intentions in the afterlife - wherever that was? He had suffered living with the love he had. We see through the eyes of those left behind, that the ill deeds didn’t define him, as strange as that may be to us as readers in the real human world we live in. Geto’s influence and loving nature were far reaching; Gege certainly made him so treasured by many even after his death. If Gojo was touched by his caring influence, this was also Geto’s will he passed onto his students.

NOT spoiler-free as I’ll be referring to the recent chapter, 255.

I wrote this the other day:

And honestly it’s long enough; here’s part 2.

Is it obvious I’m suffering from brainrot? All my drafts from jjk brainrot are rivalling my thesis/dissertation from way back (lol)

Here is more under the cut:

I’m really moved by the reasons for why Miguel and Larue have decided to join in the risky fight against Sukuna.

It’s very obvious that Miguel is reluctant at first. He says he he’d rather terrible curses arrive at his shores than to fight with Sukuna, adding that he doesn’t see himself having any ties with Japan any longer.

We can deduce that this was part of Gojo’s plan for the possibility that he dies/loses, and I had a post about this saved in my drafts - but I guess I never got around to finishing it. Basically, in sum, he will achieve giving Geto a cremation (avenging him) and gets to show off to his students (which he does enjoy) by going all out (soo satisfying), and in the worst case scenario, he loses but gets to go all out, weakens Sukuna (for the rest to handle), and idk if he really is that romantic (so it’s really stsg headcanon fantasising) he will die on the same day as Geto.

The Opening theme is rather beautiful in that it interprets Gojo having the words, “we’ll meet again” stuck in his throat, which he doesn’t say. But I’m a bit weird and tend to separate anime from manga. But it’s worth noting that here.

I digress. Back to Miguel and Larue who have moved to speak privately without Yuta.

In a previous post I wondered aloud about what Yuta knew about Geto from others aside from being villainous and I guess this implies he doesn’t know much, since he wasn’t close to Miguel enough to sit around to chat with them. It makes sense.

Miguel and Larue both agree they followed Geto in jjk 0 because they wanted to see him become King. What does this even mean, really? Gege, you’re missing stuff out again!

Nevertheless, we understand how reluctant Miguel was. He enquires that Larue intends to do, clarifying: is it for revenge or to take Geto’s body back?

And it seems like their main motivation for putting their lives on the line... is to honour Geto’s memory. Like a traditional ritual one makes for the dead (customary in Japan on death anniversaries - not limited to the year, but also number of days).

It’s incredibly moving how much they love him. This is actually what led Miguel to reconsider. We see him go silent as he thinks “...” before he reaches a moment of clarity/a decision.

Tbh I have issues with interpreting his statement in between the two panels (re: hell) in Japanese - it doesn’t directly indicate if he is referring to the former part of the conversation (whether he thinks Geto is in hell), or the latter (he thinks the battle will be hell). The phrasing goes like this: “no matter how I think about it: it’s hell.” - I’m not a native speaker so it’s difficult for me to be certain which is right. But the consensus is as translated above. Larue thinks Geto is in heaven, Miguel thinks it’s hell, and we see the airport scene where presumably Haibara and Riko with Kuroi have been there for over a decade. lol. Who knows!

So the bottom line is… regardless of where they think Geto ends up in the afterlife, Miguel is willing to give Geto a send off that’ll even reach hell. Or, despite it going to be hellish, he will do it. It also seems so heartwarming how they still emphasise family and friendship in wanting to fight together - perhaps things we can surmise had meant something to Geto.

They will fight Sukuna because it is for Geto. Geto was so loved that they would risk themselves - not for a title, not for revenge, but out of … love. Again. That’s pretty damn loving. Can we imagine what Geto did and was to them, for them to experience such loyalty and reverence?

Sadly, it goes without saying that Geto’s body being used as a vessel and puppet by Kenjaku has possibly evoked an emotional response by those who cared for him - namely Mimiko and Nanako, and also Gojo. Arguably, even if it were a death without his body being hijacked, Gojo did refuse to cremate his body or have it processed “by the book” of jjk high through Shoko. If that’s not out of a form of love (or “consideration” as Kenjaku put it), I don’t know what is.

The twins went against what Geto wanted for them (to carry out his will) to fight against immensely power beings in hopes they could bring him home. Those were their reasons to fight. Gojo scheduled 24th December - this was after he teleported to Kenjaku immediately upon unsealing so he could bury Geto. We saw Larue and Miguel’s. Toshihisa is alleged to be quite weak, and despite potentially being considered a son to Geto (if his life situation did mimic that of the twins’ - source: jjk character book), he opts to follow the inherited will as prescribed by Geto.

It’s all love. Geto was loved, I’m telling you. I want to shout if off the rooftops because that man just looked so darned sad and deranged after he lost it.

So. Continuing where I left off: Everyone thus far has had a reason to go into battle with Sukuna. I wonder what / who will actually reach him? I hope it’s Yuji ... and that Megumi will react again at some point. They have their own themes relating to love and purpose. I’ll leave them to someone else more familiar with their characters to write about!

And now I’m going offside quite a bit, but it’s still of relevance to Geto and the theme of love that seems to surround him. Way back to jjk 0 and Hidden inventory.

I wanted to just bring this into the picture as well now that I’m already writing a post on that topic, but please feel free to stop if you’re bored now.

So. Jjk 0!

There were direct parallels with Yuta & Rika and Gojo & Geto. This was also confirmed by the director when discussing their vision for the movie. The light novel also drew a link between Geto and Yuta where they were described as being too sincere for this world.

There is a direct theme of love - the type, is open to interpretation.

Kenjaku also makes reference to this in the Shibuya arc. So to me, it remains relevant. Love in its many forms is somewhere in what Gege wishes to convey thematically.

Within jjk 0, Geto seemed to pursue power but this was also a symbolism where power = love. It is twisted. In light of recent events, we know that the pursuit of power leads to the dilution and even absence of love. Love that gives birth to power becomes cursed. So it seems.

As we know, Yuta bound his lover to himself to gain power.

If only he had Rika (metaphor for love: Gojo) he probably wouldn’t have had to skulk around the shadows consuming curses which he hated doing. Geto was lamenting on the past in the above panels. He probably was determined to carry on, as he vouched to give it all he got (Haibara’s last words to him echoing here).

A flashback to the past:

Geto doesn’t do things in half-measures. To avoid hypocrisy, and I headcanon that it was a merciful killing to protect them from him, he kills his parents. To die by his hands than to be used as a pawn to get to him. For them to see the horrors their son could be capable of. It is so very wrong, and we can see the twisted nature of his love in this interpretation.

And Gojo delivers the ultimate blow that leads to Geto reflecting - depicted by the mysterious ellipses “…..” (gege really likes the reader to work hard huh) - insinuating it is impossible for Geto, so don’t even bother trying. The blossoming possibility of discourse was nipped, as the strength differential was implied - you’re the strongest now, whereas it used to be “we”. There was no more place for Geto; it was probably a misunderstanding. Gojo was protecting everyone in his own way, and the only way he knew how.

For power, Gojo was a source - but Geto couldn’t do that in Shinjuku, nor earlier in the arc, when Gojo himself was on the brink of insanity and deferred to Geto about annihilating humans as he held Riko’s dead body. Geto in the scene above acknowledges their different paths they needed to take - Gojo had a place as part of the elite at the school - Geto was already facing an execution order.

And after hearing Gojo’s condescending tone in an emotionally-fuelled attempt to reach out to him. He turns away to protect his friend from himself, and himself from his friend. Anyway, I touched on this in my previous post. Geto feels they had fought and didn’t deserve a place next to Gojo. But deep inside, even his body remembers the sound of Gojo’s voice, reacting to it when called despite his soul no longer being there.

sigh. Moving on... back to jjk 0:

After witnessing the bonds through willingness to sacrifice and the love between these students, Geto was really moved. Gojo trusted Geto retained his sense of humanity / love / idealism - even if it would lead to him sacrificing himself.

He was finding it difficult anyway:

He could always empathise with love. I suspect he tried his best, but the binding vow for Yuta’s life was also just the cherry on top to make Rika super saiyan.

Kenjaku knew Geto probably could’ve won though, had he been more selfish.

Geto conceded without a fight with Gojo. Maybe it was a matter of trust in that they both knew his living on borrowed time. As the light novel insinuated, this was the only way it could ever end. And Gojo would have to carry the curse that was Geto. This seems... so cruel.

He did his best. He perhaps always wanted the love but set it free.

He did so many things for others in spite of himself, in sacrificing himself, in staining himself with blood drenched hands.

Avenging Riko by killing Sonoda. Note how manipulative “humans” are by using Jujutsu rules against them.

He embraces a life of smoke and daggers. Living in lies and half truths in order to live, survive, and find justice in a wicked world.

Watch me closely, I’ll protect you, I’ll avenge you, this is how you protect yourself.

This is the path I’ve chosen.

I’m not saying he was right or justifiable. His character is just tragic. The system had set him and others to fail.

The worm foreshadows Geto’s maternal nature. Calling him “okaasan”. I mean, this very worm had a binding vow with Toji. And now it calls for a new owner? I’m not sure if Gege had anything else in mind with this... is the womb protrusion domain Geto’s? But that’s tied to a sorcerer’s soul…. Anyway, I digress again. (Sorry). Geto did have a martyr complex and was written captivatingly well by Gege. The extra touches where how he has been perceived by others and the effect he has (and continues to have) on those we see.

And I just want to leave this heartbreaking thing here:

Source from twitter/now X:

Wouldn’t it be so sweet for Geto to get one (love declaration) at the end of his life, regardless of the way you perceive Gojo and Geto’s relationship?

Wouldn’t it be nice for him if he could know that his family who he instructed to flee had all loved him, adored him, and would honour his sacrifice in differing ways...

Instead, a form of love meant his body was desecrated and used by Kenjaku. His girls were killed, and his full potential was not quite realised at all.

If only things were different.

Gojo should have kept him in his basement!

But at least, I think, Gege is giving Geto some love even after his death.

For that I’m thankful.

And thanks for reading if you made it this far with my rambling!

If you want something more light hearted I have a fluffy fic up on AO3 (it isn’t great but i enjoyed writing it to fantasise about what happens at the airport) and if you want more angst and pain, please browse my tags (lol).

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onigirio · 8 months

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Hi! I love ur workk!! :) Could i request percy x child of apollo where hyacinth flowers bloom where they walk and they can summon them? (Yknow, bcz of apollo)

🐝: TYSM! i really liked this concept but i feel like this may be too short...lmk if you want a part 2!

camp half blood was no stranger to miscellaneous flora. after all, it was a camp in a forest, so there was bound to be a lot of plant life. however, recently, percy noticed a drastic increase of a new kind of flower, especially around the apollo cabin.

normally, he would ignore these things since flowers weren't his forté (he left gardening to the demeter kids) but the way the flowers were popping up seemed...too intentional. they formed intricate pathways from cabin 7 to the dining pavilion, or to the shooting range. hades, they were even popping up during capture the flag games!

damn his curiosity, but when percy noticed a new path, how could he not follow it. it's like someone was leaving a trail of bread crumbs for him to follow. the flora went from cabin 7, to the big house, to the dining pavilion. sometimes he would get mixed up with the different paths, but keen ocean eyes noticed that the colours differed from day to day, and today they just so happened to be blue

of course they had to be blue.

it was like the gods were poking fun at him. now everyone was wondering why percy jackson was walking around camp with his eyes glued to the ground. as far as he knew, he was going to get duped. this seemed like the perfect set up for a youtube prank video. fortunately for him, that wasnt the case

the trail of blue flowers led up to the edge of the strawberry fields, and right at the fringes sat someone overlooking the fruit as they baked in the summer heat. percy didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned, because yay! he wasn't getting pelted by eggs or falling into a pit of snakes, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what exactly this meant.

before he could ask the mystery kid about it, they turned around and immediately started blushing and rambling about cleaning and distractions. the ocean eyed boy only caught something about a "stupid sun god" followed by a significant amount incoherent mumbling. when they finished, percy just looked at them with a confused expression and they sighed

"my bad, i thought you were coming to complain about the flowers" they said sheepishly.

percy could only smile, "no, I'm not here to complain I just- decided to follow the weird trail of blue flowers".

this caused them to laugh, a sound that clearly had the ability to make flowers bloom considering the reason he was there. it made his heart run laps in chest.

"they're hyacinths" they clarified, unable to hide their amusement with him, "they bloom wherever i walk, because apollo had a crush on this guy named hyacinthus or something. either way, it's not exactly the best combat ability" they said with a small laugh, and it seemed that today percy's heart decided to be a track star

"If it's any consolation, I think they're very pretty" he took a seat next them, sitting criss cross applesauce as they overlooked the strawberry fields

"thanks bubble brain"

percy quirked an eyebrow at the new nickname they had given him. usually he'd feel a little bit offended, but after seeing the smile on their face, he couldn't help but smile too.

"what? you're that poseidon kid right?"

percy laughed, "well, yeah. does that make you buttercup?"

"they're hyacinths, bubbles" they reminded him with a playful nudge, "and my name is (name), but buttercup is also accepted"

'note to self ' percy thought, 'stop and smell the hyacinths more often'

#pjo #hoo #rio writes 🐝#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #asks! 🌼#pjo headcanon

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pedrostylez · 1 year

Text

Mi Vida

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

summary: reader and Javier are coworkers that typically hate each other, but find each other helpful in relieving that stress

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count:3.6k

warnings etc: smut, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, pet names, oral, female recieving, established relationship. NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: I finished Narcos last week :( and I know that Murphy isn’t in the last season but I have him here because I feel like it. Loosely based on some of the events in Season 3, but barely. Anyways! This is the final part of the Mi Luz fic. Thank you for sticking around for my first one. Writing will hopefully improve as time goes on :)

3 months after Mi Cielo

Seeing him at work was different from his apartment. Both were stressed out Javier, but one was colder to you and one was loving, inviting, and warm. Sometimes you thought he was angry with you, even though it had been clarified on more than one occasion he was trying to separate the two of you at work so as to “not embarrass you.” Had you really asked for that so often that he repeated it back?

Maybe at first you were embarrassed-you didn’t want anyone to know about your relationship with him because you thought it would backfire. But now you wished for a little more attention. It had almost been a year since you two started your weekly get-together, and Susan and Amy had let you know that after that night in the bar, they could see how he cared for you.

You brought a file up to Murphy after he called you while heading back from his most recent trip out, now staring at the back of Javier’s head while Murphy flipped through the file. If Murphy was asking you a question you missed it, the back of Javier’s neck was too interesting to not focus on. He looked tense, head buried in the paperwork in front of him and going through files you had given him days before that he never returned.

You used to get on him about not giving back files, but you knew this was important. He had mentioned at his place over the weekend that he was trying to track one of the connections' wives down from the Cali cartel, and you encouraged him to keep the papers until he figured it out. He had momentum and you weren’t going to break it.

“Thanks for this, but I don’t think it is what I need.” Murphy’s voice took you out of your trance, eyeing you and glancing at Peña. He had never said, but you were positive that he knew about your relationship with Peña too. They were friends and sometimes your weekends were cut short so that Javier could go to Steve’s like he used to.

You smiled, bringing your eyes back to Murphy. “Okay, do you want me to look in one of the older files? This was the most recent intel from a few months ago.”

Murphy shook his head and sighed. “No, I’ll come down and take a look in a few hours. Gotta update the boss first.” He stood up, glancing one more time between you and Javier, smiling in a way that said “he’s upset right now, best to leave him alone”.

You nodded, holding the file tight to your chest as you walked back to the hallway that led to your archives room. He would tell you if he needed you.

A few hours later, sitting at your desk and taking notes, you glanced up to find Javier standing in the doorway watching you. He looked tired but smirked and stepped into the room. “I’ve been here for a few minutes and you didn’t notice.”

“Sorry, I was taking down some information that was left by one of the girls. Do you need something?” You felt breathless, hoping he would close the door and ask something personal like he would in your bed. He had been so careful the past few months that there really was a separation that you had asked for initially.

“I’m here in place of Murphy. He asked me to grab the files you two talked about earlier?” He looked around the room, not avoiding you but not intent on keeping your focus. He was distracted, thinking about how the rest of his weekend would go.

“Oh, right. Let me just see here.” You stood, tapping the table lightly with your fingers as you thought about where the older files were. You moved your ladder over, taking a step up and reaching for a smaller box.

The door shut behind Peña and he lowered his voice. “I’m uh-I have to take care of work tonight. I have to bring that asshole's wife back to Miami so he will talk to us and I am going to be gone for a few days.” He was nervous, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and glancing up at you. “I’m sorry I am telling you here but I didn’t want to just go and not tell you and I don’t think I will have time to see you before.”

You looked at him, stepping down from the ladder and smiling. “That’s okay Javi, I understand.”

He felt the breath leave him quickly, and he reached out to your desk for support. Did you call him Javi? At work? He had been so careful, keeping his distance from your archives and keeping the door open when he had to see you. He wanted to see you more but knew you didn’t want to jeopardize anything. “Maybe you can go out with Susan and Amy or something and I’ll give you the key to my place?” He whispered, feeling like the offer was the right move. Have fun with your friends but come back to me even if I am not there.

You chuckled, shuffling through the file box.” I don’t think so, you know what happened last time.” You hadn’t gone out since that night, explaining as vaguely as possible to Susan and Amy what happened. They never asked you again, rather having a girl’s night in or gossip session at your place.

Pena smirked, hiding his irritation at never finding Roberto (he was a DEA agent for Christ’s sake and he couldn’t track down one asshole?) “The sex after you scared me half to death was worth it.”

You laughed, glancing behind him to the doorway that was currently closed. “I might go out, but just to be with the girls, not to drink. I know where you keep your key, maybe I’ll do a load of dishes for you.” You felt yourself heat up as you spoke, embarrassed that you were willing to do domestic things for him while he wasn’t there.

A full smile plastered on his face, and a light chuckle breathed out. “That is very nice of you mi luz,” He said, looking at the shoes you were wearing today and back up to your face. You were likely going to be walking today. “I’ll be back on Saturday, hopefully before lunch. Will I find you in my bed or should I go to yours?”

It was like he was purring, and it made you squirm. “If you want me to stay at yours to watch your apartment, then I can.”

“That’s not why I want you there, but if that is what will get you there then I’ll take it.” He laughed, grabbing the handle to the door and swinging it open. “I’ll call you.” He winked, glancing out into the hallway and seeing it was clear before running back into the room and grabbing your face. You seemed more relaxed recently, and was willing to risk your fury for a kiss. “Just a quick one, cielo.”

He pecked your lips twice, then kissed you for a little longer on the last one before running away, file in hand for Murphy and chuckling at how your eyes were the size of saucers. You cleared your throat, feeling blood rush to your face as you busied yourself at your desk. Once he was clear of the hallway, footsteps no longer heard, you reached into your second drawer and pulled out the “Spanish to English” translation book that Javier got you as a joke a couple months ago, thumbing through to the dog-eared pages to find the words.

Mi luz: My light

Mi cielo: My heaven

Instead of going out, you headed straight for Peña’s place, knowing he had a couple movies you could watch while doing some dishes that you had left at his place a couple nights ago. There was no way he had cleaned it up since he was so busy with this most recent issue.

It didn’t take long for you to do dishes, and you figured that his couch was more comfortable than yours so you sat down to finish the movie you had put in when you first got there. Just as you sat down his home phone rang, making you glance at its spot on the kitchen wall. Was it smart to answer his phone? What if it was his family and a girl was answering and he didn’t want them to know? He did say he would call…

You were caught in your thoughts for so long that the ringing stopped, and you thought you were in the clear until it rang again. Sighing, you stood up and hesitantly picked it up. “Hello?”

“Cariño-it 's me.” Javi sounded out of breath, struggling even, on the other end of the line.

“What’s wrong?” You wrapped your fingers around the cord, nervously looking up toward the door.

“I-well. I need to hear your voice. I wasn’t sure if you would be there yet but you didn’t answer your phone after the fourth ring…I'm going to be home later tonight.” He still sounded out of breath, trying to act normal.

“What happened?” you pushed. “Javi you sound like you just ran a mile, why aren’t you on a plane?”

“I fucked up baby, and now I don’t need to go to Miami. Are you staying at my place? Will you be there when I get there?”

You nodded your head, reaching out to the counter to support yourself. “Yes, Javi, I'll be here. Do you want me to stay awake? Can I do anything right now?”

He was trying to not panic through the phone, but the relief he felt that you were on the other end of the line calmed him enough to quiet his voice in the airport bathroom. “Just-fuck. I fucking lo– I’ll be back before you’re asleep I think. I’ll bring food-”

“No, honey I’ll have food ready for you. Is everything okay? Really I need you to answer me.” You were scared. He had never done this before and the way he was talking through the phone made your concern increase. There had been plenty of weekends where he had to travel to find a cartel in a jungle or to fly to the States, but he always returned and would call you to visit him on Sunday night, wanting just a minute with you. You overlooked how you called him honey.

He didn’t miss it, and it made him take another breath. “Everything is okay, I just don’t know how much longer I can do this.” He felt small admitting this on the phone to you. “I’m heading your way soon. There’s cash in the drawer next to the silverware to order takeout if you want hermosa. I’ll see you soon.”

You had changed out of your clothes, running home and grabbing a bag and running back, convinced you would miss him and that he would worry. You both ended up living very close together, but if you walked at your leisure it would have taken 30 minutes one way. Breathless, you started cooking something easy so that there would be leftovers for him but so that you could eat something while you waited for his return. You were still jittery, nervous about what he meant by not knowing how much longer he could do this.

You were halfway through putting cheese on some bread to pop in the oven when you heard him slide his keys into the lock of his front door. You looked around the corner of the wall from the island, seeing his shoulders come into view as he threw his keys on the coffee table, locking the door behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with you and you saw it-the worry in between his eyebrows, the tilt of his eyes. “What happened, Javi?”

He deflated, ripping his jacket off and into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and setting you on the counter. His head was hidden in your shoulder as he breathed deeply, working up the courage to tell you of his failure. “I was supposed to bring her to Miami to see her husband, but he’s dead. He was killed as we were getting on the plane.”

You paused, bringing your hands up to the nape of his neck and doing your best to soothe him. He pushed further into you, his breath catching. “That isn’t your fault.”

He let out a gust of air, tears coming to his eyes as he gripped your hips tighter. “Everything goes wrong all the time and I don’t think I can keep doing this.” He clutched to you, willing you to understand. How could he keep being at the root of all this chaos?

You pet the back of his head, rubbing in between his shoulders and quietly cooing at him as he continued to cry. “It’s okay Javi, we can just relax tonight. I have food–”

“It isn’t okay!” He exclaimed, bringing his eyes to yours and grabbing at your face to make you look at him. “I’ve hurt so many people in the process of catching these assholes in a country that doesn’t even give a shit–”

“Listen to me.” You grabbed his arms, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes were already swollen and red-rimmed with tears. “You can do what you want about leaving, but don’t think for a second that this is your fault. One way or another people were going to get hurt, whether or not you were in the position you are in now. You have done what you can to do what needs to be done and if you need to remove yourself from all of this then you’re allowed to do that.”

He watched you speak, waited for you to finish, and sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. He couldn’t believe that you were here for him right now, soothing him, cooking for him. He saw your bag that was in the hallway when he first arrived and he hoped you weren’t planning on leaving-he couldn’t be alone. “Okay.” I love you. “You’re right, we should just relax. Why didn’t you order takeout?” Thank you for cooking for me. “I told you where the money was.” Don’t leave me.

You smiled, patting his shoulder. “I thought pasta would be easier.”

He leaned back, glancing down at your lips and giving you a quick peck. “Will it be okay to leave it unattended for a minute?” He asked, fingers dancing along your hips and pushing the shirt you were wearing up. “I have an appetizer in mind.”

You let out a giggle, spreading your legs more and leaning back on your hands. “Let me set the timer for the bread and see if we can beat it?” You knew this was a distraction, and all you wanted was to make him happy.

He smiled, pulling at his tie and kicking off his shoes. “Better hurry cariño, I’ll start without you.” He disappeared into his bedroom, taking off his shirt first and hearing you laughing as you reached for his timer. Hearing your laugh made him smile, his hands coming to the button of his jeans as you walked into the room. He grabbed at you, growling playfully to hear you giggle again and falling onto the bed with you in a heated kiss.

His movements were frantic, reaching into your shorts and finding you already wet for him. “Mi luz you’re already drenched. All for me?”

His breath was heavy on your neck, your hands finding purchase in his hair and messing up his gelled waves. You flipped back to the same page in that translation book in your head and smiled. “For you, always.”

He groaned, ready to sob at the thought that you were only his. He could always admit to you his feelings when he was buried inside you, but were you able to do the same? His hands retreated, grabbing at the waistband and helping you shimmy out of the shorts and underwear, spreading your legs and inhaling deeply.

Your legs tingled as he grabbed at them, spreading you apart and making eye contact with you as he leaned down with the tip of his tongue, connecting with your clit. With barely any pressure, he circled it, keeping your attention as he squeezed your inner thighs.

He groaned, closing his eyes as his tongue dipped down to your entrance and in, reaching inside you and back out, spreading your wetness. He did this over and over again, silently listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm as his beard and mustache got wet. He turned his head and kissed each thigh, letting you feel how wet you were, his facial hair dragging on your skin. Your legs shook with need, reaching down and grabbing at the top of his head making him smirk. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes-please keep going.” You were quick to respond, pulling his head closer to you and watching his tongue reach back out to your clit. You didn’t notice his hand slide up your thigh as he moved two fingers around where you made a mess, sinking them into you and holding you open for him.

“Have a timer we have to beat don’t we?” He mumbled, suddenly sucking your bud into his mouth and smirking at how you jumped.

“Maybe 15 minutes left on the clock.” You whispered, leaning your head back and sighing deeply.

“Plenty of time, baby.” He groaned into you, pulling you closer to him as you started to squirm away, fingers rhythmically pushing into you, looking up to see your throat exposed, blush creeping up slowly as your breathing increased. “I think we will even have time to spare won’t we?”

“Y-yes.” You looked back down at him, brown eyes already on you and tilting up in a smile and you felt a rush of confidence. “You look amazing like this, mi vida.”

Javier felt his world stop, watching the smirk grow on your face into a smile and then into a whimper, biting your bottom lip as you grew anxious with the continued pumping of his fingers. He pulled away, face messy with your wetness, and paused his fingers still inside you. “What did you say?”

You hesitated, wanting to laugh at how shocked he was but also suddenly nervous. Did you say it wrong? “Uh, mi vida? Is that the right-”

“I’m your soul?” He choked, feeling tears come to his eyes again. When did he become such a crybaby? “Do you mean that?”

Your eyes softened, looking down at his hand still inside you, and pushed your hips down further onto them. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, Javi. Do you say things you mean?”

He couldn’t speak, just staring at you as you unintentionally bucked your hips and whined, watching your eyes race between his own and his hand. “I mean every word I say to you.” He groaned, pulling his fingers out of you even though you sighed in protest, leaning up to be at eye level with you. “You’ve been reading that book, haven’t you?”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and widening your legs for him to slot between them. “I have pages marked so I can refresh my memory when you say something.”

He leaned forward to kiss you, pausing as you let him explore your mouth, cradling your face in his hand. He hiked your legs up around his waist, pulling back to watch your face as he sunk into you. “So you know then-” he groaned, holding your hip still as he started a slow rhythm. “You know that you’re the light in my life?” He pushed hard into you, wanting to hear your breath catch for a moment. “That you’re my everything?”

You smiled, loving the feeling of him inside you. You felt your throat catch when you went to respond, instead moaning and reaching up and grabbing what hair you could at the nape of his neck.

“Answer me.” He demanded, picking up speed at the pull of your fingers in his hair, wanting to feel you pull harder.

“Yes.” Absolutely breathless. “You’re my everything too, Javi.”

He closed his eyes, feeling like he was losing his mind. He continued to pump into you, leaning himself back to watch as he disappeared into you again and again. “You look absolutely filthy like this baby. You take me so well, such a good girl. Mine, aren’t you?”

You preened, nodding at his question and grabbing onto his arms for support as you felt your release begin. You couldn’t control yourself around him anymore, always enjoying your time with him and then losing yourself before you even had a chance to pull in the reins. He enjoyed watching you lose control, vaguely hearing the timer in the kitchen as you cried out. He was close too, falling over the edge after watching you in bliss, stuttering his thrusts inside of you.

When you both caught your breath, he stood on wobbly legs, laughing and running to the kitchen to turn off the oven and stovetop. When he returned, half soft and hair a mess, he watched as you sat up, eyes glazed over in relaxation. You smiled at him, reaching out your hand for him to join you.

He sat next to you, leaning into your neck to kiss you lightly. “I can’t stay with the DEA but I want to stay with you.” He swallowed roughly, feeling that he needed to explain more but wanted you to already know.

You looked at him, tilting your head and sighing. “Then leave the DEA. You’ll still have me-I’ll be here.” You knew. He was at the end of his rope with this job, and you would be there to support him.

He chuckled, reaching for his shirt on the floor. “Well mi luz, then you’re stuck with me.”

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #javier pena x reader smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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mixelation · 2 months

Text

writing some dumb reborn au dialogue this morning

ninjacon 3!!!! (the one with X, a yellow flash cosplayer who is. very hot. in a hilarious way)

*****

“So,” Tori said, suddenly making direct eye contact with Minato, “were you into him?”

“...what?” Minato asked. Kakashi noted he still hadn’t taken a single sip of the drink in his hand.

“X,” Tori clarified. “Were you into him?”

Kakashi would admit it. The scandalized face Minato made at these words was hilarious.

“Why would I be into him?” Minato asked, sounding like Tori had just slapped him.

“We were debating your type,” Itachi said very matter-of-factly. Kakashi choked on his drink. “Since you made multiple comments about X’s attractiveness.”

“I’m married,” Minato said firmly, although his grip on his cup had tightened enough that the plastic was denting. “And your boss. Why are you talking about that?”

“You said you were off duty,” Itachi pointed out at the same time Tori said, “What does being married have to do with it? Kushina-sensei told us all about your hall passes.”

Say what you would about Team Disaster; their teamwork was terrifying.

“Hall passes?” Kakashi repeated.

“It’s a list of people a couple makes as ‘exceptions’ to their otherwise closed relationship,” Itachi explained, and Minato took a long, desperate sip of his drink.

“I know what it means,” Kakashi said blandly, even as he found himself unable to wipe the grin off his face. “Sensei, why have I never heard of your hall passes?”

“Why was Kushina talking about it?” Minato asked, sounding borderline panicked.

“It’s like her third favorite ‘girl talk’ subject,” Tori said. “You know about girl talk, don’t you?”

“She said girl talk was sacred,” Minato said in an oddly desperate voice, “and private.”

Kakashi had no idea what ‘girl talk’ was. He said this outloud. No one explained it to him.

“Tori didn’t tell me,” Itachi said. “I only know because girl talk is sometimes… loud.”

“He’s a horrible eavesdropper,” Tori said primly.

“Wait,” Kakashi said, louder this time, in an attempt to get the conversation back on track. “Is his list… consistent… with X’s appeal?”

“Not really,” Tori replied. “That’s why it’s weird.” She turned back to Minato, whose face was gradually turning pinker. “Well?”

“No,” he replied. “I just understand when cheekbones are beautiful, that’s all.”

They all took a moment to acknowledge that X’s cheekbones were, in fact, gorgeous.

“So what is your type?” Itachi asked in his unemotional Itachi voice.

This was truly a one hit KO. Instead of answering, Minato made a face like he’d been suckpunched and then took another long drink.

Itachi turned to Tori. “Then what’s the pattern?” There was a long pause. “Pale?”

“Pale?” Kakashi repeated. Who the hell was on this list?

“No,” Minato said.

“Are they all pale because he they’re redheads?” Kakashi asked, brain buzzing for memories of things Minato had listed about Kushina’s best traits.

“Please stop,” Minato whined.

“Now, now, Sensei,” Kakashi said, wagging his finger. “You said so yourself. This con is a safe space for bonding experiences, and we all want to know.”

Well, Kakashi wanted to know. He didn’t think this would be a strange thing for Minato to disclose to him, in private over drinks. It might be weird to tell Tori and Itachi, but they apparently already knew and had been analyzing it.

Minato buried his face in the hand that wasn’t holding his drink. He mumbled something.

“Sensei?” Kakashi repeated, now struggling to hold back laughter.

Minato leaned back against the bedframe, looking truly defeated. “Tobirama and…” he sighed. “Ame no Konan.”

Tori raised her eyebrows, expectant. Minato had left something out, Kakashi gathered.

“She already told you?” Minato asked, looking ever so slightly betrayed.

“I guess she thought it was relevant to my interests?” Tori hedged.

Minato groaned, his cheeks going pink again as he turned to Kakashi. “I recently added Akasuna no Sasori.”

He then tipped his cup back and finished it off. Wow.

The list was honestly only surprising to Kakashi in that he was surprised there was a list.

“He just likes strong people,” Kakashi told Tori and Itachi matter-of-factly. Next to him, Minato choked on the last of his drink. After a beat he amended, “Who are also hot, I guess. Except maybe Tobirama.”

“Tori said she would put him on her list,” Itachi said.

“Itachi,” Tori warned.

Minato grabbed for the bottle of whisky. Kakashi passed it to him. His dear Sensei could face down any physical threat, but this conversation apparently required alcohol.

“It’s good for couples to have conversations about things like this,” Minato said in an obvious attempt to shift the conversation back into his control as he poured way too much whiskey into his cup. “I’m glad you're communicating about your wants and needs.”

“So why add Sasori now?” Kakashi asked, and Minato shot him a very sad, very betrayed look.

“I didn’t realize he could… pose a challenge in battle,” Minato said slowly.

There was a very long silence in the room as Minato opened the soda bottle next.

“And he’s a redhead,” Minato added.

“You didn’t realize the guy who destroyed a country could pose a challenge in battle?” Kakashi repeated.

“It’s only a country on a technicality,” Minato said, waving his hand dismissively. “It was a city-state with a large civilian population. I never really got why everyone thought that was so impressive.”

There was another very long silence. Then Tori burst into laughter.

“What?” Minato asked, face going into an expression Kakashi might categorize as pouty. “I just like people who are on my level, physically and intellectually.”

“Why are your standards insane?” she wheezed. “You're so lucky Kushina-sensei likes you back.”

Yes, that expression was… pouting.

“They don’t have to be able to beat me,” Minato defended. “I just want to have to actually try.”

“Maa, you’re still lucky,” Kakashi drawled. “Name one other person your age in Konoha who fits that description.”

Minato stared at his drink. Kakashi swiveled his head to make eye contact knowingly with Tori.

******

i keep wanting to make a joke about how tori keeps referring to konan as "my wife" but idk how to do it without the vibe being like..... weird?

tori: i would put konan on my exceptions list too ngl

itachi: you said those lists were people where it would be unrealistic for you to actually hook up with them

kakashi: itachi, she's not ACTUALLY married to konan. you know that, right?

itachi: (dead stare) right.

#when will reborn au have Girls Night 2 #reborn au #my writing

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50calmadeuce · 3 months

Text

Ch. 1: Going Home

In the small barn situated in a quaint rural Wisconsin town, you stood behind the Holstein cow, your task just completed. You carefully peeled off the long blue disposable veterinary glove, a necessary tool for checking if cows, or even horses, were pregnant. With a practiced motion, you tossed the glove into the nearby blue bucket, a routine part of your work in veterinary care. The rustic environment of the barn, the sound of animals nearby, and the smell of hay and livestock created a familiar and comforting atmosphere.

"Well, Hank. She's due any day now," You state, stepping out of the stall. In your jeans, rubber boots, and flannel shirt, you fit right in, despite the stray wisps of chestnut hair escaping your French braid.

Hank, an elderly man dressed in blue jean overalls and a flannel shirt, acknowledged your evaluation with a grateful nod. "Thank you, Doc. I'm not sure how I can repay you…hold on a moment. I recently had a pig butchered. I can offer you some of that meat," he proposed, his weary gray eyes brightening with the suggestion.

"Only if it won't affect your winter provisions. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you in any way."

"No, we're set for now. We still have some meat left from the two deer my sons hunted last fall."

Extending your hand, you replied, "That's more than fair. It'll also take care of any future issues you might have with Mildred."

Gratefully, he clasped your hand in his. "Ever since you arrived here, Doc, you've been a godsend. I can't imagine what we'd do without your help."

You exchanged a firm handshake.

"Remember to call me if there's anything else you need, alright?"

"I sure will. Thanks once more."

Picking up your bucket, you made your way out of the barn and towards your truck.

You positioned your bucket at the rear of your truck, swung open the door, and settled into the driver's seat. Retrieving your cellphone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail from your husband. As you closed your eyes, you took a deep breath, exhaling with a sigh. His communications typically revolved around financial matters, prompting you to wonder about the nature of this particular call.

You tapped the voicemail icon on your iPhone and listened:

"Y/N, it's me. I'm just calling to inform you that I'm on my way back. Not to Texas, though, but to Wisconsin. I'll be landing at Rusk County Airport, aiming to arrive by around 6 p.m. tonight. I'll see you then."

After the message ended, you disconnected the call.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin busied himself packing his travel bag, which lay sprawled on his bed.

"Just to clarify," began Javy 'Coyote' Machado, his best friend, with a tone of disbelief, "you've got a place in Wisconsin?"

"Yup," Jake affirmed.

"And you've never actually set foot in it?"

"Nope," Jake responded, keeping his focus on his packing.

"And who looks after this house?"

"My wife does," Jake said nonchalantly.

Coyote's eyes widened in surprise. "You're married?"

"Yes," Jake replied simply.

Coyote took a moment, the weight of Jake's revelation sinking in. "Hold on, Jake. We've been friends for nearly ten years. And in all that time, you've never once mentioned that you were married, or even hinted at it."

"Well, I am," Jake said matter-of-factly, continuing with his packing.

Coyote, in disbelief, threw his hands up and scanned the room. "Okay, then who is she? And how come there aren't any photos of her around here?"

"We've both had a lot on our plates," Jake replied, finishing his packing with a zip of the bag.

"But how busy can a married couple be to not even see each other?" Coyote pressed.

"She's been occupied with her studies," Jake explained.

"Studies? What, is she training to be a doctor or something?"

Jake remained silent for a moment, his face giving away nothing.

"You're serious? She's actually a doctor?"

Picking up his bag, Jake finally responded, "She was studying to become a large animal veterinarian."

Coyote, visibly taken aback, managed to stutter, "I just... I'm at a loss for words."

Jake, shifting his focus to the task at hand, asked, "You still up for driving me to the airport?"

"Of course," Coyote replied, still processing the revelation.

"Great. Then let's hit the road." Jake motioned towards the door, ready to embark on his journey.

Steering your black Ford F-250, you navigated the lengthy driveway leading to your residence. This log cabin, a product of an inheritance and some astute financial decisions, had been your project three years prior.

As the cabin came into view, you admired the expansive structure that occupied thirty acres of farmland you had acquired. Beyond it lay a sizable horse stable, complete with an attached training ring, a testament to your love for animals.

Approaching the house, you pressed the button to activate the garage door. The door of the 4-car garage rolled open, and you smoothly parked your truck inside, ready to disembark.

You reached over to the passenger side to grab your backpack, then opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Heading towards the door that led into the house, you moved with a purpose, the sound of the garage door closing behind you echoing in the spacious enclosure.

This door opened into the mudroom, which was equipped with a fully functional laundry room, a bathroom, a pet washing station, and ample storage space. As you let your backpack fall to the floor, your cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, you saw it was your mother-in-law calling. Pressing the answer button, you greeted her warmly while switching the phone to speaker mode.

"Hi, Cindy," you said, freeing your hands as you continued your entry routine.

"Y/N, how are you?"

"I'm good. How about you?"

"Just fine," she replied.

"So, you understand why I'm calling then?"

You released a sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down. "Yes. He called and left a voicemail."

"Y/N, he still loves you." Cindy's voice carried a mix of hope and concern.

As you settle onto the bench and begin to remove your boots, you respond, "I know."

Cindy probes further, sensing your hesitation, "That doesn't sound very convincing."

With a slight shake of your head, you reply, "Well, sometimes Jake isn't very convincing either."

"Just take things slow," Cindy advises gently. "I believe all you both need is some time together again."

"I'll do my best," you promise, the conversation steering towards a hopeful possibility.

Cindy's voice softened further, her tone imbued with the wisdom of experience. "I understand that it's been difficult, and there might be a lot of unresolved feelings between you two. But remember, love is about finding your way back to each other, even through the toughest times."

You paused, absorbing her words. It was clear she spoke from a place of deep understanding and perhaps her own experiences. "You're right, Cindy. It's just… hard to know where to start."

"Start with honesty," she suggested. "Open up to each other about your feelings, fears, and hopes. It's the foundation you can build on. And remember, you're not alone. We're all here for you, supporting you both."

Your smile reflects a moment of gratitude. "Thanks, Cindy." Glancing at your watch, a sense of urgency creeps in. "I need to go. It's already 5 o'clock, and I've only just got back from work. Jake mentioned he'd be flying in at 6."

"Alright, dear. Please keep me updated on how things go. Oh, and thank you again for the horse fly repellent. It's been working wonders."

"Of course, I'll let you know. And you're welcome. Take care, talk to you later," you say, wrapping up the conversation. After hanging up the phone, you pick up your backpack and make your way to your bedroom, ready to prepare for what comes next.

After managing to squeeze in a quick shower, you slipped into some clean clothes. With the temperature taking a dip, you opted for a pair of jeans, a heavyweight sweatshirt, and hiking shoes to keep comfortable. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, practical for the drive. Steering your Expedition, you headed towards the local airport to meet Jake.

Aware that Jake piloted a Cirrus plane—a fact made all the more personal by your having paid off the aircraft this year—you felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension about the reunion.

Turning onto the road that led to the airport, you soon arrived and parked your truck outside your hangar, ready to greet him.

Casting a look at your watch, you noted it was ten minutes to 6. A memory flashed through your mind, a reminder of one of your husband's traits: Jake was always punctual.

As you closed your eyes, your head resting gently against the headrest, a vivid memory began to surface, transporting you back to the moment you first met Jake:

You stepped through the doors of the rustic bar in Austin, Texas. Your college friend Avery right next to you.

"It's only one night. We deserve it after yesterday," she said.

The rustic bar was alive with the energy of live music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The atmosphere was exactly what you needed after the grueling exams that had consumed your life for the past few weeks. Avery, ever the instigator of your small adventures, was right; a night of unwinding was long overdue.

Navigating through the bustling crowd toward the bar, you felt a sudden nudge that almost set you off, ready to confront whoever was behind it. But that impulse faded the moment you turned around, finding yourself looking into the most captivating green eyes you had ever seen.

The surprise of the encounter rendered you momentarily speechless. The owner of those captivating green eyes was quick to apologize, his voice a warm, deep timbre that seemed to echo directly to your core.

"Sorry about that," he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "This place is a bit more crowded than I expected."

You found your voice, albeit a little shaky from the unexpected jolt of attraction. "It's okay, really. I should have been watching where I was going."

He chuckled, and it was a sound that made you want to hear more of it, to keep him talking just so you could listen. "I'm Jake," he extended his hand, the action both friendly and bold.

Taking his hand, you felt a surprising jolt of electricity at the contact. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Y/N. You here to see anyone in particular tonight?" Jake asked, his gaze still locked with yours, as if the crowded bar around you had faded into the background.

"Just here to unwind with a friend," you replied, gesturing toward where Avery had found a spot at the bar, seemingly engaged in trying to order drinks.

Jake nodded, understanding. "This place is perfect for that, but you're not from around here."

Your curiosity piqued, you tilted your head slightly, impressed by his observation. "Is it that obvious?"

He smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It's the accent."

You chuckled, self-consciously touching your throat as if you could feel your accent there. "I guess it's a dead giveaway, huh?"

"Only a little," Jake teased, his eyes twinkling with humor. "But it's a good thing. Makes you stand out." He thought a second. "Sounds a bit midwestern to me almost Canadian."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "That specific, huh? Well, you're not wrong. I'm actually from Wisconsin, so you're pretty close with the Midwestern guess."

Jake nodded, impressed with himself. "I have an ear for these things. Wisconsin's a beautiful place."

"It is," you agreed, your thoughts briefly wandering back to the familiar landscapes of home.

"So, what brings you here?"

"I'm here for a college class."

"College, huh? What's your major?"

"Veterinarian. I'm a large animal veterinarian."

Jake's interest visibly perked up at your answer. "A large animal vet? That's impressive. There's always a need for folks who can handle the bigger animals, especially around these parts."

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and passion for your chosen field. "Yeah, it's been a dream of mine since I was little. I love animals, and getting to help them, especially the larger ones that require a bit more... let's say, finesse, has always been fulfilling for me."

He leaned against the bar, genuinely intrigued. "Sounds like it's more than just a job to you."

"It is," you admitted. "It's about making a difference, however small it may seem. And the connection with the animals... there's something special about it."

Jake smiled, his admiration for your dedication clear. "I can see that. It takes a special kind of person to do what you do. And speaking of making a difference, my family owns a ranch not too far from here. We've got horses, and every now and then, we run into a situation that could use a vet with your expertise."

The mention of his family's ranch piqued your interest. "Really? I'd love to hear more about it. Working with horses has always been a dream of mine."

Just as you were caught in that moment, Avery approached, holding a beer out to you. "Here's your beer," she said, handing it over before her gaze shifted to Jake. "And who's this?"

"Avery, meet Jake. Jake, this is Avery," you made the introductions, facilitating the exchange between your friend and the man with the captivating green eyes.

The sound of a plane engine snapped you out of your reverie, prompting you to open your eyes and gaze skyward. Above the airport, you spotted the small Cirrus plane, unmistakably Jake's. You watched as it gracefully circled above, aligning itself for a smooth approach before finally descending towards the runway in a well-executed landing.

As the plane taxied closer to where your vehicle was parked, you observed the engine powering down. Stepping out of your truck, you began to walk slowly towards the aircraft. The door of the plane opened and out stepped a figure you recognized instantly – a six-foot tall man with dirty blond hair. He was casually dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and tennis shoes, complemented by a brown leather jacket. It was Jake, finally there in front of you after what felt like an eternity.

But it wasn't the young Jake you remembered, this Jake had turned into a manly Jake. He still had the same piercing green eyes, but his face had turned more rugged, yet still handsome. His presence seemed to exude a quiet strength and a sense of maturity that the younger Jake hadn't possessed. There was an air of confidence about him, tempered with a hint of world-weariness. His green eyes, still as piercing as you remembered, now seemed to carry deeper stories, reflections of experiences and growth. His face, more rugged and lined than before, bore the marks of life's trials and triumphs, adding to his manly allure. Yet, despite the changes, there was an undeniable familiarity in his gaze, a connection to the past that lingered in his expression.

He closed the door when you reached him. "Y/N," he said.

"Jake."

The two of you looked at each other.

You cleared your throat and looked away. "Our hangar is over there." You pointed to the hangar behind your vehicle.

"Our hangar?"

"Yes. I had it built after you purchased the plane."

He looked at you questioningly and then he observed the hangar with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "You built that?"

"Yes, it seemed practical for storage and maintenance," you explained, maintaining a professional tone despite the undercurrent of emotions swirling between you.

Jake took a moment to absorb this information, his gaze shifting from the hangar back to you. "That's... impressive. Thank you," he said, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation mixed with the awkwardness of the moment.

"You're welcome," you replied, feeling the complexity of the situation. After a brief pause, you added, "Shall we get the plane stored?"

He nodded, a silent agreement to focus on the task at hand, perhaps both of you grateful for a momentary diversion from the emotional reunion.

"You can put your bags in the truck. It's unlocked. I'll go open the hangar and get the tow bar."

""How about I assist you with opening the hangar and retrieving the tow bar once I've put my bags in the truck?"

"That's fine," you agreed since you had no clue what you were doing anyways. You watched as Jake went to the other side of the plane and grabbed four bags.

You quickly made your way to Jake's plane and grabbed two of the bags and then placing the bags in the back of the Expedition. Jake did the same with the other two and then started walking towards the hangar. You couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. This was all new to you, and the prospect of being involved in something as unfamiliar as handling a plane was both thrilling and slightly intimidating.

After securing the bags, you walked towards the hangar, where Jake was already busy. As you approached, he looked up and gave you a brief nod, acknowledging your presence. You stood there for a moment, watching him work. He moved with a practiced ease, clearly familiar with every aspect of the aircraft and the hangar.

"Need a hand?" you asked, eager to learn and help.

Jake glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Sure. Could you grab the other end of this tow bar?" He held out one end of a long, metal bar to you.

You took the offered end, feeling its weight. Jake guided you on how to position it correctly, explaining how it was used to move the plane. Together, you maneuvered the bar into place and began the task of towing the aircraft into the hangar.

As you worked alongside Jake, you appreciated the quiet efficiency with which he operated. There was a sense of competence and confidence about him that you found reassuring. It was clear that he was in his element here, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for his skills.

Once the plane was safely in the hangar, Jake secured everything and turned to you. "Thanks for the help. Not everyone would jump in like that."

You shrugged modestly, feeling a small sense of pride. "Happy to learn something new. And it's not every day I get to say I helped tow a plane."

His chuckle resonated warmly in the hushed atmosphere of the hangar. "Well, you did a fantastic job."

"Thanks," you responded with a bashful smile. "Uh, dinner should be all set by the time we get back."

"You made dinner?"

"Not exactly. His name is Chuck. I encountered him during a trip to Wyoming."

Jake's eyes widened in surprise. "Another man is living in my house?!"

You sighed. "I honestly don't know how to answer that because you really haven't even seen our house."

Jake ran a hand through his hair turning away and then turned back to you. "I never cheated on you, Y/N. I came here to work on our marriage. You could've at least told me."

You looked at him. "I'm sorry. I forgot, my husband hasn't really contacted me for four years. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, that I needed help running a ranch."

Jake stared at you.

"Chuck is my chef and, I guess, butler. He helps around the ranch."

Jake's expression shifted from shock to confusion. "You have a chef and a butler now?"

You nodded, trying to keep your tone even. "Yes, Jake. Running the ranch alone has been tough. Throw in my hours as a Veterinarian, you never know. Chuck has been a huge help, not just in the kitchen but around the property too. He's been indispensable, especially with you being away for so long."

There was a moment of silence as Jake processed this new information, his features softening slightly. "I see. I didn't realize how hard it's been for you here alone. I'm sorry, Y/N."

You let out a small sigh, the tension easing a bit. "It's okay. We both have a lot to catch up on. Let's just focus on getting back home for now."

Jake nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. "You're right. We've both been through a lot, and we have a lot to talk about. But right now, let's just get back home and take it one step at a time."

After closing the hangar, you both walked towards the truck, there was a comfortable silence between you. It was the kind of silence that spoke of mutual understanding and the beginnings of reconciliation. You could sense that both of you were cautiously optimistic about what lay ahead.

Once in the truck, you started the engine and pulled out of the hangar area and started to drive home.

The familiar landscape passed by the windows, each mile bringing you closer to a place that held both memories and possibilities. You glanced over at Jake, who seemed focused on the road but also more at ease than he had been earlier.

"Thanks for coming to get me," he said softly, breaking the silence.

"You would've done the same thing for me," you replied.

Jake glanced your way, a small smile playing on his lips. "Always, Y/N. No matter what happens, I'll always come for you."

Those words, simple as they were, carried a weight of meaning that filled the cab of the truck. You leaned back in your seat, allowing yourself to feel the comfort of his presence and the hope that, despite the challenges, you both might find a way forward together.

Tags:

@buckysteveloki-me

@guacam011y

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #glen powell #hangman top gun #hangman #top gun maverick hangman #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

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godsandmonsters505 · 2 years

Text

The Other Woman | Rick Grimes

(fem!reader)

Summary: Rick consoles in you during troubles with his and Lori's relationship.

Warnings: [NSFW] smut, cheating, swearing, unprotected sex

It wasn't often that rainy spells hit the prison like this, especially since only days earlier you had been out working the farm land in the scorching heat. It took everyone by surprise, and people didn't know what to do with themselves, cooped up inside the walls of the prison all over again.

Tensions had been somewhat high recently, what with Rick and Lori's baby on the way and Glenn and Maggie fighting with each other, so the rainfall didn't particularly come at a convenient time. It wasn't exactly a happy little group bonding activity.

"Okay, pay attention to this part," you say, sat on the concrete floor of the prison with Carl, Rick's young boy. You hold up a semi-constructed origami swan.

"I am!" Carl laughs, working on a messy looking origami swan, but it looks like a swan nevertheless.

"Don't underestimate the skill that origami takes, kid," you chuckle, patting his head. "You might be handy with a gun but this is a whole new world."

He giggles and shuffles impatiently. "Just show me!"

"Fine," you grin. "So you see this part here?"

Carl nods as you point to one of the corners of the paper object.

"You have to fold it like this, in a way that it-"

You're interrupted when you hear your name called.

You turn around and see Rick walking towards you.

"Yeah?" You reply, twisting round to face him as you speak to him.

"I need some help." He states plainly. "Come with me."

"Can it wait, Dad?" Carl asks disappointedly. "My swan is nearly finished. I'm making it for Mom."

You could swear you see Rick wince at the mention of Carl's mother.

"There's time to finish it later, Carl." He drawls. "I need Y/N to come with me for now, though."

"Okay," he sighs. "Promise you'll help me finish later?"

"I promise," you smile, standing up and completing your swan as you do so. You lean over and hand it to him. "Have mine for now. Keep it safe." You wink and walk away, feeling a little guilty for having to leave him.

"What is it that can't wait?" You say to Rick, a little annoyed.

"Electrical problems on the other side of the building."

You nod. "And you needed me? Why not Glenn? He's been sat picking at the walls with boredom all day."

"I'm not in the mood to have my ears talked off." He states bluntly. "You get that more than anyone."

You smile softly to yourself. It's nice to know that Rick has chosen you because he wanted to, not because of convenience or practicality.

Yours and Rick's relationship was a strange one. You undoubtedly had feelings for him, but it felt strange knowing he was a married man. It would be easier for you to manage your feelings if he didn't flirt at times, or create unbearable tension, but he did (whether it was intentional or not). You just had to think of Lori and the baby. Maybe Rick just flirts for fun, he clearly has a life away from you to take care of.

But romantic feelings aside, you were good friends. Neither of you were good at communicating emotions, though, which is why Rick basically admitting he wants you to come fix the electrics with him is a good feeling, whether romantic or platonic. You trusted each other, you got each other and you didn't need words to communicate when facing walkers, problems in the prison or other issues. You like to think that it transfers into your personal relationship as well, but you can't be too sure.

You walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes, your hand instinctively placed on the knife in the holster on your belt in case of danger.

"You're good with him, you know." Rick says, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" You ask.

"Carl." He clarifies. "You're good with him."

"He's a good kid," you smile. "Guess he has a good dad."

He frowns and shakes his head. "He deserves better parents."

You lose the smile on your face in response to his statement. "You know that's not true."

"Lori and I are a mess." He sighs, frustrated. "I'm glad the poor kid has you."

You grab his arm to stop him, and turn him to face you.

"Don't say shit like that." You snap. "I've seen how much you love him. The both of you. Don't let whatever is going on with you and Lori make you think you're anything other than the best father any kid could have."

He runs his hand over his jawline, tense and clearly stressed.

"I can barely be a father to Carl, what happens when I have another kid here?" His eyes water. "Me and Lori are on the brink of divorce, which..." He laughs humourlessly. "How does a divorce even work in the middle of a fucking apocalypse?"

You sigh and look at him intently as he talks to you. This is the most vulnerable you've ever seen him.

"I don't want to leave her, I mean I love her and I want our kid to have parents that are together." You nod understandingly while he explains. "Some stability in this world would be nice. But then every time I look at her I think-"

His voice breaks as he talks and you take his hand and grip it in support.

"I think of Shane. I think of them together I think of what-" he takes a deep breath and straightens his posture. "Of what I did to him. Of what he made me do to him."

He stops talking and looks at you in your eyes. You're not sure what to say and simply gaze at him empathetically, wanting him to know that you care and are here to listen to him.

Suddenly he breaks the eye contact, pulling his hand from yours and briskly walking ahead. You run slightly to catch up with him as he walks and it's clear that he wants to leave the previous conversation behind, so you continue in silence yet again.

After a moment you decide to speak up.

"Before all this," you begin, "I was a-" you pause and laugh a little. "I was a therapist."

Rick turns his head to you and you feel satisfied when you see a miniscule smile on his face, no matter how small.

"Really?" He asks, thinking you're messing with him.

"Really." You assure and he scoffs, entertained.

"Years of training, and probably hundreds of patients...I thought I could be prepared for any situation." You continue. "Turns out a zombie apocalypse takes a toll on a person. I don't know how the fuck to react to any expressed emotion anymore."

You continue walking, and can see Rick's gaze on you out of the corner of your eye as you talk to him.

"I have all the...all the knowledge of what shit means," you say, tapping your temple with your index finger, "but in principle, I'm so lost. I think I'd make the worst therapist possible now."

Rick chuckles and it's a noise that lights up an inexplicably pleasant feeling in the depths of your chest.

"If you met me two years ago," you laugh, "I would've given you some fucking great advice."

"I'd rather just know you're really listening," he admits, "I don't want that generic therapist bullshit." He shoots you a teasing glance and you roll your eyes. "No offense."

"None taken." You say, and think deeply for a moment. "I guess we've all lost certain parts of ourselves, but maybe it makes us better people in the end."

Rick doesn't reply at first, as you arrive at the room you intended to reach.

"That's an optimistic way of looking at it." He says it in a way that leads you to believe he is not fully convinced.

"Maybe optimism is all we have anymore," you exhale. "And that's coming from a die hard pessimist."

Rick opens a cupboard in the corner and pulls out a tool kit while you open the circuit board.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here, Rick." You say.

"Just do what I tell you." He smirks.

"Yes, sir." You laugh playfully.

You help Rick as he guides you through the actions required to fix the electrical problems. When you're both nearly done, he lets you finish the job, and when you do so, some lights on the machine flick on.

"There we go," Rick says.

"Maybe I have a new career ahead of me," you grin, swivelling around to face Rick behind of you, but when you face him, he's not smiling back. "Are you okay?"

His gaze burns through you as you stand there waiting for a reply. There is a look in his eyes that you can't quite place, but then he turns his back to you, breaking the moment.

"Rick?" You're worried when he doesn't reply to your question. You walk up behind him and place your hand on his shoulder. "What's wro-"

You're cut off when he turns around and takes you by surprise, pressing his lips to yours. Before you have time to react, he presses you up against the nearest wall, your top hitching up a little. He removes his lips from yours to observe your reaction and you stare at him longingly for a split second before continuing the kiss yourself, pulling his face into yours passionately.

Months of tension has built up into this heated moment, and at the flick of a switch, it is being released. His hands roam your body before finding a firm grip on your hips, pulling you close to him.

"I've wanted this since I first laid eyes on you in Atlanta," Rick whispers into the kiss and your breath hitches at the admission.

"Rick," you say, almost panting as he grins himself up against you.

It all moves so fast as he goes to slide his hands up your shirt, squeezing your breasts through your bra. You place your own hands on his toned chest, trying to keep yourself steady as his tongue explores your mouth.

He pulls away from the kiss and you miss the contact, but then realise he is reaching for the hem of your top. He pulls it upwards and begins to expose your torso, but you stop him.

"Here?" You gasp, wanting to continue with this, but assuming you would remain as fully clothed as possible. What if someone came looking for you? What if walkers managed to get in? "Leave it on."

He looks at you with irresistible eyes. "I want to see your body," he pleads and you nod immediately, allowing him to remove your top. Caution flies to the wind as soon as he gives you that look. It makes you feel like the only girl in the world. It melts you to the core.

You unbutton his shirt until it's loosely hanging on so that you can get access to his chest, running your hands up and down, exploring his skin. As you do so, he unhooks your bra and throws it to the floor, making you feel incredibly vulnerable in front of him.

"God, you're fucking beautiful," he mutters and you feel yourself blushing under his intense stare. You'd thought about this situation many times before, and every time you felt guilty, or conflicted, but in reality when it was happening, there was no reasoning or logic. No thoughts passed through your head other than how badly you wanted the man in front of you.

He unbuttons your pants and slides his hands down into your panties. He has you unbelievably wet, and he used this wetness to spread onto your swollen clit, increasing the pace of your panting with every circle of the bundle of nerves. He has you in the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively, as he uses one hand on your hip to press you against the wall and keep you in place, and the other to pay attention to your core. He slowly slides his index and middle fingers inside you as you writhe and moan quietly, using his thumb to continue to stimulate your clit while he holds his fingers inside you. His motions speed up and he begins to move his fingers in and out of you, pushing deeper every time and curling as they do so. He continues to whisper praises and compliments to you as you come nearer and nearer to you release.

As your moans grow louder, he takes your mouth in a rough kiss, biting gently on your lip. His fingers repeatedly hit the exact right spot inside you, and combined with the repeated stimulation of you clit it becomes too much. The knot that had built up in your stop finally unclenches as you call out his name, a wave of pleasure blinding you.

"Rick!" you call out and he groans deeply in response.

"That's it," he whispers as you come down from your orgasm, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. You kiss him again as you regain a little of your strength, but soon enough you're ready for more, and teasingly trail your finger down his chest, abdomen and to the bulge in his pants. You palm the bulge momentarily, but you can't resist any longer and unzip his fly, wanting to release him from his jeans.

You pull his length out of his boxers and gasp at the sight of how big he is. Even in your dreams it wasn't like this. You stroke his hard length as he grabs your jeans, unbuttons them and pulls them down, just below your bottom.

Wasting no time, he lines himself up at your entrance, teasing you as he pushes in only the tip. You bury your head in his neck in anticipation, pressing little kisses into his skin, clinging onto his shoulders.

"Please," you whimper and without question he pushes himself in fully. You both let out a simultaneous moan as you revel in the feeling of each other's bodies being connected in such a way.

"Fuck," he pants holding himself inside you and trying to maintain his balance. He grabs your jaw and takes your head from out of the crook of his neck. He looks you in the eyes, holding your face in place, as he takes his cock nearly all the way out of you and slams it back into you in one smooth stroke.

You cry out in ecstacy and your eyes roll to the back of your head. After that initial movement, he starts to build up the pace, moving in and out of you steadily. He lifts your legs up so that he is carrying your weight and fucks you passionately into the wall. Your lips meet every so often in a messy kiss as your bodies slam together, filling the room with obscene noises.

His lips move from your lips to your jawline to your neck as one of his hands find your breasts. With his hand he squeezes your breast while circling your nipple with his thumb, observing closely how your body reacts to everything he does to you, and what it is that you like.

He begins to kiss the skin of your neck, sucking and biting. You both know that he's going to leave marks but neither of you are in a place to stop. Plus, you'd be lying if you said the though of him marking you as his didn't turn you on.

The continuous movements in and out of you bring on that familiar feeling yet again, but in a way that you've never felt before. As it grows nearer you're thankful Rick has hold of you because your whole body feels like jelly. One more push and you're unravelling in his grasp, calling out his name. You don't know how loud you're being, but you don't care. You close your eyes as pleasure fills your body. He slows down through your orgasm, but as soon as he sees you coming around again, he speeds up his strokes again.

You want to speak, to thank him, to say anything, but your mind has turned to mush. All you know of in this moment is the pleasure this beautiful man before you is responsible for. You cling onto his toned biceps, veins prominent on his forearms.

"Harder," you barely manage to utter and he let's out a breathless chuckle, following your command.

Both his hands are now gripping onto your ass, and the warmth of the contact strongly contrasts the coldness of the concrete wall against your upper back.

He has so effortlessly brought you near to orgasm again, and you know he won't be able to hold on this time, his composure slipping.

His thrusts become rougher, faster, more primal. He's so close and his body is taking over his mind. Not that you mind. The strength of his body is like nothing you've ever felt before.

A few final thrusts and you're throwing your head back, moaning obscenely.

"Rick!" You yell. "Fuck!"

Your knees buckle, ecstacy fills your veins, your stomach clenches and one push against your g-spot sends your whole world crumbling around you. White blots fill your vision and your limbs feel like electricity is being shot through them, sending pins and needles to your finger tips.

Once again, Rick fucks you through your orgasm, putting your pleasure first as you clench around him. When you've come around a little, you see him hesitate as he's about to release.

"Cum inside me," you say, almost begging, holding him inside you and gazing into his eyes.

He nearly crumbles at your words and the way you look at him. The next thing you know, you feel his warmth spill inside you with a profane grunt and he holds himself inside you as his head tips back and eyes screw closed.

You stroke his hair out of his face and watch his beauty in awe as he cums inside together. It's a surreal moment that you want to remember forever.

After a minute of you appreciating each other, he pulls out of you and places you down gently, helping you stand up on your unstable legs. He tucks himself back into his pants before helping you get yourself dressed again, being extra careful with his touches, compared to how he just fucked you.

You sink down onto the floor, needing to sit and rest, and Rick joins you.

"We've got ourselves into a mess, haven't we?" You chuckle.

"A little." He nods. He presses two fingers against your cheek and uses them to turn you to look at him. He places a soft kiss on your lips before pulling back and smiling sweetly. "I don't regret it one bit, though."

You smile in return. "Is it true what you said? About wanting me since we first met?"

He nods and mindlessly plays with your hair, twiddling it in his fingers. "I've never met anyone like you before."

"And I've never met anyone like you."

Rick sighs. "The group are going to wonder where we are."

"Right, yeah." You agree. "We'd better get back. I've got an origami swan to make."

"Actually," Rick says, holding his finger up, "I think Carl will be making it. You're just advising him."

You laugh at his playful tone. "My apologies. Credit to Carl where it's due."

The two of you stand up, and as you do so, Rick runs his fingers over your neck.

"Fuck," he mutters.

"What?" You ask, suddenly worried, thinking maybe reality had dawned on him.

He traces over the bruises forming over your neck with his fingers, tickling slightly. "I'm going to have some explaining to do."

A smile forms on his face and relief washes over you. This might undoubtedly cause further tensions in the group, but things with you and Rick might just end up as you'd hoped after all.

#rick grimes #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd fic #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x reader #andrew lincoln

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zorosjuicymelonsx · 23 days

Text

Finding You

A/N: Guys I'm here and I'm so sorry I'm a week late with this. I got a new job after losing mine a few months ago so things have been hectic lately with my schedule. All I can say is sometimes adulting SUCKS but I love money so 😭🤑

A lovely reader on AO3 had helped me realise there was an anomaly with the timeline of how Y/N and Zoro meet and all so I went through it and I thought I would go through this:

Y/N's flashback of Zoro sleeping in the forest in Chapter 3 was when they were 15 so its actually 7 years ago and not 4 years ago. I've edited this and amended the story you tell Zoro slightly in Chapter 5 to correct this so my apologies for not finding this sooner. I wanted to show that she had a crush on him before they officially met after he rescued her in the alley. They then turn 16, graduate school and then Zoro asks her out. They date till 18, get engaged and marry at 19. Zoro disappears a few days after this and you spend the 2, almost 2 and a half years looking for him so he's 21 and your 21.

Its sometime after Wano and Egghead doesn't exist in this "dimension" when you find him in Chapter 1 so they're just cruising right now. I wanted to match the actual One Piece ages he was before and after timeskip.

I hope this has helped clarify if anyone else was confused of the timeline but please do enjoy this chapter. Because of my new job, I'll do my very post to work and post in a timely manner. Thank you for everyones patience and support with me.

Chapter Eight Previous Next “Zoro? You okay?”

“i-I have to go, m’sorry.”

That was the last thing he said to you a week ago in the Crows Nest. You had gone through every single possible reason for why he suddenly would switch up the way he did which left you nowhere near to a conclusive answer. You were sure you’d done absolutely nothing but at the same time doubted yourself and wondered if you had done something unconsciously.

Since then, he'd practically been living in the Crows Nest. He never ate in the galley anymore, never came on the deck to hang around with anyone and you weren’t even sure if he was sticking with his once a week baths. Every time you tried to seek him out, you noticed the hint of stress in his face and would walk away in the opposite direction. Thankfully you weren’t the only one who noticed the swordsman's strange behaviour.

“Marimo is really starting to piss me off, can you believe he’s making me bring his meals to him like I’m some waiter?!” Sanji spat with annoyance as he piled nourishment onto Zoro’s breakfast plate. You knew Zoro wouldn’t have asked Sanji for food, you just understood Sanjis code of ethics when it came to making sure that every member of the crew was properly fed and nourished. You appreciated him for it.

You were one of the few who remained in the galley after breakfast, sitting with Jinbe and Usopp who were finishing off their own meals. You’d leaned forward to sit your chin on your forearms as you traced the rim of your coffee cup with your finger caught in a net of progressive overthinking of the enigma that was your husband.

“Has he really not said anything?” Usopp asked Sanji, the cook turning to face them, the plate in his hand piled high in mostly eggs, sausages and toast.

“Not a word. I swear the algae on his heads really taken over his brain.” Sanji cursed before leaving the galley, chewing on his unlit cigarette.

“Isn’t this normal for Zoro? I mean he is pretty quiet.” Jinbe asked Usopp. Since Jinbe was the most recent crewmate to join Luffy and the crew before you, it was understandable he would ask. You would have agreed with Jinbe on the fact Zoro was quiet, however, you knew better than to mistake this for just his regular self.

“When something is bothering him, he shuts down. He avoids everyone, he won’t talk, he’ll just isolate. I just can’t figure out what's bothering him.” You grumbled out before lifting your cup to take a gulp of your coffee. Setting the cup down, you realised you couldn’t hear either of them talking anymore and turned to see them both staring at you with wide eyes.

“Has he really never done this in front of you guys?” You questioned the gaping pair with a raised brow slightly mocking their owlish stares back. Jinbe shook his head as expected whereas Usopp's gaze drifted off behind you in thought. You assumed he was revisiting his album of memories with the swordsman.

“Well…there was the time on Thriller Bark when he shut himself away to train but it wasn’t anything like this.” Usopp answered cautiously, his mouth slightly turned down in slight distress.This caught your attention and your heart filled with anxiety.

“What happened?” You asked, unconsciously frowning. Usopp's gaze refocused back to yours, adjusting himself uncomfortably in his seat as he seemed hesitant to retell the story. Nonetheless, he sighed before clearing his throat to speak.

“We were on Thriller Bark where we met Brook. Brook was stuck on his old crew's ship and he couldn’t leave because his shadow being taken by the ex-warlord Gecko Moria.”

“Brook has a shadow?” You asked in surprise trying to suppress a laugh. You valued Brook as a crew member despite his panties fetish. Thankfully Nami always stepped in after he asked to put him in his place.

“I don’t even know anymore, ANYWAYS ....we managed to defeat him but another ex-warlord named Kuma came for us.We don’t know what exactly happened because Kuma knocked us out but we know Zoro got really hurt. He was unconscious for a few days after that. I think at the time we underestimated them but knowing him, he blamed himself for not being strong enough.”

Usopp clarified, his tone laced with guilt. Your heart ached at the idea of Zoro being that severely injured to that extent. You knew he didn’t care as long as he met his goal in the end even if you did reprimand him on his mentality many times over the years you both dated. You had eventually accepted it and you didn’t want to stand in his way.

“Let's just give him space and see what happens.” You spoke assuringly to the two despite your chest hammering with the anxiety of unsurety.

One Week Later

Two weeks had passed since you last heard Zoro's voice. The patient person you were two weeks ago was buried deep inside and now your patience was wearing thin along with your paranoia running rampant. You couldn’t take the silence anymore and neither could the rest of the crew.

It was the afternoon and Nami had called everyone in for a crew meeting on deck, including Zoro who had unsuccessfully attempted to blend into the background. Your eyes has locked in on him from the moment you walked in and spotted green. You also saw the obvious attempt he made to avoid looking your way as he chose to focus his gaze on the wall behind Nami.

‘Just what was so interesting about the wall you fucker?’ You thought to yourself as you leaned back in your chair in observation.

“Right guys, I called this meeting in because I came across information that there's an island nearby rumoured to have a fuck ton of treasure. We gotta make a game plan.” Nami excitedly spoke, the berries practically beaming out of her eye sockets. Reluctantly, you took your eyes away from Zoro to focus on Nami.

For about an hour, she went over and planned in detail how to navigate the island, showing you and the others the maps and other sources of information from a book she read detailing the treasure and its history.

“I also decided that not all of us can go on the island so I’m picking Zoro and Y/N to stay behind on the ship.” Nami added. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Zoro stiffen before clearing his throat to speak up.

“I’m coming with you guys, have Sanji stay on the ship with Y/N.” Zoro spoke in a low, reserved manner clearly disguising his obvious discomfort towards you. It was the first time you’d heard his voice in two weeks but hearing the words he chose only had you gritting your teeth. You took a deep breath in and decided that at that moment you couldn’t take anymore.

He had drawn your last straw.

“Oh Y/N-chan, I’d love to-” You cut off Sanji as you stood up from your seat, the feet of the chair roughly scraping against the floor boards as you paced your steps towards Zoro to now stand strong in front of him. You felt the intense gaze of the others on you but ignored it, the anger you felt overpowered your rationality.

“Whats your fucking problem?” You spat out as you looked up at him.

This caught him off surprise. You could see he was trying to shift away from you but you weren’t going to allow him to get out of this. You moved in tandem with him whenever he attempted to get away from you only to have him give up and stay glued to the wall behind him.

“I ain’t got no problem-”

“Bullshit. You’ve been avoiding me for the past two weeks. In fact, you’ve been avoiding ALL of us.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“No I’m fucking not.” You somehow got even closer, your chest practically touching his as you felt his body heat against you.

“She's really not Zoro, did something happen between you two?” Nami asked cautiously behind you.

“Did I do something?”

He could see you were frustrated with him and he could see he was only hurting you more than he wanted to.

‘I’m sorry….’ He thought as he looked at you, the guilt overwhelming him.

Whilst he didn’t appreciate the questioning from you and the heavy gazes of everyone, he will admit he had isolated himself from you. It wasn’t because you did anything to him personally and it wasn’t because he started rejecting your presence on the ship; by far you'd been patient with him by letting him be. The persistent questioning he got from the others, especially the shitty cook despite being appreciative of him bringing his meals to him only to be met with silence from him only fueled his guilt. Since the discovery of his feelings for you, he felt overwhelmed. Being around you distracted him. He felt the want to be with you but at the same time, his mind shielded him from you as if he was protecting himself from you. He prided himself in being strong minded and he felt frustrated with himself over how he could possibly feel this way when he prided himself in being strong minded. He could only theorise that this mental block with you had to do with the guy who’d wiped his memory.

‘Was his named Edward? Ethan? Whatever, it didn’t matter.’

He knew he was being a dick by staying away from you but he didn’t know what else to do. The moment he accepted his feelings for you, he’d also accepted what felt like an overwhelming burden in his stomach. He felt panic, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. He left you in the Crows Nest, remembering the feeling of not being able to breathe. This was why Zoro did not do feelings; they were complicated.

“You didn’t do anyth-”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” You persistently questioned, the frustration brimming in your eyes.

“I’m done with this, I’m leaving.” He felt his heart climbing up into his throat with you being so close to him.

“Oh no you don’t, you’re not getting out of this one.”

You made an impulse decision out of anger. With your free hand, you summoned a hole behind Zoro. You pictured the very island where you spent time training yourself with your devil fruit, knowing it was quiet and you wouldn’t be disturbed. The hole behind him had formed and Zoro had realised too late he was no longer leaning against solid and fell through the smoke of clouds that enveloped him.

You turned to the others who were gaping at you in shock. Even Luffy stayed glued to his seat with no attempt to jump through the cloud of smoke.

“I’ll bring him back tomorrow.” You huffed out before going through the hole yourself.

As you landed in the sand of the island, you looked up to see the hole you summoned. You then looked around to see your surroundings. The island hadn’t changed one bit; the wave of nostalgia hit as you breathed in the smell of the sand and sea, the lingering scent of greenery coming from the forest coming into the mix as well. If you looked around again, you’d be able to find the rock you carved the last date you were here before leaving to continue your search for Zoro.

You purposefully summoned the hole on the empty side of the island, choosing to leave the small population of habitants to the other side undisturbed. They were peaceful people and had even shared a few meals with you from time to time whenever a few of them found you exhausted from exertion after training. They knew you well and that you didn’t pose a threat, choosing to peacefully coexist with them.

Once closed, the anger still ever present in your system you looked around to spot Zoro sitting in the sand as he looked around taking his surroundings.

“Wh-where are-?”

“You gonna talk or what?” You aggressively asked.

Zoro was now angry. He didn’t want to fight with you, he just wanted to piece together his feelings and rebuild his courage to be around you. He wasn’t ready to face you and being here with you only made him feel worse.

He stood up from the sand and stomped over to stand over you, pushing the bile from his thumping heart back down his throat.

“What…the FUCK…were you thinking? Why would you do that? Do you realise without me there, you’ve put the others in danger? Take us back NOW.”

“First of all, step the fuck back and calm down. Second of all, they’ll be fine. Third of all, were not going anywhere until we sort whatever the fucks gone up your ass and died.” You said as you matched his energy.

“Fuck this, I’m out.” Zoro refused to admit anything. He couldn’t. He turned away from you and began walking.

“Roronoa Zoro, come back here now.” You ordered him as you followed behind.

“No. Piss off.” He called back as he continued stomping.

“Zoro, stop.” You shouted, your voice almost broke as your anger now turned into hurt.

“Leave me alone Y/N.”

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?” You now cried out. You couldn’t stop the tears and the lump in your throat as you stared at his back.

Zoro stopped at the sound of your voice breaking. He frowned at the thought of you upset, his heart ached but he couldn’t turn around.

“I’m not doing anything to you Y/N. I just need space.” He spoke regretfully before he continued walking again and turned left heading into the forest. You stood still as you watched him walk away.

“Fuck.” You whispered to yourself, taking your palm to rub against your forehead in frustration and then using the back of your hand to wipe your tears away. You hated crying, you’d always felt so weak. No matter how much you try to control it, the tears always win. You decided to sit, digging yourself further into the sand before leaning back to let it envelop you.

You breathed in, allowing yourself to take in the sound of the waves crashing against the damp sand. You didn’t realise how much you missed being back on land. You loved being on the Sunny, you really did but sometimes allowing yourself to be grounded for a bit always helped.

You let your hands moved with the sand, feeling the softness of it between your fingers. You clenched the sand into your palms finding the action soothing and allowing the anger you’d felt seep into each particle.

What were you going to do with Zoro?

————————————- ⚔️✨ ————————————

A few hours had passed and you found yourself waking up from a nap you had unconsciously taken. You noticed the sun was beginning to lower, you predicted you had a few hours left before nightfall. You sighed before getting up from the sand, swiping off the residue of sand that was left on your clothes and turned to face the direction Zoro left you from. You were grateful the island was small and you knew it wouldn’t take you long to track down the lost swordsman.

As you were about to start walking, you felt a presence lurking near you. You stiffened before smiling and realising there was more than one and posed no danger.

“How long have you guys been there for?” You called out. You turned to find a small group of what you assumed were hunters gathering food. The group consisted of three men and one woman.

“Y/N, are you okay?” One of the male hunters asked.

“I’m fine don’t worry…you didn’t happen to see a green haired guy with three swords roaming around?” You queried. You didn’t know them personally but you assumed the few that did check in on you when you were training spread the word to the others of your existence.

“He’s sitting by the waterfall.” The female hunter softly answered. You nodded as you brought the memorised path to the area up into your mind to plan out your short walk.

“Thank you, don’t mind us. We’ll be gone tomorrow.” You promised before you began making your way to him. A short walk through the forest and your feet found you at the beginning of a small lake. As you continued, your eyes caught the waterfall and the blue hues of water falling over into the lake. You looked around and soon enough your eyes caught on a head of green hair. You frowned at his slouched demeanor, noticing his eye was lost in the water and in thought. You took a quick breath in before continuing your walk to now stand near the swordsman. You noticed his body stiffened as you felt your presence before slouching back, his eye not breaking out of his lost gaze.

“Zoro…I.”

“Don’t speak.”

Your mouth closed into a straight line, the words ‘I’m sorry’ stuck at the tip of your tongue. You felt like you stood for eternity but just a few short minutes later and you decided to find a seat on the grass near him. Your eyes followed his and soon enough you were also lost in the water with him. Apart from the sounds of the water crashing into the lake and the gentle calls from the birds in the trees, the angst between the both of you laid thick.

As you watched the water, you were reminded of how much you missed swimming and the ability to just float. You had thankfully never fallen into the ocean since obtaining your devil fruit but the thought of sinking struck fear in you. You missed the feeling of saltwater soaking into your skin, letting your fingertips wrinkle and allowing your mind to wonder and be free. Sure you were able to shower in non-sea water but it just wasn’t the same.

Time had passed and the sky had turned into a deep hue of orange indicating the end of daylight. The forest had begun to fill out with fireflies, adding to the ambiance and giving light to where you both sat. You knew you’d have to start a fire and look for food soon but you couldn’t find the will to do so yet.

You had decided to scoot closer to the edge of the lake, allowing yourself to indulge in the only closeness you can have to water.

“You ain’t plannin to jump in right?”

Hearing his voice shook you out of thought, you shook your head to answer his question.

Zoro had every right to be pissed at you but seeing the sadness in your face made him feel guilty for letting himself behave like a teenager for hours. This was his fault after all but admitted he let his pride get the better of him.

“Why’re you moping?”

“I’m not moping..I’m just remembering how much I enjoyed swimming and just being in the ocean.” You confessed, pouting and allowing yourself to lean on your hand.

“I thought you didn’t regret-”

“I don’t regret anything. I’m allowed to feel sad.” You snapped.

He allowed silence to fill the space between the both of you for a moment before he made an anxiety-consuming decision that would definitely change everything.

“You wanna go in?” Zoro softly asked.

You turned to face him, surprise evident in your face.

“That's impossible, I’ll just feel weak and sink.” You answered.

“Not if I’m holding you.” Zoro said.

“I thought you were avoiding me, now you wanna hold me?” You questioned back.

“Answer my question; you want to go in yes or no?” Zoro bit back with slight annoyance at you being argumentative.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from going into a tangent, turning to look back at the water before nodding.

From seeing your physical consent, Zoro stood up and began to strip. You visibly blushed and let your gaze turn away from him refusing to turn it into ogling. He brought himself into your line of vision as he walked forward and stepped into the water, waiting with his back turned to you at the edge to allow you privacy. You were able to see he was just left in his boxers. You stared for a bit before finding your brevity and beginning to strip until you were just in your underwear and bra. You walked a few steps forward until you stood just behind him but you hadn’t stepped in the water yet.

“Am I okay to pick you up?” Zoro cautiously asked, his back still facing you.

“y-Yeah you can.”

Zoro turned around, pushing back his raging heartbeat and ignoring the growing heat in his skin before scooping you into his arms bridal style and slowly walking back into the lake until he was halfway submerged. You relished in the warmth of his skin and you hadn’t realised just how much you missed his presence.

“If it gets too much for you, tell me and I’ll take you back.” Zoro’s voice almost broke. He was currently fighting back the blush that had threatened to consume his wholebeing as he avoided looking down at your naked body. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen a naked woman before, heck Nami and Robin walked around the ship in practically nothing and it never once bothered him. Seeing you see this way; shy and almost vulnerable gave a completely different meaning to it. He couldn’t fathom anyone else seeing you like this and the mere idea of any man seeing you this way made his skin itch and his temper rise.

He hadn’t even allowed himself to be consumed in the lust-filled thoughts he had of you since his recent awakening of feelings he had for you. He felt too much respect for you to subject you to his internal needs. He didn’t even know if you both even consummated the marriage before he disappeared but refused to go down the tangent of thoughts surrounding it.

He slowly began to lower you into the water, allowing the flow of the water to cover your legs and your arms. You gasped at the sudden coolness of the water, immediately feeling the weakness of the ocean consume you. Rather than fighting the weakness, you allowed it to sit as you relished in the feeling of the cool water and Zoro’s body heat.

“You okay?”

“Thank you Zoro.” You quietly spoke, grateful to him.

His concern alone was enough for you to choke on a sob. You were overwhelmed.

“Why did you avoid me?” You weakly asked, allowing yourself to cry.

“M’sorry.” Zoro mumbled back as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“I don’t want a sorry…I want an answer.”

Zoro said nothing. He didn’t know how to confess his feelings to you. He couldn’t even begin to explain or know where to start with talking about what was wrong with him. Seeing you broken hurt him badly and he knew he couldn’t let this go on anymore.

‘Show her.’

A small voice in his head spoke. He frowned at the intrusion of the voice.

‘Show her how you feel.’

He looked down to see you looking back up at him. The yearning he felt to hold you closer, the want to be with you overtook him.

He decided to listen to the foreign voice, putting his anxiety to one side as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss.

————————————- ⚔️✨ ————————————

A/N: HE DID IT!!! FINALLY HE KISSED YOU AHHHHHHH 🥳 😭💚

Taglist: @starlightanyaaa @eggrollforyou @rosellerinfrost @qalable

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #memory loss #romance #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #slow burn

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writingquestionsanswered · 7 days

Note

Hello I have a question on behalf of my friend who doesn't have tumblr. So, my friend has been working on her long story for about 2 years now when she found time after school. However, it was recently discovered that she has a tumour in her brain that she will have surgically removed within the coming months and while she told me the chances of anything happening is low, she is still worried and has expressed concern over her story. She told me that she has so much of the story planned out but not written down, so many details or plotpoints etc.... So her question is: how can one prepare for the worst case senario if you have an unfinished story? There are so many details and conversations that need to happen.

Friend Concerned About Surgery/Not Finishing Story

It's very nice of you to ask on her behalf. Just to clarify, though, I'm not a legal expert, so I can't give you or your friend legal advice. Just some ideas based on personal experience.

As much as I wish this would be an easy thing for your friend to address, it isn't. Our stories are copyrighted the moment they are written down in a tangible form, and if something happens to us, that manuscript and all of the pertinent documents and notes become part of our estate. That said, it would be up to the executor of the estate to determine what is done with the story based on the person's wishes as outlined in their will. If someone wanted another person to finish the story for them, they would be designated as this person in their will and the executor would contact them and give them any documents and instructions that were needed. But, ideally, this will have been arranged between the writer and other person long before. If there isn't time for those conversations, your friend could put as much of the detail and instructions as they can in a document and have it kept with their important documents.

If your friend doesn't have a will or an estate (if they're a minor, for example), this is just something that will have to be arranged between them and the person they want to finish their story, but they should also make sure to notify their parents/guardians that this permission has been given, and may even want to give the person a notarized document stating that they give the person permission to finish the story. Otherwise, the friend's family could potentially file for copyright infringement.

I worry a little because I remember getting a similar ask a while back about someone who had been reading a story in progress, and it looked like the writer had passed, and this person wanted to know if they could just finish the story since they'd talked to this person and knew where the story was going. And I'm hoping this ask isn't coming from the same person looking for some loophole that would allow them to go ahead and do this. So, just in case and to clarify: you can't finish someone else's story without their express written permission. It doesn't matter whether that story was posted online and abandoned, or whether they told you what was going to happen and you're the only one who can finish it, or even if you had a verbal agreement. The best anyone could do in that scenario would be to contact the family (who either hold the copyright or have a right to contest infringement) and ask for permission.

And, in the case of this ask specifically, if the friend wants you or someone else to finish their story if the worst happens, they need to make sure they have granted you written permission that is notarized or otherwise legally commissioned.

Ultimately, your friend probably will want to talk to a lawyer. Though, I am deeply hoping that they come through their surgery safely and successfully so they don't have to worry about it. ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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#tw death #tw surgery #wqaadvice

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vadersassistant · 1 year

Text

Endgame Chapter 1 (Darth Vader x Reader)

I am princess of Ethereaan, successor to my parents, the king and queen, even though I was the youngest sibling. My older sister was born with several disabilities, enabling her to not be able to fulfill the role. That left only me to take her place, at the ready to lead a planet all on my own, since I hadn’t courted anyone yet.

“I can’t believe it’s already today,” I said.

“It’ll be great just do what you always do,” Skai encouraged, helping me slip on my dress as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I met her dark eyes, a smile appearing on both of our faces.

“Are you going with anyone?”

“Not as of right now no,” she sighed. “However, if a trooper were to ask me to dance, I’d say yes.”

“Sounds good to me,” I shrugged.

“Are you going with anyone, your highness?” her emphasis was purposed, alluding to my suitors.

“My father refused,” I said. “He wanted me to remain open minded, so the option of courting an imperial still remains.”

I shot Skai a nervous smile, as she gave me a knowing glance. It was clear the two of us agreed on how absurd it was, but still we were at a disagreement. I liked to take the high road, swallowing down the issue and making the most of it, while she preferred acknowledging it, and swindling her way out of it.

“It’s okay, if he believes that’s best then I will do as he says,” I reasoned.

“It would look good for Ethereaan, inner rim and all,” she added. “Especially with the event, you could really make a show out of this.”

“Still a little shocked,” I laughed once we finished up, going towards the door of my bedroom. “Empire Day is such a big deal.”

Empire Day was the anniversary of when the imperials resumed power and the chancellor transitioned to emperor. Every year an inner rim planet was chosen to have a ball for it, hosting hundreds of senators and high-ranking imperials in celebration. Speeches were given, parades planned beforehand, and fireworks at the end. My father and Palpatine were very close, due to Ethereaan’s trading in minerals and weaponry. It made sense that we were chosen for its third year.

Skai was quick to open the door, resuming her handmaiden personality in the process, as I fulfilled my own as princess. We headed over to the dining room to meet with the rest of my family, walking fast but not in a hurry. My posture was like a beam going down my back, as the ends of my dress fluttered naturally. It complemented the Ethereaanian colors well, those being blue and white with silver. The corridor was open, stain glass windows defining the walls while stone floors laid beneath our feet. The large room dawned quickly, my mother and father waiting at the end of the table, perking up when the doors opened.

“Good morning,” I smiled, greeting both.

“Good morning, sleep well?” mom asked.

“Mm, better than usual,” I answered while stretching. I paused, going over to see my sister before sitting down. “Good morning, Karai.”

‘Good morning sister,’ she said through sign language. Karai could hear but couldn’t form sentences, so we used sign language instead. She also couldn’t walk well, which is why we used a wheelchair when she needed to move.

I smiled, and softly squeezed her hand before finding a spot. Before me were blueberry pancakes, with Jawa juice and fruit, made by the palace chefs. I watched as the steam rolled off it, as one of the servants put it down. I mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him as my father stood up, almost at the same time I sat down. He was tall, the tallest person I had ever seen, standing at six four. When he stood up, it often meant his words were to be taken as high demand.

“There have been some recent updates to tonight’s event,” father spoke eloquently but serious. “We are to host a feast beforehand.”

“With whom?” I asked.

“Several high-ranking officers in the Empire,” my mother clarified, seeming uneasy.

“Is there something wrong with them?”

“Lord Vader will be in attendance; we are to escort him and the others personally to the ball.”

There was a moment of silence, my mom looking at my dad like they were telepathically speaking. Her body language was obviously tensed, his similar.

“Who called for this?” I wondered.

“Emperor Palpatine personally asked of it, since he cannot attend this year due to a personal emergency,” dad explained.

“Of course, I understand,” I said.

“Good, you must get ready right away, it is already later than usual,” mom advised. “Arrive at the gaming room, we shall entertain them while all the guests arrive.”

“I will see you then,” I waved to them, standing up as Skai shadowed me.

The moment the doors shut again, and I was out of the public eye, Skai dropped her mannerisms and drew her mouth agape. I watched her press her weight to it, like she wanted to make sure she wasn’t heard.

“Lord Vader?!” Skai whisper-shouted to me as we made our way back to my quarters. “I mean—I knew he was going to be there, but to dinner? Being escorted?”

“If the emperor wills it, we don’t have much of a choice,” I shrugged.

“He is referenced to as the Dark Lord (Y/N),” Skai’s voice was laced with fear. “If I mess one thing up, I could die.”

“So, evade him all you can, nothing will happen,” I assured.

Vader was Lord of the Sith, and Palpatine’s right hand. He was the most powerful force user in the galaxy, like a guard dog to the emperor. He could destroy a planet’s population with no question, he had destroyed many planet’s populations with no question. It was said that darkness followed everywhere he went, his attitude ruthless and unmerciful. It was do or die, and if you didn’t do something right, you died anyways. Everyone knew of his name and what it meant, and only the current rebellion went against it.

Once we got to my room several other handmaidens arrived, makeup, accessories, and outfits in hand. It would be several hours of prodding, but I didn’t mind, I knew it was for the best. I allowed them to get the upper hand, strategizing about the night in the process.

After showering, applying traditional Ethereaan makeup, putting on my dress made for the event, and styling my hair, I was complete. I tried to help as much as I could, but the handmaidens refused every time I raised a hand. The hours flew by naturally by conversation, the time quickly running out. All that was left now was to slip on a pair of heels. I needed to wear a pair that was significant and matched well, but were also easy to move in. There was no doubt I would be dancing tonight, and I knew I’d get blisters if I wasn’t careful.

“All done,” Skai sighed satisfactory.

“Thank you, all of you,” I said, standing and getting a feel for the shoes.

“Of course, milady,” they spoke synchronized, before quickly dismissing themselves.

I watched awkwardly as they left my room, before turning back to my friend and following. The gaming room was on the way to the large dining area, it was like a casino, with a vast number of activities inside. I visited it often when I was free, knowing how to entertain others being a part of my role. A side of me genuinely enjoyed it, often playing against the handmaidens or Skai specifically.

An assortment of lights decorated the place, Skai and I both looking around and taking it in. All the machines had their mechanisms. The Dejarik tables, better known as holochess, blinked in the back of the room. The Sabacc cards were littered around their designated surfaces. The arcade games lined the walls, an assortment of pinball machines taking most of the space. Finally, the pool tables caught my eye, sitting pre-prepared with all fifteen balls set in a triangular shape.

I walked over, picking a pool cue that fit my hand and motioning to hit the white cue ball. I hadn’t played in a while, but I decided it would do.

“I think someone is coming,” Skai told me, as other servants began to filter in. They were carrying drinks, ready to handout.

We both watched the door, and before either of us could spark another conversation it abruptly opened. There were two guards holding either side, and I saw my mother at the front of the crowd.

“You may entertain yourselves here as we await other guests,” she said, welcoming the several men behind her. “This is Grand Admiral Thrawn, Admiral Motti, Admiral Piett, Director Krennic, Admiral Yularen, and Grand Moff Tarkin,” the queen introduced. “Esteemed guests, this is your majesty, Princess (Y/N),” my mother then introduced myself.

“Pleased to meet you all,” I bowed my head obediently.

“We are still waiting on a few, so I shall leave you to it.”

I nodded my mom off, quickly going to personally introduce myself as she left. I shook all their hands, meeting their eyes and acknowledging them. The servants soon followed, offering light alcoholic beverages on a silver platter. I watched as the guards held the doors for several storm troopers as my mom transitioned out. They all silently lined the room, watching in case of emergency. There was always rumor of the rebellion, people trying to take shots at the Empire. Especially at an event like this, security was called for, although I wasn’t sure if anyone would have the gut to do anything with Lord Vader here.

“There is an assortment of games to choose from, I am going to play pool if anyone would like to join me?” I offered.

“I would be honored your majesty,” the odd one out said. He had blue skin, navy hair, and a white uniform.

Thrawn, I repeated his name in my mind as I walked over to the table. The rest followed, making conversation amongst themselves. It seemed they were more interested in watching than playing separately, which I didn’t mind at all. It would be easier to keep track of everyone that way, as more guests arrived.

“You may go first,” I ushered as he picked a pool cue from the rack.

“Thank you,” his smooth but deep voice gratified.

He leaned over the table, his hand outstretched so that the shaft of the stick laid between the thumb and pointer finger. Drawing it outwards, the tip bumped into the cue ball and against the triangle of colored ones. A stripped ball fell into the top left hole, meaning he could shoot again.

I stepped away from the table, allowing for the Chiss to move freely. He went to the right, attempting to hit another stripped ball into the top left. It was better he did so, since that meant he’d be two balls down. It was an easy shot, slipping in gently into the pouch. The admiral smiled victoriously, looking up at me with red eyes.

“Have you played this before?” Director Krennic asked after sipping on his drink. He held the champagne cup almost cockily.

“A few times as of recent, yourself, Director?” Thrawn rebutted.

“Yes,” he sounded amused. It was apparent that he was questionable of the Chiss and his species but wouldn’t openly admit it. “What about you, your highness?”

“Yes, I grew up learning an assortment of activities including this one,” I said, as Thrawn missed his third shot.

My gown flowed as I paced to the other side of the table and looked at my options. The balls were cluttered on one end, making it hard to take an open shot. It would be best to try and angel one to ricochet off the side and into another, not to mention, I had to avoid all colored balls and the eight ball in the process. I was now deep in thought, strategizing while in movement.

Looking at the ball I wanted to hit, I angled the shaft of the cue and bent over. Aiming for the ball, I hit the tip slightly harder than the Admiral, and watched it clash with the wall then the other ball. It slid into the top right corner easily, offering me a second chance.

“Impressive,” Thrawn mused, making me smile.

I lined myself up once more with another ball, a clear opening being made due to my previous shot. I sunk it in once, more tying my score with his. This made the others become more intrigued, quitting their conversation, and coming to watch the game. The setup was now difficult, as the only shot I could sink would most likely be my last. I did it anyways, pressing my hand down onto the tables fabric and practicing the movement. I hit the ball lower than previous, making it roll into the left middle pocket, the cue ball along with it.

I laughed, making the rest of the room join in comfortably, motioning for the Grand Admiral to take the ball. He could now position it wherever he wanted, looking to the bottom right pocket where his previous ball landed. His expression was calculated, like the war general he was. The game was close, too close for anyone to predict its outcome. Thrawn continued to slip the ball in and went for another hit, while an unfamiliar noise came from the hall.

All of the imperials turned, including the Chiss, several adjusting how they appeared. It sounded like a respirator, a methodical breathing sound that was almost rhythmic. I knew it was him.

The doors opened more rigidly this time, and there he stood, my parents behind him.

He was taller than my father, with broad shoulders that held up his cloak. His entire outfitting was black, with armor fitted over a tunic, and a belt meeting his waist where his lightsaber hung. The most prominent feature was his mask, slightly tinted red visors with a modulator at the front. You couldn’t tell whether he was looking at you or not because of it, and no one knew what he looked like underneath in the first place.

I felt something cold run up my back, seeing the others also find a similar fate. It didn’t affect me though, still standing straight with my head facing the Sith. Everyone nodded their head, whispering a ‘my lord’ in harmony. The cold lingered, like it was sitting on my shoulders, wrapping around my figure.

“There are still a few more guests we must attend to,” my father clasped his hands. “We will return.”

“I missed my last shot, your majesty,” Thrawn said right after. I didn’t see it for myself, but I was at no disadvantage by it.

The crowd willingly turned back to the game, seemingly preferring to look at this than the dark lord. I noted that Skai had disappeared as I went back to playing, taking in the situation at hand.

The balls were now all spread across the surface, distanced enough that it was easy to take a shot anywhere. There were nine left, eight if you didn’t include the one you could hit.

The eight ball was guarding the top right pocket, while the cue ball currently sat between the right middle section. My best and only bet was trying to angle my shot so that it would hit the top wall and knock into the other with enough force. That way it would roll into the bottom left corner, since all the other shots were crowded with striped balls.

I needed to hit it hard, my hand placement carefully holding the shaft of the stick. This was my only option, I reminded myself, as I went to hit the cue ball.

“Why take that risk when there are several easier shots?” Grand Moff Tarkin asked.

“If I were to hit this one,” I pointed to the ball that stood by the top left corner. “I would make it, but then wouldn’t be able to hit another.”

“So, you are taking a risker shot instead, in hopes of gaining the lead,” he finished. “And you have trust in yourself that you can do it?”

“I do,” I said.

“Well go ahead then, I apologize for the interruption,” Tarkin ushered.

I nodded and smiled, bending down again to become leveled with the pool cue. I inhaled, getting a feel for the shaft again before exhaling and following through. The ball hit the wall, clashing with the other, and landing almost perfectly into the hole.

“Impressive,” Thrawn murmured.

I went to take another shot but before I could the doors behind us opened and we all shifted.

“It is time for dinner,” my father announced, a few more imperials behind him.

The guests began to follow the king and queen out, but not before I stopped Thrawn.

“I can take that if you like,” I waved my hand out, ushering for his pool cue.

“Thank you, your majesty,” he handed it to me softly, his hand grazing mine. “You are very talented.”

“Thank you, I enjoyed playing,” I admitted.

I put both cues’ away, before returning and noticing that the Chiss had waited for me. With a soft expression he waved for us to walk together, into the corridors of the palace. I couldn’t see the crowd ahead, due to Vader’s cape billowing in front of us as we left. We were all very close and compact though, and due to my knowledge of the layout it wasn’t an issue. I simply walked with my hands behind my back, as we made conversation.

“Your planet is beautiful, the best venue so far for this event.”

“I agree, I am glad we’ve been given the opportunity to do this,” I nodded.

“Do you explore the city often?” he asked.

“Yes, when I can I like to interact with it as much as possible,” I answered.

“Perhaps I will have to see it for myself.”

We stopped at a dead end, the entrance to the dining room now in front of us. I turned around, hearing a rolling sound, only to see my sister in her wheelchair, and Skai behind. Thrawn quickly noticed as well, bowing his head to her before entering the large room. It was magnificent, a long table with an uncountable number of chairs around it, and large chandelier overhead. Banners and windows decorated the walls, our family crest imprinted on most.

It was a known thing that Lord Vader didn’t sit or eat at events, so a chair wasn’t offered for him. Instead, nametags located each person to their seat, my parents sitting at the front of the table. Next to my father on the left side was my sister, then myself, then Grand Moff Tarkin. Grand Admiral Thrawn was next to my mother, the Director next to him, and a stream of admirals down both sides. We all pulled out our own seats, Karai sitting in her wheelchair close to the table. Lord Vader came to Tarkins side, standing behind the two of us. His shadow would have entirely covered me if the light wasn’t in front of us. I didn’t think much of it though, instead turning my attention to my sister as glasses of water were set down on the table.

“Are you excited?” I asked her, forming sign language with my hands.

‘Kind of, I hope the food is good,’ she answered.

“I’m sure it will be,” I answered, continuing to sign to her.

She didn’t enjoy large events like this, the crowds and lights often overstimulating her. She would most likely be at the ball for a bit in the beginning and then circle around the venue with Skai, where less people were.

“Can you speak fluently in sign?” Grand Moff Tarkin asked me.

“Yes, I chose to learn it at a young age,” I told him.

“Why?” he wondered. “I thought a child would not be motivated to take on such a tedious task.”

I noticed Vader turned his helmet, looking down at me as I spoke.

“I wanted to be able to communicate with my sister in a way that was convenient for her,” I said.

“Even though it was laborious for yourself?”

“I never found it laborious to begin with, I only thought about what it would do for her.”

“Your actions are commendable, Princess (Y/N), the emperor has spoken highly of you,” Tarkin commented.

“I am honored,” I thanked him.

My father made a toast before the food was served and soon enough, we were eating. I felt odd for most of the process, although I couldn’t place why. It was like someone was watching me, like something was resting on my shoulders, a comforting weight that felt protective. I thought it would leave once we made our way to the venue, but it never did, it just lingered.

The walk there was calming. After a long dinner and discussion, we were outside while the sun set, walking on the docks over to the ballroom. It was separated from the palace, but still on the lands where it was located, surrounded by the lakes. The sun set over us, while the trees shaded patches of the path we walked on. I was at the front of the crowd, walking with my sister and Skai while my parents spoke to Tarkin behind. It seemed everyone was still on edge due to the dark lord, Skai especially being unnerved, as he walked right behind her.

I looked at her as she held a death grip on my sister’s wheelchair, attempting to look as professional as possible. My face was like stone, remaining neutral without a hint of discontent. The only thing on my mind was the conversation behind me, my fathers authoritative voice being hard to block out.

“Do you plan to continue aiding the Empire in the future, and extending the contract?” Tarkin asked my father.

“Yes, we hope to.”

“Hoping and doing have two separate meanings,” a baritone voice replied, the sound of Lord Vader’s breathing stopping when it came. I knew it was him, for the first time this entire night, he had spoken.

“Of course, my lord, we will extend the contact when the time comes,” my father said, almost timidly.

The conversation was cut short at that moment, reaching the venue. You could hear the noise coming from inside, the sound of a live orchestra, and talking specifically. Hundreds of people stood, lights blaring as food was served by droids and music filled the ears of everyone passing. The doors opened and an uproar of cheers followed, welcoming the main hosts into the room.

The night went smoothly but rather quickly. I couldn’t count how many people I had spoken with, let alone had to dance with. That included Thrawn, who was the first to ask when he had the chance. I mostly traveled around, meeting people, and greeting anyone and everyone I saw. I hadn’t seen my parents much, but that was a natural consequence in this kind of arena.

The most prominent people were the storm troopers, who lined the entire space. They were clones, taken from the previous war and recommissioned after the republic fell. The way you could tell was their voice, all of them having the same accent when speaking. Skai thought they were cute; I knew she was around here somewhere. Occasionally I’d check to see if she was dancing with someone in the center, but it hadn’t seemed to happen yet.

This was one of those times, as I weaved through tables of congregating people and made my way to the dance floor. I looked at the duos of people slowly swaying with one another, hoping to point out her straight black hair in the crowd. She still seemed to have disappeared, but I didn’t mind it as long as she was fine. The time would come, and I would never let her live it down when it did.

I turned around, sighing almost defeatedly when I saw that someone had approached me. The people that were once close to me had spread out and turned their backs, the reason why standing dead in my tracks. I looked up, as a shadow towered over my figure. It was only now that I realized the weight on my shoulders never left.

“Your highness, I did not get to properly make an acquaintance with you earlier, I do apologize,” Lord Vader said.

“Oh, no worries my lord,” I replied.

“Have you had the opportunity to dance with anyone?” he asked. His voice was intimidating and commanding. Vader stoked fear in anyone he came near, the exact reason why the two of us weren’t near anyone else.

“Yes, it has been quite enjoyable to be able to,” I answered.

“I presume I may as well, princess?” Vader followed up.

“Of course.”

I was extremely surprised but tried not to think much. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, becoming quickly consumed by what was about to happen. Vader lent me his hand, bringing me to where the rest were. The song had changed, the orchestra shifting to a tune that sounded romantic but not distinct enough to name.

Dancing with Thrawn had been methodical, he was incredibly experienced at it, his footwork riding against my own. The rest also had their own special touches, and as the night went on it became apparent that they shared a common goal. But that was nothing like this, this was different. I was dancing with death, the dark lord of the Sith, the most powerful man in the galaxy. He could easily snap my neck if he wanted, and yet I reminded myself he hadn’t.

The Sith’s hand was much larger than mine, his touch very strong but shockingly gentle. If I wanted to free myself, I wouldn’t be able to, but it was comfortable, not harsh. I thought it might squeeze me to death at first, but it was the pure opposite. Vader’s other hand slowly rested on the small of my waist, circling to my back. My hand sat on his breast armor, shoulder placement feeling unnatural due to height difference. His cloak covered the two of us, the front of my vision entirely corrupted by the man in black.

Finally, our other hands interlocked, mine once again becoming small in his. So far, it had been the same experience as the rest, up until I felt something creep up my back. It was that same cold wind, the weight on my shoulders spreading to my entire body, pulling me close to him. I unexpectedly wavered, what felt like a haze washing over my senses completely. It felt like something had invaded my mind, a feeling I had never experienced but was able to place. I blinked hard out of shock, assuming it would go away, but was surprised when dark tendrils came into my peripherals.

It was only for a moment, but relief came along with it. I looked around, everything was blocked out except for him. I couldn’t hear anything but the music, and Vader’s breathing.

“How?” I doubted myself, thinking I was going insane. I tried to let go of him to rub my eyes, but his grip was far too strong to attempt it.

“Do not resist,” Vader spoke. “Look at me, do not worry about anything else.”

It felt like my legs were moving on their own, and I hadn’t even realized I was still dancing until I looked up at him. It was the force, all of this, was him. I felt helplessly relaxed in his hold, protected beyond compare. It was like his presence was everywhere, all consuming and invading. This was not the same experience as the rest, it was better. I found myself entranced, and enjoying this, as the lights felt like they had dimmed.

Still a million thoughts ran through my mind, wondering why this was happening in the first place. He showed affection for no one, most thought if he was to marry it would be with another Sith if it was possible. They thought he was too powerful for anyone else, that he couldn’t love someone.

“Sith do not have to marry one another.”

My eyes widened up at him, realizing the rumor that he read minds was true. Suddenly, I felt vulnerable, wondering if the crowds also heard his words. Part of me wondered what the people would think of this in general, whether the Empire would point it out in the tabloids. I had no shame in dancing with him, but it could change my planet’s reputation forever.

“No one can hear this conversation but the two of us, this event will not be remembered by anyone if you do not wish for it,” the Sith read my mind for the second time, and I felt my face heat up.

“How is that possible?” I asked. I believed his words; my question was out of genuine curiosity.

“Search your feelings, your memories will remind you,” Vader ushered.

The conversation between Skai and I replayed in my mind. I knew, I just didn’t want to admit how powerful he truly was. I didn’t want to admit how much I was enjoying this. The fact that I condoned his merciless killing, and the fact I was in the arms of a man that could do horrific things without blinking an eye.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed dancing,” I admitted, hoping to shift the conversation.

“I don’t.”

“We can stop,” I assured him almost naturally. “I don’t want this to bother you.”

“No, this does not apply,” the force kept me in place as he spoke.

“How so?”

“Because the reason you offered to stop, you differentiate from every single person in this vicinity.”

“I understand,” I maintained eye contact, swallowing almost nervously, because in truth I had no clue what he meant.

“Do you?” he asked me.

“I want to,” I said.

“You shall.”

The cold feeling that once laid on my back now felt warm, a tingly sensation in my mind that rested gently. The song ended, and we stayed together, the haze around me fading. Once I noticed, I was quick to take in my surroundings, easing back into the sound of chattering. My sights rested on a girl with long, straight black hair, and a tall man with blonde shaved hair and strong jawline.

She seemed to notice too, her eyes locking onto mine, and within and instant, Vader turned to see what shocked me so much. Skai looked owlish, holding onto a clone who had different armor than the rest. She looked me up and down, as I remained a neutral face, but a slight waver in my lips made it clear I agreed with her surprise. She had danced with the Storm Troopers captain, while I had danced with the lord of the Sith.

I watched as Skai looked up to meet Vader’s gaze and immediately looked away. She was terrified, but also flustered looking at the clone before her. He was handsome, not my type, but handsome.

I returned to Vader, having yet to be released from his grasp, his respirators sound being the most consistent thing of the night.

“Thank you, your highness,” he said, as if nothing happened.

“It was an honor, my lord,” I left in harmony with him, the two of us splitting.

I needed fresh air, to get away from the overwhelming lack of space amidst the crowd. I saw Skai leaving too, heading towards the opposite door that I was. I assumed she was returning to Karai, who most likely was outside. My heart rate picked up; I could feel it.

I hurried towards the outdoor corridor, swallowing harshly as I met the cold nights air. I needed something, anything to snap me out of whatever just happened. I was intrigued of all things, a part of me wondering if it would ever happen again. The sound of Vader’s breathing had disappeared in exchange for crickets chirping in by the tall grasses and the sound of the lake water moving about. All of it so harmonious and yet I couldn’t relax to it. I needed something new to latch onto, something that would stay constant.

It sounded like something pressurized hit a surface. I looked around, to see absolutely nothing different, and yet there was now a repetitive beeping sound ringing in my ears. At first, I thought I was hallucinating, forcing myself to create the pattern in my mind so that I would calm down. It was only when it began to speed up that I realized the severity of the situation.

My eyes wandered to the stain glass window as my hands held onto the rail behind me. I looked just a bit closer at it, to see a subtle blinking light on a small circular dome. It was only a moment later that the noise got too fast, and I saw the door at the end of the hall open, but there was no time to see who it was. The sound was so loud that it felt like my eardrums blocked it out, a fire of red and orange fumigating my senses as I tried to cover my face with one arm. It was a stupid move I decided, closing my eyes shut, only for them not to open.

FIRST CHAPTERRR its totally not like 5k words but wtv it only gets better from here.

NOTE: Karai's disabilities are based on my experiences IRL since I have family who struggles with it. Hope you enjoyed!

#darth vader x reader #darth vader imagine #star wars x reader #suitless darth vader x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

Was I the asshole for confronting a coworker for being transphobic?

I sent this in a while back, when the blog was having issued and being censored by tumblr, so it got eaten before it was posted. I waffles about whether to resend it or not for a while because the issue was somewhat resolved, but I figured why the hell not?

I (23nb) work at a shipping store, I have a coworker I'll call Nathan (23m) and one I'll call Alex (20nb). Alex is our assistant manager, Nathan recently became full-time, and I'm part-time.

Alex's grandmother came into the store to visit them one day while things were slow; Alex, Nathan and the grandmother were in the front and I was packing packages in the back when I overhear Nathan saying "I don't think it should be legal for parents to consent to a sex change for their fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—even at eighteen you don't really know who you are or what you want." I don't hear much more than that, but being a trans person who had previously thought well of Nathan, and knowing he was talking to an older woman (albeit, one who had a nonbinary grandchild), my hackles were raised to hear him blatantly making ill-informed and transphobic comments.

After Alex's grandmother left, while there were no customers in the store, I confronted him. I'll admit I was hardly professional, but I was more scared than angry, and I tried telling him to be more informed before speaking on trans matters because he was spreading misinformation, but the conversation got sidetracked to trans rights in general and how he thought "no one would be trans if they didn't talk about it in school" and then went on to day "racism wouldn't exist if it wasn't talked about in school." I gave up on trying to correct him when he told me that he, as a cisgender heterosexual white man, was in the same amount of danger walking down the street as a black trans woman, because I realized in his privilege he was incapable of imagining that anyone had any different life from him. During the whole talk he was cool and collected, whereas I was very intense, though consciously keeping my voice low and tyring not to get angry despite it being an angering subject.

We went about our store-closing duties and Nathan left, leaving Alex and I in the store alone to finish up our last tasks. Alex had been silent the entire conversation, despite also being nonbinary, and they were the assistant manager, so I asked them if I was out of line and they shrugged non-commitally and refused to look at me.

(This was where the previous submission ended, but there's been an update since then.)

After that, there were several incidents completely unrelated to this conversation that resulted in Alex, another coworker, and I all having private conversations with our manager about complaints against us. One of the complaints about me was that I was uncomfortable to talk to about politics, so I clarified and told the manager the entire truth of what happened between me and Nathan and admitted that I may have been out of line professionally. He said I was, but also said Nathan had been nearly fired in the past for saying awful shit, and that if I wanted to I could make a report about him, because he'd been just given full-time and my manager didn't want him having that if he didn't deserve it. When I told him I hadn't heard the full conversation with Alex's grandmother, he rescinded the report offer and told me to next time not engage Nathan, just report him.

I know professionally I shouldn't have done any of that, but I was trying really hard not to be an asshole on just a human decency level while confronting Nathan, and Alex's reaction made me rethink whether or not I was. WITAH?

TL;DR: A coworker was being transphobic, so I lit into him at work while the store was empty. I tried not to be an asshole, but my nonbinary assistant manager acted as though I may have been out if line. I later learned the transphobic coworker is somewhat on thin ice with management anyway. WITAH?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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avocado-ramen · 5 months

Text

My Tybalt Exposition

I read somewhere (likely on Twitter, but no guarantees) about people getting really upset with the depiction of Tybalt in the two most recent October Daye novels (Sleep No More and The Innocent Sleep) which cover the same events, one from October's POV, the other from Tybalt's. This is the first time there's been another narrator in the October Daye series outside of short stories/novellas.

That original poster said that while they saw Tybalt's behaviour as problematic in Sleep No More, they had hoped that The Innocent Sleep, since told from his point of view, would clarify matters and perhaps 'redeem' his character. They went on to say that The Innocent Sleep made it much worse, and (I am completely paraphrasing here, I read this weeks ago and no longer have those posts available for reference) that Tybalt was basically abusive trash. If I recall correctly, they toed the line with calling the author a DV sympathizer/apologizer, but it was a near thing.

Even if I remembered where that original post was, I wouldn’t link to it, because I don’t want to bring attention to what they said, nor do I want to risk people piling onto them as is common when people feel like an IP they love is being attacked in any way. I’d rather just make an entirely too long post explaining my own views, and possibly rambling too much and make no sense – because that’s what I do. 😊

As I’ve now finished The Innocent Sleep, I felt the need to get some thoughts down to address some of the things brought forward in that post/thread/whatever I read just after The Innocent Sleep was released.

The author: people need to realise that these books are FICTION. The bonus of writing fiction is that you can safely explore troublesome parts of humanity and society without actually agreeing with those troublesome things.

A significant portion of the books I read have murder happening either on page or off screen in the first few pages because the mystery of a dead body gives the protagonist something to do. Do I think these authors all believe that people should be able to go around killing each other just for fun? No. So why on earth would people think an author including any other kind of violence in their work approves of that violence? This could be it’s own post, and many others have made this point much better than I ever will. Tybalt’s behavior in Sleep No More: We are seeing Tybalt through October’s eyes. Sure, we as readers are privy to the previous 16 books worth of information (even more if we’ve read all the shorts and novellas), but at this point in time, October doesn’t know Tybalt. She’s never seen a Cait Sidhe. She doesn’t know anything about them aside from what Titania’s illusion tells her. From this framing, Tybalt comes across as brash, angry, controlling, and violent. He has a tendency to storm off if things aren’t going his way. To October, Tybalt’s behaviour is completely out of line, and she’d be correct – from everything she knows at this point. Tybalt’s behaviour in The Innocent Sleep: One thing people need to remember before they start applying present-day human morality to Tybalt is that he is not human. At all. He’s fae. Cait Sidhe. He is both a cat and a humanoid, but he is not, and has never been, human. One of the things the author has reiterated time and time again is that both the fae as a whole, and Cait Sidhe specifically, live by an entirely different set of rules than humanity does. Titania hates the Cait Sidhe because she believes they are beasts and below the perfection of her other descendant lines like the Daione Sidhe. As much as Titania is the villain, she’s not entirely wrong. First and foremost, the Cait Sidhe are cats. When backed into a corner, they’re going to lash out. If they’re stressed, or hurt, etc., they’re going to lash out. It’s what they do. I have the scars from my own cats to prove it.

Tybalt knows he is barely in control of his emotions. He freely admits that, and the fact that he at times needs to walk away before he lashes out and does something he’ll regret, which I feel is smart and responsible of him.

Tybalt’s attack on Ginevra in the throne room in Golden Shore is excessive. And it’s meant to be. It’s completely unexpected and jarring in Sleep No More when seen from October’s point of view. In The Innocent Sleep, being in Tybalt’s head, while still a severe overreaction to a situation he wasn’t paying attention to and therefore didn’t have full context of, it is completely in line for how a) a cat would react, and b) how a Cait Sidhe king would react when they believe someone has attacked/injured/wronged someone that ‘belongs’ to them. Does that make it right? No. And Tybalt himself shows as much shame as his position allows when he sees Ginevra at dinner. Do I think Tybalt is an abusive asshole that needs to be shunned, killed off, or whatever other over the top reaction people have had? No. And no, that doesn’t mean I approve of his behaviour or think he should face no repercussions. But context means a lot. I can see when his behaviour is completely in character for his species and title, while also admitting when he’s crossed a line. The benefit of an ongoing series is that it is quite possible that Tybalt will face the fallout of his behaviour in Book 19, or even further. I don’t expect everything to be wrapped up in a perfect bow at the end of each book. None of the characters in these books is perfect (with the exception of Spike, Cagney, and Lacey), and if the author can foreshadow some of the things we’ve seen in Book 16 way back in Book 1, then we can believe she’s got plans for them for Book 19 and beyond.

This is the same author that took one of the most loathsome characters and made me want to wrap him in wool and protect him at all costs (ok, I still want to shake him now and again), to the point that I named my new kitten after him. Please, admire Simon “The Tiny Terror”.

#Seanan McGuire #The Innocent Sleep #Sleep No More #October Daye #Tybalt #Books #my cat

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levithestripper · 1 year

Text

Ruin Me

summary: after a drunken conversation with rollo one night during a feast, athelstan suggests to ragnar that they try something new in the bedroom.

warnings: fluff, smut, porn with some plot, corruption kink, scent kink, kink negotiation, bondage, praise kink, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral sex [m! reciving], multiple orgasms, established safeword, aftercare.

length: 4.1k || read on ao3

notes: last work of 2022!!! athelnar has been eating away at my braincells since october so this was the only logical solution. this is also day 15 of by kinktober series that's slowly but surely being finished :)

“Ragnar?” Athelstan asks hesitantly from across the room. The longhouse was empty save for them, leaving them in a peaceful silence together. The former monk was attempting to fold laundry but failing miserably, too distracted by the shirtless Vikingr across from him.

Ragnar didn’t turn to look at him, occupied with washing the remainder of their dirty clothes. “Hm?”

“You’re not busy tonight, right?” Nervousness was evident in his voice, catching Ragnar off guard and prompting him to turn to face him.

“What’s wrong?” he questions, moving to invade Athelstan’s personal space like always. His blue eyes search every corner of his face, looking for any sign of what could be troubling him. “What’s bothering you?”

Athelstan took Ragnar’s hands in his own, drawing comfort from the proximity. “Nothing is wrong, my love. I want to ask you something, is all.” His words match his body language, shoulders relaxed, and eyebrows unfurrowed.

An uncharacteristically sweet smile spreads across Ragnar’s lips. “Then ask.” He held the monk’s gaze, silently drinking in the man’s beauty. Even after all this time, Ragnar still has moments where he’s utterly mesmerized by his lover’s magnificence. How could the Gods deem him worthy enough of a man like him?

Ragnar’s hypnotized-like gaze told him everything he needed to know. His face was one of infatuation and love; it was a look he wore often. “Tonight, when we’re in bed,” he pauses, “I want to try something new with you.” A blush rushes over Athelstan’s face, pulling a giggle from the other man.

“Something new?” he inquires coyly.

“It’s something I heard about from Rollo.”

Hearing his brother’s name confuses him. Why would Athelstan want to do anything Rollo did? he wonders. “Rollo?”

“He was drunk one night during a feast in the longhouse,” he clarifies, relieving Ragnar of his worried confusion. “Remember last week when he invited me to sit with him?” Ragnar nods. “He told me about a woman he, uh—saw—recently. What he did to her, and how much she liked it.” The red in his cheeks deepened. “Couldn’t get it out of my head. Pictured you doing those things,” Athelstan cut himself off, embarrassment rendering him unable to speak.

Ragnar cups the side of Athelstan’s face, stroking his cheekbone. “Use your words, love,” he coos, smiling as the man’s blush worsened. A teasing look forms in the Vikingr’s gaze, “Tell me what you want.”

He leans into his lover’s hand, knees going weak. “Please kiss me,” he asks, voice almost at a whimper. Athelstan’s head felt like it was up in the clouds, far away from Kattegat, Ragnar being the only thing tethering him to the ground. “Need you to kiss me, Ragnar.” They waste no time, lips clashing together with a passion that could rival Thor. Ragnar’s hand moves to the back of Athelstan’s head, gripping the long brown hair at the back of his neck. His head tilts to one side, giving the dirty blond plenty of room to kiss up his sensitive neck.

Ragnar nips at the column of his throat, leaving pretty red marks across his skin. Bruises bloom across his neck, publicly displaying who he belongs to. Ath’s hands grip the back of Ragnar’s undershirt, pulling him impossibly closer to his chest. “Fuck, c’mon!” he whines, tugging at his clothes.

He pulls away from his neck, a smirk plastered across his face. “You want more?” Athelstan nodded. “I can’t give it to you if you don’t tell me what it is you want, my love.” Ragnar’s hand returned to Athelstan’s cheek. “Tell me what got you so embarrassed, hm?”

Athelstan whines, making Ragnar giggle. “I want—” he stutters, “I want you to tie me up.” Heat radiated from his face. “The way Rollo talked about how much the woman liked it made me feel the same way you make me feel.”

The Vikingr’s smirk widened, his other hand squeezing his hip. “Mmm, so you’re saying I make you feel good?”

“Oh my God, Ragnar, shut up,” Ath groans, burying his face in the crook of Ragnar’s neck. Ragnar giggles again at his reaction, the sound reverberating through Athelstan’s chest.

Ragnar ignores him, instead pinching his round ass, loving the cute squeak Ath makes. “You’re sure you want this, love?” His question causes a shift in the atmosphere around them from playful to mature. Sensing this, Athelstan leaves the safety of Ragnar’s shoulder to look at him.

He nods, “I’m sure.” His arms snake around his lover’s neck, his thin fingers running over the short, close-cropped hair on the top of Ragnar’s head. “You know I trust you, darling,” Ath said with a smile, leaning in for another kiss, which Ragnar eagerly accepted. This kiss was slower than the last, more romantic, more intimate. Athelstan tilts his head to the side again, further deepening the slow-paced kiss. Taking advantage of this, Ragnar slips his tongue between Ath’s lips and into his mouth, drawing a moan from them both. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans against Ragnar’s mouth, chest heaving from lack of air.

Both of the Vikingr’s hands cup Athelstan’s face now, holding the man where he wanted him. “You taste so fucking good, my love,” Ragnar growls, pushing him back towards their bed. The half-finished chores were left abandoned in the middle of the hall, destined to be finished by whoever stumbled upon them next. The backs of Athelstan’s knees hit the bedframe, stopping him in his tracks. Ragnar pushes him onto the thick layer of furs, wasting no time crawling over his lithe body, effectively caging him in. They lock eyes for a moment, and breathy laughter fills the room, engulfing their surroundings with the sound of their love.

“I love you,” Ragnar whispers in his ear.

He smiles, “I love you more, honey.”

Ragnar smirks, taking it as a challenge, “Doubtful.”

“Oh yeah?” Ath teases, running a hand down Ragnar’s bare chest.

He didn’t answer, responding with wet kisses to Athelstan’s neck, drawing a groan out of him. His calloused hands pin Ath’s smaller ones above their head, leaving them vulnerable to anything Ragnar had planned. Ragnar looped a strip of cloth around Athelstan’s wrists, tying it loose enough for him to break out of if needed. He strips them of the rest of their clothing, giggling at the shiver that runs up Ath’s supple frame.

Unlike the Vikingr, Athelstan was soft and delicate, something to be gentle when handling. With a striking lack of scars and tattoos, he looks deliciously innocent compared to the dozens of scars littered across Ragnar’s torso and shoulders. It didn’t matter how often he had Athelstan underneath him; the sight never failed to make him stiffen in his pants. The vile desire to defile a once innocent Christian monk, to make him cry out in pleasure for the so-called “godless” Pagan who raided his monastery, coursed through Ragnar’s veins years after they made their relationship official. His hands roam across Athelstan’s abdomen, thumbs rubbing circles against the juts of his hip bones that stick out on either side of his pelvis.

“You remember what you’re supposed to say if it’s too much?” he asks, thumbs now pressing against where his v-lines would be, stopping just above the tip of Ath’s cock.

Gnawing on his thick bottom lip, Athelstan nodded, failing to stay quiet as soft groans escaped him. “Mhmm, I remember.” He needily presses his hips into Ragnar’s palm, silently asking for more. He tugs on his restraints, testing their give. A satisfied shudder rushed up Ath’s spine. Restrained and entirely at the mercy of his lover’s will, the reality of his situation settled in, causing his cock to throb pathetically. “Red for stop, yellow for hold on, and green for keep going.”

Ragnar smiles, placing a chaste kiss on Ath’s lips, “Good boy. Can I tighten the cloth?”

He shudders again at the praise, even though he expected it. “Please, tighten them.” The cloth wrapped around his wrists grew tighter, now pressing his palms together. Ragnar secures his bound hands to the headboard, keeping him from wiggling away.

“There we go,” Ragnar hums, sitting on the backs of his calves. He runs his hands down the expanse of Athelstan’s body, unabashedly feeling him up. He could feel the thick cords of newly gained muscle underneath the skin of his biceps, his chest, and even his thighs. A smirk reappeared on his lips, partnered with a devious twinkle in his icy blue eyes. “You’re so pretty, Athelstan. Almost like a woman,” he teases, his smirk growing as Ath’s blush reappears. “Prettier than a woman, actually.”

Athelstan’s attempt at laughing at Ragnar’s quip failed, an almost strangled-sounding moan coming out instead. “Ragnar, please,” he begs.

“Oh, please, what, my love?” He hums, thumbs still drawing circles into the monk’s skin. “You know we use our words here. You’re very good at that, aren’t you?”

His words darken the already deep blush painted across his face. Tugging at his binds, Ath whines, “Darling, Ragnar, please, just touch me! You’ve done nothing but tease me this entire time.” Ath pouts up at him, hoping it would help his chances of convincing him.

Looking down, Ragnar traces the outline of Athelstan’s cock, giggling every time it throbs or twitches. “But I am touching you, baby. Is this not what you wanted?” His response was a quick ‘no,’ the man’s head shaking back and forth. “No? Then how do you want me to touch you?”

“I want you to fuck me, Ragnar; want you to fuck me like you hate me.”

Taken aback, his fingers grab onto Ath’s hips with an intensity guaranteed to leave bruises. Pulling his hips flush with his, he whispers, “Since when did my little monk gain such sinful desires, hm?” To further prove his point, Ragnar grinds against him, pulling the filthiest moan from his lover. Athelstan reciprocated the action, rolling his hips in a circle, slotting Ragnar’s cock between his cheeks perfectly.

“Ever since you placed those desires in me, my love. Whispering your sinful fantasies in my ear, rousing cravings for things I’ve only ever heard about in rumors.” Athelstan’s depravedness shot electricity through Ragnar’s body like never before. “You’ve ruined me, Ragnar; defiled me for anyone else.”

He groans deeply in Ath’s ear, caging him underneath his massive frame. “I’ve ruined you, little monk? Torn you away from your Christian God and down a path of heathenry?” Ragnar sucks a dark purple hickey into the crook of Ath’s neck, chuckling when he moans. Spurred on by his reactions, he littered more along Athelstan’s throat, decorating his unmarred skin with blatant claims. “What would your monastery friends say if they saw you now?”

Precum pooled in his belly button, paired with a loud moan tumbling from his mouth. “Fuck, Ragnar.” He tugs on the restraints with a whine. “Please, c’mon! I need you.”

“You need me, hm?” Ragnar teases, slowly pumping his fist around Ath’s shaft. Precum stuck to his palm, getting between his fingers. “Baby, you’re dripping for me. I haven’t even touched you yet.” He mouths at his shoulder, kissing him softly. Athelstan squirms underneath him, hips writhing from the overwhelming sensation of Ragnar’s touch. Sinewy muscles of Ath’s biceps flex with his movements, spurring Ragnar on further. He doesn’t allow him to respond, whispering in his ear, “You need me to ruin you, don’t you?” He nibbles the shell of Ath’s ear before licking it, relishing in the moan he gifted him.

His thin fingers grasp his bonds, extenuating the lean build he’s developed even further than before. “I do, I do,” he groans, head tilting back into his pillow. “I want you to ruin me, my love!” He shivers when Ragnar runs his thumb over the head of his cock, bringing a snarky grin to the Vikingr’s face. “Love it when you take me apart.” Sweat glistens on both their faces, the summer heat sparing no one.

Ragnar leans to kiss him, quickly slipping his tongue into his hot mouth. The kiss was a mess of tongue and teeth, spit sliding down Ath’s cheek. It doesn’t last very long, as Ragnar is eager to give him what they both desperately desire. He kissed down Athelstan’s body, sucking small hickeys into his skin as he went. “So good for me, baby. Want me to suck you off?”

The thought of having Ragnar’s mouth wrapped around his dick made him moan unabashedly, giving Ragnar his answer. His calloused hands grip Athelstan’s thick thighs, keeping him still and pliant. “Please, fuck, I want your mouth,” he begs, wriggling his hips toward his face.

“Shhh, shhh, baby,” he coos, stroking his thighs soothingly, “You’ll get what you want, don’t fret.” Ragnar presses his face against Athelstan’s pelvis, breathing his scent in deeply. Usually, Athelstan kept his pubes neatly trimmed for his personal comfort and Ragnar’s sake. But it had been a while since the last time he groomed, leaving it a thick, curly mess, something Ragnar was over the moon about. “Fuuck,” he groans, eyes rolling back slightly. “Smell fucking delicious, baby.”

Gazing down at his boyfriend, Athelstan watches as Ragnar grinds his hips against their bed. Ragnar’s spine was slick with sweat, skin shining in the light filtering through the windows. His muscles ripple underneath his skin, causing a pang of desire to shoot through Ath’s limbs. “My scent’s getting you off?” Ragnar nods in response, too busy mouthing at the base of his cock to form words. His tongue laves at the pale skin found there before slowly licking up the veiny shaft. Pink, spit-shiny lips place small kisses against the tip, relieving Ath of the precum building up there.

Ragnar brought him into his mouth, sinking down to the base in one go. A guttural moan left Athelstan’s lips, hands desperate for purchase against the restraints. The head of his cock bullies the back of Ragnar’s throat, making him choke each time. It was a sick sound of spit and half-retching, but it stirred something primal inside Athelstan, tightening the ball inside him with every thrust he gave. Ragnar’s hands held firm on his abdomen, doing his best to keep his lover still. Between his choking, Ragnar manages to let out a few moans, getting off on pleasuring his boyfriend.

Pleasure was building inside him faster than he expected, his orgasm threatening to overtake him. “Ragnar, Ragnar—fuck—I’m gonna cum!” he stutters, legs thrashing underneath Ragnar’s grip. “Fuck, your mouth!” Athelstan’s eyes roll back into his skull as his orgasm washes over him, his entire body shaking with the force of it. Hot cum filled Ragnar’s mouth, which he was quick to swallow in its entirety. Sucking the last bits of his orgasm from him, Ath whimpers at the aftershocks, the small movements beginning to overstimulate him. His chest heaves from exertion, sweat running down his frame and leaving a damp spot on the sheets.

Pulling back, Ragnar scarfed down much-needed air, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Leaning forwards, he untied his wrists, releasing his boyfriend from his pleasurable confines. Athelstan wraps his tired arms around Ragnar’s broad shoulders, yanking him down to lie on top of him. “I think you sucked my soul out through my dick.”

“You loved it,” he giggles, his smirk turning to a cheeky smile. Ragnar brushes the hair out of Ath’s face, drowning in his pretty green eyes. “You feeling alright, my love?”

Ath nods, returning Ragnar’s gaze with an equally as affectionate one. He intertwines their fingers together, reveling in the grounding presence the Vikingr provided him. “I’m alright. Better than alright,” he hums. “You?”

“Never better,” Ragnar responds, giggling again. He invades Ath’s personal space as much as possible, making the other man laugh too. “You know, I still haven’t gotten off yet, baby.”

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk, “Oh yeah?”

Ragnar kisses him again, passion evident throughout. “You wanna keep going? I haven’t fully ruined you yet, have I?” He kisses his cheek, then his hairline.

“Of course, I’d like to continue; you can’t expect me to be satisfied that quickly, can you?” Athelstan grins, returning the kiss eagerly.

Ragnar moves to sit between Ath’s legs, carefully placing them on his shoulders, effectively folding the man in half. Fishing a jar of oil-like liquid out from under the bed, he excessively coats three fingers, wiping the access off on Ath’s inner thigh. “Ready?”

Athelstan nods, relaxing in preparation for the welcomed intrusion. Slowly, Ragnar’s forefinger works its way inside him, greeted with a quiet moan. Before long, one finger became two, two became three, and the soft moan became loud. The slick sounds of Ragnar’s fingers thrusting in and out of Athelstan’s sloppy entrance echoed throughout their bedroom. Athelstan covers his face with his forearms, hiding his pleasured expression from his lover.

“Don’t hide from me, baby.” Ragnar pulls his arms away from his face, returning them to the mattress. “Keep your hands like that, okay?”

He nods, whimpers tumbling from him. “Fuuck, fuck, Ragnar, baby—!” Ath squirms, trying and failing to get away from the overwhelming pleasure. “Please, fuck me,” he begs, “I’m loose enough; I’m ready, Ragnar, please!”

He kisses him once more before slipping his fingers out of his lover. Slicking his cock with another palmful of lube, he presses the tip against his entrance. “You’re sure you’re ready, my love?”

“Fuck, I’m more than ready,” Athelstan begs, tightly holding Ragnar’s free hand.

Ragnar gives his hand a squeeze as he slowly pushes his way inside. “Fuck,” he drawls, face scrunched up in ecstasy. “You’re still so tight.” Athelstan gasps and babbles senselessly, thrusting back on Ragnar’s cock. Giving him time to adjust, he gradually slides in until his hips are flush against Ath’s ass.

Athelstan’s expression mirrored Ragnar’s, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed together. Tiny, high-pitched whimpers escaped him, hands running up Ragnar’s biceps for purchase. “You’re s’fucking big, Ragnar, darling,” he groans, nails digging into his skin.

He leans down further, folding Athelstan in half once more. “Must feel so full, honey,” he teases, biting his earlobe. Ragnar cards his fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it off his forehead. His thrusts are quick and shallow, pulling out barely halfway before slamming inside again. “Nothing compares to the real thing, huh? This is just what you needed, isn’t it, sweetheart?” The sounds of Ragnar’s thighs smacking against Athelstan’s echos throughout their room, only darkening the blush that had spread to cover the monk’s chest.

“Mm—mhmm!” Ath nods, eyes still closed, too overwhelmed to open them.

Noticing this, Ragnar smirks, a devious idea forming. Adjusting his thrusts to hit Athelstan’s sweet spot, the bedframe rattling from the sheer power of it. With each slam to that bundle of nerves, Ath’s eyes shot open, and a loud moan tumbled from his lips. “Oh fuck, Ragnar! Oh my God, holy shit, right there, please!” Blunt nails leave long, red welts down the Vikingr’s muscled back, desperately grabbing for anything to ground him to reality. The tendons in the back of Ath’s thighs strained from the stretch, though it only added to his arousal.

“Aww, right there?” he mocks, changing the direction of his thrusts back to how they were before, much to Athelstan’s displeasure. “Is this where you want it, baby?”

He leaves fresh lines down his back, turning Ragnar’s back into a scratching post. “No, no, no!” Ath’s voice was utterly sinful, full of lust and desperation. “Where you were before!”

“Here?” he asks, hitting everywhere but the spot he wanted. He sucks another bruise into his neck, which is now more purple than its usual porcelain complexion.

Ath shook his head no, unable to form words as he was on the brink of sobbing. Delicate tears pool in his eyes, extenuating the soft, innocent aura that typically encapsulated him. Unable to deprive him any longer, Ragnar caves, giving Ath what he wants, hitting his sweet spot once more. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it, sweetheart?”

Athelstan felt like his entire body was melting into goo, his limbs filling with static and joints melting to nothing. “Yes, yes, s’good, s’fuckin’ good, baby—” he stutters, words slurring together as pleasure overtook him. His eyes roll back from a rather intense thrust, shudders wracking his body. “You’re so—ohmygod—you’re so deep!”

Ragnar kept the pace, keeping Athelstan teetering between orgasm and never-ending pleasure. “Aww, you hearing yourself? You’re already ruined for me, and I didn’t even have to do much.” Lube and sweat dribble down Athelstan’s taint, pooling against the sheets. “It wasn’t even difficult to ruin you like you asked,” Ragnar mocks, “Turns out, you were already a slut for me.” His balls slap against Ath’s ass, mixing well with the cacophony of noise already surrounding them.

“Yes, yes, ‘m yours, all yours,” he babbles, hands moving from Ragnar’s back to and up to his hair, tugging on the damp, blond locks. Athelstan stumbles over his words, unable to get a sentence out smoothly. “All fuckin’ yours, m’love.” Ragnar thrusts deeper than before, hitting his lover’s sweet spot with a punishing amount of force. A shriek escaped Ath as intense waves of unadulterated ecstasy washed over him, hips rolling into Ragnar’s thrusts. The hands in Ragnar’s hair grip tight, drawing pretty noises from him too. “G’nna cum—gonna cum! M’gonna cum, Ragnar, m’gonna cum! Please, fuck, please let me cum!” Ath’s voice cracks halfway through his plea.

His smirk widens across his face, pleased at the show Ath is putting on for him. “You want to cum, is that it?” He litters kisses along Ath’s hairline. “I don’t know,” he hesitates, quickening the speed of his thrusts. “Do you think you deserve it, my love? Have you earned it?” Precum oozes from the head of his cock, coating Ath’s walls with each thrust he gives.

Athelstan gazes at him with big, tearful eyes; his pupils are blown black, with barely a ring of green left to circle them. “Please, Ragnar!” he pleads, tears threatening to spill down his pinkened cheeks. “Feel like m’gonna explode; I can’t take it any longer!” His voice was the essence of depravity, only aiding in his efforts.

Combined with his own impending orgasm and Athelstan’s pleading, Ragnar granted him permission to cum, which he did gladly. Tightening around Ragnar, Athelstan came with a shout, spunk landing sporadically across both of their chests and stomachs. His cock twitches and throbs with each wave of his orgasm, echoing the spasms running through the rest of Ath’s body.

It wasn’t long after that Ragnar came too, spurred on by his lover’s climax. Ragnar finishes inside him, shooting ropes of cum as deep as he can get them. He’s sure there’ll be handprint-shaped bruises left on Athelstan’s hips later from the death grip he has on them. Feeling Ragnar cum inside pushes Ath over the edge again, sending him into another body-numbing orgasm. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, eyes completely rolled back into his skull. Ath’s orgasm seemed to last forever, so by the time he could open his eyes again, Ragnar was already beginning to clean them up.

Ragnar recovers quickly after such an intense orgasm, swiftly attending to his lover, who was threatening to black out on him. Fetching the cup of water from the nightstand, he takes a swig before coaxing Athelstan to do the same, holding his head up so he won’t choke. “You were so good for me, my love,” he coos. Slowly pulling out of him with a groan, Ragnar sits Ath up against the headboard, wiping him clean of sweat and drying cum. “So perfect like always.” Exiling the dirtied sheets to the floor, Ragnar crawls under the covers, snuggling up next to him. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

Athelstan curls up under Ragnar’s arm, sleep quickly taking hold. He hums, “Good, fantastic. Perfect. You?”

“Same here. Love it when you’re good for me,” Ragnar says, purely to hear the giggle Ath responded with. The sound floods his chest with an affection rivaled by no other in Midguard. He brings up an earlier conversation with a smirk. “I think I proved that I love you more, by the way.”

Too tired to argue, Ath agrees with a yawn. “Fine, fine, you win. I get to win next time, though.” Ath’s yawning incites Ragnar to do the same.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you will,” he chuckles, kissing the top of his head. Athelstan’s exhaustion soon infected Ragnar, the larger man yawning again. They scramble down the bed to lay comfortably, pulling the blankets and soft furs over them. Athelstan is tucked neatly underneath Ragnar’s arm, head using the Vikingr’s chest as a pillow. They fall asleep with the setting sun, the humid summer heat morphing into a warm evening, the perfect temperature for cuddling.

The light from the full moon replaced the sunlight, accompanied by every star in the galaxy. Without a cloud in the sky, the entirety of Kattegat was asleep alongside them, granting the couple a rest worthy of the Gods.

tagging: @slayhousehightower, @aemondtarqaryen, @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics, @demon-of-the-ancient-world

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