#I have so many emotions and the fact that I’m not surprised | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

misstycloud · 1 month

Text

Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.

“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.

You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.

“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.

“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.

He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.

You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”

“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.

But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.

“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.

Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.

“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”

He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he’d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.

“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”

“Oh god..”

It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?

How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.

He knew what he had to do.

The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.

Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.

While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.

Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.

Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.

You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.

Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.

Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.

“Why was it you?”

Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.

In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.

With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.

You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.

“Ugh….”

You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.

“D-don’t go.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”

He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”

A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.

“Wait, no-“

“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.

“My love, don’t-“

You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.

What was he screaming? What else if not your name.

#oc #male yandere #obsessed #yandere oc #possesive #misstycloud oc #yandere husband #vampire hunter husband #vampire reader #wife reader #vampire wife reader #yandere x reader #toxic #yandere husband x wife reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere imagine #fantasy #yandere human x vampire reader

2K notes · View notes

meiieiri · 4 months

Text

𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 [geto suguru]

synopsis: suguru geto upped and left that day without a moment’s notice and he took everything with him — your heart, your soul — but as you look at the positive pregnancy test in your hand, you realize that he did in fact leave one thing behind.

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, angst, explicit sex.

a/n: i know, i know. i should be writing WE but this concept has been in my head far longer than WE and i just need to get it out there or else, i think i’m gonna go insane. if anyone wants to know the plot of this would have been fic, feel free to let me know lmao, of course it still involves gojo bc i can’t choose between the two of them since they’re both so baby girl—! also happy birthday to the loml, my pookie-wookie, honeybunch, suguru geto!!

It’s been a year since the happy side trip to Okinawa became a living nightmare that culminated in you, Suguru Geto, and Satoru Gojo on the brink of death and with many more scars than you could have ever imagined. The three of you had very different ideas on how to cope. Satoru spends the past year perfecting his cursed technique, often at the expense of his emotional well-being and energy but then again, after what Toji Fushiguro did to him leaving him with the trauma of being slaughtered without regard, it was only natural.

You and Suguru on the other hand retreated into yourselves; it was hard to believe that just a year before the two of you were a normal teenage couple who enjoyed walking the trendy streets of Shibuya in the weekend sunshine without a care in the world, whose only real problem is to decide where the two of you were gonna have your weekly dates.

Now, things were different. Rainclouds have gathered effectively blocking out the sun. As you sat on the desk reading through your textbook on reverse cursed technique, you glance at Suguru from time to time and you aren’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting by the dorm room’s windowsill, staring at the garden with an empty gaze.

You’ve had enough of this. This eternal state of limbo was tearing you and Suguru apart.

Slowly, you stand up from the desk, softly padding across the wooden floor to where your boyfriend is. It was the middle of the night, last you checked, it’s already nine in the evening. You should be heading back to the women’s dorms now but you couldn’t, not when things were like this, not when Suguru’s losing himself day after day, you can’t help him, you know that, but you could be there for him seeing that’s all you can do.

But even then, it’s never enough.

Your relationship with Suguru is like a lit dynamite stick, you know that it’s only a matter of time before it also explodes in your faces. So, Suguru takes the lead, like he always does, he’s so much wiser and stronger than you in every way though he doesn’t care to admit it, though he pretends he doesn’t know why you’re so dependent on him.

“I think we should break up.”

He says that while holding your hand. You saw this coming but just how long did you anticipate that the love of your life would eventually up and leave you? You squeeze his hand with every ounce of the grief you are feeling hoping it would transcend the confines of your skin and it would reach his heart. “Is that what you really want?”

“No.”

He stands up to meet your gaze, the throw blanket falling to the floor as he does. He leans in closer, his hand cupping your cheek with such tenderness and heartache that you feel your heart rise to your throat. Suguru is normally so gentle like a shower of midnight rain, but he kisses you like this is the last — it probably is. Lost in him, your hands trail over his chest, and he deepens the kiss hoping that you’d also understand that he doesn’t really want to leave but he has to. He can’t bear to drag you into his mess.

He could never do that to you.

You respond with a soft moan when Suguru slowly lifts your shirt over your head. He stares at your plump breasts for a moment, covered only by a thin lace-like material, before deciding that looking at you wasn’t enough. He has to take you, ravish you, fondle you, kiss you. Anything to let you know that he’s not doing this because he’s fallen out of love with you.

“Don’t leave,” you plead in between his soft kisses to your breasts, tears slipping from your eyes as he removes your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders which he was now kissing up to the crook of your neck. How could your hearts be so full yet so empty at the same time?

None of what happened should have caused this much heartache between the two of you. In fact, it should have made you rely on each more, right? It should have strengthened you not destroy everything you had: each other, the future you planned together.

Suguru doesn’t answer as he nips at your neck, sucking on the delicate flesh, as your forms gracefully fall on the bed, he stares at you with such love, such devotion, and you wonder why this should be the last time. His gaze falls to your vulnerable form, his cock hardening at the sight of your clothed pussy getting wet just from that. He grinds against you, sighing at the way you buck your hips to meet his wanting more of him. If this was to be the last time, then, you want to make it count.

“Suguru, I’m yours.” That’s all he needs to hear and he removes your underwear, kissing down your leg as he slips it off of you. He tosses it onto his nightstand, and he leans towards it to grab a condom from his drawer. You catch his hand. “Don’t. I want to feel you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen at your request, his lips eliciting short huffs of breath. He’s never fucked you raw before. “Are you sure?”

You nod against his forehead. “Please. Please fuck me, Su.”

Slowly, his hand guiding his tip up and down your slit, smearing your wetness along the base of his cock before slowly pushing into you savoring the sensation of your cunt squeezing around him as he stretches you with his girth. A deep groan betrays him and his mouth hangs open as your tight walls envelop him as he bottoms out. He takes a moment to collect himself, not wanting to cum right then and there.

“S-shit. Ah, you’re so fucking tight.” He allows himself a small thrust, the tip of his cock already nudging your sensitive spot, having memorized you after many desperate nights of lovemaking. His fingers grip the soft skin of your hips as he pulls out momentarily before pushing back in again more forcefully this time.

“S-su! Mngh—please fuck me—I love you, I love you, I love you,” you beg.

A tear slips from Suguru’s eyes, it was becoming more real now — this final goodbye. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he slowly builds up the pace of his thrusts, his cock bullying your cunt, driving himself in and out of your pussy, again and again. He brings your leg to his waist, holding it so he could angle himself better. “I love you too.”

You mewl as he pistons in and out of you, his balls slapping hard against your skin. “Sugu—ah! More—n-need more of you—“ You’re crying now, and he is too as he continues to ravage your pussy, his hand finds your other leg and he pushes your knees close to your chest, folding you into a deep mating press, slamming into your cunt.

“I’m yours. Always,” Suguru looks into your eyes amidst your desperate cries, your thighs trembling under his passionate gaze. He grunts when he feels the familiar tightening of your walls. “You’re close—fuck,” he takes this as an incentive to go faster, harder, and he fucks you in a way he never has before.

“So good—oh—“ you fall silent as he suddenly brings your hands to your clit, letting you touch yourself. You looked so beautiful like this, under him, your head thrown back against the pillows, your mouth primed in a silent ‘o’. He pants as he feels his balls tighten when your hips involuntarily buck into him as you climax. “Suguru!”

“Ah, baby…” He groans, the hot breath from his lips tickling your forehead as he rides out his high, spilling his seed into you not caring what the consequences may be. You did want this after all, and he did too. You feel full just from the sensation of his thick cum, he thrusts into you one last time, further smearing his release in your walls.

You sighed as he stays there, your weak and trembling arms coming up to embrace him. He strokes your hair, memorizing each lock, pulling out after a while. Suguru pulls you flush against his chest, the remnants of his and your release sliding down your thighs. “It’ll be okay,” Suguru catches his breath, kissing your temple. “Even without me. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t…you know I won’t.”

“You will.” He says firmly. “I promise. You know me, baby, I never break my promises.” You feel tears well up in your eyes again and he tenderly wipes it away. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too.”

By the next morning, you already knew with the way the AC’s cold air nips at your skin without Suguru, your Suguru, there to embrace you that he’s already left.

Without a note, without a goodbye. Typical of Suguru who doesn’t want to stick around to see you cry.

You curl into yourself as sobs wrack your body, the promise ring Suguru gave you gleaming under the rays of morning sunlight.

A few years later, just as Suguru said, things did get better. You smiled as you arranged the last of the tempura into the bento box filled with soba noodles with nori and small containers of mentsuyu and wasabi. It’s amazing how much she takes after him. You look at the clock and your face pales. You’re running late, so, you head upstairs to speed things up a little. You creak open the door to see the little blessing of your life, the last gift Suguru ever gave you. She’s looking at the picture of you and Suguru which you placed in her room, and since you know it was highly unlikely she’ll ever meet your lover in this lifetime, you’ve decided you want her to know him if by his appearance alone and the stories you tell her.

“Riko? We’re gonna be late,” you gently reminded your four-year-old daughter. You shoot her a funny look when you see the haphazard way she placed her hair in a bun. She pouts as she tries to get it right again, looking at her father’s picture intently. “Sweetheart, are you trying to look like—?”

“Like papa,” she huffs cutely and you chuckle, moving to pick her up and sit her down on your lap. Kissing her cheek, you also gaze at the picture depicting a candid you and Suguru during your first year at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College. He has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, winking at the camera as he kisses your cheek, a silent gleeful laugh on your face.

You look at her, a little confused, you gently smooth her hair before planting a kiss between her eyebrows. “And why do you want to look like papa?” Riko shyly looks away, her ears turning a little red as she blushes, a trait she inherited from you. You flick her nose, giggling. “Well?” Riko laughs at the playful gesture.

“…So you don’t cry anymore, mama.” Your heart seems to have stopped beating for a moment and a warm, tearful smile appears on your face, wrapping Riko in a bone-crushingly tender hug. “Love you…” she sinks into the warmth of your hug and you kiss the top of her head.

“I love you, Riko. So…so…much.”

At that, your little girl sighs in relief. “School?” she tilts her head and you suddenly remembered the reason you went upstairs. You had to get moving. Your eyes widened and you carry her downstairs, being careful not to jostle her too much. “My hair, mama!” she giggles at her still unruly hair and you grimace in embarrassment. Suddenly, the front door opens and Riko sees who it is, before you could grab the spare brush from your bag, she suddenly jumps out of your arms and makes a beeline for the door.

“Papa, papa!”

You turn around and though the sight pains you to this day, somehow, you’re starting to learn to live with the fact that things are always bound to change with time and that this is what Suguru would have wanted: a loving and complete family for his little girl. You wrap Riko’s bento and place it in her lunchbox before going to greet the visitor.

“Hi, babe.” He turns to meet your lips for a sweet kiss, balancing Riko in his strong arms.

“Good morning, Satoru.”

#geto x y/n #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #geto suguru #geto suguru x y/n #geto x you smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #geto angst #geto x you

2K notes · View notes

k1ngpin42 · 15 days

Text

Abby being insecure about how needy she is ;)

Warnings: Not proof read at all 😭 I wrote this while sick at like 3am so sorry for this monstrosity. Pretty intense sexual references, some fluff if you can call it that.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Abby breathes out apologetically, bringing one of her large hands to the soft flesh on your face. You cock your head, smiling at her softly. Your wide eyes bring a smile of her own to Abby’s face as she makes the comparison to a deer in headlights in her mind.

“I just…” Abby explains, letting out a deep breath. “Don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you. I mean I- feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” You were stunned by her words. In fact, you were stunned by the whole situation. Abby; without her cocky fucking facade about her, the fact Abby would think she’s taking advantage of you.

You had wanted this from the start, so if in any plane of reality she was somehow taking advantage of you, you’d let her, 100 times over.

“What are you talking about? You know I love our sex…”

“I’m objectifying you.” Abby tries, and you let out a laugh in disbelief.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve tried not to think about it, but I can’t. It makes me feel so selfish I can barely say it.”

“Say what, Abby? I’m so confused-“

“I want to have sex with you. Every minute of every day. I think about you when you’re on assignments, I dream about you when you’re sleeping elsewhere, I want to fuck you senseless in front of everyone I- Jesus what am I saying? What am I doing, even? But it’s true I just…whether you’re wearing tight jeans, short skirts, long dresses, even a fucking hoodie I want to tear it off and do so many things to you. Maybe…maybe we should break up, this shouldn’t be normal, it isn’t-“ You stop her by planting a soft kiss on her lips.

Abbys gaze softened and her shoulders slouch back into place.

“Just calm down Abby….I love our sex. Fucking love it.”

“But-“ You shake your head, quickly preventing her doubts from festering.

“Love…we’re in a relationship….if you didn’t feel passionate for me there wouldn’t be much of one, would there? Now just look at the place around us. This place was once used for actual football…by people who lived in a world with an abundance of simple pleasures. We live in a world where pleasure is so much rarer, it’s no surprise that you revel in what we have…what you can give me….especially since you’re a soldier. Always so…tense.” She listens to your explanation intently and nods, hesitantly.

“I still feel…you know….” You look at her with a comforting smile, but it was still clear to her you weren’t a mind reader.

“I know that I love being around you…hugging you…kissing you…I could probably survive without the sex but I still feel like I’m using you somehow…I mean we’ve…” she clears her throat, now wondering why the word ‘sex' suddenly felt like poison in her throat.

“Had sex at least twice a day every day that we’ve been together. I mean that one Saturday I-“ She pauses and you both blush remembering it.

“You were still limping by Monday….” She concludes. You can’t help but laugh at her babbling.

“Abigail Anderson…this is emotional stuff, you know you should write this down…ooh maybe you can try poetry?” She shuts the idea down with a playful hit to your shoulder.

“Ow.” You laugh. Your smile fades a little and you close the gap between you guys, leaning into her ear.

“You think you’re the only one who craves it every day? I know you don’t want to hurt me but when you’re rough holy fuck….the marks you leave on my body…it’s stupid and embarrassing but I get off to them….” Her eyes widen.

“What? You never said-“

“Well because I thought it was toxic at the time-“

“Hey you said this stuff was normal!”

“It is!” You exclaim back, playfully. You both laugh and you kiss her deeply. She leans back onto her bed and you fall onto her lap, kissing her fully again.

“Hm, so what other shit do you want to tell me, then?” She asked, playing with your hair. You just smirk at her.

“To be honest…I think I’ve had enough talking for one afternoon wouldn’t you agree my little sex addict?” She rolls her eyes.

“You’re so annoying.” Abby replies, unbuckling her belt.

#abby anderson #tlou2 #ellie williams #abby tlou #abby x fem reader #sub abby

511 notes · View notes

undercoverpena · 1 month

Text

1. tie the knot

javier peña x f!reader* | chapter one of let us pretend

summary: peña has been back in Texas for all of five minutes, thinking he wants a simple life. but, when steve offers him the chance to gather information on a potential new player, he jumps at the chance. the only problem is, to do so, he'll need to go undercover with a female agent—and pretend to be her husband.

wordcount: 4.6k chapter themes: fake dating/relationship/marriage, forced proximity / sharing one bed, colleagues to lovers, no use of Y/N, *female agent has a nickname (sunny) for use undercover. an: this week i am full of surprises. welcome to the world of let us pretend. this chapter might not feel different from htcu, but it is.

All he has to do is pretend. Put on an act.

It’s simple on paper. Easy. A thing he’s already a master in, something he has never found particularly difficult or hard: pretending.

Javi, after all, had had always been pretty good at concealing, at masking—

“Y’need to pretend to be married.”

Faking being a husband was a new one.

Having lived with far too many emotions for so long, it’s not hard for him to fake nonchalance.

Colombia had been his school. The place where he collected his degree—days of pretending he was okay. Hiding the fact he couldn’t sleep the horrors away, that he wasn’t falling apart at the seams. That stress wasn’t making him chain smoke and the pressure wasn’t making him sink his cock into women he couldn’t save.

He picked up his doctorate when he returned home. When ranch life had felt so fucking dull it made him want to pick the smoking habit back up, just for something to do. When he saw boats that made his insides twist, but found he had to wear a smile. Hiding, as expertly as he could, so he didn’t bristle each time someone called him a hero—when all he wanted was a drink, a fuck or a newspaper.

Mostly, Javi had become a master in squirrelling away the fact he saw every minute of the hours at night, feeling nothing short of relief when his alarm chimed so he could get out of his homemade prison.

Bluffing had always been a skill of his. But, this, this was new to him. His bluffing had never required him to wear something shiny on his left hand and—

“And, Jav. Try not to fuck her.”

He’s not surprised that Steve heads up a department in Miami—or that he’s happy and content.

From the moment the two of them reunited, he took in the glow on his old partner’s skin (the one he strongly suspects isn’t just from the sun) and listened as he heard short (in Murphy’s opinion) stories about his daughter growing older.

Javi couldn’t relate—not that he’ll admit it. Just another thing he disguises. Smothers his face in what he assumes is what happiness looks like, wears it like an accessory, something akin to wearing a jacket, rather than actually feeling it.

Picking up a ring, rotating it between his thumb and finger, he snorts. “Wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, if I didn’t, would it?”

He’s nudged. An intentional elbow to the side sparks a grin as he places the ring back into its velvety spot.

Because none of them look right. None seem right—even for a fake thing.

“Fake husband. And don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m hearing a lot of don’ts and not a lot of do’s, Murphy. What the fuck is it you want me to do?”

He’s already been told, informed. Briefed.

Tricked in fact. Requested down here for an opinion, but when his worn-in soles landed in the office of his former colleague, it unravelled into something so much more.

Handed a file—one he knows everyone expects he won’t read—and given a rundown of what the operation is supposed to look like. But Javi knows better. Had known it too. Even suspects, Murphy does too.

One thing Colombia has taught him is that plans don’t mean shit, not when you’re up against an ever-evolving problem.

You don't just want me here for a consult, do you, Murph? Was hopin’ you were bored in Texas.

He suspects that’s why his Pop had given him an arched brow, an expression that was accompanied by pinched lips when he’d first mentioned it. Even his assurance that it’ll be a few days—just helping Steve out was met with a look Javi hadn’t banked on. Realising as he stood admiring wedding rings that his Pop had figured it out long before him.

At least now he understands why he got the Chucho-treatment—not quite quiet, but not quite the same treatment from him that he did the day before.

Instead, that kind of treatment that pierced itself into him, attempted to bury itself inside of him and made guilt flood through him like a poison.

Even if once before he would struggle with it, found himself desperate to apologise—make it up to his Pops—he didn’t this time. Because Javi already struggled. Already grown tired of itching for something.

So, he said nothing. Because he knows Murphy wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t need him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murphy closes his eyes. The same noticeable twitch in his fingers and chewing inside his cheek that Javier can relate to: the sign of a recent quitter, and one attempting to use gum as a replacement.

Needing too.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, shifting the conversation, suppressing a yawn.

Before he’d even got on the plane out here, he’d been tired. Already beginning to fray at the edges, sleep had already become an even more distant friend.

All of it had been made worse by the worried look on Pop’s face when he dropped him at departures. It thickened, slathered itself on his shoulders even more so when he calls him from Murphy’s office to tell him it’ll be three months.

“You managed longer than I thought, Javi.” “Pop…”

Even though he had known it wouldn't matter, he had still tried to explain it all over again. From the top. All softly, with patience—the phone receiver leaving an indent on his cheek as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Reminding his Pop that this time he was doing his friend a favour, that it was a one-time thing—a few months, at most.

It didn’t shift the tone—didn’t stop Javi from imagining the disappointed lines bleeding into worried ones, mixing with the ones caused by age. It didn't lessen the tightness over the phone, simmering in the miles of air, because they were both at a standstill in the centre of a formerly (albeit temporary) happy situation.

Sighing, Murphy drops his hand, pulling him back from his thoughts. “She’ll be here, alright.”

Javi snorts, swallowing.

Glancing back over another table, seeing other things, other accessories. Things that’ll help him blend, help the two of you blend. You and him, him and you—a person he knows the name of and nothing else.

Steve had shared that you were good, brilliant, the only one he’d trust. That you knew the work so far better than anyone.

He’d been about to begin unpicking those earlier statements when the door opened, blouse and black tailored trousers walking towards him.

It isn’t anything cliché.

Time doesn’t stop, the room doesn't silence, but something happens. Something shifts, changes—alters. Because instantly, Javi realises you’re pretty. A thought which confuses him, especially when it dawns on him that usually, it’s a woman's figure he notices and admires first, but he finds that it's your eyes that he lingers on.

And fuck do they cut into him.

Practically reach inside of him, before they go through him, digging into flesh and fucking bone.

Then, all at once, ceasefire. A chance to strengthen his façade as you turn to greet Murphy, a handshake, a sea of pleasantries. Enough chance to shove it down, whatever attempted to rise in him.

But, he swears he can still see them behind his lids. Something which makes his jaw tighten, teeth grind—

“You must be my husband,” you say, smirk sliding up into your cheek.

Your body suddenly turns to him, hand sticking out towards him, adding your name to the statement as though stamping it into the air and his body goes clammy, grows warm and makes him suddenly desperate for water, coffee or even whiskey.

Slipping his hand into yours, he’s not surprised to find that it’s soft, the right kind of warm. He’d suspected about as much from just appearances alone.

“Agent Murphy has told me a lot about you, Mr Peña.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he eyes you. “Think my wife should call me, Javi.”

Javi learns, rather quickly, that you have a nice voice.

It doesn’t grate, doesn’t annoy him—it’s informative, but there’s something else there, a playful edge, a little thing within you that hasn’t been crushed.

He remembers when he’d been as sprightly.

Rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm as he does, fingers desperate to clutch a pen, his jaw tightening as he thinks about how he could roll it in his fingers, hold it like he used to hold a smoke.

Fuck, he wishes he could chew his gum.

A thing which is slowly making him more tense.

Not that you seem to notice, too focused on getting him up to speed on the actual investigation. He’d read much of your notes before today, it was the next part he was more on edge by.

Because, whatever his earlier opinion of you was, he was getting the distinct impression you’d rather set your skin on fire than be fake married. A thing you stop trying to hide, your face displaying your disgust at it each time it is casually mentioned.

It was mandatory—Murphy’s words—for the two of you to get to know one another. A crash course, a 101 in the other. It’s told to you, that the two of you are going to be stationed in your new home for the next few weeks, starting from today. But, because they’re merciful—

“Wanted to make sure you had time to get to know one another. So, take the day—work can begin another day.”

“How nice of you, Murph,” he responds, words dipped in sarcasm. Briefly catching sight of you smirking as you study something on the table.

Javi had already imagined that—since it was recon, and more surveillance than anything else—for the most part, everything could remain the same. He learnt he was right moments later when it was confirmed his name would remain very much his own, and you were handed his surname like a gift you’d rather burn than accept.

It was you who had to surrender more.

“Y’need a new first name.”

If you were surprised, you didn’t show it. A sea of reasons given, the main one being if anyone asked around with a photo and your name, it would be easier to put two and two together. You lived here, for one.

You keep your eyes down, glancing over the table of possessions you’re allowed to borrow, to play dress up with. Fingers brushing over a watch (silver, a white face)—something haunting in your eye you’re quick to blink away when you meet Murphy’s stare.

Folding his arms, Steve sighs. “Jus’ something you’ll answer to. That can be used in public.”

Javi watches you smirk, something secretive, a hidden joke simmering between the two of you—leaving him very much out in the cold of it.

After a beat, you lick your lips.

“Sunny,” you reply, lifting your eyes, digging each syllable of the name you’re going to use into him.

“Let me guess you’re someone’s ray of sunshine?”

He doesn’t mean for it to fall out laced in bitterness, but it does all the same. His mouth tilted into a smirk, your eyes hardening as you placed down a pair of earrings you’d picked up.

“Think it’s more because of my sunny disposition.” He snorts, watching you move around the table. “It’s a family nickname—I’ve… I’ve always been called it, so, I’ll answer to it.”

Swallowing, Javi lets his eyes wander to the wall of the room.

“Alright, you two. You need to sell it, y’hear me?”

“Then we need money.” It’s short, stern, the way you deliver it, head tilted and face unreadable. “We’ll be sniffed out immediately without it. These people deal in money, not handsome faces.”

"So, you think I'm handsome?"

The roll of your eyes doesn't dispute it, not as you direct your attention back to Murphy.

Who, until now, Javi hadn't realised (with his hands on his hips) how big boss Murphy looked as he whispered fine, or how much it rather annoyed him. How it would be quite easy to give him a shove. More so when he’s handed a new phone, a set of documents, credit cards and given more instructions he wishes he could shove down his throat.

He almost gets close enough to do both when briefing ends and he’s handed the keys to the hotel suite they’d be living in—their story simple, easy:

“We have a fake house for you both being made ready as a cover story, but for now you’re both in the hotel. Prime location. Beach views, and very much in reach to the top places the targets visit.”

And, Murphy hadn’t been lying.

It did have good views, the suite was even nice—really nice.

Almost too nice for a little surveillance, a little fake marriage and a drug bust. But, he didn’t complain, barely said a thing in the ride over, or when you wheeled your own case. He even remained silent when you refused to look at him in the elevator or on the walk to the room, and even when the two of you entered.

In fact, the first words he said were: “You gotta try and look at me like you don’t wanna peel my skin off. You know, if you want this to work.”

He expects it; braces for it, the tongue lashing, an icy stare. Picturing you as the kind of woman who is already to sharpen your tools and pierce him with them when he blinks. But, you don’t.

If anything, Javi watches in slow motion as your shoulders sink, your cogs turning before your expression softens.

“You’re right—I’m… sorry.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he nods. “There’s one bed.”

“Well. We can sleep in the same bed, Peña. We’re adults. However, for your sake, I’m going to put a pillow between us.” Your eyes sweep over him, cold, drowning him in a chill. “Two actually.”

“You a cuddler, or something?”

Smiling, you sigh. “No. The pillow is so that if you roll over all sleepy and desperate for some affection, I won’t have to cut you. Because if you touch me, that is what will happen.”

“How are we meant to sell we’re in love if I can’t touch you?”

“Oh, out there, you can touch me. In here, no.”

His snort rumbles from his chest. Tugged up, wrenched from some cobweb-filled depth, as you smile. Nothing big, nothing life-changing, but a start—the beginning of a level-playing field.

“What kind of touching, cariño?”

Jaw tightening, you smirk—but it’s cold.

He suspects you’re used to charm. Easily able to disable it, switch it off, unfazed by his gaze or the edge of his words. If anything, you seem really fucking bored of it—something he’s not sure if he admires or despises.

“Nothing like you used to pay for, Peña.”

Before he’s even recovered, he learns that you take things seriously.

Your bag opens, pulling out a notebook—upside down cursive etched over a page, your eyes scanning over it, before you ask if he’s ready. He’s barely able to ask for what, when you begin firing things at him.

Favourite food. Comfort film. Where did we meet? What song do you sing in the car when I’m not around? Are you allergic to anything?

The list goes on, and on. The more things continue to run out of your mouth, the more he begins to admire you—to settle into some comfort that you want to do this properly. That you’re going to take it seriously too, something he wants.

Needing it to matter.

Needing to have something work out easily, not have it all end for nothing.

The only time you pause is for a dinner—room service, his treat and his choice. A way of providing proof that he’d been listening, paying attention—somehow wanting to prove something to you, even if he’d known you for only half a day.

“So, how did Murphy get you on this?”

He studies the way you cross your leg over the other, the base of your heel tapping against the carpet—all very much guarded, on edge.

“You can tell it’s my first, can’t you?”

Javi smiles, making it softer purposefully. “A little.”

“He said you were good,” you sigh, placing your napkin down. “I assume I was chosen because it was easy. Y’know, than someone with… higher priorities. Plus, I already know the case. Guess it just made sense to send me.”

Nodding, he watches as you avoid his sight, focusing instead on the swirls in the carpet. Something ticking in your pretty little head, it forcing your nostrils to flare, for your jaw to tighten—and he’s watching it happen, practically feeling the air around you begin to vibrate from it all.

“M’not gonna let anything happen to you, Sunny. You know that right?”

That does it. Further digs in the hatred you’re feeling tenfold because the use of your new name makes you flinch. And he knows, like he had suspected earlier that it means more than just a name. Especially from the look on your face.

At first, your expression is soft, almost mask-less—no walls, no defence. Then, like magic, it shifts. It drapes down, rebuilds, and suddenly there within seconds, the same expression he’s been working with since introduction.

“I have heard how you take care of the women who work with you.”

Picking up your drink, and stirring the straw, you let your eyes meet his. The small wooden table suddenly even smaller—the large suite, suddenly constricting in a way he hadn’t expected so far.

“S’not what I meant.”

“I know.” It’s curt, your reply. Clearing your throat, you snort, “You are handsome. I can see why you did so well. And, I might not need to say this, but I need you to know I like my job, and I don’t require that kind of care.”

Rubbing his jaw, he sighs. “That so?”

“I have something that can help with that. It doesn’t talk. It doesn’t need to remind it that it’s ‘so big’, and it doesn’t need me to call it baby. It just hums—politely—and makes my thighs shake. I just need you to be with me in this.”

He snorts, draining the rest of his glass. The ice clangs just before he places it back down on the table. “You bring it with you, your something?”

Licking your lips, your mouth slides into your cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Steve had told you his credentials—how he worked, how smart he was. How easily he was able to decipher a read on someone.

He did also mention much of Peña’s backstory—including his rich history with the opposite sex. A thing you hadn’t wanted to let escape out coated in catty and wrapped in bitchy. And yet, it had all the same.

You did want to get on with him, you admired him after all. Hearing the truths from Steve made the things that swirled like gossip even more impressive.

But, in all of the briefings you’ve had before agreeing to this, your boss had failed to mention that it wasn’t just the man’s tongue that got women to confess all their secrets, but his ridiculously handsome face too.

The one that keeps turning towards you—eyes concentrated in on you as though you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever had the chance to listen to.

But, it wasn’t just that. It’s that he’s quick-witted, observant, and it most definitely doesn’t help that he’s all broad shoulders and brown eyed. That, in part, you thought you could handle.

Then, he’d flirted.

On any other day, in any other place, you’re sure you’d have melted. Likely leant forward, elbow on your knee, tracing your bottom lip with your finger just to make his eyes drop to your mouth.

But, this isn’t any other day—it’s work, a job, one that requires him (in part) to be a flirt.

Clearing your throat, you smear on a smile. “You not tried to date since you’ve been home?”

His face hardens, just slightly.

It pinching, eyes more so than anywhere else—his smile falling, descending to a thin line as he traces his teeth with his tongue. Then, his eyes shift into an entirely different brown, an explosion of shades swirling—flecks of gold and sadness-infused umber.

“No.”

Nodding, you pick at some salad on the side of your plate. “Probably a good job—don’t need any angry people coming for me when I’m curled up on your arm.”

He snorts, but it doesn’t flutter over his face. His hand remains balled up, resting on the arm of the chair—something more there, prodding, needling him. He may be so easily able to read you, but you’re sure he’s about as clear as a warm day himself.

Landing his gaze back on you, you feel it linger, hover—before it begins to slip down from your eyes, landing somewhere at your neck, before the buttons off your shirt. Something warming inside of you, flooding out, spreading across your skin as you try your damnest to level your breathing.

“Got any more questions?”

“Plenty,” you reply, almost catching the y on your teeth before placing a light smirk out over your lips, letting it move across your face.

Gesturing, Peña licks his lips and so you begin with more. Not needing the book now, just working your way through the things which populate, which appear like bubbles he bursts with his answers.

He’s open about some things more than others. The two of you covering family quickly, childhoods even quicker. You both discreetly avoid too many details of Colombia, about the things you’d already heard in chunks from your superior.

Your 101 beginner class in your new husband proving to be easier to understand than your field handbook—although, you supposed the intermediate and expert levels to him would be far harder to crack.

He’s unmarried, not dating—there’s his dad, a sea of distant family and a town full of people whom his father would class as family. You suspect some guilt there, it layered between the conversation on his dad, and the one which followed when you’d asked if the ranch would be okay without him.

“—My Pops has had help for a long time. One of them has been promoted. He… He works there full time now.”

Even if he had tried to say it simply, it was laced in bitterness—not from jealousy, you suspect from the sadness that had poisoned over time. A well stuffed with things which had rotted and gone mouldy over time.

Upon sight of him this morning, you had known you’d need to be clever, smart—find ways to compartmentalise it all. Because, when he traces his nose with his finger, when his eyes widen a little more than normal—coffee-brown all but drowning you—you had known it would be hard otherwise.

Something there, niggling, piercing through.

“Any lovers I need to be aware of?”

Smiling, you slide your feet from your heels, pulling your legs up more, swallowing. “No, you’re good.”

“Any potential risks I need to be aware of—anyone who’ll call into question your new name?”

Your stomach knots, uncomfortably so. A thing balling inside of you, that same fear you’d been plucking at for days—ever since Steve had suggested your name, thrown it out on the conference table with a bunch of greedy eyes seated around it.

“No, I… you have nothing to worry about.”

He looks at you, lets it hover, hold. Something there, trying to disguise itself in the way he narrows his eyes a fraction, in the way his lips pinch together—the way his brain seems to whir like a fan that can be heard even across the table.

When you yawn, he makes a move to tidy up the plates for the tray—batting your hand away. “I’ve got it, cariño.”

“Cariño?”

Your cheeks are warm, more so under his stare. Easily able to smother it the first time, but found it difficult the second. It’s all wide, blooming—it tracing your eyes before it sweeps back to the tray.

“Gotta call my wife something original, special.”

“I’m hardly special, Peña.”

“If I’ve married you, you’re special.”

Clamping your mouth shut, you say nothing.

Something churning, a horribleness that you know stems from the fact this isn’t real. None of it. The niceness, the ring on your finger—the one your finger slides up your palm to brush over, to trace.

The one which didn’t have a home there this morning, but now sits like it’s always supposed to. Your stare on his back as he goes to the door, pushing the metal tray, the jingling of plates and glass sounding out as your heartbeat pounds in your ears, your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

It continues to hammer when your back flattened against the bathroom door—safe amongst marble, mirrors and an array of complimentary products which covered most of the sink.

Only as you begin to undress and change for bed, does it lessen, does your composure return back to you. The mask which you so delicately applied, the one which had taken more words of encouragement in your bathroom mirror this morning than you’d thought.

Because, it isn’t that you thought you couldn’t do this—but rather why would you?

This isn’t your expertise. Not your usual field of knowledge. The last time you’d even been on a date had been at least over a year ago, and the last time you’d lived with a man had been so long ago you were worried you’d wake tomorrow and learn you have habits you weren’t aware of.

Did you kick in your sleep?

Did you grind your teeth?

“Cariño?” Peña calls out, knuckles tapping on the door. “You good in there?”

No, you want to reply. Hands gripping the sink basin, staring at your makeup-less face and the nightie he was about to see you in.

“Yeah,” you call out, washing your hands, and flushing the toilet before unlocking the door, and emerging.

He’s polite enough to not drink you in, even if you're sure he’s craning his neck not to do so.

“Look. Before you crack your neck from not doing so.”

Smirking, he traces his fingers across his chin, before slowly dropping his eyes.

And you feel them.

Warm. Hot. Sliding over your neck, collarbone, down the silk which covers your chest, abdomen and most of your thighs, before he’s running his vision back up.

“Better?”

“Nice legs.”

Narrowing your eyes, you straighten your spine. “Try not to dream about them, and Peña?”

He hums.

“Try to remember you’re not actually married, don’t want you falling for the fantasy we’re putting on. Hate to break your heart.”

Leaning against the doorframe, staring at you, you somehow manage to level your breath. “If it’s you breaking my heart, Sunny. I might just let you.”

Your mouth almost falls open. Almost.

Something you think he's aware of from the way he smiles, from the way he drinks you in before he whispers about getting passed.

Then, you're alone.

Filling your lungs with a breath, staring around the room not sure how you're going to make it a week not cracking, never mind more.

CHAPTER TWO ->

AN: thank you for letting me tell the story how i always envisioned. your kindness is appreciated.

440 notes · View notes

danibeanie · 21 days

Text

1:24 am astro observations

🦎 I just realized that my 1st ever relationship/fling was when it was the month of my rising sign -taurus. I feel like this makes a lot of sense because your literally the main character for most of that month… even better if you have the next ruling sign 😋

🦎 mercury conjunct mars people have such a sharp tongue 😭 it doesn’t matter what sign it’s in. the way these people communicate can come off rude but it’s just the way they talk.

ex- my new manger has this and it was easy to get offended by her even though she was just giving me orders lol. also kendrick lamar has this aspect and I’m not even gonna get into it cause y’all KNOW

🦎pluto in second house solar return and YOU will make more bank. drastic changes to your money and you can even think of saving money if there’s not any tense aspects with other planets.

🦎no one is gonna understand you more than someone that has their moon sign as your ascendent OR same sun sign as their moon vise versa.🤷🏻‍♀️

🦎 lilith conjunct ascendent synastry is DANGEROUS because why are you so attracted to me and why am I so attracted to you. yet I don’t want you… def my gemini placements 😭

🦎 what’s up with pisces men and wanting to get high with you?!? any pisces placements in matter of fact. they fall into my 11th house so I’m surrounded by a lot of them but there’s always some substance going on.

🦎I personally am not the biggest fan of 10th house synastry. Only when it’s in the work place but beyond that it can be a bit awkward just trying to talk about more personal things. it really depends on the whole chart.

🦎 you’ll never forget anyone that has fallen planets. there’s this authenticity that exudes from them and SOOO many people like to talk about the negatives but when you learn to maneuver around the obstacles you’ll leave a lasting impression on that planets energy.

🦎 cancer mars has such explosive anger which is why most of us resort to crying cause our emotions just bottle up. kendrick lamar being one is not surprising because believe me when I say this… HE AINT EVER LETTING THIS GO😭 cancer mars hold grudges like no other like there’s a reason he’s dropped 4 diss tracks.

⬆️ I notice that many people are taking his side (me) which is funny considering he’s a libra rising so him already being venusian is helping him a ton -people already wanna like you.

🦎drake being heavy scorpio can benefit him by stepping into his power and transform this whole fiasco into something positive for him. OR- destroy him by being exposed for all his dirty lies and his rap career going downhill.

⬆️ it doesn’t help that his chiron is in gemini so he’s obviously gonna feel some type of way about any ♊️ placements. drake is always taking about gemini women in his songs and how he can never figure them out. 😭

🦎 the whole scorpio-gemini axis is so funny because I genuinely think these signs are more similar than we think. as someone with heavy gemini placements many people seem to think were more “mysterious”. but people tend to forget that we have sag in Pluto so there’s MANY oppositions that people with heavy gemini placements have. this creates that plutonian energy. and since it’s a mutable sign it adapts to mostly anything which is why people call us “two faced”.

#astro observations #astro community #astrology content

379 notes · View notes

shebreathedherlast · 4 months

Text

Daughter of the Sea

Part I

Done For

Luke Castellan x f!reader

Summary: You wanted glory but Luke already had it. You have no option but to take it from him.

Word Count 1.3k

TW: Violence, weapons, blood

. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・.

Tearing through the forest your legs carried you as fast as you could go. This was the day. You needed this win. The wind flew through your hair as you ran. You were in enemy territory now, and that meant you had to be on high alert.

As an unclaimed half-blood you needed a way, anyway to prove your worth. And since camp offered glory you figured you might as well take it. You would've long ago if it wasn’t for Camp Half Blood’s designated golden boy, Luke Castellan. In your mind, he could be labelled by anything besides “the golden boy.” Luke was overwhelmingly competitive. He fought hard to earn the place of the “best swordsman at camp.” But even harder to keep it.

Living in close quarters with him for a little over a year, you had learned Luke’s best and worst qualities, and he did have many bad qualities.

For one Mr. Golden Boy, all but self-assumed the role of head counsellor. He just saw an opportunity for power and took it without question. When you thought about it, it did make sense. Luke wanted control because being a half-blood, a tool for the gods was all but a freeing life. You never had any say, no control, no power.

Luke might have enjoyed power, but you craved it in your very soul.

. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・.

Your sword rang out with a clang when it met your opponent’s blade. You would earn glory, even if you had to claw it from between the fist of Luke himself.

With another swift blow, your opponent was down. Sprawled on the ground, trying to regain his breath. The boy, Chris, was supporting his body weight by placing his elbows on the ground beneath him. You had disarmed him and now you were holding your knife against his throat.

“They should call you the wraith, with the way you sneak up on people.” Chris said, a chuckle muffed by his inhale of breath.

“That sounds so extra.” You shiver, “Not my style.”

A voice flitted through the air behind you, “That sound’s like it’s exactly your style, Chaos.”

You groaned in annoyance. “I was supposed to hunt you down, Castellan, you took all the fun out of this.”

Luke rolled his eyes at you. He contended with a raise of his brows, “Well, it looks like I was the one who caught you by surprise.”

You laughed at that. Did Luke really believe he could sneak up on you? “I could hear you coming from a mile away with your loud footsteps. You’re about as subtle as an elephant, Castellan.”

By now Chris was shifting his weight to get up. Noticing this, you pulled a knife from your boot and threw it in his direction. Chris froze, knife pinning his shirt to the ground.

“Stay down Chris.” Was all you said before turning your attention back to the boy in front of you. Christ obeyed, not moving an inch, in fear that your patience would wear thin. After all Luke could handle himself right? It wasn’t a hidden fact that for the better part of an entire year, you had been on the hunt for glory… specifically, the same glory that made Luke Castellan the camp-proclaimed “Golden Boy.”

“I’m going to enjoy humbling you, chaos.”

You scoffed, “In your dreams Castellan.”

And with that, your weapons clashed. Metal against metal, blade against blade. You had sparred with Luke many times before, he claimed you were the only one who could actually “put up a fight.” Every other time Luke had bested you. Your fights would last hours on end, each of you refusing to let the other assume victory. But, he always had this ability to fight without emotion. Anger never made him sloppy. You on the other hand. You used your anguish and pain to fuel you. It was both a blessing and a curse. You had the drive to fight till the end, but your rage could make you careless. Not today. You would keep your head on this time. You would win glory, one way or another.

He had his sword pointed to your chest, in response you raised your knives to push against his blade. You spun out of his reach and delivered a kick from behind. Luke stumbled forward as he tried to regain his stance. You wasted no time in lightly sinking your blade into his bicep. He hissed in pain.

“Chaos,” Luke groaned at the painful contact of your knife.

You snickered, “Ready to give up Castellan?”

He faced you head-on this time, “Never.”

Luke brought down his sword with such force, you thought the ground might have trembled. You held your daggers against his sword, preventing the weapon from piercing your skin. But he was stronger than you. Your arms weakened and he saw this as an opportunity to push down harder. Realizing this, you attempted to evade the sword, tumbling to your side, but the blade cut the flesh of your shoulder. Blood seeped out from the wound, coating your orange camp shirt in a deep crimson.

You drew a sharp breath, instinctively pressing your hand to the injury.

“That was way deeper than the nick I gave you.” You said through gritted teeth.

A brief look of concern filled Luke’s eyes before they glassed over with a dim look. His eyes darkened when he remembered that you wanted his glory.

“Get up and fight me, Chaos. Don’t you want my glory?” He taunted.

Your hand slid from your wound, readjusting the blades in your hands. “I will have your glory, Castellan, even if I have to kill myself trying.”

Luke’s eyes drank in your appearance. Eyes wild, hair falling from your ponytail. Knives in your grasp. And the determination radiating off you. This time was different from almost every other. You were determined to beat him, and loss wasn’t even a possibility. You and Luke always fought, both with blades and with words. And though he tried, he couldn’t deny that he started to find your anger increasingly more…attractive.

You swept his legs from under him, fighting for dominance as you straddled his waist. He wrested you off his frame as you grabbed his arm with the sword. You shifted your weight on his body as you reached for Luke’s sword. And at this, you could’ve sworn you had heard him inhale sharply.

Luke finally managed to push you off of him. He stood, holding his sword to your throat. The prospect of glory was fleeing from you and you would not accept it. You needed it, you craved it. With one last effort, you dropped your weapons, placing your hands on the belly and top of the sword. Luke stood fixed, too bewildered to calculate his next movements. The metal dug into your palms as you twisted your arms, disarming Luke in his confusion. You elbowed him in the shoulder, hearing a pristine popping noise before tackling him to the ground and pressing your forearm to his throat.

“Yield.” You spoke, breathlessly.

Luke simply nodded, seeing as he was defenceless and now his limbs were rendered useless.

A victorious smile reached your lips. You lifted your body off of his and reached the blue flag. Taking it in your bloody hands you ran to the boarder of the teams, firmly placing it on the soil of the read team.

Your fellow teammates let out a victorious yell. Even the conceited ares champion, Clarisse gave you a nod of approval. Near the lake a halo blue tridant appeared over your head, claiming you as Poseidon's child. You had achieved much more than glory. You had been seen by your father. After over a year of trying to earn your godly parent's favor, you had finally given your father something to be proud of.

As Luke and Chris walked back from their assigned station, they could see the glorious smirk that painted your features.

Yes, after that encounter Luke Castellan was definitely done for.

----

A/n This will become a series.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #pjo #pjo tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #luke castellan smut #percyjackson #rick riordan #charlie bushnell #walker scobell #x reader #reader insert #pjo series #f!reader #daughter of the sea

528 notes · View notes

crystalflygeo · 4 months

Text

The right moment ft Zhongli + fem!reader (modern!AU)

cw/tags: Discussions about first time/loss of virginity. Mentions oral/fingering/handjobs. A bit of pain. This is mostly just comfort tbh.

notes: REMEMBER EVERYONE!! It's okay to change your mind, it's okay to take your time and it's okay to say NO when it comes to sex, for any reason at any time, all of that is valid, and if your partner doesn't respect that or otherwise makes you feel bad for it drop them. (Ty @ainescribe and @silentmoths for beta'ing hehe. Also Happy year of the dragon btw!)

You were trembling in his arms. Zhongli embraced you, holding your body against his chest, peppering kisses along your neck and shoulders making you shiver on top of the sheets.

This was it, this was the moment.

You two had fumbled around enough, getting used to his touch, his kisses, his love. And a little burning flame had been born from that along with the flutter in your lovestruck heart. Zhongli was perfect: gentle, patient, smart, kind, handsome…

And you love him.

And you want him.

Which is why one day you gathered up courage, you picked a day where you were not at risk (according to your calendar at least?) made sure you had some ‘protection’ stashed away at your bedside table and said…

“Li, I’m ready.”

“Hm?” He turned to you from his spot on the couch and blinked.

You laced your hands nervously. “I… want to have sex with you. I’m ready.” You blurted out, blushing.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, though he didn’t immediately say anything. “Are you sure, dear? What brought this on so suddenly?” He asked after a few moments.

“Quite sure.” You nodded, a little more confident, armed with your courage, your little preparations, and of course… excitement. “I just… think it’s time. I want to.”

It was… a little difficult not to be on edge as the moment approached.

Your first time. You’d gladly give it to Zhongli.

It’s not like you were completely new to sex, per se. Truth be told Zhongli had already been your ‘first’ on quite a few things. Your sexual experiences had gone from a bit of heavy petting over the clothes during make out sessions to him eating you out until you’re a whimpering mess or you giving him a few rare handjobs. You just had never… gone all the way.

Technically still a virgin.

But that was changing tonight. You were determined.

Zhongli was soft and reverent, an absolute gentleman as he lowered you on the bed, effortlessly sensual as his hands roamed your body like many other times before. Treating you with utmost gentleness, as if you were a bunny ready to sprint away at the first wrong move. He teased your chest and thighs, nipped softly at your skin and you answered with passionate kisses and heated touches, pulling him closer, letting out pleased hums. He made you come on those skilled fingers and tongue and your body melted, relaxing for him.

And now’s the time…

“You are so beautiful… I love you.” He murmurs the words, warm against your collarbone and you sigh, still panting a bit and recovering from your orgasm.

“Love you too, Li…”

You cup his face and pull him up to kiss his lips again, his strong arms leaning on either side of you. Like this, he’s hovering over you, his larger frame caging you radiating warmth and lust.

You feel his cock press against your hip and almost jolt. You don’t know why but suddenly you refuse to stare at it since, very soon, it was going to be inside you. It was a weird rush of worry, nervousness and giddy arousal.

You know for a fact he’s… big. You remember well the feeling of him on your hand, large and thick, and suddenly you begin to doubt whether or not you would be able to get that thing inside of you.

But you are determined.

He puts on a condom and squeezes some lube into his hand, spreading it evenly on his hard erection, your breath hitches.

He parts your legs and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if he could sense it too. Your face is flushed, your thoughts and senses are a flurry of emotions.

“Are you ready? Relax…” He caresses your thigh.

You feel the tip of his cock poking at your entrance as he slowly guides himself and suddenly there is this weird uncomfortable pressure as he pushes inside. You gasp.

“Ah-!” You yelp in pain and whimper. It was… so big.

Zhongli groans. “Darling, relax… you’re so tight.” His brow furrows slightly in concentration as your pussy clamps down on him.

You whine and bite your lip, hips jolting. He presses a bit deeper and you feel… weirdly stretched out, like you’re going to tear. It hurts. You try to endure it, it’s supposed to hurt, right? It’ll get better. But it continues to hurt. You don’t like it. You panic. “W-wait- wait wait- stop!” You cry out.

Zhongli immediately pulls out and your legs clamp shut, as if shielding you, that weird sensation is still there, you feel… raw, tender.

Your eyes water.

“Dear, are you ok? Did I hurt you?” Zhongli asks, cupping your face, golden eyes searching for your own, assessing your expression.

You avert your gaze, rolling over onto your side. “I’m sorry…” You mumble.

He still tries to face you, worried, so worried, your Zhongli. “Whatever for…?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, bite your lip, a few tears fall onto the bed. Gods you feel so ridiculous and childish and stupid and- “I’m sorry… I was so sure, I thought- I… I don’t think I’m ready. I don’t want to… do this anymore- not now. I’m sorry.” You sob.

“There is nothing for you to apologize for. If anything, I am the one who’s sorry for hurting you, please forgive me, this is… not the experience I wanted you to have.” Zhongli sighs, displeased at seeing you like this.

You finally look up at him, puffy eyes peeking over your shoulder. “It’s not your fault, it’s me… I have this whole… idea, all these expectations. I wanted this to be perfect and I ruined it.”

He rubs slow circles at your back, soothing. “My dear, I don’t think intimacy is something that should be ruled by a standard in any capacity, nor should it be measured and compared, just as experiences and feelings aren’t. These things just flow naturally.”

“You’re not… upset?”

His expression turns serious. “Of course not. On the contrary, I am glad you voiced out your feelings and I’ll respect your boundaries.” He leans down and brushes some hair from your face before depositing a kiss on your cheek. “I want you to feel good, your comfort is of utmost importance. There’s no need to feel pressured.”

You sigh deeply, groan into the bedsheets and then sit up again, pouting at him. “Still, we got all… worked up for nothing. I-I mean I can still…” You gesture vaguely at his lap. “If you want?” You squeak.

Zhongli chuckles and tries to pass it off as a cough. Your face heats up. “No need to concern yourself with that, the arousal is ebbing away, it’ll go down on its own.”

“Oh.”

There is silence for a few moments.

“Do you want-”

“Would you like to-”

“Ah, go ahead.” You shake your head. He smiles.

“I was going to propose a bath.”

You hum. “That sounds lovely. And then maybe… some cuddling on the couch while we watch tv?”

“I would like nothing more.”

He kisses your forehead and heads to the bathroom and as you gingerly stand up, look around and think on how things turned out you think it’s fine.

The right moment will come. You already have the right person by your side.

411 notes · View notes

xxblairexxss · 11 months

Text

Tradition

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

In which you decided to surprise Charles to cheer him up. Based on this,

You had been with Charles ever since he was in Formula 2. You were there and witnessed every sweats and hard work he put in to chase his dream. You knew him at the back of your hand and you knew very well how he would always put on his mask to cover up his actual emotions. The first time you saw him putting the mask on was when he had a race in Baku, only a few days after Hervé Leclerc passed away.

“Good luck, Charles. Come back to me in one shape.” You mumbled into his chest as he pulled you into a tight hug. When he pulled away and you locked eyes with him, all you could see was an unwavering stare full of determination. “Thank you, bébé. I promise. Wait for me, alright?”

He won the race and you were so elated that you couldn’t stop crying. You saw him stepped on a podium with a smile, completely illuminated the fact that he lost his father 4 days ago and that he wasn’t and won’t be there to give him a hug and to witness his win anymore.

But all those strong facade he had came crashing down when he pulled you into his driver’s room after all media sessions and immediately locked you in his arms, tears rolled down his eyes almost instantly. “I managed to block all thoughts during the race but when I stepped on the podium, part of me was looking for his face, his smile. When I went and hugged the teams, I was looking for him to hear him say ‘You did it, son.’ as he always did. How do I get used to this, baby.” “You’ll be okay, Charles. I promise it’ll be okay but it takes time, don’t push yourself to be strong.” You placed your chin on his shoulders as your hand went to the back of his head to gently massage the back of his hair.

A year later, he lost his grandmother. You have met her a lot of times and she was the sweetest ever. Charles always talked about how his grandmother would sew a little cross on his race suit before he raced but he let it go when she passed away and he stopped having a small cross on his race suit.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

His mood hasn’t been very bright this season. The constant problems with the car, the sudden DNF in Bahrain, the crash in Miami’s qualifying, you knew he was struggling mentally but again, the mask.

Until one day you were alone in your hotel room in Austria as Charles went to the paddock to have a short briefing regarding the upgrades. He left his Ferrari hoodie because it started raining and he was sensitive to cold, he said.

So you took the jacket and pulled out a travel sewing kit that you brought from home and started to sew a small hand embroidery heart at the end of the sleeve. God knows how many errors you had when you first made an attempt to follow the Youtube tutorials but guess it was all worth it.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

When he came back, you were sitting on the bed with the hoodie hidden under the duvet and you grinned at him as he made his way to sit in front of you. He tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear and left a peck on your nose. “Hi, pretty girl.” “Hi, baby!” You replied, still keeping the grin on your face. He chuckled and cocked an eyebrow, eyes still locked with yours. “Precious, I know that smile very well. Did you have something to tell me?”

That was when you took the hoodie and handed it to him. He took it, but full of confusion because it’s not like you never worn his shirts or hoodies before. “Look at this.” You pointed at the small, grey coloured embroidery heart. “It’s not a good luck charm, I know you don’t believe nor do you need it. I just thought it would remind you about your late grandmother, about how strong you are and how far you have made it.”

“I love it, baby. It’s cute.”

“You think so…?”

“Yeah! Are you kidding me? How could I not love this? Oh, I am so gonna show this off to everyone. I’m gonna pretend as if I’m scratching my hair so this could be seen in the camera or like playing with my bracelets so everyone can see it.”

“Stop it!” You laughed and cupped on his cheeks. How could you not fall in love with him.

charles_leclerc

Liked by f1 and 897,608 others

charles_leclerc It feels good to be back in the podium. We'll work flat out to be back on the top step as soon as possible

View all 5,893 comments

noahschnapp 👏🏼👏🏼

charlesdimples is that your good luck charm

sharllerc now we know why you are back on podium

lordperceval PARENTSS ❤️

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines

1K notes · View notes

claudemblems · 6 months

Text

A Kiss to End All Doubt | Albert Moriarty

Summary: When you agreed to tag along with the Moriarty brothers to a grand ball, the last thing you expected was to receive a noble's offer of marriage. Thankfully, Albert plays the part of your lover well, perhaps a little too well for his affectionate words to be fake...

Content: SFW. Fem!Reader. 3,723 words. Pining. Soooo much romantic tension. Albert is a flirt and no one is surprised.

Notes: I have been writing this fic for what feels like forever BUT IT'S FINALLY FINISHED :3 I'm so excited to finally give this to you. I hope you enjoy it 💖 I may also add an epilogue if there's an interest for one...🤭

Did Albert Moriarty, one of the many faces of the Lord of Crime, truly not have the slightest idea of the effect he had on you?

It was silly to even fathom that a man of his stature could be so oblivious, but you couldn’t help but start to wonder once he started giving your flushed cheeks and wide eyes a quizzical look.

That, or he was playing coy with you, which wouldn’t be all that surprising coming from him. He’d long since mastered the art of making noble ladies go weak in the knees.

But that was a skill he’d acquired out of pure necessity. If he had things his way, he’d refuse to give the stuck up women of the nobility the time of day. Unfortunately, he had a role to play in all of his brother’s plans, and so he continued flirting with the noble ladies just long enough to leave them wanting more.

You, on the other hand, were no noble. In fact, you had no good fortune, distinguished education, or marriageable prospects to speak of. Truly, you were nothing but a mere face hidden amongst the shadows, which was perfect for an assistant to the Lord of Crime.

You’d begun to empathize with Albert’s disdain for these royal functions, mainly the lavish balls he and his brothers had little choice but to attend. It was important for them to keep up appearances as a well-rounded noble family who knew how to mingle with the upper-class, whether they enjoyed doing so or not. While they seemed to have gotten used to it for the most part, it proved to be quite the difficult adjustment for you. Thankfully, Albert had patiently taught you the ins and outs of noble life, giving you lessons on small talk and etiquette whenever time permitted.

However, he hadn’t yet taught you how to handle a nobleman’s advances.

“You must be Lady [Name],” the man greeted, holding out his hand for you to take. You briefly glanced towards Albert, taking his nod as a sign to follow through with the gesture. A kiss was placed onto your hand before the man let go, stepping back to better admire the exquisite sights around him. “It’s quite a splendid ball, isn’t it? There’s so many well-mannered and intelligent guests in our midst, such as you, young Lord Albert.”

“Lord Darnley, you are far too kind,” Albert said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing. “I ought to be extending the compliments to you. Your presence here is most welcome, as well as that of your entourage. Would the girl you brought with you happen to be your little sister, Lady Georgina?”

“Ah, I see you’ve made sure to memorize the names of all the guests! Indeed, she insisted on joining me, and no matter what I said, she refused to take no for an answer!” Darnley bellowed in laughter, briefly drawing the attention of the other guests nearby.

“She already seems to be quite the free spirit. I’m sure she has a bright future ahead of her.”

“If you’re so interested in my dear Georgina, I would be more than willing to sit down and discuss a potential marriage between the two of you.”

You swore you saw a flash of disgust appear in Albert’s eyes, but he simply smiled brightly at Darnley, careful that his emotions did not look fake or contrived. “While your offer is certainly generous, I have no plans of marriage at the moment. I’m afraid I’m already plenty busy with my service in the royal army.”

“Ah, what a shame,” Lord Darnley sighed, but his disappointment quickly turned to anticipation when his gaze once again fell on you. Your stomach lurched at the look in his eyes, but you tried to retain your composure, copying Albert’s mannerisms by offering a surface-level smile.

“Lady [Name], I am supposing you are not yet married if you’re attending this function with the Moriartys.”

“That would be correct, my good sir. How astute of you to notice.”

Lord Darnley grinned at the news like a hunter mere moments away from ensnaring this prey. “Well then, my lady, is there anyone that has asked for your hand yet?”

Goosebumps ran down your arms as you swallowed thickly. Anyone with a right mind knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

“I…well…” Should you tell the truth? Should you lie? But then who would you say had expressed a desire in marrying you? “It’s…complicated.”

“So, that would mean no formal question has been posed then, correct?”

“...Correct.”

You heard Albert’s feet shift next to you, on guard for whatever preposterous idea this nobleman could come up with next.

“Well, it’s certainly not good for a lady of your standing to be without a husband. I, myself, am quite the romantic, and I believe a courting period fosters a genuine love between both parties involved. If you have no one currently vying for your hand, perhaps you’d offer me the chance to earn it.”

No. No. On so many levels, no.

But this wasn’t about you—your happiness or married life did not come before the liberation of London. Whatever the brothers asked of you, you would adhere to their words, even if it meant having to be stuck with a man such as…this. Though you knew they’d never even entertain the thought of offering you up to some man who cared only for your beauty and status and nothing for your heart. If you were to refuse Darnley’s advances, at the least, you were confident the Moriartys would respect your decision.

Even so, you didn’t want to cause any more trouble for them. If you couldn’t agree to the idea of marriage, perhaps a date or two would suffice, right?

Just the thought made you feel sick.

“Well, what do you say, my lady? Will you allow me the pleasure of courting you?”

You knew you had to keep up appearances. You couldn’t allow for cracks to show in the perfect and amicable facade the Moriartys had carefully crafted. You knew that well, and yet…

This was a proposal that not even death itself could bring you to accept.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I must sincerely refuse.”

Lord Darnley stared at you in alarm. “Come again? You didn’t just say no to my advances, did you?”

Your heart rate quickened as his words grew heated, and in that moment you wanted nothing more than to take off and hide somewhere safe and quiet in the manor’s garden, away from other people who might come up with even more ridiculous propositions.

“It’s just as you heard, my lord. I must decline.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Lord Darnley stared straight into your eyes, not blinking for several long moments. Your hands had begun to shake as you feared that you’d just begun tarnishing the reputation of the Moriarty family. Truly, there were fewer things more terrifying than a nobleman who felt he’d been insulted, and the consequences for such an offense would be nothing short of dire.

“Lady [Name], you are in no place to refuse my offer. You said yourself that no other man has even brought up the idea of marriage to you! Are you truly so brazen that you would reject the prospects of a life in union with mine? We all know who makes the decisions around here, and they’re certainly not made by women—!”

“My good sir, I believe you’ve said quite enough.”

A small gasp left your lips as Albert sneaked a hand around your waist, still carefully holding his glass of wine in the other. You searched his face for an answer as to what he was scheming, but he simply smiled—a true one this time—wordlessly reassuring you that all would be well.

“You see, Lady [Name] may not have received an offer of marriage as of yet, but that is only because I have been quite busy protecting our beloved country. I wish to propose when I am able to be at home more often and thus can fulfill my duties as a devoted husband to my wife. So I must politely ask that you rescind your offer, lest you make yourself seem as though you chase after taken women.”

Propose? Husband?

If you were afraid of tainting the Moriarty image, Albert clearly didn’t share your concerns.

“Taken? Why, I—! You’re bluffing, Lord Albert! You’re not planning on marrying this woman!”

“And what has brought you to that incorrect conclusion?”

“If that were the case, you would have brought it up the moment I asked if she were single!”

“To be fair, you asked if she’d received an offer for marriage, not if she was currently available to court.”

You could practically see the steam coming out of Lord Darnley’s ears, his face growing redder with each passing minute. He was still unconvinced, and for good reason, too, but you weren’t about to let Albert’s kindness go to waste.

You placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder, smiling up at him as he redirected his full attention to you. “It’s true, my lord. My affections have been reciprocated by my dear Albert, and I am patiently waiting for him to ask me to marry him. It will be a proposal I shall readily accept.”

Darnley scoffed, a hand placed over his heart in disbelief. “And you had the gall not to tell me when I’d begun to question you? Either you’re a terrible liar, or you’re just hoping to humiliate me in front of all these guests!”

“I would never dream of deceiving or insulting you, my lord. I should have made my relationship status clear to you earlier. Please forgive my carelessness.”

“I still think this is some elaborate hoax the both of you are trying to pull off. If not to tarnish my good name, then to convince every noble here that you’re worth the status bestowed on you at birth.” Lord Darnley swiped a fresh glass of wine off the tray of one of the waiters walking by, the man watching in horror as the lord downed all of the liquid in one gulp. His cheeks had started to take on a flushed hue from the great amount of alcohol he’d consumed that night, and with the way things were going, he was sure to be drunk by the end of it. “Perhaps, Lady [Name],” Darnley continued, a lopsided smirk forming on his face, “you’ve been lying about your social status, and you’re hoping that your marriage to Lord Albert will secure you a place in the upper class.”

Anger surged through you at his utterly ridiculous theory. Darnley had unknowingly gotten one fact right: you were a nobody. When you’d been taken in by the Moriarty family, you had nothing to your name but pen, paper, and the clothes on your back. But you knew one thing for sure: you had worth as a human being, and no one, noble or otherwise, would be able to change that.

And marrying a noble for status? What a laughable suggestion. As if you’d stoop so low just for some so-called “honor” among the elite.

“Well, dear sir,” you began, discreetly hiding a smirk behind your gloved hand, “I had no idea you were so foolish as to even come up with such an inconceivable thought. I once held you in high regard as I’ve heard many within the nobility sing your praises, but your current behavior is quite unbecoming of a person of your stature.”

You heard Albert try, and fail, to stifle a laugh next to you. You quietly breathed out a sigh of relief to see that he’d chosen not to reprimand your strong words. If anything, he seemed eager to encourage them.

As Lord Darnley frantically signaled for a waiter to bring him more wine, Albert took the opportunity to lean down next to your ear, whispering a simple yet heart-pounding question, “[Name], would it be all right with you to play further into these roles of enchanted lovers?”

Your breath caught in your throat, butterflies beginning to form in your stomach. “Of course,” you said. If only you knew how I truly felt, you wouldn’t even need to ask.

He smiled down at you, a sight that only stirred up the butterflies even more, and pulled you closer against him. Meanwhile, his eyes bored into Lord Darnley’s frame, darkening with every passing moment. If there was no one else in that ballroom, you had no doubt Albert would have leapt at the chance to get rid of him.

When Lord Darnley had finished downing another glass of wine, his fiery countenance returned to you and Albert. “You both are frauds,” he spat. “Everyone else here might be too dim-witted to figure it out, but I’ll make them aware that you’re not the upstanding moral characters you believe that you are.”

“It’s a shame to hear such vile thoughts coming from your own mouth, good sir,” Albert sighed. “But if I must be honest, I don’t care what any noble in this room thinks of me or the house in which I rule over.”

“Oh? And why is that, good sir?”

“Because,” Albert answered, turning his body towards yours, his visage noticeably softening when his focus returned to you, “the only person I want to please is the woman I adore. Not one person in the nobility is worthy of praise or merit—no one but her alone.”

Setting aside his glass, Albert gingerly took your hand in his own, meeting your eyes to silently ask for your permission. At your nod of approval, he lifted your fingertips to his lips, placing a gentle and almost reverent kiss against them.

“I love her,” he said, his sweet gaze reaching the very depths of your soul, “and when the time is right, I will make her mine.”

His words were like a match igniting the fire blazing in your heart, the flames fed by your deep affections for him, growing with every beat that thumped in your chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand came to rest against your cheek, his touch so light yet so dizzying, more intoxicating than any wine you’d had that night.

Albert searched your eyes as all the feelings you’d tried to keep at bay finally came pouring in like waves. You were sure he could see it all: the admiration, the yearning, the love you’d kept locked away. But somehow he’d managed to find the matching key, the truth you’d been hiding for all these years finally at his reach.

His fingers traveled along your cheek and down to your jaw, this thumb tracing patterns against your skin. You were still dazed from his words to Darnley, but you brought yourself to meet Albert’s gaze once more, curious to see what truths you could uncover in his own expression.

And you wished you hadn’t, because when you saw the affection so clearly present in them, you wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until the night turned into day.

Albert wasn’t oblivious, and you knew it. Whatever people thought of him as—a genius, a young prodigy, a man of great knowledge—his ability to read people was beyond the average person’s comprehension. And you knew when he’d finally figured out what the person he’d been surveying was hiding. His lips would quirk upwards ever so slightly, the dimples on his face just beginning to show, and he’d cock his head to the side, pleased with his findings.

And that was exactly how he was looking at you.

You’d placed your heart out in plain view of his observant eyes, and he’d figured you out. But now that he knew of your feelings for him, what was he planning to do with them?

Albert’s thumb drifted from your jaw down your lips, careful not to brush off the lipstick staining them. He stared at them for several moments, deep in thought, before he returned his eyes to yours, a single question hidden within them.

May I?

Already breathless, you squeezed his hand once, closing your eyes as Albert leaned in painstakingly slowly, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation. This was the moment you’d only been able to imagine in dreams, on nights where you sat wordlessly under the stars, silently wishing upon them in vain. They couldn’t grant you your desires. They couldn’t give you everything you ever wanted. You were the only one with the power to seize your opportunity and make your own wish come true.

And as Albert’s lips finally fell on yours, you smiled.

Your greatest wish was being granted right before your very eyes.

His lips tasted faintly of wine, and the subdued scent of his cologne still lingered on his collar. Combined with the warm and comforting touch of his hand cupping your face, your senses were overwhelmed in the most wonderful of ways. It felt as if you’d begun to float, brought into a fairy tale-esque trance where the entire world grew still except for you and Albert.

Time had stalled to allow you this moment of pure, undeniable bliss that not even the corrupt powers of this world could take away from you.

With his lips still on yours, Albert’s hand snaked further around your waist, gently pulling you closer against him. You practically had no room left between the two of you, and so in a moment of boldness, you placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, right above his heart. Even through his suit, you could feel it beating wildly.

It only made you wonder: did he truly mean what he’d said earlier? Did he really harbor such affection for you? Did he really intend…to make you his?

Before you could ponder anymore, Albert finally pulled away, cheeks faintly dusted with rose. He appeared somewhat dazed himself, but he kept his composure, still well aware of where the two of you were at the moment.

But this time when he turned to Darnley, he smirked, practically beaming from head to toe with delight as he spoke. “Well, Lord Darnley, do you believe us now?”

If looks could kill, both of you would have succumbed to that man’s rage.

Darnley’s hands gripped his wine glass so tightly that it shattered onto the floor, the remnants of wine staining his once perfectly polished suit. Other nobles stopped their conversations and turned to him upon hearing the commotion, a few of them even pulling out handkerchiefs.

“Sir, let me get you a new glass,” a waiter spoke, holding his hand out to take the broken one from him. But Lord Darnley was already fuming, and he shoved the waiter to the side, smashing the rest of the wine glass against the floor.

“You will pay for this,” he snarled. Sending you one final glare, he turned on his heel, marching out of the ballroom, hopefully never to be seen again (at least for the night).

“Well,” Albert breathed, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t think he’ll be bothering us anymore.”

“You’re right…Thank you, Albert.”

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked, gaze drifting back to yours. “I’ve done nothing to warrant your gratitude.”

You shook your head. “You have, Albert. You didn’t have to step in and save me from Darnley’s advances, but you did, even though doing so could have tarnished your family name. I’m indebted to you.”

Albert frowned ever so slightly, and you cocked your head to the side, confused. After a few moments, his gaze flickered to the people dancing around the room, his cheeks still tinged a beautiful red. “If you thought I was doing all that just to be a gentleman,” he murmured, “then I don’t know what it would take to make the truth clear to you...”

Well, suddenly you were the one left blushing.

“It’s not that. I…I don’t want to assume anything more, not when you’re such a precious person to me. I’m just scared of ruining what we have between us.”

Albert turned his attention back to you, using the hand that was still on your waist to pull you close to him again. Taking your other hand in his, he lifted it up to his lips, your faces now just mere inches apart.

“And what if I were to say that I do want something more?”

You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream.

But you still felt the press of his lips against yours, took in the smell of his cologne, and memorized the touch of his fingers running along your cheek. It was not a dream. It was even better.

Albert leaned down next to your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. “If one kiss isn’t enough to convey how much my heart yearns for you, then allow me to kiss you until you’re breathless, and no more words of doubt are left on your tongue.”

Albert smiled as your face grew redder, and with the way he bit his lip, you knew he was struggling not to comment on it.

“For a noble, you sure lack any semblance of shame, Master Albert."

Albert shook his head and chuckled to himself, that mischievous glint having once again returned to his eyes. “Keep teasing me and you’ll find out just how shameless I can be, darling.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Do you want to find out?”

Despite your flustered state, you couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing Albert’s hand tighter in yours. “If you want to kiss me so badly, do so in a place that’s actually romantic, will you?”

Taking you by the hand, Albert began to lead you outside of the ballroom and into the rose gardens. “Of course, and I’ll take my time to make sure I kiss you properly.”

You made a mental note to thank William and Louis for letting you tag along to the ball. If all went well, they would end up becoming your own brothers-in-law, after all.

But that could wait until you finally had Albert’s affections all to yourself.

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #albert moriarty #albert moriarty x reader #kat writes #IT'S FINALLY HERE #Honestly I'm so happy with this one :3

452 notes · View notes

theelastword · 2 months

Text

i saw a very interesting post recently from @fellthemarvelous about how Aziraphale is often treated the way female love interests are— likely because his hobbies and emotions are more traditionally feminine whereas crowley’s style and anger are more traditionally masculine despite the fact that neither of them are gendered. the thesis of the post was essentially that because crowley is the one who fell, fans have decided that aziraphale only exists to comfort and protect and bring peace to crowley rather than be his own person with his own emotions and ambitions. i’d never been able to put this into words, but it’s like this person stole what i was feeling right from my brain and i am so thankful to their eloquence.

but it did get me thinking about the end of season 2— specifically how many fans, even people who defend aziraphale for what he did, believe that the “only” way for his choices in the finale to be valid are if he did them for crowley’s safety/well-being. i’ve seen so many arguments along the lines of “oh, he has to go back so he can fix Heaven for Crowley and make him heal from falling” or “oh, he has to go back to Heaven because if he doesn’t, Metatron could go after crowley and he needs to keep him safe”. and while both of these very popular aziraphale-defenses are valid (this is not an attack on anyone’s opinion!) and i wouldn’t be surprised if they played into his reasoning for leaving, i can’t help but think of that lovely person’s female-love-interest argument.

i don’t actually think aziraphale leaving for heaven needs to be related to crowley at all. it can, of course— and likely does— but aziraphale has gone through just as much Heaven-induced trauma as crowley has, something that many fans (and even the characters themselves, sometimes) like to forget. aziraphale knows first-hand how abusive Heaven is to young angels and humans who they deem unworthy of being saved. and so to me, it is just as valid if it turns out aziraphale going back to Heaven wasn’t “for” crowley at all, but rather a way to protect these other generations from the abuse of Heaven that aziraphale has witnessed and been victim to. is it so hard or unacceptable to think that aziraphale could make a choice that doesn’t have to do with his love life? he is not obligated—nor is crowley!— to live entirely as though he’s making something up/repaying/protecting his love interest. that kind codependency is not something to idolize. i guess what i’m trying to say here is that there are other reasons to go back to Heaven having nothing to do with keeping crowley safe, and while that is a perfectly valid interpretation, i’m not personally a fan of the widespread belief that it’s the only interpretation that makes what aziraphale did “forgivable”.

EDIT/ADDITION: i ALSO think that this is why i’m so bothered by the argument that while Crowley being “selfish” and choosing his own path at the end of s2 is perfectly valid, aziraphale doing the exact same thing is not. i do not blame either one of them for making a different choice, but in my opinion far too many people believe that crowley had a right to his own autonomy and do what he thought was best for himself, whereas somehow it was Aziraphale’s job to choose the same thing in accordance to what was most healthy for CROWLEY and not for himself/his own ambitions as regards to Heaven. people think that crowley has an obligation to do what is best for crowley, but that aziraphale’s subsequent obligation is to also do what’s best for crowley. no one seems to particularly care what may be best for aziraphale. at the end of the day, if one of them can make a self-prioritizing choice, the other can, too. aziraphale is his own person, not a love interest!!!!

257 notes · View notes

of-many-fandomss · 1 year

Note

jake seresin being drunk and coming home to the reader and it's basically just really cute and full of fluff!!

My first top gun blurb!! (I’m so mad I had to rewrite this cause it deleted the first time and it isn’t as good this time cause I don’t remember what I wrote)

—————

Jake was vaguely aware of the fact that he reeked of alcohol, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care as he stumbled through the short hall towards his bedroom, making a small game out of trying not to hit the walls in his drunken state.

Rooster had just dropped him off at home after a ‘guys night out’ at the Hard Deck for their first week off in a long time that may or may not have ended in one too many beers. Originally, he had insisted on staying home with you, to which you laughed and practically had to tackle him out the door to make sure he went to enjoy himself with his friend.

Clumsily, Jake flailed around for the handle, but stopped short as soon as he threw the door open. A person was sitting up against the headboard of his bed, eyes widening a little bit in surprise as they looked up from the book they held open in their lap.

A small smile formed on your lips at the sight of him standing in your doorway looking around in confusion, noticing right away that he was slightly drunk.

“Hey, honey-“

“Who are you?” He hissed in a whisper, “What are you doing in my house?”

The grin widened on your face when you realized just how drunk he was, and you feigned confusion, deciding to play along, “What do you mean?”

He sighed patiently, “Listen, you look lovely, but that’s my girlfriends spot you’re sitting on. And I really love her, so you need to leave.”

“I am your girlfriend,” You smirked, sliding off the bed and striding across the room until you were standing right in front of him, knowing full well that the two of you had been happily married for just over two years. But you also knew from past experiences that mentioning that would send your husband into a whole different spiral of emotions in his drunken state.

His eyes squinted at you until his mouth dropped open in realization and he relaxed, “Oh, darlin’ thank goodness your back,” His southern accent was thicker than it normally was when he was sober, “There was this women on your side of the bed, but I told her to get lost because I love you!” He stated proudly.

“Good job, honey,” You cooed out your praise, bringing his arm to rest around your shoulder so that you could lead him into the bathroom.

You sat him down on the closed toilet seat and made your way over to the sink to get him a cup of water, his eyes trailing after you in adoration the whole way, before you came back and handed it to him, “Drink all of this for me, will you, honey?”

“Yes, ma’am,” He murmured, causing your lips to quirk up slightly.

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get you something more comfortable to wear for bed,” You gave him a quick kiss on the top of the hair before leaving the bathroom.

He frowned after you, rocking back and forth against the seat and waited for you to return.

You barley even stepped foot back into the room a moment later before he sprang up and came barreling towards you, wrapping you into a bone-crushing embrace tightly, burying his face into your hair, “Thank goodness your back!” He gushed, “I missed you so much when you were gone!”

Laugher bubbled up inside you as you wrapped your arms around your husbands torso in return, “I wasn’t gone that long, Jakey.”

“It was too long,” He whimpered back.

Carefully, you pried his hands off of you after a moment and handed him a stack of folded sleep clothes you had just taken out of his drawer.

“Can you get changed?” You asked, to which he nodded his head excitedly and whipped around, accidentally knocking over the half full cup that he had placed on the ground in the process.

“Oh, here, I got-“

“I got it!” He interrupted you excitedly, not even hesitating to shed off his shirt and bend down to start mopping the water off the floor with it.

You blinked once at his toned back, chuckling slightly to yourself at how fast he had reacted to reveal his bare top to clean up a small pile of water.

He stopped suddenly, smirking up at you, “Unless you would rather take off your shirt and do this,”

That at least emitted a loud laugh at you as you shook your head at your cocky husbands antics and helped pull him to his feet once he was all done cleaning up his mess.

You helped him put on the rest of his pajamas- mostly just making sure he didn’t fall into the bathtub- before taking his hand and starting to pull him to the room so that you could both go to sleep.

You were stopped though at a tug of resistance you felt on your arm, and you looked back to question Jake, only to find him frowning down at your intertwined fingers.

“What’s wrong, honey?” You asked worriedly.

Slowly, he lifted your hand to reveal none other than the breathtakingly beautiful, shiny ring that he had used to propose to you with a couple years ago, “You’re cheating on me?” He asked quietly, a look of nothing but devastating heartbreak on his face.

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly before your eyes widened, remembering that you had let him believe that you were still boyfriend and girlfriend, “No, no, Jakey! You’re my husband! We’re married!”

His eyes snapped up to you as his bottom lip quivered and tears began to sine in his eyes, “We are?” He addled quietly.

You quickly took his face between your hands and made him look you in the eyes, “Yes! We’ve been married for two years now!”

Automatically, as if nothing had happened, his features cleared of all sorrow and he grinned at you with a lovesick expression, “Oh, that’s good.”

You threw your head back with a laugh, continuing your journey to the bed, “Yes, that’s very good.”

Even as you helped him slide under the covers, he never once took his gaze off of you, and as you tried to move to get the light switch, you felt his strong but gentle grip stop you once more, “You’re pretty,” He commented, gaze wide and childlike.

You had to physically stop yourself from laughing, knowing that it would do nothing but upset his feelings because he never called you pretty. It was always gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, sexy- not pretty.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” You teased, unconsciously moving a hair out of his face.

“Nuh uh!” He exclaimed, shaking his head back and forth widely, “Only you!”

Your heart melted right then and there and you bent down and placed a lingering kiss on his forehead, “Thank you, Jake.”

Yet again, you tried to go and move, but his hand was still to let go of yours, so you turned back to him to see what he needed.

His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at you, “What about me?” He demanded.

“What about you?” You asked in curiosity.

“Am I pretty?” Within his tipsy state, he wasn’t even joking, making the situation that much funnier.

You chucked slightly, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, “The prettiest,” You promise.

“Nuh uh!” He protested once more.

“And why’s that?” Your eyebrows rose.

“Because you’re the prettiest,” He said in a ‘duh’ tone, “I’m the… second prettiest!”

You laughed again, squeezing his hand lovingly, “The second prettiest it is, then.”

This time, he let you turn off the lights, and by the time you turned back to the bed, his breathing had already evened out and his chest was falling up and down steadily.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin blurb #hangman x reader #hangman blurb #top gun blurb #top gun x reader

2K notes · View notes

seumyo · 1 month

Text

SAKUSA KIYOOMI ✰ 8:56

NOTE. I am now proposing Haikyuu boys with their Oldest (or Older) sister! Reader and how that dynamic goes . . inspired by this TikTok video.

Sakusa Kiyoomi, when had too many drinks at the post-wedding reception of his oldest sister, is a whole different person when completely sober. And in the rare times that he does get drunk (to no one’s surprise, he’s actually lightweight), he gets a little (a little is an understatement) sentimental and vulnerable.

It just happens; it’s not like he has any control over his raw emotions.

“What was that?” Motoya asks his cousin.

Kiyoomi had been sobbing for half an hour now, his cheeks blooming with a slight rosy hue and his eyes brimming with tears as he wiped them away with his hands—like how a crying toddler would. “Onee-san got married,” he cried through muffled hiccups.

“She’s going to start her own family.”

“And what’s gonna happen?”

“We’re never going to see each other again.”

This side of Kiyoomi was definitely quality entertainment. He rarely ever held his heart and emotions on his sleeves, but tonight was a particular exception. But then again, it was a little surprising how attached he was to his oldest sister considering how big their age gap was.

It could be that, among his siblings, the oldest of the four practically raised Kiyoomi. His older sister and brother were always too busy to play with him because of the obvious difference in their ages as well as their different developmental stages. When Kiyoomi was four, his older sister was ten, his older brother was twelve, and you—his oldest sister—were sixteen at that time.

You were always the one to entertain him whenever you got home from school, spend time with him in the manor’s library, and encourage him to make new friends (before Motoya came along and visited more often) so he wouldn’t be as lonely as he used to. So it was natural that he was much closer to you than his own parents.

“Do you want to say bye again?” Motoya suggested.

“No,” Kiyoomi sniffled, shaking his head. “I already did, it would be too awkward...”

Back in the hotel room, Motoya and Kiyoomi’s older brother—Kino—made sure he didn’t randomly collapse on the way back. They didn’t have to worry about that because Kiyoomi was quite compliant and just kept on talking about how he was going to miss you.

And of course, Kino, being the teasing little shit he was at his grown age, decided to film Kiyoomi’s confessions.

“I’m going to miss Nee-san,” he murmured.

At this point, Motoya and Kino thought that Kiyoomi’s tears were almost at an end, but the whole dam broke when Kino asked, “What’s going to happen to Nee-san?”

“She got married.”

“But that’s how it is—“

“But she’s going to leave the house!” Kiyoomi added, unknowingly folding the freshly ironed blankets the hotel staff provided earlier when they asked for another one. “She was the one who got me to play volleyball,” he said.

“I never listened to what she had to say because she was annoying sometimes, and now I’m going to miss it.”

“Aw, Kiyo!” Kino chuckled. “That’s how it is; she’s bound to start a family of her own eventually.”

But Kiyoomi couldn’t stomach the fact that he had a little too much to drink. He didn’t understand—he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he would no longer see you when he went home during the weekends if he didn’t have practice; he wouldn’t have to argue with you anymore on who would wash the dishes after supper; he wouldn’t have you cook his favorite dishes anymore.

You wouldn’t come home anymore. You wouldn’t be visiting as often as he’d hoped you would. You wouldn’t visit his games as often as you could because of your job.

The thoughts he was having were antagonizing. They made him feel small and vulnerable, and that familiar feeling of loneliness from his childhood lingers around in the form of a throbbing headache the next morning. Kiyoomi struggles to get through his hangover, but he does his best.

He stares at the mirror in his hotel room’s bathroom, then gets eye drops on his obviously red and still puffy eyes. How much did he cry last night? He doesn’t even remember anything. Kiyoomi doesn’t want to remember if it’s embarrassing. He’d much rather crawl in a hole and never resurface.

Then he sees a message from you.

[video attachment]

Aww, sleep tight, Kiyo :((

Don’t forget that I’ll always be your sister even if we don’t share the same last name anymore or even if I’m not around as often as I wished I could! You could always visit us, ok? Just text me if you need anything!

And just like that, Kiyoomi’s in tears once again.

#sakusa fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu sakusa #hq fluff #hq drabble #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu kiyoomi #hq kiyoomi

235 notes · View notes

stars4gojo · 9 months

Text

Used to it

Dad!Gojo x Fem!reader // young Megumi and Tsumiki // 947 words

Leaving home comes easy for Gojo except now he has three reasons to come back

More of my work 🤍

When you and Gojo first took tsumiki and Megumi in your house, many people told you how difficult raising two children was going to be. You remember Gojo dismissing them with the wave of his hand, even when your own mother freaked out at the thought of you two adopting children without getting married (she seemed to ignore the fact that you two were only 17) Gojo reassured her, saying how it couldn’t be so difficult and since he’s the strongest he would have no problems at all.

However, being the strongest doesn’t seem to matter at all in this house. Gojo, without question, was at the bottom of the food chain and the two children were alarmingly at the top of the household.

Your mothers fears were only confirmed when Megumi refused to eat any vegetables for the first six months of his stay and had thrown them directly at Gojo’s face MULTIPLE times so he just had to get used it, turning on his limitless everytime Megumi reached for the greens that were taunting him on his plate. Or that one time Tsumiki got stage fright during her ballet rehearsals so Gojo, a grown 190 cm tall man, wore a tutu, definitely too small on him and performed next to the little 9 year old girl, who would then take first place at the rehearsal only at the cost of getting dirty looks and hushed whispers from other parents. He had then begged you to take Tsumiki to her classes which you obviously refused as everytime Gojo would take her to her classes she had the expression of a 9 year old who just took over the whole world so he just got used to it.

But one thing, even after 2 whole years, he could not get used to was leaving for longer business trips. When it was just the two of you, he would begrudgingly leave with a reassuring kiss to your forehead, letting you know that he would return.

The first time he left for his business trip he didn’t expect the children to even bat an eye, but soon the day came and when he went to say goodbye to Tsumiki and Megumi they didn’t seem to have a reaction, too invested in the cartoon they were watching on their iPads that Gojo got them despite your efforts to stop him talking about the bad effects of screen-time that he chose to ignore so they wouldn’t bother you two during your alone time.

“Hey cmon now, at-least look at me when I’m saying goodbye you won’t be seeing me for a while now” Gojo said with a little smile tugging on his lips.

The two children went wide eyed as they turned towards Gojo, the realisation was almost comical and you stifled back a laugh. However, the laughter soon became shock as they both immediately became teary eyed and rushed to get off the couch and run towards Gojo.

Gojo was more taken aback at the sudden outburst of emotions from his normally moody children.

Gojo bent down to their eye level as they rushed to give him a hug.

“What’s wrong???” Gojo asked in slight surprise.

“Please don’t go” A muffled voice voice was heard that belonged to Tsumiki as her arms became tighter around his neck.

“We’ll be very nice please? Megumi will eat all his vegetables! Wont you Megumi?!” Tsumiki spoke fast as she nudged Megumi who was standing behind Tsumiki, observing the situation with tears forming.

Megumi nodded in response and Gojo only smiled in response.

“You guys..” he started off with a chuckle and you slightly hit him on his back so he could take them more seriously.

“You guys do know that I’ll be back in 2 days right? It’s just a short trip I need to make for work?” He spoke softly as Tsumiki let go of him.

Now you went to Megumi who was still at the verge of tears and picked him up so he could rest on your hip. You wiped his tears as he cuddled into your neck obviously embarrassed of his little outburst of emotions.

“Satoru is going on a business trip, he goes on them all the time and always comes back” you spoke with a little giggle as you watched Tsumikis sad expression turn into embarrassment.

“I’m glad to know I’m still wanted in this house” Gojo spoke as he got back on his feet.

“Now all of you come here so I can give you a little goodbye kiss” He added while making comical kissing sounds.

Megumi was quick to want to be put down and run away with Tsumiki as their little feet pattered across the apartment floor with little giggles. You watched as Gojo chased after them and grabbed them both in his arms in the same time to give them both a disgustingly kiss mixed with saliva.

“GROSSSS” the two kids shouted but you could tell there was no real bite to it.

“Now..” Gojo started with a sinister grin

“Oh no.” You thought.

“WE ATTACK NOW!!” Gojo shouted as all three of them ran towards you almost knocking you down as they attacked you with soft kisses in between laughter.

Now, Gojo could say in confidence, maybe there were sacrifices he had to make, some things he had to get used to. But, he wouldn’t change it for anything because Gojo Satoru was the strongest and being with the three of you only made him stronger, his motivation to fight and protect.

989 notes · View notes

dindjarindiaries · 3 months

Text

I Still See You

summary: In the aftermath of the Morak mission, Din’s faced with a crisis you only hope you can help to resolve somehow.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: angst, trauma, religious guilt, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.582k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

You could only take your first deep breath when Din was finally back in your sight. He trudged down the boarding ramp of Boba Fett’s vessel, a stark contrast to the confidence with which he carried himself on Karthon upon facing Mayfeld. The Imperial armor he wore was no doubt responsible for that.

These thoughts were shoved to the back of your mind as you closed the gap between you with hurried steps. Your greeting was breathless in your hardly concealed desperation. “Hey.” You set your hand on his shoulder that was down a pauldron, a substitution for the embrace you so badly wished to give him. You knew better with the eyes of others watching you. “How’d it go?”

Din took a gentle grasp on your wrist and subverted your expectations in a way that made your eyes go wide. He dropped your hand from his shoulder and, despite the watching eyes, wrapped his arms around you, his gloved palms splayed upon your back. He was tense with a breath you could feel in the heaviness of his shoulders as you held him back, but he released the tension with a sigh of relief as his fists gently closed around the material of your tunic.

He was grounding himself back to you, and as sweet as that feeling was, it was also harrowing. Something had gone wrong. Your heart sunk into the depths of your stomach. Have we lost all hope of getting Grogu back?

“We got the coordinates.” Din spoke as if he had just read your mind. His voice was quiet, but not enough to give anything away.

You exhaled in your own relief, your eyes closing as you held him tighter. “Thank the stars.” You paused to see if he would reveal what was behind the invisible weight on his shoulders, and when he didn’t, you spoke once again. “What else?”

Din’s chest inflated with a breath. “That’s it. The mission’s done.” He pulled away from you but kept you close, gesturing with his helmeted head back to the ship behind him. “I’m letting Mayfeld change before I do the same.” His rasp slightly gave out as he said the words, a tell only you could identify.

You gave him another once-over and moved closer to him. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Din looked away from you, one of his gloved hands holding his fist as he let out a gentle exhale. “Just… had a run-in with some pirates.” He rolled his shoulders and tapped the armorless one you had been holding earlier. “This armor isn’t as strong as beskar.”

You weren’t fully convinced, but his logic tracked. There was no doubt a fight without his beskar would leave him sore, especially if he had forgotten about the fact he wasn’t wearing it. “How many pirates?”

Din huffed, his hands falling back to his sides. “Let’s just say it was more than one.”

You managed to chuckle with him as you nudged his bare shoulder with your own. “That explains all those explosions.”

The visor of Din’s Imperial helmet gave you an evident once-over. “You weren’t near them, were you?”

“No, not at all.” You couldn’t help smiling at his concern for you. “The three of us were just surprised by them at the lookout.”

Din nodded. “Good.”

Something still wasn’t right, and it hung between you like a dense storm cloud. Even as Din’s visor looked beyond you, his gloved hand found yours, and he held your fingers in his grasp. The move was subconscious, another act of grounding that he had to do.

Yet, he still wouldn’t tell you why.

You wanted to believe, and could truly believe, that it was just the longing for Grogu, and the guilt that had been eating away at him ever since Tython. That was what had kept him up at night whenever you attempted rest before this mission. In his eyes, it was his own failure, and it always would be until he could make things right.

Now, he had the coordinates. You all did. You had the chance to help him make things right, but that darkness didn’t disappear from him. In fact, it was more intense than before.

“How was Mayfeld?” You hoped the question would ease the tension somehow, or at least help you get to the root of whatever Din was hiding from you. “I almost thought he wouldn’t make it back with the way he was talking before you left.”

Din tensed. So, it had something to do with Mayfeld. That didn’t surprise you; it only made you kick yourself for not thinking of it earlier. “It was… better than expected.” Din nodded and looked at you again. “He wasn’t as bad as I thought he’d be.” He gave his head a quick tilt to the side. “Most of the time, at least.”

“Yeah?” You offered him a small smile, hoping it would either dispel or reveal the invisible weight he held upon his shoulders. “I bet that bonding time spent inside the juggernaut wasn’t awkward at all.”

That at least got a chuckle out of Din. “Yeah. It was…” He trailed off, his visor looking into the distance again. His grasp on your hand pulsated, as if he couldn’t decide whether to hold on or let go.

You gave him time, but soon, your concern got the best of you. Your voice was a whisper as you called for him. “Din?”

Din’s visor found your gaze, though he couldn’t speak before someone else did. “Good work back there,” Cara’s voice announced from behind you. You closed your eyes and took a breath, forcing yourself to mask your worry for now as you turned to face her. She nodded at Din. “Destroying the facility was a good call.”

“It wasn’t mine.” Din gestured to the ship behind him. “It was Mayfeld’s.”

Cara raised an eyebrow. “Huh.” Her tone revealed her genuine surprise. “Well, he really has some sharpshooter in him, I’ll give him that. It was a nice shot.”

“It was.”

“You made it easy for us.” It was Fennec who now joined the group, and she rested the end of her rifle against the ground to lean on it as she offered Din a nod of her own. “The three of us didn’t have to do much.”

“I saw your shots when we made our exit.” Din’s hand had dropped yours when Cara approached, but it remained busy at his side, pulling tight into a fist before relaxing again. “We couldn’t have made it without them.”

Your jaw tightened at that. The same thought had run through your mind whilst you were helping Cara and Fennec shoot down the Imperials. It’s what made your shots even more lethal.

“Mando!” Mayfeld’s voice was the one that grabbed everyone’s attention that time. Din practically whipped over his shoulder to face Mayfeld, who had changed back into the clothes he had been given at the beginning of the mission. “You’re good to go.”

Din tilted his helmet. “That was fast.”

Mayfeld huffed. “Yeah, that’s ‘cause I don’t have a thousand layers of armor to exchange.” He patted Din’s shoulder as he passed him by, and you were shocked to see that Din wasn’t bothered by it. “Good luck getting that off. It’s harder than it was to put on, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

Din snorted, and after a moment’s hesitation in which you were certain he shuffled towards you, he walked back towards the ship. You watched him the whole way, your jaw circling as you read him the best you could. Based on his interaction with Mayfeld, that wasn’t the key, after all. There was something far, far worse he was hiding, but you couldn’t think of what it would be.

There was a gentle hand on your shoulder, and as you turned to face it, you met Cara’s comforting glance. “So,” she began, clearly trying to get your mind off Din for the time being, “I heard the mission was a success.”

You cracked a genuine smile at that. “Yes. We have the coordinates.” Your gaze found Mayfeld’s and you nodded at him. “Thank you for your help.”

Mayfeld held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, it wasn’t really my choice.” Cara rolled her eyes as you lifted an eyebrow in warning. “But, really, it was mostly Mando. I just…” he paused, stalling as his gaze looked off to the side, “supported him.”

Your brow furrowed. Before you could interrogate him, Cara continued the conversation, remaining curt with him so as to not give him any true authority—despite how well the mission went. You were too lost inside your own mind to pay any attention to what they were saying. Mayfeld’s behavior was almost as odd as Din’s.

There was something you weren’t being told, and Din wasn’t the only one keeping it a secret.

Only the chiming of the comm link on your belt could pull you from your worried reverie. You stepped out of the circle the group had made and held the comm close to your lips. “Din?” Your gaze pierced through the open hatch of Boba’s ship. “Is everything okay?”

There was a pause before Din spoke. “Can you come help me?” Your heart shattered at the way his voice shook even through the comm link. “I… need help re-suiting.”

That was fair. You had been a part of the routine in helping Din remove and re-suit his beskar for so long that it was no surprise he needed your help to do it now—but something about it still felt different. That wasn’t a request. It was a plea. “Of course. I’m on my way.” You hung the comm link back on your belt and turned your head towards the group. “I’ll be back.”

As you started to walk towards the ship, Cara shot a lighthearted joke towards you. “You two better not take long! We’ve got an Imp to hunt!”

You lifted your middle finger without looking back at her, even if the joke managed to temporarily dispel the darkness from your racing thoughts. You smiled and shook your head as you lowered your hand, but as soon as you stepped into Boba’s ship and caught sight of Din within its depths, every sensation of warmth within you died.

For the first time since you met him many years ago, you were looking upon a pair of brown eyes instead of a dark visor.

You wanted to cover your eyes, turn your back on him, do anything to keep yourself from breaking Din’s Creed, but there was no point. The damage had been done. All you could do was stare, your gaze no doubt leaving a fiery trail across the skin of his face as you observed every inch of it.

One thousand emotions hit you all at once; the grief of knowing what Din had lost in doing this, the elation of finally getting to put a face to your heart, the concern of looking into an empty gaze, the blazing warmth of realizing he was even more handsome than you had imagined. It was dizzying.

The only thing that could cut through the noise of your own mind and heart was Din’s shattered statement. “I can’t do it.”

You frowned, then looked at what he was holding. His helmet sat between his gloved hands, the empty visor facing you. Din’s own gaze was studying it, watching as the metal rocked between his trembling hands. Your furrowed brow loosened.

Din thought he had already broken his Creed before you even stepped inside the ship.

You took a cautious step towards him. “Din…”

“The Creed says I can’t put this back on again.” You watched the corner of Din’s mouth pull tight before it relaxed again. There was a place under his eye that began to twitch, and you wished more than anything that you knew the tells of his face just as you knew them on the rest of his body. “I’ve made my sacrifice.”

You continued to close the gap between you with careful steps. “All you did was exchange one helmet for another, Din. And not for long, either. You did what you had to for the foundling in your charge.”

Din shook his head, his jaw pulled tight as his gaze rose to meet yours again. You froze, the electricity of it shocking you whole, despite the devastation you found there in the depths of his brown eyes. “No.” He paused, swallowing hard as he focused on his helmet again. “They saw me.”

You kept your voice soft as you pressed on. “Who saw you?”

Din slowly fell back onto the chair that was behind him. His gaze never once left the helmet, as if looking anywhere else would sever his sole tether to the galaxy. “Everyone in that room saw me.”

You were finally close enough to touch him, but you knew better than to reach for his face, as badly as you wanted to. Instead, your hand covered one of his on his helmet, and you knelt down to get closer to his level. Your quiet comfort allowed Din to explain himself.

“There was a terminal that held the coordinates to Gideon’s cruiser. It required a facial scan.” Din lifted his thumb to caress one of your fingers the best he could. “I had no other choice. It was either that or…” He couldn’t even bring the thought to life.

“You made the right one.” You nodded at Din, pleased to at least earn his gaze once again.

“I know.” Din’s voice lowered to an empty whisper as that place beneath his eye twitched again. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

You took a deep breath to keep yourself composed for his sake. “I understand.” Your free hand ran over the top of his helmet that continued to sit in his lap. “Removing your helmet to save a foundling, though… is that not the highest honor of your people?”

Din hesitated, and he blinked a few times before nodding. You smiled in encouragement.

“This wasn’t you removing your helmet for a simple pleasure or for an escape from who you are, Din.” You took his hand from his helmet and held it between both of yours. “This was you doing everything you could to save someone in your care.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Someone you love.”

Din’s eyes closed at that, and he squeezed them shut more and more as he tucked his head towards the shoulder that bore his mudhorn pauldron. His voice shook again as he spoke. “I hope he’s okay.”

“It won’t be long now until we have him back.” You ran your thumbs over his hand. “Thanks to you.”

Din reopened his eyes and found your gaze again. For a moment, his lips curled up in a small smile, one that was notable enough to make your stomach fill with butterflies as you witnessed it for the first time. It was short-lived, however, as he soon began to frown and lose himself in the depths of your own gaze. His voice was a pained whisper. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head at that. “For what? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Din took a hold of one of your wrists and guided your hand to the side of his face. As soon as you touched the warmth of his skin, he leaned into your palm, his eyes closing for a moment before he faced you with what felt like tangible despair. “I wanted it to be you.”

He didn’t have to explain it. He had told you enough times over the years for you to know. He had always wanted you to be the first to see him again, and he was intent on making that happen after this quest was over.

You pieced your own shattered heart together and smiled at him. “And here I am.” Your thumb ran over the skin under his eye that had twitched before, and based on the way his eyes welled with tears he no doubt refused to shed, you were able to determine what that tell of his meant. “I’m still seeing you.”

Din’s gaze gave you a nervous once-over. The warmth returned to your body upon getting to see it, rather than having to rely on the movement of his helmet. “What do you think?”

You smiled more and gently set aside his helmet with your free hand. “Can I show you?”

His gaze flickered to your lips before he nodded with another small smile of his own. You rose and took your place upon him, one that was as familiar as his lips were—only this time, it would finally be different. There would be no dent across his nose from the lip of his helmet, and no wrinkles in the skin around your eyes from a cloth pulled tight across them. Instead, it would be you and him, as pure and as perfect as you were meant to be.

You held onto him with all the same desperation he had just shown you, one of your hands cupping the side of his jaw and neck as the other wound itself tight in the hair that flowed freely from his head. Your mouth slotted over his time and time again and with each breath you shared, you intended to pull the darkness from within him, as if you could make a sacrifice as great as his own by taking away all his pain. You tilted his head back further to deepen it, intensifying every feeling until it could overwhelm whatever lies and harsh truths tore at his mind.

You only pulled away from each other when your lungs demanded it, your lips lingering as you relished in the last bit of sweet intoxication you could get. You opened your eyes to see Din’s still closed, as if he too was savoring the moment. His eyes began to flutter open when you ran your nails over the skin of his neck, guiding your hand to his cuirass.

“What did that tell you?” Your voice was breathy from both your lack of air and your sweet desire.

The corner of Din’s mouth rose before he answered in the same tone. “That I made a mistake making you wait this long for me.”

You returned his smile. “You haven’t made a single mistake.” You leaned down to pick his helmet up and tucked it under your arm. “Especially not today.”

Din’s gaze clouded with a brief spell of darkness that faded the moment you lifted your free hand to brush his hair away from his face.

“You’re everything I dreamed of and more, Din.” You kissed his forehead, smiling against his skin when he physically relaxed underneath your touch. When you pulled away, you faced him with sweet severity. “You will always be worth the wait.”

Din smiled, a sight so breathtakingly beautiful you never wanted to let it go—but Din was eager to share in your love again as his hand cupped the back of your neck and pulled you back to him. This time, he was the one who devoured you, his lips remaining on yours while his hands explored places that left you flustered.

You only broke apart when you heard a familiar voice yell from outside the ship. “Hey, kids! I said don’t take long!” Cara’s words made the two of you pull away instantly, and once you were sure she wasn’t looking inside the ship, you laughed with one another. “We’ve got other things to do!”

“We’ll be right out!” You managed to compose your laughter enough to get the words out, and with a deep breath, you fell back into severity. You took the helmet from under your arm and held it between your hands. “You may not be able to do this, but…” you paused and lowered the helmet over Din’s head, “I can do it for you.”

Din rested his helmet against your forehead, his hands holding your wrists to bring your hands to his chest. After a long pause, he spoke with a voice that was strained with meaning. “Thank you.” He gave your wrists a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

You beamed at him. “I love you, too.” You added a kiss to his visor and sat up more. “I’ll always be here for you, Din. You know that.”

“I do.” Din eased his hands upon your waist and lifted the two of you from the chair. “That’s why I commed you.”

You only smiled wider at his words, your gaze searching the depths of his visor for the brown warmth hidden beneath it as he ran his hand over your back. Not everything was resolved; it was never that easy. Din would be wrestling with this day for a long time. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that his sacrifice was given even more meaning, and he understood that you saw him in a way that went beyond mere sight. For now, that would be enough, just as he would always be enough for you.

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

#i've been wanting to write this one since december 11 2020 #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin angst #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #dindjarindiaries

378 notes · View notes