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sukunasstomachtongue · 7 months

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The Race: Lap Two

Pairing: Sukuna x Bunny (black fem OC)

Rating: Mature | Minors leave me alone

Warning: Cursing, houseless character, light smut that I couldn’t follow through on, OOC Sukuna (don’t say anything I need comfort), my brand of humor, barely edited

Series Masterlist | Previously

“Well, if it isn’t little bunbun. Why are you here? Got fired for being a bad role model to the youth?” Gojo shifted his weight to rest his elbows on the counter. The harsh fluorescent lighting all government-funded buildings had washed out his complexion, yet he still managed to look nothing short of ethereal to Bunny.

She tsk’d, a habit of her boyfriend that she unfortunately picked up. How she managed to quietly slam the book in her possession closed would be a mystery to Gojo.

“If you’re not here to clear your debt, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, Gojo. Technically you’re not even ‘sposed to be allowed within 20 meters of our doors.”

Both individuals refused to break eye contact, waiting for the other to chicken out and avert their gaze. Bunny had to fight off her signature sinister grin, the one she displays in the backstreets while riding shotgun in a barely street-legal car. No, she had to save that smile for the right time and place. The local public library barely surviving and on its last two legs hardly fit the criteria.

She gave him what Shoko called her ‘librarian smile.’ Kind and sickeningly sweet, giving the impression that she had all the time in the world to help a patron in need.

Gojo conceded after a few seconds of being on the receiving end of that smile. Her brown eyes glinted with victory.

“What if I did come to pay off my debt, hm? I can stay?” Bunny said nothing but went to work on her computer, lazily tapping the tablet on the patron side of the counter, prompting the man to move and look at the information displayed.

Gojo, Satoru

Amount Paid: $3.86

Amount Due: $834.98

Will you be paying: Cash, Credit/Debit Card, or Check?

“Fuck me, Bunbun! This is insane! What type of operation are you running?” Gojo groaned into his hands, ignoring the harsh glares aimed his way for his loud voice. Long nails tapped rhythmically against the keyboard, before clutching the side of the monitor and swinging it around to show more of his account.

“You have a bad habit of renting movies and never returning them. You rented ‘Return of the Mask’ and ‘Belly’ five years ago. Should I ask why those two movies were rented at the same time?”

Her taunts only drew more groans from his throat. Quickly slapping his face, Gojo reaches into his pocket, grumbling about unsuccessful hookups and drunken mistakes. The slam of his plastic card made no impact on Bunny. As quickly as he presented it, the librarian ran it through the system, clearing his debt.

“You know, now that you’re clear we can take down your mugshot on the bulletin board. Wanna take it home?”

The wide grin was all the answer she needed.

***

“Bunny, we need to restock our hygiene packs tonight. Glen said we’re down to five and it's only getting hotter out there.”

“I’ll get on it after I take my break.” She replied, busy logging books back into the system. After Gojo left, the library returned to its usual hushed business. Citizens came and went through the automatic door, focused on their own tasks.

Filling out job applications, playing computer games, writing an essay, meeting up for study sessions, and inquiring about citizenship classes, the library serves as a vital organ in the community. Its value is what made Bunny want to work there in the first place. All her tasks served a purpose for the greater good.

That’s what she had to tell herself to not lose her mind and go ballistic on the inconsiderate patrons and lazy coworkers.

Those hygiene packs were a task given to Glen, who passed it to Asano, who decided to drop it in Bunny’s lap before leaving for the day. Granted, at this location, Bunny didn’t have the authority or sway to go against an order.

Still, Bunny gritted her teeth and got to it like she said she would. The supply room had a table and old worn-out chair that could have been from the 70s, providing a workstation to build the packs. They were nothing lavish. A few water bottles, dental care, deodorant, a towel, new socks, and other necessities to ease the constant dingy feeling of being unhoused and exposed to the elements and the city’s unpleasant side.

She got into a grove after the first two packs were done, head bopping to city pop that fought the static out of the old radio in the corner to be audible. Every few packs, her neck would tilt to the side to lightly stretch the stiff muscles there. When she reached for the last pair of socks, her stomach grumbled. The few snacks she stole from the vending machine were not enough to tie her over until dinner.

Would Sukuna make his rendition of her grandmother’s red beans and rice tonight?

Thoughts now focused on food and related topics, she unchecked the box next to ‘socks’ on the supply list on their worn board. Hands full with the large bin they used to transport the packs outside, Bunny made her way outdoors.

In his earlier years, Glen had old lockers from a high school repurposed to look presentable along the inside of the exterior wall. They stood under the protruding concrete covering, shielded from harh weather conditions, visible from the central help desk inside where someone could keep an eye out. Opposite of the lockers was a poster from the early 70s, faded but still legible, inviting everyone inside to access resources everyone needed in the modern age.

For the last few hours of her shift, Bunny led story time in the children’s section, several coming from the school she worked at which led to many tears of joy and anger directed at her by children who were not happy to see her absent that day. Ending the story time with a nice group hug and a promise to return to her rightful post had her back in their good graces.

From there, she remained stationed at the help desk, offering book suggestions and recommendations to classes the library offered to the colorful clientel. The short hand on the clock had begun nearing 5, signaling the end of her time here. Making her rounds, Bunny waved her goodbye to the others as she walked to the back to retrieve her purse.

Stepping outside the automatic doors, the sight infront of her made her pause to confirm the person digging a pack out of the outdoor lockers was who she thought it was.

“Yuji?”

***

Dropping her bag on the table, Bunny released a loud sigh. Her shoulders ached after hours of shelving new and returned books all day. The local library had a much larger stock than the one at the schoolhouse, with more genres outside of children and young adult. It had been her first challenging shift in a long time, not including the last hour.

The smell of garlic invaded her nose, making the muscles flex as the button of her nose scrunched up. There was no reason for something out of season to smell so pungent.

“Come here and taste this broth, I’m not sure if I added enough paste.” There, with one hand tucked into the tie of his apron with the other clutching the ladle above the pot, stood her boyfriend, hard at work trying to feed them. The sight warmed her heart.

The onions brought tears to her eyes.

The surprise she had in store for Sukuna sent shivers down her spine.

“Suki…” He grunted and twisted at his waist to look back. Before she could open her mouth to continue, the hot ladle was at her lips waiting for entry. The tip of her pink tongue dipped in the liquid, coating her tastebuds with flavor.

“Good. Could use some lemon or citrus for some tang.” Sukuna eyed her with thought, taking her suggestion as he slurped the remaining broth, smacking his mouth to extract any hidden flavor.

“No. That’ll mess up the balance. This is why we can’t cook together.”

“We can’t cook together because you like to hog the front right burner.”

“It’s the best one.”

“It’s the biggest one and is supposed to be used for big pots, not frying a single egg.” Bunny grimaced as her shoulder tinged in pain, the already tired nerves becoming more agitated as she danced around her surprise. Just like a bandaid, Bunny coached herself. “ Suki-”

“Agree to disagree. Why are you wincing? Got into another fight with that old hag?”

“Fortunately no. She learned her lesson the last time.” Or maybe not like a bandaid at all, maybe like removing shrapnel from a wound. Nice and slow, and gently to not lacerate any nearby blood vessels.

“Good. I know you want to be a lady of leisure but right now we still need your income. Unless you wanna end up on the streets like that brat.” Or maybe not like a bandaid or like shrapnel. Instead, just like a rug being ripped from under her orthopedic loafers.

“Come on Yuji, he knows.” At her beckon, the pink-haired kid slid into the kitchen, back against the nearest wall. His arm was in a dingy cast and he looked weary. “How’d you know?”

An exasperated sigh came from the stove, followed by a slurp, hum, and finally, the click of the burner being switched from high to medium.

“My sweet stupid Bunny, did you already forget that we installed cameras last month? Set the table. And you, brat. Sit down and get ready to tell us everything.”

As she followed his demand, Bunny fell even more in love with her boyfriend.

****

Sukuna, Yuji decided after smelling the first decent meal he’s been given in three months, was not as bad as everyone on the scene said he was. Sure he had a temper and really didn't care for the community of street racing like most did - like Yuji did after losing his grandfather- but it didn’t make him a horrible person. In a way, Sukuna was on the other side of the same coin as Nanami. They both were serious about their chosen illegal interest but also had a life outside of it. Nanami with his day job, and Sukuna with-

“Fucking Martha decided she wanted to flirt with Geshin instead of completing her tasks. So guess who had to cover her thirsty ass instead of making the itinerary for the career workshop that’s happening in a week?”

“You?”

“Me. I wanted to cuss the bitch out for pulling that shit but I’m scared she might have a degradation kink or something. Y’know last employee evaluation I swear to god that hoe had stars in her eyes when Boss yelled at her about her performance.” Bunny ranted as her hands set the table, paying no mind to the opening notes of pork being cooked.

“Geshin… that's the guy who just had a baby, right?”

“Yep, and that’s his fifth baby this year. Man needs to get locked up at this point. He’s trying to become the next Genghis Khan. I don’t know why Martha would want his ass when she was just at his last baby shower. Eating that dry-ass cake like Betty Crocker made it.”

“Damn, that’s crazy.” At his commentary, she cut her eyes to look at the back of his head.

“What did you do today?” The roar of the pork being seared and fat popping against the heat of the pan set the ambiance in their kitchen.

“Nothing. Worked on my jobs, bought some shit online, got a call from the old man for the next race.”

“Oh yeah? When and where?”

“Next Weekend. It's a collab with some other organizers in the outskirts. The track is legit.” Calloused hands worked swiftly to cut the pork into manageable pieces while Bunny opened the kitchen window to air out the smoky atmosphere building up. Sukuna scoffed at the action, he thought Bunny was overdramatic for opening the window every time he cooked using fire.

He had a house, a business, someone to come home and compare days to, Yuji watched. It was a shock to him and anyone on the scene if they found out, except Gojo he assumed. Gojo poked and prodded at Sukuna like an old zookeeper who’s been tending to the same wild animal for decades.

“Next week?” Bunny pouted, the table was finally set with everything but the protein. She sat next to Yuji, still facing her significant other as they rambled on. Briefly, Yuji wondered if he took the older man’s seat, but made no move to relocate when Bunny began pouring water for three cups and opening a bottle of wine to pour into two glasses.

“I know, you have that convention.” For the first time all night, Sukuna looked at the kid at his dinner table. He looked hungry and noticeably thinner than the last time he was seen before that race. His arm had been set in a cast that took on a reddish-earthy brown. Their hair had the same disheveled look, but for two different reasons.

Briefly, the two males shared a thought.

Are we related, they thought to each other, with Bunny none the wiser as she placed portions on their plates.

“Thanks for the food.”

Yuji had not finished closing his mouth around the first bite before the older man probed him.

“Alright brat, start talking.”

Shifting the hot pork to the side of his mouth, Yuji spoke. “Got pulled out the car and an ambulance took me to the hospital. The doctors said it was a miracle I survived without any serious injuries. The only thing I really injured was my wallet.”

“They say we’re all one emergency from being homeless,” Sukuna muttered. Yuji took a stab at another piece of greasy steaming pork. Bunny quietly placed more food on the kid’s plate.

“They were right. I don’t have a dollar to my name. My car got compounded. No family. This is the first meal I’ve had this week.”

“Oh Yuji…” At her sorrowed tone, Sukuna’s lip pulled in one direction. Good thing they never threw out her old futon.

***

“What a day,” followed by a long yawn was how Bunny started her night routine. Stepping into the shower to wash away the past eighteen hours, she let out another loud yawn to emphasize her energy levels to Sukuna who stood at the vanity, completing his skincare routine.

No funny business tonight.

“I bet. On top of your job, now you want to become a mother.”

“Not a mother. A helping hand, that’s all. A fun auntie at most. Yuji is only 16, too young to be on the streets.” the shower door slid down its track, wide enough to allow another body to slip in behind her. Rough hands sheltered her shoulders from the water, radiating heat through the layers of melanin-rich skin.

“You and your bleeding heart. I can’t even begin to understand how you end up in these situations. He better not steal shit out of my office.” Sukuna talked, hands massaging along the muscles of her neck. Bunny sighed in relief, her lazy bun hitting the top of his pectorals as she relaxed.

“He’s a good kid. On the train, he basically sat between me and everyone else like a guard dog.” Her body wash added the mellow scent of cucumber melon to the humid air. As her sudsy cloth scrubbed her skin, her ass nudged the lazy weight of Sukuna’s dick.

“Oh, so thats what this is? You wanna take in a stray, huh? Thats it. Is this about the cat from last week? I know you were sad when it went back to its owner but you-”

A sharp about face interrupted his ribbing. Sukuna suddenly found it hard to concentrate with a steaming soapy woman clouding his retinas. Fuck Martha and Geishin and every single person at the stupid library for tiring his girlfriend out with their bullshit. She probably wouldn’t even take a simple cockwarming session with her energy so low.

“C’mon, Kuna. Be serious. Tell me you would have left him on the street looking like that?”

“I could have.” A glare had Sukuna retract his statement. Lifting a hand from her frame to wipe the droplets from his face, he ceded. “I get it. Fine, lets take the kid in for a bit, until he’s back on his feet.”

A downpour of water thudded at their feet as Bunny wrong out her cloth. Adding his soap, unscented for sensitive skin, she began working a lather on his abs. “He can help you in the shop.”

“Mmm, no. Sorry Bunny. This is your stray, your responsibility. Ask ‘im if he ever finished school. Get him a GED or some shit.”

“Like trade school.”

“Fuck, go ahead and adopt the kid.” The couple fell quiet after that. Sukana placed a few kisses on her temple when they took turns standing underwater to rinse. His hands slid down her skin and rested for a beat on the sides of her asscheeks. This was intimacy. Pulling her cheeks apart to let the water wash any trapped soap was the most intimate shit he’s ever down.

A ding from the towel warmer signaled the end of their shower. Before she could reach to turn the water off, Sukuna had pressed her against his body, their flesh conforming to each other. His dick twitched awake as he inhaled her scent. Cucumber melon, warmth, and smell that was purely her. He couldn't help but land a few kisses and nips along her neck as the water continued to spray.

The water bill would definitely be in the triple digits this month, much to Bunny’s chagrin.

“Y’so tense, Bunny. I think you need a massage.” He huffed into her ear, finally ready to turn off the water. The sudden cold goaded her into pressing herself tighter against her significant other, seeking more external warmth.

“Mm, that sounds nice.”

“C’mon pet, lets get you dry, huh?” Together, they exited the shower, steam spilling at their feet. Bunny detached from him and lazily bounced over the warm towels, wrapping one around herself and bringing the other to Sukuna to wrap around his hips.

“Go lay on the bed, pet. I’ll get the body oil.”

***

“Oh fuck, Kuna. Thank you, baby!” She moaned into the cotton sheets, her breath caught on the last syllable and making her high-pitched at the end. Sukuna’s hands were strong from his day job, and all the strength was being used on her, working knots and stagnant energy out her muscles. He had her belly down, with his thick thighs trapping her torso under his straddle. His fingers dug into the flesh of her upper back, bullying the blood up towards her neck and down her arms.

“Welcome baby. I gotta take care of you since you insist on taking care of that brat. You were already tired before. You gotta stop that bleeding heart of yours.” Sukuna let his drool drip freely on her oiled back, making the trip every few minutes to collect the saliva and massage it into her pores.

His dick was no better, beading at the tip and collecting in the small of her back. Bunny could feel it. He knew she could feel. She knew he knew she could feel it. Though her libido was rising to the occasion, her body yearned for rest. True rest. But she was too tired to dissuade Sukuna. Hell, as long as she didn’t have to ride she wouldn’t protest all that much.

His hands moved from her upper back back to her hips and the swell of her ass. Her skin gleaned under the big light. Under his touch, the oil, saliva, and cum mixed to create a new concoction.

“Oh fuck, bunny. I know you feel me.” He groaned as he bucked his hips, his dick sliding along the crack of her ass.

“I do but- I’m so tired, Kunabear.” the shake of her hips contradicted her words. Soft lips planted scorching kisses on her tattooed shoulder and warm hands moved from her ass to slide under her hips. “And, Yuji might hear us.”

“So just spread those pretty legs, toot that ass up for me, and bite down on a pillow so the kid doesn’t hear his savior getting fucked.” His fingers ran up her slit, collecting the escaped slick to rub against her clit. “Shit,” his hips bucked again, mindlessly rutting his dick against her oiled flesh. “Always wet for me, no matter what your mouth says, that pussy will always listen to me.”

“I-ah, fuck me. Here, damn.” Her hip rose as she arched her back perfectly. With more space to move, Sukuna trailed to her opening, keeping his thumb on her aching nub. A whine escaped her throat. He fingered her frantically, barely prepping her hole to take his heavy cock. “Gimma a kiss at least”

“How about ten?”

***

Bunny stared at the fresh coffee dripping down into the pot. Her body was enveloped in the robe Gojo got her from his last trip overseas. It was nice and fluffy and the cause of Sukuna’s hairy eyeball from across the room. It took everything in her to not laugh at him angrily stabbing his breakfast quiche.

“Don’t give me that look.” She scoffed. Her boyfriend rolled his eyes, too tired to start shit with a sleep deprived Bunny.

“Just make me a cup too. Gotta finish a couple projects today so I need to head out in a few. You going anywhere today?”

“No. I’ll be doing laundry and picking up after your mess.”

“That’s you hair in the drain baby. Don’t put that shit on me.” As they went back and forth, the stairs creaked under the weight of a body coming downstairs.

“Morning. Coffee?” Bunny offered him before yuji stepped foot into the kitchen. His eyes pingponged between the two adults before nodding, giving a grunted hello as he sat down at the same chair as last night.

Bunny busied herself with pouring three mugs, concocting hers and Sukuna with their usual cream and sugars. At the sight of Yuji’s eyebags, her hands reached out for the pot again to pour a little more into his mug.

She dispersed the mugs, keeping hers in one hand and digging the other in Sukuna’s wild hair. Wordlessly, he offered her a piece of his quiche.

“Sleep okay? I know the futon is old and seen better days?” She asked her ward. Yuji gave a brief shake of his head. He barely let the coffee cool before tilting half of the liquid down his throat.

“Futon’s fine. You guys were loud.”

Sukuna had to place his mug back on the table to avoid spilling it at the brat’s words. Red eyes attempted to meet his girlfriend’s but she had her head turned down to avoid any contact.

Yuji wanted to apologize for his comment, which was actually an understatement. From Yuji’s perspective last night, he’s surprised Bunny was fully functional today.

He could see why Gojo talked so much perverted shit about the woman. Megumi let it slip once that Gojo had a chance to get with the sassy librarian but Sukuna swooped in at the last second.

“Close your ears next time.” Bunny choked out, swooping down to take another piece of the quiche before leaving the kitchen, fluffy robe flouncing in the air.

The two males sat in silence, the sound of Sukuna scrapping the last of his breakfast up filling the void.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t give a rat's ass if you hear.” Sukuna replied, collecting his dishes and sipping the last of his coffee. “We do fuck loud and often. So if that’s a problem you should probably leave now.”

Yuji grimaced. He and Sukuna both knew putting up with a little noise was infinitely better than sleeping outside again.

“Bunny, I’m out!” Sukuna yelled, his rough voice reverberating through the room to wherever his girlfriend ran too. His keys were in his pocket and he was almost out the door before she responded.

“Take ‘im with you!” The men looked at each other again. Sukuna scanned the kid up and down, eyeing Yuji’s build and hands before grunting.

“You ever worked on cars?”

“Yeah. I can do the basics.” Yuji offered, hurriedly stuffing his feet into his shoes by the door.

“Yeah, well you’ll be doing filter changes and refilling wiper fluid. Let’s go.”

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loveamirada · 2 years

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Brian O’Conner -Good Days

Brian O’Conner x (Black)Female Reader

Contains:heavy angst with a lil happy ending and actions leading up to love making💗

(This timeline isn’t accurate with the movies or Brian’s age but I wanted to make it more relatable )

"Boog!"you yelled as you caught your toddler gripping the edge of the pulled out drawer

Getting up from the ground that you had just wiped up the spilled juice from ,you walked over to him as he stood frozen in place caught red handed holding the spatula in his hand.

"Let it go lil boy"you said through clenched teeth taking the utensil from him as he looked up at you with his light eyes before breaking out in giggles at your phony tough demeanor.

You bent down to pick him up giving him a small kiss with intentions to give him a bath and then hopefully lay him down for a bit but he gave you the bath when he sneezed in your face causing you to stop in your tracks.

You could just feel the snot on your forehead and cheeks

The front door opened and steps could be heard coming into the kitchen as Brian walked in before seeing you standing there frozen

"What happened Tal?"he laughed as you walked towards him handing him his son "dinners in the fridge"you spoke briefly before walking off "Whatchu do to mommy Boog?"he began playing with the toddler as you went up the stairs

Peeling off your boy shorts and the shirt of Brian's you were wearing,you stepped into the steaming hot shower letting the water beat down your tense body.

This wasn't what you imagined your mid 20's to be like .

You're first love was cars ,a love that you shared your with your brother Tej,he taught you everything you know now and once you got the hang of racing, you were hooked.

Cars were your life ,you loved the fast life .

You were 17 when you first met Brian,him and your brother were like brothers and he was like an older brother except for the fact that you had a massive crush on him.

He was one of the few guys your brother would allow you to be around(that he knew of)and on top of that he was fine as hell

But it always seemed like there was something in the way of the you shooting your shot,wether it was the age difference ,your brother or even his on and off again relationship with Mia.

But things changed when Brian picked you up after your car broke down on your way back from a party at 3 am and everything fell right into place

Never did you think years later that your life would only consist around being a stay at home mom.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being at home with your son while Brian worked,it was that fact that it was the only thing you ever did.

It was a drastic comparison to your life years ago

The two of you became official when you were 19 going on 20 and married at 22 as you were already expecting your son

Of course you love Brian and your son with everything in you but damn...

He would be gone for days at a time working out of state cases and being home all that time left you thinking about how your life has changed

You needed an outlet,something for yourself

...

After getting dressed and actually looking like yourself again ,you headed downstairs seeing your son slumped in his chair with his dad at the table eating as you walked past the two ,grabbing your keys that you haven't used in a while from the drawer ,you could see Brian glancing at you from the corner of your eye as he breathed out a low "damn"making you smile

Thank god you were brown and couldn’t burn red in the face

" your hair is down"he cleared his throat referring to your curly hair thats usually in a messy bun

you closed the drawer with your hip before turning around to the boys that sat at the table.Boog was like you when it came to sleeping ,mouth open and everything

"Yeah"you exhaled not knowing why you felt so anxious.He wouldn’t be upset that you wanted to get out for a while,you felt suffocated and he should be able to understand that you wanted to take a small breather from …everything but how could you explain that to him without it sounding wrong

"What's wrong Natalia ?"He asked slowly grabbing your wrist to pull you over and into sideways into his lap

"I just need to get out for a bit"nerves began manifesting themselves causing you to bite your top lip as he nodded before bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing the back of it taking the keys out of your hand holding them up not even having to say anything

"Why not the jeep?"he cleared his throat once again

Referring to your vehicle that you used whenever you ran errands

" I need to do something "you exhaled as his eyebrows furrowed

"What's this about?"He asked leaning in to kiss your lips softly as one of his hands wrapped around your waist and yours around the back of his neck

He used his hold on your waist to turn your body making you straddle his lap,his tongue has always managed to make your head spin just a bad as the low groan he let out made you squirm

His hand palmed your breast ,his fingers tips rubbing over your nipple as you could already feel yourself losing focus

You’re decision to not wear a bra worked in his favor

"Brian"you spoke out weakly against his lips as the hand that was once around your waist crept up before wrapping around your neck squeezing just a bit… how he knew you liked it

With the little composure you had left,you pulled back standing up and fixing your clothes as the two of you caught your breath

"I need to go"you breathed out running a hand through your hair

You felt like if you didn’t go out now and try to make sense of what you were feeling,that you’d never have any clarity as to why you were feeling that way in the first place

"Natalia where?”he exclaimed “For what?” “You aren’t gonna give me any context as to why you suddenly have the urge to do any of this ?” He questioned you raising his voice with an irritated expression ,you looked over at your son who stirred in his sleep before plucking him up and carrying him upstairs to lay him down,leaving Brian to hopefully calm down

As you walked down the stairs you could see Brain leaning up against the counter his head was down

"I need my keys"you held out your hand not feeling like arguing

"Look” he began as his knuckles whitened holding the keys in his hands “if this is about me not being home enough or something just say that"he breathed out looking up from the ground rubbing his eyebrow bone with his fingertips

"It's not that-"you spoke lowly before you he cut you off

He held out his hands" what is it then?”Brians arms fell at his sides

"I go to work so you don't have to and can stay home with Boog,I try to make sure you have everything- "he began to ramble before something in you popped off

"Brian this isn't what i wanted!"you yelled making him look up at you,that’s not what you wanted to say exactly but he wouldn’t stop talking

He was making you feel like you were ungrateful for the life that you have with him and that wasn’t the case at all

"What?"he questioned breathlessly

“Brian I feel useless and overwhelmed all at the same time”you tried to explain how you were feeling but you could tell he was interpreting it the wrong way

"When we got together I was young and all I wanted at the time was to be with you"you spoke trying to make it make sense "we had each other but we still had our own things going on ,I was able to go whenever and wherever ,I had my own life outside of yours"you looked around the room trying to find something to focus on to hopefully steady your breathing ,your shaky voice gave in as tears welled in your eyes

"Now I'm just a stay at home mom ,who sits around all day and waits for my man to come home and fuck me that's it"your voice shook ,you couldn’t exactly tell how he was taking it and not knowing scared you

"It's an endless cycle Brian and it's driving me fucking crazy" your fist hit your palm out of frustration as you finally looked up at him

"You still get to do what you love everyday while I had to stop everything "

"It just all happened so fast ,I've barely had time to process my new reality " you spoke frantically trying to steady your shaky hands,you don't know why this was so hard for you.What is because you kept it in for so long?

“Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve had too much time to ponder on it”you swallowed

“I feel like all I am is a mom , like I’m not human” you licked your dry lips as he turned to face the counter before whipping back around "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT THEN!"he yelled "WE HAVE A SON AND YOU ARE HIS MOTHER YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF HIM!-"his face burned red as he caught hisself and inhaled in efforts to not upset you or himself any further but from his point of view ,he felt like you weren’t satisfied with the life the two of you shared.

He thought you were happy ,sure you seemed sluggish sometimes but a toddler could do that to anyone.

We’re you actually unhappy? You couldn’t be ,he would’ve noticed sooner.

"We made him together,we got married and our son was born,this is what you wanted!"he gestured between the two of you trying to recap the last few years as if you weren’t there living it

“Why don’t you go and join a goddamn book club or something like a normal housewife does when they’re bored and wanna feel important ”he shook his head once he was met with silence,he knew that he didn’t mean that last part but he felt confused and angry

"I didn't exactly put you in anything you didn't know you were getting into"he gestured towards you ,he was right and wrong at the same time

He looked at you waiting for you to say something but it really didn't matter what you said ,he wouldn't understand

"What you don't wanna be a mother anymore ,that it?"he snapped you out of your thinking daze as you could feel the hot tears running down your face

As soon as those words left his mouth he immediately regretted it but he felt like he was in too deep now .Maybe it was his lack of understanding that frustrated him more than anything and you not saying anything only left his mind to wonder

“How dare you say that to me?”you choked out

"We'll it sure as hell sounded like it a few moments ago,Natalia"He replied

He was met with a scoff before you moved forward to grab your keys off of the counter behind him as he called your name lowly as you walked past him

There was nothing more you could say,something so minimal as wanting to get away for a bit felt like it uncovered such a huge unspoken feeling that you were suppressing

Brian knew that the words that were exchanged tonight could never be taken back and he never wanted to be the reason you ever cried from sadness.

He couldn’t believe how things escalated so fast.

He grabbed your arm stopping you

“Let me go”you spoke although your heart wanted the opposite,you wanted to feel appreciated

But there’s no turning back.Your chest felt so heavy and you needed to breath

You drove in your car with the windows down and Stevie Wonder’s voice flowing through your ears as the tears dried up on your face.

In a way it made you smile that Tez was still drying your tears in a way considering he got you the car for your 17th birthday

It was your baby ,you loved it like it was your child back then ,Tez knew you would which is why he said he didn’t mind spending all that money on it

That wasn’t the only reason .

Y’all grew up being all each other had.The things you had to go through at that age weren’t ideal and to compensate for that Tez made sure to take care of you and keep you smiling as much as he could.

You had to go and visit him sometime soon

You found yourself pulling into the crowded area ,it was a Friday night so as expected ,a lot was going on

Parking your car ,you sat on the hood looking around at the live action going on around you ,it was different from when it was you and the crew .Back then it was about skill and speed,now it all flash and ego but don’t get it twisted,y’all’s rides back then we’re still cold as hell.

Just being here reminded you of how much your life had changed.Growing up your older brother raised you to be head strong and independent.

Once you met his friends they gradually became your friends and then they were family and you could be open and vulnerable around them

You were the youngest out of the group so they tried to make sure you didn't do too much but of course you still found ways to do what you wanted and that sometimes led you to getting into shit that you couldn't get yourself out of but they still saved your ass especially Brian

Once the two of you finally got together ,he always made sure to keep you close to him ,promising your brother to treat you right and to look after you and he kept that promise but in the words of your brother "you grew up and got serious too fast "and now look at you.

Looking back you think it was the excitement and newness of getting with your crush and being young ,as time went on and you got pregnant and then married and were new parents you felt like you were on cloud 9 and things were the way that they were supposed to be.But why doesn’t it feel that way now?

Your thoughts were halted upon hearing the familiar chuckle behind you as a knowing smile painted your face

"Hm we got a special guest here tonight uh?"He spoke as you turned around to see the Haitian man

"Junior"you called out as the two of you hugged tightly

"man,years later and you could still make a dead man buss"he spoke holding your body close to his before you pulled back from the hug rolling your eyes with a smile"Still got that potty mouth huh?"you laughed as he shrugged releasing his hold on your waist

"What brought my girl back ?"he asked as the two of you sat against your car

"I just wanted to see what was going on"you lied playing with the ring on your finger as he chuckled

"Wife life got ta you"he laughed as you looked up at him before laughing nodding your head not even being able to lie to him

Y'all were close back then ,he knew you too well.

"I just needed to-i don't even really know"you spoke exhaling

"Know whatchu need?"he asked nudging your arm as you looked up at him

...

Your heart was beating out of your chest as the two of you raced though the streets ,it was like the only thing you worried about in that moment was feeling the vibrations from your car as you guided the wheel to get you to the end,which was wherever you wanted it to be.

In that moment you felt light

It's the same euphoric feeling you remembered...and that's what it was ,a memory

A memory that came from that lifestyle of your past

Your past that didn’t involve Brian as your husband or your son

And that thought alone hurt your heart worse than anything

You couldn’t go back to how things were,driving recklessly,living with no fear and regard for the future …you had your son and your husband at home

Did the racing compare to Boog’s laughs when you tickled him or your husbands kiss?

Maybe it was that you just needed a moment to reflect

You came to a stop as Junior pulled up beside you seconds after before getting out the car as you exhaled leaning your head back before getting out of yours.

"How do you feel?"Junior asked walking up to you "I feel like I can think a lot clearer now "you nodded as a small smile made its way into your face as his thumb caressed your jaw

"Thank you ,I needed that"you nodded ,he wrapped his other tattooed arm around your waist to kiss your cheek holding you in a hug

"Why don't you stay?"he asked lowly with his chin rested on top of your head

You knew he was gonna go there ,the two of you had something before you and Brian became official but that was then and this is now

"You know why"you patted his back before slipping out of his grip to walk back to your car door

"Nat baby?"he called out to you making you look back at him

"You can always come back if you need to "he held a smirk but spoke serious words

"I know June...I gotta go"you smiled before getting in

Racing was your passion but your family was your life and you wouldn't trade the old days for the new memories that you've built with your husband and son .

Life evolves but it's nice knowing that a taste of your youth would always be there if you needed it.

The lights were off with it being 2 am as you closed the front door

You were about to head up the stairs until you looked into the living room to see the tv still on lowly

Walking through the kitchen you stopped in the living room when you seen Brian sitting on the couch with a beer in hand as he looked up at you before putting the beer down and standing up and walking over

"Can you sit for a minute sweetheart?"he gestured towards the spot he’d previously occupied , you nodded before sitting in front of him as his hands found themselves at his hips that were covered in gray sweats .”Ive had time to think about what you said and I think I’m getting just what you meant ” He ran his hand along his jaw as he paced slowly back and forth. “I’ve never considered that you weren’t feeling appreciated or important or- useful-if you get what im saying” he breathed out before abruptly stopping in front of you“but baby believe me when I tell you that you are THE most important and crucial person in mines and Boogs life and baby you do more for our family than I could in a lifetime baby “he rushed out his words as he sat on the table in front of your legs to grasp onto your knees in desperation

“I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to leave our home to recover from being overwhelmed with emotion or from feeling under appreciated”he shook his head

“You are my wife ,you are Boogs mother but first you are Natalia Parker ,you’re a human with feelings and needs and if you ever feel like your lacking in any of those departments baby ,as your husband it is my obligation to fulfill them to the best of my abilities and I need you to tell me whenever you feel like I’m coming short of that obligation sweetheart” he pleaded with his blue eyes showing absolute sincerity

“I’ll do whatever it takes to let you know how important you are,I sure as hell don’t want you to feel like you’re tied down in a bad way ”his hands held yours in his as his blue eyes glistened red

“This could’ve all been avoided if I had been more open and communicated with you about how I was feeling” you sniffled from the fresh tears that stained your cheeks.

“Brian don’t ever think that I’m not satisfied being your wife and Boog’s parent,I’m so happy with the life we have now ,I just don’t wanna get caught up in such a routine that everything becomes automatic and we lose feelings and our spark you know?” you spoke honestly taking deep breaths relieved to be finding common ground again

“We’ll work on that.I promise sweetheart ”he nodded wiping your tears with his thumb “I spoke to Letty while you were out,they want to keep Boog for the weekend”he informed you as it was now your turn to nod “I think it’ll be a good chance for us to spend time together ”he moved closer to your body as your knees touched.

“I’ll take a few days off next week so we can spend time together as a family”he leaned in to kiss your cheek as you nodded with closed eyes when he moved down to your neck “that’ll be nice baby”your voice came out small

"Brian?"you moaned out as he brought his body to yours laying you down on the couch and on top of you

"You don't gotta explain Natalia"he spoke into your neck as his big hands felt over your body,god his touch was intoxicating

" I just had to clear my head"you whispered ,he told you multiple times before that he understood but maybe it was hard to accept because of how you held your feelings in for so long "I know baby"his large hands rubbed over your waist before moving lower “you deserve to take time for yourself “he spoke into your ear placing firm open mouth kisses near your jaw ,god you loved this man

Jerking the waistband of your pants down he somehow managed to get them fully off before pulling down the waist of his sweatpants

“And Imma help you” he rasped making you clench around nothing

"I love you Brian"you moaned out as he moved forward to ease into you “god I love you more baby"he kissed your parted lips

#black reader #brian oconner #fast and furious #paul walker #brian O’Connor x black reader

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funnyexel · 1 year

Text

I finally understand how to work this-

#black fanfiction #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne #namor fic #dark!superman #superman x reader #jakob toretto #fast and furious #dc universe #marvel

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bluebirds-song · 9 months

Text

I have never posted on this app

And I was thinking maybe I could post on here

try to power through my writers block

and get some advice on how to fix my

writing skills so hello people of Tumblr

If you do see this and interact, thank you

Very much and thank you again

I'm open to suggestions and requests

But I will not allow

pedophilia

Sexual Assault

Incest

Urolagna

Coprophilia

Feet fetishist

Being a creep

Stalking

Slashers

Murder

Adult x child

☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎

Also,

i write for anyone honestly

As long as your not requesting a murderer

Or a slasher like Jason I'm good your good were friends

And I will decline you if I find your request uncomfortable

Thank you, lovely person -bluebirds-song

Ps-please be nice if you don't like this just s scroll

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skepticalkoi-catastrophe · 1 year

Text

|Come Closer| Kuroo Tetsurou x Blackfem!reader

The following fanfic is an inspired spin-off of Deciphered by @hoeneymilktea, The Sunrise, and Your Sins by @leia505 , and fanart by @aikk00 . Pls, check them out as well as other spin-off authors. Comments, Reblogs, and Shares are heavily appreciated. I hope you enjoy~ ♡

Words- 2,001

Chapter [005] Wish it More

Subway doors clang shut at the Toranomon Hills Station via the Hibiya Line. Kuroo texts you and says he's waiting at the next station's platform. You have your headset on one ear, the other somewhat hanging off to hear any upcoming announcements. Your mouth quirks at its corners as you notice a toddler sitting across from where you are, babbling and reaching for you.

Sunlit clouds drift through the clear skies, casting radiant lambency out the windows of the train. Its beams turn your irises into sunny versions of themselves. When Kuroo said he'd see you today, you didn't think you'd wake up to brunch delivered at your doorstep from your favorite café you thought closed many summers back. He first took you there after his morning practice as a thank-you for accompanying him during volleyball training camp.

You’re pulled out of your reverie as your stop, Kasumigaseki Station, is announced as the next stop. You wish the toddler goodbye with a wink and a wave, seeing their teeny tiny hand wave bye back to you. Waiting by the candy cane-striped line for safety at the edge of the track, train schedules and map routes are posted on the wall along with digital signs announcing the estimated arrival time for the next train.

"Y/n!" Kuroo stumbled to a halt. "I'm so glad you had some time to do this with me."

"Lucky for you I've got all the time in the world, Tetsurou."

He's decked out in a white Chicago Bulls jersey and khaki cargo pants, an acid wash jean jacket wrapped around his waist. Red, white, and black retro Jordan 6's on his feet as he ushered you inside the train. You both tromp along, taking baby steps into the sardine can-like compartment alongside dozens of strangers. Attempting to snag an empty seat, the train lurched unanticipatedly at its next stop.

Had the last person boarding not rushed inside the train, Kuroo -adding to his now brought-on discomforting sense of dread- blunders about nearly crushing you between him and the train doors at your rear. He catches himself even though there wasn't a handle to grab ahold of. Till he realized his large hand was on your hip holding you upright.

You raise your chin, pursing your lips. "You good? You almost busted your ass there for a sec."

"Uh- yeah sorry about that, Shortcake. Can I uh...?" He trips over his tongue, the forced proximity making his heart play double dutch. "I'm gonna put my arm above you, okay? To steady me."

"Right, uh, go ahead." You said, folding your hands at your sides and holding your ruched red Prada mini bag. His gold cuban link chain dangling within the modest gap between you both. He's not far off from an overprotective boyfriend with his right forearm stiffly propped onto the train doors. Kuroo turned his head sideways, throwing his focus elsewhere.

You both bring your attention as the speaker crackles to life, announcing the next platform. Seven stops left.

You press your foot down on the gas controller, only for your avatar to place fourth once again across the finish line. Kuroo takes pleasure in his victory, even going as far as to one-up you by driving one-handed just like in real life. Yet he had another thing coming as you got to your feet on the old thin patterned carpet, blowing out your cheeks.

"Best two outta three?" He insisted, stretching his arms above his head.

"Tell yah what, you may out-drive me but I mos def can out-gun you." You taunt, leading him away from the seated racing games to the loud bomb blasts and gunfire emanating from the nearby shoot-em-up games.

Rows of machines with colorful pictures on the sides filled Gigo Shinjuku Kabukicho. Players jab at buttons, some frustratedly slamming their hands against the side of them. Recorded crowds cheering and bellowing out the basketball/hoop games. Inserting your tokens, you hold the shotgun controller, squeezing the trigger.

Kuroo practically bent over backward narrowly keeping up with your kill streak. Marveled, he watches as you gun down hordes of zombies . The Annihilation–each zombie barely made it a step through the graveyard before you blew them to high hell with seconds left in the round.

You size him up, grabbing a quick slurp of your blue raspberry slush before the next level kicks in. "Quittin' already?"

"I'm all outta tokens, smart ass. Imma be right back." He simpered, gingerly bumping your side.

You give him a half-shrug, mowing down more zombies as Kuroo jogged out of view to the token exchange. At the final boss level, you chuck a grenade, adding another S-rank win to your belt. Level three loaded as you pumped your fist in the air, jamming your hand in your front pocket for what's left of your tokens.

"Here, you can have mine." Your head jerked in the direction of the voice, his stack of tokens resting on the game cabinets' console. He held out his arms, wrapping them around your shoulders, yours around his torso squeezing a bit.

"Where have you been at, Tangie? Last we spoke, you were leaving for Brazil." You pull away, the ginger barely concealing his delight. "You were shorter, too."

"Says the one who hasn't grown much since then. Last I saw you, you were catching your flight back to the states."

Hinata's tan is evident of his time away. His short-sleeved shirt revealed elaborate tattoos down to his wrists. "I'm taking some time off. I got homesick. I've missed you, Mi Querida."

"Oh, so we're bilingual now?" Your hip juts out amused. "I missed you too. Sorry I wasn't calling you as much. I had my number changed recently. "

Inserting his stack of coins, you wait on the countdown to the next stage of zombies. You hand your blue flip phone to him, a Calpico charm with a small four-leaf clover inside hangs from it.

"I can't say much right now, but add your number to my contact list. And don't tell Blondie Miya. I want it to be a surprise."

Hinata taps away at the number keys. "That's if his brother didn't tell him first. Word travels fast 'round here. Wait, you're here alone?"

"Who says I'm alone?" You ready your stance, cocking the plastic shotgun and adjusting your aim. "I'll give you the deets later."

Hinata snaps your phone shut, sliding it into your mini bag. He side-hugs you once more, starting to quicken his pace en route to the prize counter.

"You might wanna head out pronto." His flip phone chirps reading off a message. "Blondie and Grey will be here in a few minutes. I'll message you a meeting place by Friday."

You wave him away, putting the plastic gun down in the console's holster. Searching for any signs of the twins, you bump into a medium-sized toast and skeleton cat plushie won from the claw games held in Kuroo's arms.

Somewhat peeking around his shoulder, you notice the twins now battling in air hockey while Enigma was by the dance pads.

"Careful y/n. What's the rush?"

You take his hand, hastily leading him to the exit doors. "I'm craving something sweet. Let's get ice cream. My treat."

Colorfully painted walls and an ornamented chalkboard menu board lists various ice cream flavors and their correlative prices. Jolly décor and customers peer into glass-covered cases holding buckets of creamy confectionery nestled in ice as they ask for samples. Tubs filled with candy toppings and pump containers of chocolate, caramel, butterscotch, and strawberry syrups lined the display cases.

Seated in a booth, you take spoonfuls of your parfait as Kuroo tries desperately to keep his waffle cone from melting in his hands. Both of your plushies are seated beside you.

"We're gonna spoil our dinner because of your sweet tooth."

"What do you care? Do you have reservations planned for us somewhere? " You rocked back and forth, brushing your palms together.

"Does Thai Take-out count?" Kuroo bites into his cone, licking what he could of his three scoops. "In all seriousness though, why were you so quick to leave the arcade? Did something happen? "

You shook your head. "No. Nothing like that. I just saw some familiar faces and I didn't want them to know I was out and about."

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Why? Scared I'll ruin your rep?"

"For starters, you still haven't told me what your rep is nowadays. Apparently, you race and you have money as far as the eye can see. Am I wrong to assume the worst? "

Kuroo laughs bitterly, crunching more of his waffle cone between his teeth. "Assume the worst huh? I'd say I'm living the dream. Fast cars and fast money all the while I'm my own boss."

"And your Chem degree is still in the picture?"

"Working on it as we speak. Part-time, obviously."

Wrapping a curl around your finger, you lean back into the cushioned seat, wiggling your foot.

"If life's so carefree, then, please do tell me whose nine millimeter that is in your glove box."

There's a beat of silence as his shoulders slump and he massages the back of his neck. "How did you-? Look, I never said I didn't have enemies, y/n. It comes with the territory."

Across the way, a girl your age waited afar. You realize you know her, red and white ink formed a chrysanthemum norigae on her right bicep.

Exhaling, you rise from your seat. "I'll be in the bathroom."

Shim Ya Naoki. Da Vinci was once her name. Nothing more than a talented tattoo artist who visited your old place of work for flowers and coffee. You hated where things left off between you both. She's the one who disappeared. She had no right to blame you.

Her black platform lace-up boots entered, heavily pacing to the stall you stood within. She leaned back against the wall, hanging her head and crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'd apologize but I know you don't want to hear a word I have to say."

"Yeah, well, you shut everybody out. I won't take it personally. Never did." You quipped, glancing up at the ceiling.

"Spades, you can't- " She retorted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "You cannot avoid me forever."

"How much do you wanna bet ?" You opened the door of the stall. Naoki steps back, granting you enough space to stand straight.

"I don't want an apology, 'Vinci. I didn't ask you to nose around in my business with the Miya's. If you wanted Kuroo so bad back then, you should've opened yah fuckin' mouth and told him."

"It was pointless. He used me as a rebound the same way you used him."

"Kuroo and I were strictly just friends. Him and I dating was out of the question."

"Guess he didn't quite get the memo. He moaned your name while he fucked me." Naoki tenses, her expression pinched and eyes narrow.

"You're lyin'." Your head drew back quickly. Disbelief audible as you shakily replied. "It doesn't matter, you two weren't officially together. Having a 'fuck buddy' dosen't equal having a boyfriend."

"Neither were you and the Miyas either."

Naoki shoved her hands in her pockets bumping your shoulder to get by. She cracks the bathroom door, looking back at you, her acrylic nails like talons.

"He's not who he's cracked up to be. From one girl to another, stand down. He's more trouble than he's worth, Spades."

With that, she exits, leaving you frustratedly speechless. Touching the base of your neck, your other hand grips the sink in front of you as you grimace.

You never called to mind Kuroo looking at you in a lovey-dovey way. He was a player, a delinquent who could have any girl he wanted back then and even now. Everything you both did together was totally platonic. No strings attached. Naoki's warning repeats itself back as a question from your lips.

"More trouble than he's worth?"

If you enjoyed this chapter, make sure to follow me for more. If you'd also like to be added to the tag list, comment below.

Taglist: @blissfullyrhea @nanastie @peachjaem00 @melbugs1 @jfoxxarts @s-1-xx

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hattiewritesalot · 15 days

Text

Awake

Azriel x fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel is undeniably furious, especially considering the fact that Y/N has yet to wake up. But, when she does, what will become of their relationship?

Warnings: Vomiting, mentions of Az wanting to kill people for his bbg, very fluffy. Bit of hurt/comfort for both Azriel and Y/N

A/N: Here is part two of Poison (which, btw, thank u for all the support I've been getting on it 😭). feel free to send in requests for acotar bc I'm bored<3

---------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel doesn’t think he’s ever been angrier in his entire life.

He’s supposed to stay calm and collected, every inch the mysterious spymaster, but not even the strongest sedative could settle the rage brewing in his chest. His shadows curl menacingly around his limbs, the black essence seeming to share his fury.

Rhysand sighs, rubbing his temples. Feyre stands behind him, probably to offer some form of comfort. They both adore Y/N. They’ve practically adopted her with how much they coddle and coo at her, despite her loud laughter and complaints whenever they do.

Cauldron, what Azriel wouldn't do to hear that laugh right now.

It’s been three days. Y/N is not awake. His mate is not awake.

Rhysand finally looks up at Azriel. “We’ve got answers, at least.” Before Azriel can interrupt, he keeps talking. “Beron has admitted to poisoning Y/N. He figured that if he targeted her, we’d crumble. Not because she’s the strongest, but because she’s the most… beloved, daresay. He didn’t think we’d hit back, and he thought he’d be able to crush us with this crack in our defences.”

Azriel’s scarred knuckles are alabaster from how hard he’s gripping the arms of his chair. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would he just admit it?” The High Lord of Night takes a deep breath.

“He found it funny.” The noise that tears from Azriel’s throat is completely inhumane, and completely unlike him. He storms to the door, but Cassian’s strong arms hold him back, urging him to stay calm, urging him to breathe. He can’t. He’s gone past being angry, and he’s gone past blaming it on the new mating bond.

Y/N is his best friend. He’d die and kill for her, he’d steal the moon and stars if it meant she’d be happy. The Mother’s bond can go and fuck itself, because the one he’s already got with Y/N will always be stronger.

“I’ve arranged a meeting with Eris Vanserra.” Rhys’ firm voice cuts through the haze of rage. “He says he has plans, and that this event has solidified his desires. I may be unable to tell you what comes of the meeting, but I guarantee that Beron will suffer for what he did to Y/N.”

Mate. Awake. He almost doesn’t realise what his shadows are whispering to him. Awake. Eyes open. Vomit. GO. He chokes, and desperately tries to break free of Cassian's grip. He needs to see her. He needs her to be okay. “Az, Rhys just said-”

“I know what he just said!” Azriel hates the way his voice is more of a sob. “She’s awake- she’s- please, let me go to her!”

A shadowsinger shouldn’t beg. He shouldn’t grovel. He should attack.

But he doesn’t, because he knows that Y/N is far more important than any conflict he could have with Cassian right now.

And, besides, Cassian lets him go. He’s never run so fast in his life. His feet are barely on the ground, legs and shadows and wings working in tandem to get him there as soon as possible. He thinks he might be the one vomiting in a minute.

Rhys groans. “I know they’re close, but he’s going to drive me insane before I even have this meeting.”

But Feyre, ever the observant High Lady, stares at his retreating form, hand squeezing Rhys’ shoulder. “Give him time. I’m sure he’ll cool off, when he knows she’s safe.” A small smile quirks up at the corners of her lips, knowing exactly why Azriel is so worked up.

---------------------------------------------------------------

His chest heaves as he pushes the door open, but then it’s filled with warmth. Alive. She’s alive, and upright, and very visibly pissed off but it’s okay because she’s alive.

“The one time I drink something that isn’t champagne-” she croaks out. “-and it turns out to be fucking poisoned. If that’s not my luck I don’t know what is.”

Azriel can’t control the desperate sob that bursts from his lips as he clambers onto the bed, pulling her into his chest. She’s sweaty, and feverish, and she’s just puked into the bucket next to the bed, but he’ll be damned if he cares. She’s alive. He buries his face in her hair, arms and wings squeezing her so tightly it makes her squeak.

“Alright big guy, I’ve just been sick, let’s not try and go for round two.” Her tone is teasing, joking, but the moment he pulls away, her face falls. “Az…” she murmurs, moving her fingers up to wipe his tears. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he spits, sobbing again. “What’s wrong!? You were fucking poisoned! You’ve been puking and coughing and writhing and screaming ever since you got here, and you’ve been out for three days. Three whole days- where- I didn’t know if you were dead, I didn’t know if you-”

“Az.” her tone is a bit firmer now, thumbs pressing against his lips. “I’m okay. I’m gonna be okay. I’m here, I’m breathing, and I’m going to be fine. Breathe.”

He heaves a deep breath, clutching her so tightly his fingers make indents on her skin. If she notices, she doesn’t care. “You’re… okay.”

“I’m okay.” She smiles. Her lips are cracked and slightly discoloured, but he’s missed her little smile so fucking much. “Come on, Az, you know me. Tough as nails.” She flexes her arms, and Azriel snorts.

“There’s nothing there. You should really stop skipping training.” “No! You’re always a dick to me in training!”

“Yes, because Cassian’s about as mean as a wet sponge, and it isn’t potty training, it’s battle tactics.” She scoffs. “Whatever, whatever.” And he grins, and hugs her again, trying to engrave the memory of her wrapped up in his arms into his brain, just to keep there forever. “Azriel?” He hums in response. “I- so, you know a couple days back? When... this... happened, and I was just about to fall asleep?” She swallows. “I think I felt something… snap.”

His heart pounds in his chest. “The bond? You felt it too?”

“Uh- yeah.” She looks up at him, big eyes blinking up at him like a doe, her face so sweet he wants to coo. “Are you disappointed? That it’s me?”

That makes Azriel frown. How could he be disappointed? She’s everything and more, anyone can see that. Even if he pushes aside the fact that she’s drop-dead gorgeous, she’s got a brain to match it. She’s quick and clever and sassy in a way that rivals even his own spunk. If anything, she should be the disappointed one.

“No.” he says, brows furrowing. “Y/N, sweetheart, you mean the world to me. How could I be disappointed?” He wants to catch all of the butterflies in his stomach and lock them away forever, because they're making him woozy. “Are- are you?”

“Am I?” her tone is confused, almost shocked. “Az- Az, I’ve been into you for, like, forever. I’m not disappointed. I could never be disappointed, not with you.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, blinking, suddenly coming to terms with the fact that this bond has, for lack of better wording, startled them. They’ve always prioritised everyone else over them, always considered others' needs and benefits above their own, but they’ve never had the chance to fully acknowledge themselves. Maybe that’s what made them so alike. Maybe that’s why the Mother paired them together, knowing that amidst the sarcastic comments and teasing touches, the sturdy roots of their relationship came from their unwavering trust and care for one another.

Azriel’s hand moves to Y/N’s clammy forehead, softly pushing the hair away from her face. Despite everything that’s happened in the last few days, she’s still her, and he’s still him. Nothing is ever going to change that.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers. She rolls her eyes. “I’ve got a raging fever, I’m drenched in my own sweat, I just threw up and you’re calling me beautiful?”

He laughs, oh, by the Cauldron, he laughs. “You could be a corpse and you’d still be the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“That’s necrophilia, Az. Pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“You’re hilarious, sweetheart.”

“Is that why you fell in love with me?”

“Okay, who’s saying I’m in love with you?”

“Me.” and she grins, nudging her nose against his. “Because I am not only hilarious, but also very observant.” He lets out a little hum in response, scarred fingers still twisting in her hair. Everything’s perfect, because they’re not. Their imperfections are intertwined, just like their souls, and the knowledge the other will always be there to love them is all they've ever wanted.

Azriel’s eyes flit down to her lips, and then he’s leaning in, and she’s doing the same, and-

She pulls away, wincing. “I puked about five minutes ago. I don’t think you want to kiss me right now.”

He rolls his eyes, tipping her chin up. “Y/N L/N, I have waited at least two centuries for the opportunity to kiss you. Don’t stop me now.” And he presses his lips to hers. It’s gentle, soft, sweet. Everything he feels around this girl.

“You’re gross.” She mumbles.

“That’s what love does to you.”

“And you’re a sap.” She grins. “I suppose you’re lucky I love you, even if you are going soft for me.”

“Shut up, sweetheart.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

@topaz125 @starryhiraeth @nahminae @quiettuba @thecraziestcrayon @honeywithemoney @marvelsmylife @sunny1616 @lilah-asteria @emryb @i-am-infinite @st4r-girl-official

my loves ty for ur support! :)

#fluffy az does something to me #but angry az willing to murder for r is even better #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar

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pucksandpower · 3 months

Text

Hail to the Chief

Lando Norris x First Daughter of the US!Reader

Summary: in which Lando doesn’t realize exactly who he took back to his hotel room after the Miami Grand Prix (and almost causes an international incident in the process)

You stir awake, blinking slowly while you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. The sheets rustle as you stretch, a pleased smile spreading across your face. Strong arms tighten around your waist, and you glance over your shoulder to see Lando gazing at you with warm eyes.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your bare shoulder.

You hum in contentment, snuggling back against his muscular chest. The sunlight streams in through the curtains, casting the hotel room in a cozy glow. Clothes are strewn across the floor, reminders of your passionate night together after meeting at the club.

Lando’s hand trails up your side, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. You shiver as his lips find the sensitive spot behind your ear, his breath hot.

“Ready for round two?” He whispers, his voice husky.

You twist in his arms to face him, locking your legs with his beneath the sheets. “I thought you’d never ask,” you purr, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss.

Just as things start heating up, loud banging erupts from the suite’s door. You break apart, startled. Lando frowns.

“Housekeeping?” You ask in confusion. More pounding follows, furious and insistent.

“I don’t think so,” Lando says warily.

Before either of you can react, the door crashes open, wood splintering. Men in dark suits pour into the suite, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. You yelp, grabbing the sheet to your chest. Lando scrambles upright, shock written across his handsome face.

“What the hell?” He exclaims.

The men converge on the bed in a swarm. Two sequester you, gently steering you away. The others tackle Lando, shoving him to the floor.

“Don’t fight it,” one orders as Lando struggles. He pins Lando’s arms behind his back.

“Get off me!” Lando shouts, face smushed into the carpet. “What is this?”

You know exactly what this is. Your security detail, come to collect you after last night’s escape. Panic rises in your throat.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” you beg the agents holding you.

Their grips remain firm but nonviolent. One talks rapidly into his earpiece, confirming the situation is handled. The apparent leader of the group stands over Lando, who glares up at him defiantly.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” the man states gruffly. “But you’re coming with us.”

Two agents haul Lando to his feet. He stands there in only his boxers, completely perplexed. You bite your lip, shot through with guilt. This is all because of you.

The agent in charge approaches you next, his gaze softening slightly. “Time to go home, ma’am. Your father is waiting.”

Lando’s head whips toward you so fast it must give him whiplash. “Ma’am? Your father?” His face goes ashen with dawning comprehension that there’s more to you than meets the eye. You wince, knowing there’s no way out of this now.

The agents begin herding you and Lando at a brisk pace through the ravaged hotel room door. Lando cranes his neck, trying to look at you.

“Y/N, what the hell is going on?” He hisses, stumbling along in the grip of two agents. “Who are you?”

You open your mouth, an apology on your lips. Before you can speak, the lead agent interjects sharply.

“She’s the First Daughter of the United States, son. And you’re in deep shit.”

Lando pales. “The President’s-”

“That’s right,” the man confirms. “And he’s mighty unhappy you took certain liberties with his little girl.”

Lando gulps audibly. Your heart twists with regret, seeing him so distraught. But the agents allow no further discussion, marching you both through the hotel’s back corridors. In minutes, you’re bundled into a black SUV with tinted windows. Tires screech as your motorcade peels away, sirens blaring.

You reach for Lando’s hand, relief flooding you when he doesn’t pull away. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper earnestly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He searches your face, brow furrowed. But his fingers tighten around yours. “It’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You nod, knowing you owe him an explanation. But before you can speak, the SUV rolls to a stop on an empty airport tarmac. A sleek private plane awaits, engines rumbling. The agents hurry you both up the stairs into the lavish cabin.

Once settled inside, the lead agent fixes Lando with a solemn look. “We’re taking you straight to DC. The President wants to have a word with you both.”

Lando gulps again. You squeeze his hand, offering a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry. My dad’s just a little … overprotective sometimes.”

You nestle close to Lando as the jet taxis down the runway, hoping to provide some comfort. But he sits rigidly, face pale.

“Hey,” you say softly, “It’s going to be okay.”

Lando turns to you with wide, frightened eyes. “Okay? Your dad is the President! And I … I ...” He gestures helplessly at you, at a loss for words.

“Deflowered his only daughter?” You supply with a teasing grin.

Lando gulps loudly. “Oh god. He’s going to kill me, isn’t he? I’m a dead man. They’ll waterboard me or worse.”

You have to laugh at his flustered expression. “Relax, it won’t be that bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lando grumbles. “You’re not the one who’s gonna get shipped off to some CIA black site never to be heard from again.”

“Oh come on, he won’t go that far.”

Lando turns to you with wide, frightened eyes. “Are you sure? I’ve heard stories about shady government stuff. Secret torture chambers under the White House. Experimental poisons. Attack eagles trained to go for the jugular.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment before stating in a deadpan voice, “The eagles prefer to go for the liver actually. More tender that way.”

Lando lets out a whimper, his face draining of color. “Oh god, you’re serious?” He squeaks. “I knew it, I’m never getting out of this alive!”

You can’t keep a straight face any longer and burst out laughing. “Lando, relax! I’m just messing with you. There are no attack eagles or secret torture chambers.”

You take his hand and kiss his cheek reassuringly. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. My dad will probably just want to have a talk with you. That’s all.”

Lando still looks uncertain, but manages a shaky nod. “If you say so. But I think I’ll say a prayer or two just in case. Please tell me your old man doesn’t have a shotgun.”

“No shotguns,” you confirm, patting Lando’s knee. “But the Secret Service on the other hand ...”

Lando’s eyes widen in renewed fear. He clasps his hands together dramatically and looks upward. “Dear spirit of Ayrton Senna, please protect me from the wrath of the President and his highly trained special agents. I know not what awaits me in Washington, but I beg you to guard me from grievous bodily harm ...”

***

The plane touches down at Andrews Air Force Base, and you and Lando are swiftly escorted from the plane into an armored SUV. Lando fidgets nervously in his seat during the short drive through the capital, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“It’s going to be okay,” you murmur, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. He attempts a weak smile in return.

All too soon, the SUV pulls up to the White House. You and Lando are ushered quickly inside by Secret Service agents, bypassing security checks. As you walk briskly through the historic halls, Lando gapes at the lavish architecture and priceless artwork adorning the walls.

“This is unreal,” he whispers. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze.

At last you arrive outside the Oval Office. The agents pause, stone-faced, before opening the tall wooden doors. Your stomach flip-flops with nerves as you enter behind them.

There, seated at the Resolute Desk, is your father — the President of the United States. He rises as you approach, his face impassive. You offer a timid smile.

“Hi, Daddy.”

Your father’s stern expression instantly melts. He circles the desk and pulls you into a warm embrace.

“There’s my little girl,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “You had me so worried.”

Guilt gnaws at you. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t you worry about that now. I’m just glad you’re safe.” He pauses, then adds, “Though if you really wanted an F1 driver, why couldn’t it have been that nice American boy Logan Sargeant? Now there’s an upstanding young patriot.”

Your father holds you by the shoulders, surveying you with concern. Seeing that you’re unharmed, his gaze shifts to Lando hovering awkwardly behind you. Your father’s eyes harden, his jaw setting. Lando audibly gulps.

Stepping between them, you take a deep breath. “Daddy, this is Lando. The man I was with last night.”

You lace your fingers through Lando’s in a show of solidarity. Your father’s piercing stare makes him fidget.

“Lando Norris,” your father states coldly. “Formula 1 driver. British national. Born and raised in Bristol, England. Competes for McLaren Racing. Net worth of $30 million USD. Had unauthorized relations with my daughter approximately ...” He glances at his watch, “ ... twelve hours ago.”

Lando pales under your father’s recitation of his biography and recent activities. You shoot your dad a pleading look.

“Go easy on him, okay?”

Your father’s face softens slightly at your words. He beckons for Lando to step forward.

“Son, you have exactly one minute to explain yourself before I set the full force of the United States government on you for defiling my princess. And believe me when I say there are dark places in this world where no one will ever find you again.”

Lando looks ready to pass out. He glances at you in panic, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze, signaling for him to speak.

“I-I’m so sorry, Mr. President,” Lando stammers. “Obviously I didn’t know who Y/N was when we met last night. But I care about her a lot, truly, and I would never intentionally do anything to hurt her. I have nothing but respect for her and for you, sir.”

He straightens his shoulders, gaining confidence. “I understand I made a mistake, and I take full responsibility. But I promise, my intentions are honorable. If you’ll permit it, I’d like to properly court Y/N with your blessing.”

Your father studies Lando for a long moment, face unreadable. The tension in the room is stifling. Finally, he cracks a wry smile.

“Very well. You’ve got spunk, kid, I’ll give you that. And clearly my daughter sees something in you worth all this trouble. But understand this—” Your father leans in, eyes flashing. “You’ve got one shot to prove yourself worthy of her. Mess it up, and you’ll be scrubbing toilets in Guantanamo Bay for the rest of your short, miserable life. Are we clear?”

Lando audibly gulps again. “C-crystal clear, sir.”

“Good.” Your father claps Lando on the shoulder firmly enough to make him wince. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

“I’m not happy you were out all night without security, young lady. You’ll be grounded for two weeks. No cell phone, no social media, and no racing events.” You open your mouth to protest, but your father silences you with a raised hand. “However, in light of the circumstances, we’ll reduce it to one week. Consider yourself lucky.”

You sigh but don’t argue. Your father pulls you in for one more hug. “I’m glad you’re alright, sweetpea. Now run along back to the residence while I have a few more words with your new suitor here.”

You give Lando an encouraging smile as you exit the Oval Office. The last thing you see before the door shuts is your father clapping a hand on Lando’s shoulder again, steering him toward the Roosevelt Desk. “Have a seat, son. We’ve got lots to discuss ...”

Lando perches anxiously on the edge of the chair across from your father at the Roosevelt Desk.

“First things first,” your dad begins. “I expect you to treat my daughter with the utmost respect. No staying out all night and no unsavory activities. You will be a gentleman at all times. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Lando says quickly.

“Second, you are not to distract her from her studies. Y/N is on track to graduate top of her class at Georgetown and I won’t have anyone jeopardizing that.”

Lando nods. “Of course not, her education comes first.”

“Good,” your father says gruffly. “Third rule: you will check in with me weekly to provide updates on where you are taking her and what you are doing. And know that my security team will be monitoring your activities closely as well.”

Gulping, Lando agrees to the terms. Your father continues laying down the law for several more minutes, covering everything from curfews to social media posts to PDA.

“And if at any point I decide you are no longer an appropriate suitor for my daughter, you will end the relationship immediately and without argument. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, Mr. President,” Lando says quickly. “You have my word I intend to do right by Y/N.”

Your father studies him a moment longer before cracking a wry smile. “Well, you’ve got guts at least, son. Most boys your age would’ve wet themselves by now. I suppose I can give you a chance. But remember, one toe out of line and ...”

He makes a slicing motion across his throat. Lando audibly gulps.

“Yes sir! I understand completely.”

“Good man,” your father says, standing to clap Lando on the back. “Now let’s get you out of here before you really do pass out ...”

***

After the whirlwind events of the day, Lando is given a plush guest suite in the White House residence to spend the night. He collapses onto the king-sized four poster bed, emotionally exhausted.

Just this morning he woke up with the President’s daughter in his arms. Now he’s been threatened within an inch of his life by the leader of the free world. What a wild rollercoaster of a day.

A soft knock at the door makes Lando jump. Before he can respond, you slip inside, closing the door quietly behind you.

“Y/N!” Lando exclaims in a loud whisper. “What are you doing here?”

You smile mischievously, walking over to sit beside him on the bed. “What does it look like? I missed you.”

Lando’s eyes dart around the room, half expecting your father to burst out of the closet. “Are you crazy? If we get caught together your dad will annihilate me!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Oh relax, no one patrols the residential wing’s hallways at night. We’re completely alone.” Leaning in, you brush your lips teasingly along his jaw. “Now where were we this morning before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Lando can’t restrain a small groan of desire, but retains the presence of mind to gently halt your roaming hands. “Y/N, we can’t. You heard your father’s rules.”

You make a face. “Come on, live a little! He won’t know as long as we’re discreet.”

Biting his lip, Lando wavers. Having you here, so warm and willing in his arms, is incredibly tempting. And technically the President had only forbidden unauthorized nighttime activities outside of the White House ...

Sensing his hesitation, you straddle his lap and cup his face in your hands. “I want this, Lando,” you murmur sincerely before kissing him deeply.

That does it. Lando kisses you back hungrily, pulling you flush against him. You let out a delighted hum, fingers spearing into his curls. Within moments you’re both stripped down to your underwear, hands greedily exploring.

But as things heat up, Lando abruptly breaks the kiss, eyes wide. “Did you hear that?” He whispers.

You still, listening closely. “Hear what?”

“I thought I heard something in the hall.”

You grin teasingly. “You’re being paranoid.” But you indulge him and climb off so he can check, wrapping yourself in a sheet.

Lando cracks the door open slowly, peering out. Seeing nothing, he lets out a breath and returns to the bed.

“Okay, false alarm. Now, where were-”

His words cut off with a yelp as you pounce, pinning him beneath you. Laughing, you silence any further protest with your lips. Soon Lando is kissing you fiercely once more, hands roaming your body.

Just as he’s unclasping your bra, Lando breaks the kiss again. “Wait, did you lock the door?”

You huff in feigned annoyance. “Of course I did!”

But Lando is already slithering out from under you to double check. You flop back against the pillows with a sigh.

“Lando, would you relax? No one is coming.” You give him your best pleading look. “Now come back to bed and finish what you started, handsome.”

That seems to do the trick. With one final glance at the locked door, Lando grins and rejoins you. His warm hands and mouth resume their sensual exploration.

You’re both completely lost in each other when suddenly the door handle rattles.

“Someone’s coming!” Lando whispers in alarm.

He hurriedly gathers up the sheets around you just as the door swings open to reveal a Secret Service agent.

“Oh, uh, hello?” Lando says, trying to sound casual despite being shirtless and flushed.

You hold perfectly still under the sheet, heart hammering.

The agent surveys the room suspiciously. “Thought I heard voices. Everything alright in here, Mr. Norris?”

“Yep, all good!” Lando says with forced cheer. “Just chatting on the phone. With my … mum. In England. Time zones, you know.”

The agent clearly doesn’t seem convinced, his gaze raking over the disheveled bed. But after a long pause he simply says “Very well. Have a good night, sir.”

Lando sighs in relief as the door shuts. After a moment, you peek your head out from under the sheet.

“That was close!”

Lando flops back onto the bed, laughing. “No kidding! I thought we were busted for sure.”

Tilting his chin up, you give Lando a slow, sensual kiss. “Now then, I believe you still have some unfinished business to attend to, Mr. Norris ...”

Lando searches your face then grins sheepishly, pulling you into his arms. “You’re absolutely incorrigible. Come here.”

***

For your first official date night, Lando takes you out for dinner in The Inn at Little Washington. You emerge from your room in a stunning silky dress, hair and makeup impeccable.

Lando’s eyes widen and he lets out an appreciative whistle. “Wow. You look incredible.”

He pulls you in for a quick kiss, careful not to smudge your lipstick. Just then, your Secret Service detail emerges, dressed in their standard crisp black suits and sunglasses.

The lead agent addresses Lando gruffly. “Alright, here’s the deal. We’ll be accompanying you tonight, but our goal is to stay invisible. Don’t acknowledge us, don’t make eye contact, just pretend we’re not there.”

Lando nods, looking uncertain. With their massive builds and conspicuous attire, ignoring the agents doesn’t seem likely. But he decides to just go with it.

At the restaurant, the hostess seats you and Lando at a cozy table for two. As promised, your detail blends into the background, taking up positions around the dining room. Lando tries his best not to glance nervously at the two imposing figures lurking near the entrance.

After you order, Lando reaches across the table to take your hand. “You really do look stunning tonight,” he says softly. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

You blush prettily. “Smooth talker. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Lando grins. Just then, the sommelier arrives to present the wine list. As he’s rattling off descriptions of merlots and cabernets, you notice Lando’s gaze drift over the sommelier’s shoulder to where two of your agents are posted nearby. You squeeze Lando’s hand to get his attention back.

“Uh, sorry, what was that last one?” Lando asks, snapping his focus back to the confused sommelier.

Once you’ve ordered wine and appetizers, the conversation flows smoothly. Lando has almost forgotten about your not-so-invisible security until the entrees arrive. The waiter sets down your plates with a flourish.

As he pivots to leave, he collides directly with the broad chest of one of your agents, nearly upending the tray of food.

“Oh! Pardon me, sir,” the waiter stammers. The agent, true to his training, ignores the flustered waiter and remains statue-still.

Lando has to fake a coughing fit to disguise his laugh. You cover your mouth delicately, eyes sparkling with amusement. So much for blending seamlessly into the environment.

As dinner progresses, Lando finds his gaze drawn again and again to your hulking shadows scattered around the restaurant. He watches one agent accidentally block a busboy trying to clear a nearby table. Another nearly takes out a hovering food runner as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. It’s like seeing massive, well-dressed bulls in a china shop.

When the check comes, Lando signs quickly then leans toward you conspiratorially. “Have I mentioned how incredibly normal this dinner has been? Just two totally regular people on a date without armed guards watching our every move.”

You have to smother your giggles behind your hand. “Oh yes, completely low-key. I forgot the agents were even here!”

As you exit the restaurant hand-in-hand, Lando murmurs under his breath, “Nothing to see here, just a guy and his girlfriend trailed by four gigantic men in black ...”

You dissolve into laughter, drawing confused looks from passersby. Lando grins and pulls you close. Invisible security or not, it was a perfect first official date. And as your convoy of not-so-covert agents escorts you safely home, he’s already planning many more to come.

***

A few months later, you join Lando at Circuit of the Americas in Austin for the United States Grand Prix. As you walk hand-in-hand through the paddock, Lando smiles and waves at the fans calling his name from behind the fences.

Up ahead, a large group of people round the corner. Their eyes light up when they see you both.

“Here we go,” Lando murmurs, dropping your hand to sign autographs and pose for selfies.

But as the group draws near, you realize they aren’t fans — it’s the Governor of Texas and his entourage.

“Y/N!” the Governor booms jovially, arms open wide. Behind him are several legislators, donors, and a gaggle of reporters. “What a wonderful surprise!”

He engulfs you in a bear hug before holding you at arm’s length. “Don’t you look lovely! How’s your father doing? I just spoke to him last week about the education bill.”

Lando stands by awkwardly as you’re enveloped into the group. You glance at him apologetically while greeting each person.

“Daddy’s doing well, thanks for asking! Keeping busy as always.”

“I’ll bet!” the Governor chuckles. He turns to holler at one of his aides. “Hey Jim, tell the White House we said hello to his beautiful daughter, would ya?”

The reporters surge forward eagerly, microphones extended. “Y/N, what brings you to Austin this weekend?”

You gesture to Lando. “I’m here supporting my boyfriend, Lando. He’s racing for McLaren.”

All eyes turn to Lando curiously. Flashing cameras make him squint. The Governor grabs his hand in an enthusiastic shake.

“Lando, eh? Good to meet you!” Without waiting for a response, he turns back to you. “Y/N, your father briefed me on the proposals to increase Pell Grant funding. Seems like an excellent plan ...”

As the Governor launches into policy discussion, Lando shifts awkwardly on his feet. You keep one eye on him while politely engaging with each person. More politicians approach to lobby you about your dad’s agenda.

“Your father’s infrastructure bill was brilliant!” One praises. “Make sure to tell him he’s got my full support.”

You smile. “I’ll let him know. I know he appreciates your vote.”

One donor pipes up excitedly. “I’ll be holding a high-dollar fundraiser next month in Dallas. Your attendance would mean so much ...”

You tactfully deflect, making no commitments. The reporters pepper you with questions about your studies at Georgetown and future political aspirations. You give diplomatic answers about focusing on the present while the Governor boasts of your potential.

“Y/N here is gonna be President herself one day!” He winks conspiratorially. “I’m calling it now, folks.”

Mercifully, an aide reminds the Governor he’s late for a meeting. As the group prepares to move on, he pumps your hand enthusiastically.

“It was fantastic to see you, Y/N. Tell your old man I said hello! Keep up the good work in school.” He spares a departing nod at Lando. “Nice meeting you, son.”

And with that, the entourage sweeps away. You let out a breath, turning to Lando. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t expect the Governor to be here.”

But Lando just stares after the departing politicians, looking slightly stunned. “I mean … I knew your dad was the President. But I guess it didn’t totally sink in until just now ...”

He runs a hand through his curls. “It’s like you’re royalty or something. Paparazzi, donors, governors … you’re a big deal, Y/N.”

You bite your lip. “Not by choice. I know the attention is weird, but I promise I’m still just me.” You take his hand, gazing at him earnestly. “None of those people determine our relationship. Only we do.”

Lando searches your face, then smiles. “You’re right. It’s just … surreal sometimes. But it doesn’t change how I feel or that I want to make this work.”

He squeezes your hand. You grin, feeling a rush of affection. Standing on tiptoe, you give him a lingering kiss. Around you, cameras flash as photographers snap the moment.

Lando chuckles as you break apart. “I’d better get used to that too, huh?”

“Comes with the territory,” you laugh. Taking his arm, you continue through the paddock. “Now come on. Let’s go watch qualifying before more politicians ambush us!”

***

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as Lando crosses the finish line in first place, finally claiming his first ever Formula 1 victory. You’re jumping up and down in the McLaren garage, absolutely elated for your boyfriend.

In the frenzy of celebrations after the race, you and Lando manage to slip away from the crowds and teams back to his hotel suite to continue the festivities in private. As soon as the door shuts behind you, Lando whoops and sweeps you up in his arms, spinning you around.

“I did it, baby! I finally did it!”

You grin, happiness bubbling up inside you. “I’m so proud of you! I knew this day would come.”

Setting you down, Lando crashes his lips to yours in a fierce, passionate kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling like you might burst from joy.

Eventually you break apart, both flushed and beaming. Lando brushes his thumb over your cheek tenderly.

“I couldn’t have done this without your support, Y/N. You being here to share this means everything to me.”

You place your hand over his heart. “Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away. I’ll always be your biggest fan.”

Lando’s eyes darken and he pulls you in for another searing kiss. Your heartbeat quickens as his hands trail down your back, fumbling for the zipper on your dress. Blindly you shuffle toward the bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind you.

Things are just starting to really heat up when suddenly the hotel room door bursts open. Your Secret Service detail comes pouring in, guns drawn.

“HANDS IN THE AIR!” An agent bellows. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Lando yelps, grabbing frantically for a sheet to cover you both. “She’s fine! We’re just … celebrating!”

The agents quickly assess the situation. Their leader clears his throat, lowering his weapon.

“Apologies for the intrusion. Your smart watch alerted us to an elevated heart rate indicating potential distress. We believed you were in danger.”

You close your eyes, mortified heat flooding your cheeks. “Oh my god. It’s fine, everything’s fine! You all can go now.”

The agents shuffle out, mumbling apologies. Lando collapses back on the bed, absolutely hysterical with laughter. You smack his shoulder, which only makes him laugh harder.

“It’s not funny!” You exclaim, covering your flaming face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lando gasps through his giggles. “It’s just — their faces! And then when they saw us ...” He dissolves into another fit.

Despite your embarrassment, his laughter proves contagious. Soon you’re both wiping away tears, sides aching.

Finally calming down, Lando strokes your hair back from your face affectionately. “Well, that’s one way to kill the mood.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “No kidding. We desperately need to tweak the sensitivity on this watch.”

“Maybe we could take it off temporarily?” Lando suggests with a playful waggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. “I wish, but this watch has saved my life before. I can’t take it off.”

Lando’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? What happened?”

You absently toy with the watch on your wrist. “About two years ago I was out shopping and some guys tried to grab me. If I hadn’t been wearing this watch with its location tracker, my detail might not have found me in time.”

You shudder at the memory. Lando takes your hand, face filled with concern.

“That’s awful, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

You offer a reassuring smile. “It worked out okay. So as annoying as it can be, it’s staying on 24/7 for my safety.”

Lando nods seriously. “Of course. I would never want to jeopardize your security just for some fun.” He kisses your temple. “I guess we’ll just have to get creative when it comes to celebrating in private from now on.”

You grin mischievously. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

***

“So Lando, I gotta ask — how are things going with Y/N?” Max Fewtrell asks with a smirk through the webcam.

You feel your cheeks flush from where you’re sitting on the couch off-camera as Lando grins sheepishly. “Things are going great, thanks for asking.”

The chat explodes with messages.

Is she there?

We want to meet her!

Max chuckles at the chat’s reaction. “Sounds like the fans want you to bring Y/N on stream, what do you think?”

Lando looks over at you. “I mean, if you’re up for it they’d love to meet you.”

You hesitate, suddenly feeling shy at the thought of going on Lando’s stream. But the encouraging look on his face gives you courage. “I guess I can say a quick hello,” you say, walking over.

As you enter the frame, Max suddenly starts blasting “Hail to the Chief,” causing you to jump.

“Oh my god Max, really?” You groan, though you can’t help but laugh.

“I had to!” Max cackles. “The First Daughter deserves a proper entrance.”

Lando playfully rolls his eyes and pulls you into his lap. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the memes.”

You smile, leaning into Lando as you glance at the rapidly moving chat. Most of the messages are incredibly positive — welcoming you and talking about what a cute couple you and Lando are.

“Hi everyone!” You say with a small wave. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you all.”

“She’s just a normal girl who happens to have the most powerful man in the world wrapped around her finger,” Lando jokes, kissing your temple.

You grin up at him then turn back to the webcam. “I guess our relationship can look pretty weird from the outside. But Lando makes me really happy, and I hope we have your support.”

The chat floods with heart emotes and messages gushing about young love.

Max smiles. “You two are adorable. But inquiring minds want to know — how did you meet?”

You and Lando share a knowing look. “Well...” he draws out. “We actually met in Miami during the Grand Prix last year.”

“Oooh an international romance!” Max teases.

You poke Lando playfully in the side. “What he’s leaving out is that we met at a club. I was there on a rare night out and he came over to ask me to dance.”

“Is that so?” Max grins.

“Hey now, no need for the details,” Lando says, tickling your sides as you squirm and laugh.

The chat is begging for the full story, so you decide to give it to them. “Okay, okay! So we danced all night and really hit it off. Then the next morning ...”

You trail off, trying not to giggle as Lando shakes his head. “Do we really need to tell them about the next morning?”

Yes! The chat unanimously agrees.

You pat Lando’s cheek. “It’s okay honey, I’ll protect you from the memes this time.”

Clearing your throat, you continue. “So the next morning, after a night of … fun, my secret service detail may have burst into Lando’s hotel room to bring me back home.”

Max bursts out laughing. “No way! Lando, you absolute madman.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Lando exclaims, though he’s laughing too. “How was I supposed to know who she was?”

Max snorts. “I mean, who doesn’t recognize America’s Sweetheart?”

Lando smirks. “I’m British! And I was a bit distracted by her other, uh, assets.”

“Lando!” You swat his chest playfully as he cracks up, the chat going crazy over his flirtatious teasing.

“Anyway,” you go on. “I had to explain to my security team that I was fine and we were just hanging out. But of course they still dragged both of us back to the White House so Lando could meet my father.”

Max is wheezing. “No way, they took you to meet the President after an one night stand?”

Lando covers his reddening face. “It was mortifying. I was stumbling around half asleep still in last night’s clothes, reeking of vodka and bad decisions.”

You kiss his cheek, patting his leg consolingly. “Aww babe, you did great. My dad said he admired your composure given the circumstances.”

Lando peeks out from behind his hands. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirm. “He could tell how much you cared about me and that you weren’t just fooling around. And obviously he was right, since here we are a year later and happier than ever.”

Lando smiles softly, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. “Yeah, here we are.”

The chat has switched to mostly heart eye and aww emojis, gushing about you two being relationship goals.

You turn back to the camera a bit bashfully. “So yeah, that’s the story of how we met. Not exactly a fairytale beginning but ...”

You trail off as Lando reaches out to tilt your chin towards him, looking into your eyes earnestly. “It was the start of my fairytale,” he says softly.

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in and kiss him tenderly. For a moment, it feels like you and Lando are the only two people in the world.

When you finally break apart, you rest your forehead against his. “You’re my fairytale too,” you whisper.

Lando’s eyes are full of love and wonder, as if he can’t believe how lucky he is to have found you.

“Awww!” Max interrupts your intimate moment. “You two are just too cute. The chat is loving this!”

You glance over to see the chat flooded with positive messages about your relationship. Smiling shyly, you take Lando’s hand and lace your fingers together.

“I’d say this turned out to be a pretty good stream, wouldn’t you?” Lando asks, grinning.

You laugh, giving his hand a squeeze. “Definitely one of your best.”

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paisholotus · 2 years

Text

Forever You & Me

The love interest is Brian O'Connor & Mia Toretto. This is my very first fast and furious book so let's be kind please. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but disrespect is not!

Story summary: "Always with love."

®️ this story contains Nudity/Sexual Themes, Strong Language and Drugs.

Important: Ocs are BLACK and if you have a problem with that, by all means do not READ! So don't leave racist and negative comments, because I am the wrong Author to try. But anyways hope y'all enjoy. 🖤

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saintsir4n · 3 months

Text

CALM DOWN

in which brian gets mad!

___

“Hey! Hey! Back off — Vince outside, put down the vase, you’re not breakin’ shit in my house. Brian go upstairs, Summer you go with him, clean those bruised hands,” Dom’s voice carried through the living room that was practically turned on its head. One small conversation turned into a big argument and then it eventually got physical. “What did I say? No fighting on Sundays. It’s a day for family and you two do the exact opposite, so now everyone cool off until dinner's ready.”

Vince scoffed, his glare never left Brian’s retreating figure until Leon and Jesse pushed him outside. Letty followed Dom, deciding to help him with the rest of the food prep, whilst Mia and KeKe helped pick up anything broken to toss in the trash.

Carson rolled her eyes as she joined Brian in the upstairs bathroom. Her dress would’ve gotten ruined if she hadn’t moved away from her boyfriend who had tussled with Vince until Dom got involved and pulled them apart with Jesse and Leon’s help.

Brian was against the sink, watching as she pulled out the first aid kit in silence, brows pinching together when she didn’t say anything to him, and just sighed to herself.

“You’re gonna give me the silent treatment, really?” He exacerbated, as she pulled out bandaids, cotton pads and hydrogen peroxide.

“Just stop movin’,” she muttered when she got him to wash his hands.

“He insults us and I get the cold shoulder? I don’t believe this, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

She frowned, “There are no sides Brian, and drop that base from your voice, I’m not the problem here.”

He laughed in disbelief, “Oh, and I am?”

“I never said that," she sighed, trying to wipe the cuts as he winced at the pain.

“You’re not denying it," Brian stressed, annoyed that she didn't have a problem with it.

“You didn’t have to react," Carson hated violence and her boyfriend seemed to be constantly around it.

He scoffed, “So I’m just supposed to take his shit.”

“I never said that either," she retorted, "Hold still." Brian cursed when the hydrogen peroxide coursed over his open wounds, "Sorry."

“Then what are you sayin’? ‘Cause to me it just sounds like you think I’m in the wrong," he gritted out, body digging into the sink as he felt some pain. "That I’m the issue, and I should just sit back and let guys like Vince walk all over me.”

She rose a brow, “Guys like Vince?”

He rolled his eyes, “Here we go.”

“Here we go what?” She looked at him, seeing how heated he was getting about this.

“You’re focusin’ on that, really?”

“He’s my family so watch how you talk about him," she exclaimed.

“I’m your boyfriend and you’re actin’ like that don’t mean nothin’”

“You know that’s not true," her shoulders slumped. "You mean so much to me. Brian, you know that.”

“Do I?”

“You know you do.” She paused, pulling out a large bandage and cut it in half, “It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“You didn’t have to punch him," she stressed, applying some cream before wrapping his wounds.

“Yes, I did," he groaned, as she took a step back, “We hold hands and it’s a problem, we smile at each other it’s a problem, You sit on my lap and we kiss suddenly he can’t take it anymore and makes digs. If it’s at me I get it, he hates me, but the second he calls you naive, or an idiot, I'm not gonna sit back and do nothin'."

"Well I can see that," Carson gestured to his sore hands, "and I'm not some pushover, I can handle Vince, I'm just tired of the drama."

"He's the drama," he said, calmer.

"Says the guy with bloody fists," she teased, putting away the first aid kit and coming to stand between his legs.

"Well, they match his busted lip."

She couldn't help but laugh, "I appreciate you defending me, I do."

"I'll always defend you, you know that," Brian wouldn't let any harm come to her, even if it was just stupid words.

"But you need to keep that temper under control, you could've ripped my dress."

"Let me see," he cooed, trailing his hand down to the hem, "Sorry baby."

"Yeah I know, it's fine just calm down sometimes," she pleaded, with a pout.

"I'll calm down when he learns that I can kiss you whenever I want," Brian said, sternly, snaking his arms around her waist, "touch you, take you out and he can't do a damn thing because we're together alright? or I'll start thinkin' he's actin' more like a jealous ex and less like a brother."

"Alright, alright, you’re all cleaned up," she gently patted his chest, "lets go."

"Wait, wait, wait, let me kiss you, before we go down stairs, couldn't wanna get interrupted again would we?"

Carson laughed into the kiss.

—

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bits-and-babs · 7 months

Text

✦ 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✦

captain john price x f!reader (raven) | smut, 18+ | 4.2k

summary: when a seemingly bulletproof mission goes awry, captain price makes the vital mistake of pursuing the target alone and contributes to the chaos that almost claims the life of one of his men. When he returns, he lacks the humility to accept your reprimand lying down.

cw: mwiii spoiler free. war and violence, mentions of wounded, ooc price maybe a little? angst, enemies to enemies that fuck, reader is pathetically attracted to price because same, literally a voice kink fic disguised as a deep throating fic, very light degradation, bratty behaviour from reader, heavy face fucking, hair pulling, praise, gagging, very little aftercare.

price mlist | main mlist | taglist

It all goes tits up.

Shouts of distress arise across the coms in the CIA conference room, blaring through the headphones glued to the watchers’ heads. Ghost’s gruff voice calls out a casualty, leading General Shepard to launch out of his seat and crash his fist against the tabletop. Mugs of coffee tip over from the force of the impact, liquid bleeding into top secret documents- they aren’t his primary concern.

“Lieutenant, this is Gold Eagle. Is there an issue, Ghost?” Shepard’s voice snarls down the coms.

“Sir, it’s Soap- he’s been hit.”

Hanging your head between your shoulders, you barely register the orders that Shepard screams into the microphone of his headset, his spittle peppering the laptop screen where he oversees the mission descending into chaos. Your ears are ringing, your heart thumping wildly against your sternum. Further panic ensues, Gaz shouting a brief, hurried explanation of the mission breakdown. “… snipers in the mountain, sir. Had to dispatch them- I can’t see Captain Pri—”

“Bravo 2-6, this is Raven. Confirm Captain Price’s location,” you insist, swallowing the alarm that threatens to haemorrhage from your lips.

“Negative, Ma’am. Lost him while dispatching the snipers.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling your blood boil at The Captain’s recklessness. “Fuck!”

Your fingers blur over your keyboard, focusing your attention on John Price’s coms. Again, Shepard barks orders at Ghost, but you can’t hear him over your own heavy breathing and pressing tone as you address Price in a fury.

“Captain Price, this is Raven; confirm your location immediately!”

Silence at first. Coffee drips from the edge of the tabletop by your feet, pooling into the navy-blue carpet. It stains like blood, a dark smear. You can imagine it in Price’s camo uniform, spreading thick and fast from a bullet wound- a direct hit to the chest.

“We’re gonna lose Hassan.”

“Captain Price,” you yell down the microphone, simultaneously relieved to hear his voice and enraged at his increasingly frequent decision to go AWOL, “We will most definitely lose Hassan if I must bury every member of 141! Return to Team Bravo immediately!”

You’re almost certain you can hear Price’s teeth grind together, the enamel straining under the weight of his fury and threatening to crack down to the root. “Are you tellin’ me we let him go?”

“Captain Price, I am telling you that we were given faulty intel. I am telling you that we are sustaining heavy losses and that Sergeant MacTavish is critically wounded, and I am calling for EVAC!” Your knuckles are bleached where your fists hover over the keyboard, nails digging into your palms so hard you’re sure the indents they leave burrow straight to the bone as you await confirmation of Price’s retreat. “Task Force 141 is a priceless tool against Al-Qatala. I cannot afford to lose every member for the sake of a man we will ultimately have to chance to apprehend again!”

Your eyes float to General Shepard. He’s furious, his irises swallowed by the hollow blackness of his pupils as he jerks his head in confirmation of permission to evacuate 141. It shouldn’t have come to this.

“Do you copy, Captain Price?” You yell down the microphone, finally losing your cool with the maddening Englishman that continued to defy your authority.

“… Yes, ma’am.”

The ticking minutes-hand of the analogue clock that hangs above your desk sweeps away half of the day before you have confirmation of 141’s safe return to American soil. A further two hours of urgent, life-saving surgery have you chewing your nails to the quick. By the time word reaches you of Soap’s stable condition, your nailbeds are bloody and raw.

“Intel confirms a convergence of Las Almas fighters on the Mexican-Guatemalan border. We believe they intend to smuggle Hassan out of Mexico and into Venezuela, where they would almost certainly grant him sanctuary. Air surveillance suggests that armed guards patrol the border twenty-four seven, concentrated significantly around a central point where we suggest they will attempt to help Hassan over it. Ghost and Soap will lead a special operations unit to kill all Las Almas fighters on sight. Captain Price and Gaz will handle Hassan and the fighters guarding him with the help of the Mexican Special Forces. Captain Price, you have execute authority, but we want Hassan alive for interrogation.”

Enraged by the complete breakdown of the mission, your mind replays your mission briefing repeatedly, scanning the tiniest of details in vain hope of understanding how such a concise and faultless plan had almost killed a vital member of your task force. You couldn’t have made it more transparent, having covered every possible eventuality. Even the risk of faulty intel had been accounted for, enough backup issued should teams Alpha and Bravo find themselves outnumbered, yet…

“Captain Price and Gaz will handle Hassan and the fighters guarding him.”

High-ranking officials sidestep you as you turn the corner to your offices, just barely escaping your warpath as you zero in on your target. The heels of your polished shoes crack against the lino flooring of the hallway like gunfire, the sound ricocheting off the walls and alerting those in your way to your fury.

Perhaps it would explain the wide-eyed shock already present in both Shepard and Captain Price aimed at the door of the General’s office when you throw it open with rage.

“John!”

“I fucked up--“he attempts to assure you of his guilty conscience, gesturing vaguely to his commanding officer, who no doubt had already laid into him over his poor decision-making. It does little to dispel the bubbling temper that churned in your stomach and coated your tongue with a sour taste.

“You’re damn right, you fucked up,” you scoff loudly, watching Price cross his thick, bulky arms across his chest as he surrenders to your verbal onslaught. “Your decision to ignore my plan and, arguably, go AWOL nearly cost Johnny his life! I’d issued a faultless mission briefing and paired you with Gaz against Hassan! With Gaz!”

General Shepard watched you chew up Price from his seat at his desk, lacing his fingers across the surface littered with pictures that looked as though they’d been ripped from the bodycam and air surveillance footage of the failed mission. Photographic evidence of Price’s incompetency—or rather, his blind faith in himself that he could singlehandedly take on a small army of Las Almas fighters and legendary terrorist fighter Major Hassan Zyani.

A bitter spark flashes across Captain Price’s cerulean eyes, his inflammatory retaliation worming its way between his gritted teeth and rumbling in his chest.

“It’s easy for you to criticise my split-second decisions when you sit behind a desk every mission, barkin’ orders with coffee in your hand.”

It’s a miracle that you restrain yourself, momentarily considering issuing a reminder of your military prowess in the form of hand-to-hand combat. If it weren’t for the haggard strain of John’s voice from his bellowed EVAC orders in a desperate attempt to save Soap’s life, you’d have connected your balled-up fists to his face. Instead, you spit in retaliation.

“Need I remind you that before I used to call the shots, I used to shoot people?”

Price lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head at your comment and opening his mouth to argue. You don’t let him, smothering the threat of his stupid rebuttal of ‘with what, a water pistol?’.

“Your decision to pursue Hassan nearly killed Johnny,” you repeat the undeniable fact, punctuating it with a violent jab of your finger towards him, “Do you realise how close I was to calling into Scotland? How close I was to organising the coffin to bring him home in? How dare you undermine me- disrespect the resume that put me in that seat and the people I killed to get there, Captain.”

If it weren’t for you, Price’d be standing in the pews of a church in Glasgow, draped in black and drenched in red.

Clearing his throat suddenly from his seat, General Shepard just barely splits the brutal tension bludgeoning your skull in the form of a migraine that only seemed to arise in the presence of Captain John Price. It thumps against your temple when Shepard makes a show of standing from his seat and pointing to the door.

“I can leave you both here to sort out your differences. The last thing you will both do is undermine my authority by screaming like petulant children in the corridor in front of my colleagues. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you both manage to address him, eyes still pinned to each other like a missile’s locking system. Shepard grunts, and you note the twitch of a muscle in Price’s lower eyelid, his anger threatening to claw its way out of his face before he erupted with it.

The door to Shepard’s office swings open, heavy footsteps passing the threshold. In a sick, comedic chain of events, he doesn’t bother to pull it closed again. Instead, it creaks as the hinge closes achingly slowly.

You feel sick when you stare at Price. Not because you fear the words he could aim towards you in a critical hit—instead, you felt nausea at the concept of hearing the gravelly tone of his voice alone, the stabling force of your commanding officer absent.

It’s a dirty little secret that you’d never allowed yourself to speak. Even four Proseccos deep into a rare Christmas gathering of 141, you’d swallowed the word bile down that threatened to use your inebriation to rid yourself of the guilt. Price had admonished your choice of alcohol that night, commenting on how you could have chosen something better- like whiskey. The rumble of his voice in his sarcastic assessment had pooled in your stomach like the liquid amber he had suggested.

How could you possibly admit that the tone of his voice, so gritty and deep, swelled in your clit when you went to bed at night. That you replayed the ridiculous, pathetic one-liners he’d utter over the coms to you. The one time you’d issued a warning of an incoming threat, and Price had offered thanks in the only form he knew to give you: “Tha’s a girl”. You’d made a late-night Amazon order for new bedsheets and a mattress protector that same evening.

Click.

The door shuts, and the sound makes you jump as though John had slammed his fist on a big, red nuclear button.

“Are you done?”

The swallow that drags down your throat at the husked whisper he’d started with is far more audible in the now silent room. The spiteful gaze you had levelled at Price melts away, transfixing on him instead with something akin to dumb-struck, doe-eyed idiocy.

“P-Pardon?” You stumble over the two-syllable word that had confidently come to mind. Working in a building that relied so much on manners, there was absolutely no excuse for butchering a word you used upwards of fifty times a day.

Price’s eyebrow arches pointedly at you, the flickering ember in his irises that had previously resembled an inextinguishable fury instead glows with an amused curiosity at your very sudden surrender.

“Are you done making me look like a rookie in front of General Shepard?” He clarifies, stalking forward. He crosses the space between you both with long, cocky strides that make your heart pump double time when he finally settles in front of you. “Are. You. Done?”

“Hah-!” You laugh. You mean for it to mock his ridiculous notion, but instead, it’s all choked, nervous and airy because that damn voice knocks the oxygen from your lungs like he’d rendered a sucker punch to your gut. Price’s eyes pin you to your spot on the floor, root your feet to the coffee-stained carpet.

It’s utterly infuriating how he tilts his head in a smug observation of your panicked expression. You can see the exact moment he notes the tremble of your inhaled breath and the heat of your arousal rolling off your body. Fuck-

“John-“

There it is. Comprehension. The glistening sweat at your temple, the wide-eyed nervousness in your expression, and the breathy whisper of his name all surged forward and lit the bulb of realisation in his mind. You can practically see the golden glow of it in his pupils, a switch tck’ing when he murmurs an ‘oh’.

His lips split into a toothy, wily grin, “Oh, look at you, Station Chief.”

You bristle with panic with the way he makes a point to emphasise your rank, your lips parting in shock when he reaches up to grasp your chin in his hand.

“Who are you to question my decisions? You don’t even know if you want my cock in your mouth or your cunt.”

The sheer filth he utters makes your head reel as though he’d fed you some of his mind-numbing whiskey. You’re confident you’re gawping at him when he smirks at your reaction, his calloused thumbpad brushing across the bridge of your jaw. It reminds you of the way he caresses the trigger of a sniper rifle before he fires it and how you’d spent so many nights imagining that touch when you circled your clit-

“How ’bout we start with your mouth?” He urges you with a smokiness that rivals the puffs of his cigar. You loathed him for his smoking habits when the acrid scent clung to your hair but worshipped him for it when you buried your nose into your pillows when you came with a silent cry of his name.

You see his smirk widen suddenly, and it takes you far too long to realise that you’d let out a devastating whine at his lurid suggestion. John’s fingers and thumb settle on the pillowy flesh of your cheeks on either side of your mouth, pushing against them until your lips are pursed. It’s undignified, far beneath your station, but then-

“Gunna wanna open that mouth nice an’ wide for me, Dove.”

You sink to the floor of your commanding officer’s office floor before your rational mind even has a chance to talk you out of the offence- or acknowledge the choice of pet name that cheekily undermined your call sign. Your perfectly tailored office trousers crease beneath the weight of your knees… But suffering through cleaning and ironing them again was worth the rumble of a groan that fell from John’s lips as he watched you kneel for him.

“Fuck,” Price hums in appreciation, those gorgeous sky-blue irises swallowed by the midnight black of his pupils once more, “Spend all your time issuin’ orders, but you just needed someone else to take control, didn’ you, Love?”

For a moment, you hesitate. It’s improper, the way your knees ache with the hard floor beneath them. A tiny, quiet voice urges you to stand and rush out of the room before you damage your reputation any further, but the clink of John’s standard-issue belt buckle has your jaw falling slack before the idea can truly take root.

“Look at you,” he stresses again as he pulls the length of the belt from its loops with a slow thwppp sound, “So greedy for my cock. Anyone would think you’d been desperate for it all this time.”

John drags down his zipper, watching you look at him through your lashes. You don’t dismiss his hypothesis, instead choosing to stick your tongue out for him in an obscene act of fervour. The haggard groan that lurches from John’s lungs settles deep inside your cunt.

“You filthy girl,” he gasps, hurrying his hand into his trousers. He doesn’t even strip the pants from his hips, instead fishing his cock from his boxers and settling his balls against their waistband. “You have, haven’t you? How often did you touch yourself beneath the table while I spoke to you over the comms? Hmm?”

You’re so far gone now, so drunk on the idea of the agitating, ridiculous, utterly infuriating Captain finally fucking you that you might have answered that question-- if you’d heard it. Instead, his voice, which previously captured every fibre of your attention, drowned into the background of the thumping pulse in your ears. His cock sits just in front of your face, and it’s like you can’t breathe.

Ruddy and red at the tip, his cock already drools precum down the curve of its shaft. Veins throb beneath the thin, velvety skin, their ridges glistening beneath the wet tracks that his leaking seed leaves. It settles at the base, where his heavy balls rest against his boxer’s elastic waistband.

His question dies in the thick tension in the air, and you lean forward on your knees to press your drooling tongue right at the base of John’s cock where his precum pools. Your unexpected starting position causes John to spit out a curse, his fingers flying out to grip the strands of hair at the crown of your skull. “S-Shit-“

Saltiness coats your tongue where you lap up his cum, flattening your tongue against the underside of his shaft to trace his pronounced frenulum. Dragging your tastebuds upwards, you collect the tracks the droplets had left behind until the tip of your tongue rests on the underside of his fat cockhead. It’s disgusting, the relieved whine that escapes your open throat, but the vibration tips Captain John Price over the edge.

“Fuck! Eyes on me, Dove. Wanna see your eyes- that’s it.” John’s face contorts, brows creasing, and the edges of his lips turned down beneath the coarse hair of his beard as you look up at him, kissing the head of his velvety dick and slipping it into your mouth.

“Take orders so well. So obedient,” he purrs, the rumbling sound edging into a moan when you ease more of him into your mouth. He’s trying to play off the power dynamic, you note. Getting off on the fact that you’re his superior, but that he held the authority like this. A playful resentment teases the edge of your mind, urging you to remind him of his place.

You drag the edges of your teeth over his shaft. Not hard enough to hurt- just enough for a singing hiss to echo in the quiet room when you pull back from his cock.

It’s a mistake.

John grasps your hair at the back of your head, winding the strands around your fingers and suddenly rocks his hips forward. The length of his cock slides deep down your throat, and you splutter as your nose crushes into his pubic bone. “Couldn’t fuckin’ help yourself, could you?”

His gravelly reprimand swirls a ghost-like touch around your clit, and you gag around the length that intrudes against your throat walls. Price tuts softly, feeling your nails dig into his flesh beneath the camo canvas still covering his muscular thighs. It’s only when tears cling to your lashes that he draws your head back with a pull of your hair.

Gasping down a heavy breath, you splutter when John groans loudly. His cock twitches, drooling more precum as you gasp for breath, and he drags his eyes across your face. “Good fuckin’ girl. Takin’ me like that- didn’t it feel good?”

God, you’re nodding pathetically, tongue already lolling from your lips in a silent plea for more. The heaviness of his cock against your tongue and the vibrations of his lurid tone are enough for you to cum on their own, and you want more of them. John groans, a chuckle settling somewhere between the sound as he grasps the nape of your neck.

“Jus’ like that, you dirty girl,” he urges you, his free hand tapping at his balls in a wordless order. This time, you obey, tonguing over his finger before taking one of his balls into your mouth. You can hear the shaky exhale that rattles in his lungs when you suck.

“So fuckin’ good for me. I’ll fuck you against that desk one day, you hear?” You see him point in the corner of your vision, his index finger aiming at General Shepard’s desk. Realisation slams into you and rocks your clit with arousal- Shepard could walk in at any second and see his right-hand man stuffing Captain Price’s cock down her throat in the ultimate show of disrespect. John doesn’t seem worried about it. In fact, it’s as though he gets off on the idea, his eyes darting to the door as he details his plans for you.

“Think you’d look real nice on it. Far better than ‘is tacky nameplate. We’d make a mess together, get our cum all over it so he can smell jus’ how wrecked I left you-“

Moaning around the length of his cock, your clit throbbing desperately with his words, the vibrations cause John’s hips to lurch forward again. The head of his dick prods the back of your throat, but John’s tight grip doesn’t allow you to pull back. He’s buried to the hilt, twitching against your palate.

“Fuckin’ droolin’ for it, Love. It’s dripping down your chin—Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” He’s slurring his words as he watches you bob your head up and down on his length, swallowing around him and just barely holding back your gag reflex. It’s quick, messy, and loud, the wet sounds ricocheting off the office’s walls.

“D’you think he’s got cameras in here?” John muses, his voice thick with his incoming orgasm. The sound of it, the arousal coating his tongue has you whining desperately, “Why don’t you touch yourself, hmm? Give ’im a show.”

You sob around his girth like he’d just offered you a miracle. Fumbling, you don’t even bother wasting time trying to shove your hand down your trousers. Your fingers find the vague outline of your cunt through the crotch, roughly circling your clit through the layers of material.

It’s all you need. Your eyes roll back into your skull at just how close you are to cumming, your thighs trembling beneath your weight. You soaked through your panties and into the crotch of your trousers.

“Fuckin’ slutty girl,” John gasps, and you feel his cock jump at the sight of you already teetering on the edge, “’s my voice getting’ you off? Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect-“

Stop. Stop; you need him to stop. Your orgasm is ebbing at the edges of your abdomen, threatening to swallow you whole and drawing up tight, but John won’t shut the fuck up.

“C’mon, Love. Deeper. Deeper, that’s it. I’ll fuckin’ lick your pretty pussy if yo-“

His promises drown out with the surge of bliss that roars in your ears. Price times it perfectly, rocking his cock further down your throat so that you gag around his length. The lack of oxygen causes your nerve endings to sing when it cracks down your spine, bursting through your abdomen and spidering across your limbs like white-hot plasma.

Everything is loose with ecstasy, and it allows Price to issue one, two, three more brutal thrusts of his hips before he’s choking out a haggard warning that he’s going to cum.

“F-Fuck-“He chokes out, holding the nape of your neck before burying himself as deep as he possibly can without choking you, hot ropes of cum spurting down your throat. Even in your post-orgasm haze, mind numb, you swallow him down greedily. Big, heavy gulps, even licking your lips when he removes his dick from your throat to milk out the last drops of his cum onto them.

“Tha’s my girl, good, don’t let a drop go to waste.”

Price’s hand pushes back the mess of your hair from your face, careful to remove the strands that had clung to your tear-soaked eyelashes. You hold your breath, heart stilling its rapid beat as he brushes his thumb across your cheekbone to swipe up the tear tracks that had leaked from your eyes during his assault on your throat. It’s a single moment of tenderness, barely there, before he withdraws his touch to stuff himself back into his pants.

“Can you stand?” Price asks, his voice even hoarser than when you’d first walked into the room, like the moans you’d elicited from him were like sandpaper in his already raw throat. He holds out a palm- but you’re not cock-dumb enough to believe it’s a makeshift olive branch.

“Yes,” you whisper, matching his brutalised tone with your own as you bat away the helping hand he offers you. Price can’t help but scoff at your dismissal. Turns out even a dick down your throat wasn’t enough to change your uptight attitude. He watches you stand on shaky feet, trying to smooth out your creased knees before Shepard could wonder how exactly you’d made such a mess of yourself.

Besides your heaving breaths, still desperately pulling oxygen in your lungs to soothe the burn, the room is silent. Price finishes righting himself, smoothing his fingers through his cropped hair.

“Don’t forget what I said,” he murmurs, eyes sliding over to the desk. His promise to fuck you on it only barely re-enters your mind following a pointed look. Satiated somewhat by the blistering orgasm that had ripped through you, your rage struggles to roar to life like it had when you’d entered this room. Now it smelt like sex, and your anger only simmers in the base of your stomach.

“That is not happening again,” you promise him firmly.

“Mhmm,” he hums, following Shepard’s footsteps towards the door, “We’ll see about that, Dove.”

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

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sanguineterrain · 9 months

Note

For the drabbles!!

Can you walk? I need you to walk for me! With Dick, if that sounds interesting to you!!

Loved the Drabble you posted, you’re a talented writer!

thanks very much nonnie 🥺❤️ wanted to switch it up and whump dickie boy >:)

"can you walk? i need you to walk." - dick grayson x gn!reader. tw: injured dick, bullet wound, reader tasers a bad guy. dick's not dead i prommy!! Loosely based on the Nightwing 2021 comics.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

You wake up to the beeping of the distress signal. Instantly, you're awake, fumbling for the comm bud to put in your ear.

"—in, do you copy? Nightwing needs help, he's—"

"Where is he, Babs?" you ask, flinging the sheet off of your legs and jumping into your suit.

"Blüdhaven City Hall."

"What the hell? Alone?"

Barbara sighs. "Yes. I didn't know until the mayor texted."

Anger flares. You tamp it down because Barbara hasn't done anything wrong, and it's not fair to snap at her for Dick's stupid choices.

Besides, the anger is only to mask the chilling fear that bubbles up.

You stick to the rooftops like Dick himself had taught you when you were first getting the hang of the vigilante thing. You're more like Barbara in that you prefer to stay on the sidelines and help.

But if Dick is in trouble, you're there.

Your heart pounds; you can barely hear the instructions Barbara's giving you as you approach City Hall.

"Is he conscious?" you ask, interrupting her.

She doesn't answer at first.

"Oracle," you press, gritting your teeth as you descend down the roof access stairs. "Is he awake?"

"I don't know. I lost his comm link."

The fear sharpens. Your heart beats so fast, you're afraid you might collapse.

"He's alive, though. His suit vitals are still elevated."

You run faster, flying down the stairwell. It takes some searching to find Dick since his mask camera is also destroyed, according to Barbara. But you manage to track him down relatively fast.

Dick is bound to a chair, puddles of blood at his feet. You rush over and pull at the knots without thinking, growing frustrated when they don't turn loose.

"Blade on your left side."

You startle hard at Dick's voice. He lifts his head slowly and you stifle a gasp at his face. One of the lenses of his mask is cracked. His cheek is bloody and nearly black with bruises. His suit is torn and dirty.

They'd left him for dead.

"I found him, Babs."

You hear her sigh of relief. She starts to organize your exit route. You're only half listening as you slice through the ropes with the blade you forgot you had in your left pocket.

Dick's arms hang at his sides even after you free them. They'd done a number on him.

He watches you as you free his legs next.

"Suit looks good on you," he says, head lolling. "Peak design, if y'ask me."

"You're so stupid," you say, bowing your head so he can't see the tears that sting your eyes. "This was an idiotic thing you did, Dick."

"Alias names only in the field," he reminds you.

You yank the rope harder than you mean to and free his legs.

Dick has to use his whole body to push himself off of the chair. Even so, he stumbles, and you rush to catch him. Your heart jumps to your throat. Of course he'd hide how bad his injuries are.

"Oracle, call Batman."

"No," Dick grits, shaking his head. "Don't call him."

"You can barely move. I can't carry you myself."

You wish you could. As furious as you are, you'd carry him home.

"Am I calling him?" Barbara asks in your ear.

A door slams somewhere upstairs. Cold sweat erupts all over your body. Dick looks at you, and you know he heard it too.

"Guys, am I calling Batman or not?"

"No, we can do it," you say against your better judgment. "Can you move?"

Dick nods rapidly, though you don't totally believe him. You sling an arm under his arm, then wrap your other arm around his waist. He puts nearly all of his weight on you, though you can tell he's using what little strength he has left to try and shift his weight.

The two of you go like that, Dick half limping. You try not to think about how his blood stains your suit.

You move slowly, which unfortunately means that the goon upstairs catches up to you. He pulls out a gun, and Dick shoves you aside before you can advance. He pays the price for it when the goon shoots his leg.

Dick screams.

Quick as Flash, you grab an escrima stick and charge the taser to two thousand volts. Then you ram it into the goon's gut.

He drops like a sack of potatoes. You don't check if he's breathing.

"We don't kill," Dick says as you return the stick to his back holster.

You harshly cut the goon's shirt with your blade and tourniquet Dick's bullet wound. He hisses in pain.

"I didn't kill him," you snap.

"You could've. What the hell was that?"

"That was me stopping him before he blew your brains out!" you shout. "That was me making sure the commissioner doesn't have to fish your body out of the river!"

Dick's head thumps against the wall. His suit is slick with blood. "That wouldn't have happened."

"You could've died tonight, Dick! Why can't you get that through your head?"

His eyes close for too long on the next blink. You kneel in front of him immediately, shaking his shoulder. He grunts.

"Dick, no. Wake up. Don't do this, you gotta stay awake for me."

"'M awake," he says groggily. "I'm..."

"Oracle," you say, panicked. "Vitals."

"His heart rate is sluggish; he's lost a lot of blood. You have to—"

"Dick," you say, shaking his shoulder again. "Dickie, you gotta get up. Can you walk? I need you to walk for me."

"'Kay," he whispers, barely lifting his arm.

"Okay, I've got you. Ready? One, two—"

You lift him and stagger under his full weight.

"Sorry," he murmurs, and you feel sick.

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize. I shouldn't have yelled, I'm sorry. Stay awake, okay?"

He hums. You manage to establish a decent gait between the two of you. Dick stumbles along, trying his best to walk independently.

You're almost out of City Hall when Dick collapses. This time, he doesn't get up.

"No, no. Wake up, Dick, wake up. Come on, come on!"

You shake him as hard as you'll let yourself. Dick doesn't stir.

"There's so much blood," you say, your hands sticky with it. "B-Babs..."

"I'm sending help right now. B's on his way, okay?" She sounds just as wrecked as you feel. "Just hold on."

You cradle Dick's head and suck in gasping breaths, keeping pressure on his thigh.

That's how Batman finds you, shaking and hunched over his son.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing imagines #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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skepticalkoi-catastrophe · 1 year

Text

|Come Closer| Kuroo Tetsurou x Blackfem!reader

The following fanfic is an inspired spin-off of Deciphered by @hoeneymilktea, The Sunrise and Your Sins by @leia505 , and fanart by @aikk00 . Pls, check them out as well as other spin-off authors. Comments, Reblogs, and Shares are heavily appreciated. I hope you enjoy~ ♡

Words- 1,462

Trigger Warnings ⚠️ - Mentions of alcohol, weed suggestive if you squint.

Next Chapter》

Chapter [004] Welcome Warning

Yesterday is when you recall it happening. How you were shocked to see Kuroo at your back door that late night in July. Heat sweltering, the air conditioner in need of a replacement, and unable to sleep you followed him past the neon alleys and powerlines.

Mischief isn't what he'd call it, just fun in the dark. Time alone together.

You had every reason to back out, he wouldn't make you stay. Your heart was pounding as he helped you through the gate, no trespassing boldly printed on a sign. Nobody was around, the coast was clear as you walked carefully, tiles still wet from earlier in the day's play. Putting your belongings and towels aside, you strip from your clothes.

Your beaded knotless braids down your back, your jean shorts at your feet. Kuroo's gaze traveled downward as his lip was in between his teeth before turning away. He entered the water daintily, barely breaking the surface below his torso where the blue began to blur.

Lowering himself fully in the water you push yourself off the pool's edge meeting him in the middle.

Pool lights halo your skin, droplets of water between you both as he melted under your hands pulling him close. His intense facade caved, softened by you and you alone. That's when it hit him. He couldn't do without you.

"How much longer 'Kawa?" You asked for the umpteenth time tapping your fingers on your arm, your legs crossed as you sat in the back seat. Kuroo and Oikawa exchanged looks of concern at the stop light.

"No more than five minutes Girly. Promise."

Taking a deep breath he swivels the steering wheel one-handed into Shibuya. Out the window, the street fades out when your phone rings.

"Shit it's Dai." You request her call. "Hello? Daize? Are you alright?" The call drops ending on a dial tone. His car enters a derelict parking garage, some of the overhead lights fizzling out of sync. Oikawa unbundled his seat belt leavening into the building, Kuroo does the same opening the back seat door for you.

The three of you enter an elevator, it was quiet, too quiet.

Walking closer, they keep a straight line toward a pair of doors.

With a deep breath, they opened them.

"WELCOME BACK Y/N!!" A multitude of voices shouted from inside the massive venue. A welcome banner, balloons, and streamers loop the ceiling. Tables set with name cards and goodie bags. Even a live DJ off to the side with a bar.

Cocking your head, and rubbing the base of your neck the yelling from others was a haze in your brain.

There stood Iwaizumi and Kenma. Even some faces you have nearly forgotten. Your surprise guests bearing gifts and drinks in their glasses smiles all for you.

"Surprise Spades!" Dazie cheered running at you. You scooped her off the ground and practically crushed her with the force of your hug.

"What, from the bottom of my heart, the fuck were you thinkin'?"

You set her down.

"Don't be mad. I didn't want your welcoming party to be lame. This wasn't all my idea."

Dazie pointed her ombre manicured nail at Kuroo and Oikawa, they shrugged guiltily as charged. You nod, but with a tightness to it, holding back from saying a very cruel choice of words.

"I needa fuckin' drink."

Your elbows rest on the balcony railing, everyone else in the venue enjoying themselves. Lights in the windows of neighboring buildings favoring twinkling stained glass to your astonishment comparable to the Manhattan skyline seen back home.

"You're the only girl I know who would leave a party planned just for her." Kuroo snickers walking in. He loiters beside you, coke and rum in his disposal red cup. "You'll catch a cold standing out here all night."

You snort taking a swig of your third mix of coconut-flavored vodka and pineapple juice. More vodka than juice truth be told.

"Is this the part where you give me your jacket to keep warm?"

"Pretty sure the liquor's keeping you nice and toasty."

He unzipped his red, black, and white Nekoma hooded letterman jacket shrugging it off his shoulders to then rest it on yours. Slipping your arms into it, your nose is tucked into the collar taking in his scent. Swallowed by the fabric, jacket paws fully replace your hands.

"You remember when I took you night swimming?" Kuroo's eyes and nose crinkle. "You were so scared we'd get caught."

"Cause we almost did. When you offered I thought you meant the beach. Not a pool on private property." You tittered toying with the jacket's zipper.

"I knew better than to go with but you drove a hard bargain."

He tugs you lightly by the ends of the jacket. Placing the zipper in his hand, his knuckles brushed your clothed stomach pulling it up to your neck. His head dipping to your level making you jolt a bit.

"I've gotta keep you on your toes somehow, right? "

Kuroo catches a sharp intake of breath, you tippy-toe to meet him halfway. His lips hover over yours narrowly grazing your parted ones. Leaning upward, his hand is in yours still holding the zipper.

"Like this? "

He groans pulling back looking off to the side shaking his head. "Y/n you play too damn much."

You smirk around the rim of your cup, downing the last of your drink.

"Spades c'mere for a sec will ya?" Daize requested your presence standing near the glass balcony entrance doors. Getting a load of Kuroo's moonlit peach-tinted cheeks, your victory is on display even as you leave him hanging tilting your head.

"Good talk Tetsu."

Your steamy bathroom mirror wiped away by your palm reflects your toothbrush hanging from your mouth. Minty tingle on your tongue as you try again rinsing down the drain what's left of your many liquid party favors.

Dazie fast-tracked to the washer and dryer hoping her mom won't come sniffing at her come later in the morning. Predictably, her clothes stank like Cleome inexcusable by Mrs. Onishi's standards when you knew all too well what was in her stash jar and why she had a matching grinder.

Enigma is to blame although you've taken your fair share of hits in the rotation. Dazie's seen you crossfaded one time too many thanks to him summers before he got his racer tag. Even though you're Ghost's favorite customer. He's delivered a few extra nugs, sprinkled lavender in when he rolls your joints, and even packed his famous onigiri in case of the munchies. You've got a few hand-me-down ball caps from him however you're positive Kuroo wouldn't be fond of finding out who 'Smokey Hair' is in your contact list. Or how shotgunning was your go-to when alone together.

His brother Thrasher has a soft spot, always gifting you his outgrown designer clothes whenever you stop in Tokyo. Makes you wonder what else blondie might give up this time around. He'll come calling sooner or later.

Settling yourself into bed, you rub in your nightly skincare staying tuned for Kuroo's call back. Amidst the drive home, you caught his hazel glances from your peripheral.

Fingertips skim over his knuckles, a habit you couldn't shake whenever sleepiness crept. That unchanged cheeky half-smile of his right where you left it.

Dazie made her way out the bathroom and down the hall to her room whispering good night. Turning off the lights as she went, you turned off your own room light shutting your room door.

His caller ID appeared.

"You home safe Tetsu?" You asked, resting on your side.

"Yeah I got in a few minutes ago. Don't worry it wasn't that long of a drive. You should've been asleep by now y/n."

"I know, I wanted to hear your voice before I do. I don't like you on the roads this late."

There was a pause and a yawn on his end of the call. "You putting me on curfew Shortcake?"

"You know what I ment Tetsurou."

You yawn as well snuggling deeper into your light blanket. "Or should I start callin' you D.K.?"

"Don't even. Tet, Tetsu or Tetsurou are just fine."

Your eyelids droop, phone slipping lazily from your grasp. "I miss you..."

"I miss you too, hon. You'll see me in the morning, I'm sure of it."

Soft snores from your end gave him a weak smile.

"G'night y/n."

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Taglist: @blissfullyrhea @nanastie @peachjaem00 @melbugs1 @jfoxxarts

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