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lokisgoodgirl · 11 months

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Heirs [Asgard!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki starts your marriage by breaking tradition. Naturally. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Fluff & Smut. Oral. Asgardian HC Lore. Language. Loki POV. (w/c 1.9k)

Loki’s eyes followed the ripples your palms made over the water. Over the curve of your back. The delicate line of your spine. Steam rose in a mist, braiding upwards in the amber glow of sunset through the arched windows.

Sodden rose petals clung delicately to your waist, peppered sporadically on your skin like clean wounds. Beautiful, he thought, letting his robe fall with a rustle around his ankles to the ancient stone of the palace baths.

He smirked as you turned with a splash, instinctually covering your breasts before breaking into a smile. “Husband,” you giggled in greeting. It was the first time you had said it.

The word made him shiver, despite the heat thumping between his legs.

Loki enjoyed the slow crawl of your eyes up his body. You took in every inch of his long legs with the unrestrained hunger of a horny stable-hand, thumbs beginning to subconsciously massage your nipples. There was a flicker of pink as your tongue flashed over your lips, gaze lingering on his cock heavy set between tensed thighs. All yours, my love.

The water was perfectly warm. Hot – but not overly so. Carefully controlled thermal springs which ran into the palace saw to that. With each step into the stilling pool he took, you took a step back.

Even now wed, still ever the tease. Loki’s lips stretched in a mischievous smile, matching your own.

Heat kissed his knees, then his thighs, then his hips– dipping backwards to wet his hair in the perfumed baths. He could feel the weight sink into the tight weaves of his ceremonial braids, wound from his temples, the ends sinking down between floating strands of black. He rose up, rivulets running from his temples down to the nook of his collarbone. The Prince let out a small groan as you reclined on the steps by the side of the pool, only the curve of your mounds visible above gently lapping water. Beautiful.

You bit your lip, resting your elbows on the side. Waiting.

“I might even apologise for interrupting but I believe that would not be the most auspicious start to our marriage,” he coyed, before stopping directly in front of you.

He could feel the cool of your breath against his skin, wafting in teasing waves over the fat tip of his cock protruding from the water. “There will be plenty of time for lies, I'm sure,” you replied with a knowing smile, neck craning up.

Loki shivered again as your lips melded against his stomach, thumbs pressing into his obliques while your fingers curled around his trunk. He could feel droplets roll between his shoulder-blades as his neck tilted back. The feeling of your fingers wrapping around his base of his cock, the gentle suck of your mouth on the thick, swollen head threatening to make his knees buckle. How long he had waited for this. How long you had both waited for this.

“Stop,” he gasped, just as you primed to swallow him whole. Loki would never forget the way your eyes shone with innocent confusion. He looked forward to seeing that moment reflected in your beautiful gaze many times in the coming years. The god bent down, capturing your lips with a messy kiss while he slid beside you on the stone seat concealed beneath the surface.

“Do you know," he began, pausing to brush a thumb over your lips, "that the royal men of Asgard are forbidden from pleasuring their wives with their mouths?” His eyes searching yours, nerves fluttering in his belly. “I have heard it said,” you hummed, curling a thick ebony strand of Loki’s wet hair around your finger. “But it never made sense to me.”

Loki chuckled, leaning forwards to suck gently against your neck.

His tongue would never sate from the taste of your skin. Never. He let out a rasping moan in your ear, one of his hands sliding between your open thighs beneath the water.

The tips of his fingers grazed the plump folds he found, the arch of your back against the terracotta making his shaft twitch against his stomach. “You see, if my tongue is buried between your thighs, wife, it is not my cock.”

“Heirs?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Heirs.” Loki smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully as his finger trailed lazily down your inner thigh, dragging softly over your knee.

“The most beautiful sounds a woman can make are thus,” he postured casually, leaning one elbow on the side with a fist beneath his temple. Your palms slid teasingly over his stomach, inching further with each time-wasting word. “Firstly, the primal grunt as her blade pierces the flesh of her enemy. And second...”

Loki paused to follow the descent of a particularly fliratatious droplet down the curve of your neck with one long finger, “the shameless groan in her throat as she cums into the mouth of her lover.”

“Is that so?” you said, sliding your hands up over his shoulders. Oil swirling within the heat of the baths made them soft and slick, the lady’s delicate grip against ropes of ferocious muscle making him weaken. Loki felt his brows slant. “You do not believe me?” he murmured incredulously.

The laugh that chimed from your throat made his heart swell.

“My Lord, I am innocent of such things as you well know,” you said, a sarcastic smirk tugging your lips. Loki tutted, playing the game. “I have fought beside you many times, wife. I know that you keep the highest count of men slain by a woman’s hand.”

You nodded thoughtfully, before your head tilted to the side. “I meant the other thing,” you whispered, pressing your lips together. Loki cupped your cheeks as your stare focused on the narrow valley of lapping water between your bodies. He frowned. "Truly?" You nodded. He could feel your cheeks warm beneath his touch. How can it be that a man has never pleasured her so, he thought.

“Then let me show you how black of a steed I truly am in this family of mine,” he heard himself mutter, seeing your chest begin to heave with quickening breaths. “Of all our inane traditions, that is by far the most loathsome.”

The nervous laugh that escaped you bounced to every vault in the high ceilings, sinking through the cross-breeze from the open arches.

“More so than the Ceremony of the Sacred Seed?” you giggled, biting your lip again. Loki nodded, a smile curling one side of his mouth. “The Ceremony is a farce, but this…?” his hands found the curve of your waist beneath the water, lifting you effortlessly to the final step before the bath’s edge. “The waste of my wife’s pleasure from my talents would be unforgivable.”

Water lapped gently at your hipbones while Loki carefully placed your calves over his shoulders. He turned his cheek, placing three kisses gently on wet skin. “Besides, was it not the Ceremony which set our path in motion?” he murmured, before grazing his teeth over your ankle. Your hips bucked upwards, a splash. “At least we may be thankful for that.”

Loki watched in awe as your body leant back against the smooth terracotta ledge, the clear bathwater making rivers and brooks through the creases of your hips. The way your curves stretched and moulded to the stone, fat streaks of water languishing down your supple, oiled skin.

He spread his knees against the bottom step, sinking down. His stomach flipped as your breath hitched, desire roaring behind a demure moan. Your glistening pussy was being lapped by the sway of water, swollen lips revealed and hidden with the graceful tide. Loki hoisted your thighs, positioning you perfectly.

“You know, technically, this is treason against the crown,” he purred teasingly, working sucking kisses up the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He felt them tremble around his neck.

“Husband, please,” you gasped, letting your head drop back. The wet of your hair slopped against the warm stone floor. Loki smirked against your skin, feeling a long breath leave your lungs as his palms lightly gripped your waist. “Very well, Princess-” he smiled.

Loki let his eyes drink in the sight for as long as physics would allow before his lips formed a soft latch to your centre. He stilled, letting you buck into his mouth with a shudder. The warmth of the bathwater lapped at his jaw, liquid silk mingling his tongue with your sex. And like a tame beast, he began a flat ascent up your slit.

The subsequent rattling, gasping cry from your body would never leave him. Surprise, relief, pleasure, freedom – it was all contained in that wordless pitch wavering amongst the bathhouse steam.

He let his tongue curve the softness of your womanhood, hands roaming further up your waist. The curvaceous weight of your breasts cupped in his hands made his cock ache. A vision of sinking himself inside you flashed through his mind, rolling and wrapping in once-pristine matrimonial bedsheets. With every rock of your hips, that delicate pussy crept further from the surface before retreating; never fully submerged but always caressed by the touch of water.

Loki felt your hands slide over his temples, fingers that did not know what to do with themselves playing at his intricate ceremonial braids.

It was tradition for the bride to undo the braiding on the wedding night while her husband rested, utterly spent of course. Of course, Loki thought; as the flat of his tongue pressed against your clit. Your back arched from his palms, an ambrosial moan of his name ringing around the cloisters. But there is time enough for that.

He was vaguely aware of the rumbles of wet enthusiasm bubbling from deep in his throat, the taste of jasmine mingling with the sweet nectar leaking from your entrance. All of it. He wanted all of it. All of her.

Your fingers had knitted into the thick of his braids, pulling his face gently between your thighs. Deeper. Loki smiled against your cunt. He rocked you back, sitting up further on his knees. The god took a breath, pausing to observe the once-forbidden glory of your pussy displayed beneath his loving command.

“How are you mine?” he hummed over your pleasure-drunk form, water dripping from his chin. You melted into his open mouth as he delved down again. His worship was rhythmic, each wax and wane of his talented tongue ringing new wells of praise from your lips. Your hands slid down his glistening biceps, feeling every solid curve and vein on their descent.

He could feel the growing frequency of twitching in your calves, the tense of your thighs as you clung on to the wave of pleasure building in your gut. Gasping, you patted his forearm; but Loki shook his head against your sticky heat.

His eyes rose, seeing your brow furrowed in panicked anticipation. The Prince ran his palms up your thighs from where he knelt, never ceasing his gentle laps against your slit. Relax, my love, it said. I have you.

And with a choked cry of his name, Loki felt a warm well of sweetness against his tongue.

Water splashed against his cheeks as your hips shuddered, your tightened thighs pressing him closer. He slurped, kissing your sex as he would your mouth; massaging the sparks of ecstasy sizzling on every nerve for as long as they could last.

You had dug your fingertips deep into his triceps, riding out your pleasure. As she should, he thought; moaning against your cum-soaked sex. He hoped your enthusiasm would leave bruises. However fleeting.

“My Lord…” he heard you gasp through broken breaths. Loki took a moment to hover before lowering your legs, sinking your hips below the comforting glaze of water. Tendrils of his onyx hair spread on the ripples as you slid down the step to meet his lips with yours.

“My Lady,” he heard himself slur; drunk on the taste of your cum and the tone of your voice, “shall we to bed?”

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him close. Fingertips played over the wet knotting of his braids, a loving smile tugging at your mouth. “Heirs?” you said, biting your lip.

“Heirs,” he smouldered.

Keep the wedding night journey going with Husband (follow up)

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honestsycrets · 10 months

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enfócate | tutor!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | tutor!miguel x student!reader, fake boyfriend!peter x reader

❛ type | explicit

❛ summary | jess is clear: miguel o'hara is a terrible boyfriend. he'll inevitably hurt you-- but peter has other ideas. or, you blow miguel in a library.

❛ tags | spanish tutor!miguel, bratty reader, a kiss with Peter, Miguel's jealousy, bjs, fake boyfriend!peter, slight obsessive qualities, fuck buddies, undefined relationships, fuck boy Miguel.

❛ reqs fulfilled | see here.

❛ sy's notes | the pov on this piece bothers me, it jumps between reader and Miguel. however, i did write two separate pieces for this request (a combined 25 pages vs my usual 11/12). so, i decided to meld them together to create this piece. anywho, if it bothers you, i understand! ❤️ I yoinked a lot of the Spanish from my Spanish learners textbook, hopefully, it's acceptable.

He knew he wanted you from the first day he saw you in the tea cafe.

Jess and he rarely visited the tea shop. It was settled on the edge of campus. Close to the social sciences and arts, but far from the work he did in the Genetics department. As a Ph.D. student, however, not all the work was done in the lab. Jess liked to see the different types of people that came to this tea cafe, where the chair cushions were fluffy emerald pillows and plants hovered overhead.

“Miguel? What's---”

You stood apart from the other students with their sloppy, half-cropped, or frumpy appearances, there was a particular care you took to dressing. It was the embroidered bow in your hair that drew his attention. When you left to fetch a refill of chai, he noticed the soft, frilled socks in tiny ankle boots. He just knew you would taste sweet, leering as he watched you at the drink bar. Jess glanced in your direction, the way you adorably bowed your head after the tea artist gave you your drink, and just knew. Jess looked over her shoulder.

“Not her.”

Jess’s voice was a drawn-out sigh of your name, punctuated by her fist beating the table. Miguel perked at the mention of your name. Oh, so she knew you. She was probably sick of his shit. Good, he was also sick of being used as a vibe check for the lesbians she wanted to pick up.

“Don’t you have enough side pieces?”

Miguel didn’t respond.

“She probably has a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Look who she's with.”

That finally got a response.

“You don’t know that,” he kept his eyes straight ahead. You caught him staring, wiggling your little fingers in a hello as you sat at a table. "I want her."

You sat with an incredibly frumpy, annoying photography student who once took his picture for the lab website. Could he be… his attention wavered when you pulled out a book: Español para el siglo. His lips quivered into a wildly sardonic grin. Oh no, no no. It was too easy.

“You’ll ruin her. She’s too innocent.”

He leaned in.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“Buenas tardes,”

Two chairs and a thin desk. The small study room was more of a glorified broom closet for its students. You were lucky that there was a large window that looked out over the student union, flowers blooming up its brick siding. Bits of lush dark green ivy poked into the window’s view from the library’s tall wall. As the sun set on campus, rich orange and pink settled over the sunset on that warm Friday afternoon. At least the sight was pretty for how overwhelmingly small the space was.

It wasn’t the space that bothered you. It was your tutor.

He was big-- big big. Not just a little big, but really big. The kind of big that was on bodybuilding competitions. It made his long, blue-grey muscle shirt and grey sweats look tiny, sucked to his well-pumped muscle. The room felt a lot smaller as you looked at him, his long brown hair whipped back over his neck. His eyebrows raised on his dark forehead, arms turning one over another, a bundle of muscle.

“Ah... you're him? The man from the tea shop.”

He pulled free his sunglasses and set them down. His warm chocolate eyes glanced from the edge of your now too-short skirt to the glint of a dagger necklace that beat between your breasts. He’s staring. Why is he staring-- you finger the dagger between your thumb and index fingers, soothing yourself with the manipulation.

“Miguel.” He warmed, pulling the seat out beside him. His voice was buttery and smooth, almost like rich caramel. The lilt in his voice lightened, inviting you to take a seat by him. You should. You thought. Sit down. “Siéntate."

You stared.

"I said sit down.”

That was a bad idea. You paused, slipping the bag down from under your shoulder and onto the beige tile by the door. Miguel watched every slight movement. That’s fine. It’s natural to do that. You tugged the bottom of your skirt and took a seat beside him. Miguel pushed the chair back in, pushing your chest to the edge of the desk space. Oh-- oh boy, he was strong. Of course, he was, he was built like a--

“Bueno. Now you're settled. How can I help you?”

Do that again.

“Me? Oh! I... Jess said you could help me need to pass a test,” you murmured. The four semesters of Spanish seemed relatively easy compared to being stuffed next to this Adonis in this tiny study room. Your legs settled over your skirt, hands working over one another to will down the pulse of your wily excitement. What was wrong with you? “To pass my language requirement.”

You should have been able to do that alone but-- let’s say you weren’t the most applied to the language in your childhood. A tutor was a great alternative to embarrassment and thousands of dollars in classes. If only he didn’t look like… this. His large hand left the pasty back of your chair.

“Hm,” he paused. “¿Puedes hablar español?”

“Sí,” you murmured. “My mami was-- well, I should have listened to her.”

Hm.

You want to know what Hm means. Your leg tremored on its own accord. He swept a leather bag by his side up and pulled out a thick folder, running across several tabs. Lab notes, diet plans, pruebas.

“It happens,” he notes, sliding a page free. “Let’s see how much you know, princesa.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to know more, to hear the hum of Spanish bouncing off his lips. It was a world apart from your mother’s shrill screams on Saturday mornings to clean an already clean house. It held its own beauty and mystery when he spoke it. You took the page from him, setting it down on the bland tablespace by your phone, lighting up with a notification.

Jess When you meet Miguel, don’t do it.

"¿Princesa?" you asked.

"You dress like one. Don’t worry if you fail,” you plucked out a pink mechanical pencil, complete with little animated characters tightened around the wrapping. You perked at his words, choking a small smile. “I expect you to.”

Why was he like this? You took another unfortunate look at him, his large forearm plastered over the desk, making the book he had to look like peanuts in comparison. God, he was hot-- you felt comparatively hideous, drooling over a man that was out of your league. Maybe he could be your piece of eye candy this year. Your phone buzzed along the table again. Miguel’s eyes shot to it, a frown pulling at his lips.

Jess Don’t fuck him. He can’t keep his dick to himself.

He reaches over, flipping your phone down with an overworked smile sundering his expression. It’s almost fake.

“Are you…” you turned your eyes to the questions on the page. “A student?”

“Grad student,” Miguel answered. So, older than you then. “I graduated with a BA in Spanish and a BS in Genetics.”

“Oh! A dual degree?” The man couldn’t be normal. He had to do both. “Did it… take a while?”

“No, it was accelerated.”

He was unreal. There was no way this man was ordinary. It was physically impossible for the man to be that hot and successful. You scribbled across the page, nipping the back of your pencil at particularly hard questions.

“So you just do this for… a living?” you asked him.

“I teach and train clients, yes.”

“Train?”

“Gym,” Miguel set his cheek on his fist.

“I do cardio with Jess. No strength training for me.” Jess-- who suggested Miguel to you. You had some shit to bitch at her about the next time you saw her. Namely, why she didn’t warn you about Miguel. He was a boon for chaos in your life.

“I’d waste your time. I’m all marshmallow,” you pat your soft belly. “All pan dulce and burros.”

He chuckled.

“You have a beautiful body.”

And that was that. You set the pencil down on a page half full of answers, glancing toward his full lips. They were quirked into an arrogant smirk. He knew the effect he had on women. He glanced to the page, then to you, his lips growing into a smile laden with arrogance.

“Your hips--” he glanced down, “My girls couldn’t pay to get them.”

He noticed. You supposed that the miniskirt wasn’t the best choice for meeting a new man.

“Do you talk to everyone like this?”

“No. Only the ones that look at me like you did."

Oh.

If it were a game of whom ate whom up first, you had to be honest-- it may have been you. You couldn’t shoot anything back at that, angling your head down at the page guiltily. A sigh fell from his chest. His large hand came to the back of your head, cupping the thick bow on the back of your head. His fingers ran across the silk, teasing it between his fingers.

“Calm down, you’re not the first one to do it. You won't be the last,” he turned your head to look at him, large fingers combing through the strands of your hair. He chased the panic in your wide eyes, doe eyes blown wide. Your heartbeat soared into your chest, choking you there, looking for an outlet from your shame.

“Breathe for me,” he leaned in, his warm breath tingling your ear. His cologne was clean, like the lapse of the waves on the shore back home where the tropical heat was a second skin. You listened, taking a weary, deep breath in, then out again. Again.

“Go on.” His knuckles rapped on the sheet. Miguel’s hand fell away. You found yourself longing for it again.

“He’s gorgeous.”

“I told you not to fuck him," your superior, Jess said, her feet bouncing off the stairstepper effortlessly.

“I didn't-- I just, he called me beautiful.”

“He would call anyone beautiful if it meant fucking them. Don’t fall for it.”

You knew Jess wouldn’t say it unless she were serious. She always knew what you needed help with, where to locate a good solution, and had the right words to calm you down.

“How?” you said, louder than you intended. You were suddenly thankful for the pounding music that beat down on your ears in your school’s gym and the rush of people that came and went. “Jess, you’re a lesbian. You don’t understand-- he’s thick. Like, he’s luchador status big. Big, big.”

“I’ve dated some thick women.”

“And he likes me,” you said pointedly, rushing to the topmost step, remembering his words. The way he calmed you down from your embarrassment, seeming without concern for his own body. It was… sweet. “Men usually don’t like me, Jess. I’m too… soft.”

“Okay, girl, whatever,” you were pretty sure she rolled her eyes. “Unless you’re going to be another one of his fuck toys, just ignore him.”

“How?”

Her stare trained on the floors lapsed. Thirty and she was still going. “If you don’t want him, just fire him. What’s going to do? Come find you?”

You stopped for the entirety of five… or ten seconds. Enough to consider her words. Enough to quite literally get plop off the stair stepper and onto the cold floor. Jess exhaled a stale breath, reaching over to jam the STOP button on your machine. Ow.

“Good job.”

Miguel likes to tutor you. Not because you’re good at Spanish, no, for a girl that grew up with a Spanish mother, your skills are quite poor. But he likes the opportunity to have you in a room all by yourself, late at night. Wednesdays are great days for that.

Your soft buttercup yellow dress is short today, exposing your thick thighs that take up so much of the chair. He pretends that he’s listening as you go over a list of irregular verbs, your lip pouting in response to the irregular verbs. Some were simple in their familiarity like poder with endings such as pudiste; but the plurals and other irregular verbs, you pouted at. It was cute.

“Miggy, it’s not funny, ” Oh, nicknames now. Miguel throws a glance at your glossy lips, undoubtedly sticky but oh so soft looking.

“I never said it was.”

“You’re smirking.”

“Then don’t whine,” he said. “It’s cute.”

“Oh--” As to be expected, you shifted your hands between your legs, drawing your skirt in between your legs. He faltered and took a glance, coasting his eye over its edges and memorizing the way it fell over your skin. You’ll ruin her, he remembers Jess saying. She wasn’t wrong, he sensed the bit of it now, how close you sat--

“Take a break, princesa. Vocabulary-- ascendencia.”

Rather than take a break, you turned and caught the corner of his lips in what was a terrible, cherry-red kiss that would stain his skin. But the connection of your lips, puckered in a pouting kiss on his skin, caught him off guard.

“Descent,” you took his red pen out of his loose grip, scribbling descent by the word. Fuck. Miguel took a sip of now cold coffee. A smile kept pulling at his cheeks, looking out of the window and catching the slight reflection of your lipstick smeared across his lip and cheek, he bobs his head into a nod.

“Correcto.”

You’re with Peter the first time you see Miguel with another woman.

It’s at lunch. Tuesdays and Thursdays are regularly spent running to the College of Arts, waiting for Peter to get out, and a picnic. Today, you forgot to bring lunch, running off to the union hand wrapped around his elbow as he talked to you about a bright new camera lens filter.

“These new pictures are going to come out perfect! Thanks for lending me the money,” he beamed. You loved the way he talked about his art-- stopping to show you his newest pictures of the camera that hung around his neck. Peter was always good with a camera, catching you in all the prettiest angles in your trade of photos for… sponsoring a lens or whatever. Or, at least, bringing down the cost. “Look at this one. Look how pretty you look in that dress, kinda like a pin-up! We should do some’a those next.”

Feet thumping over the pavement, you failed to sense Miguel's presence until you smelled his peppery cologne carried on the air. There, on a bench, he sat next to a girl. She was pretty, with long dark hair and soft skin. Her hand was on his thigh and his arm around her shoulder, eating the last bit of a flaky empanada-- your eyes burned, the closeness of her head on his shoulder, clearly done and finished, waiting for whatever next plan he had. You don’t want to know what that could be.

“Huh? Oh. hi Miguel!” Peter waved to your dismay. You held onto him a little tighter, wringing circles around his sleeve. Miguel spares you two a glance, his eyebrows pushing together. But he waves, lazy and short. You stifle the hot prick of tears at the corner of your eyes and yank Peter away. “Wha-- I’m coming, I’m coming!"

Days later, Peter has a plan.

“I’ve got it-- the solution to your tea guy problem! You should have told me sooner that it was Miguel.”

Peter was very excited. Why, you weren’t sure. He liked to feel helpful. That’s why he was a photographer. Photography lets others feel beautiful and seen. He picked at your lunch, his head flopped on your thigh as he worked through his camera.

“I’ll be your boyfriend!”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” you offered him a grape. He opened his mouth with an adorable ‘ah’ of his his lips. You slipped the grape between his lips. He chewed appreciatively. “I don’t know, Peter. Isn’t it lying?”

“C’mon, I know Miguel. He’s macho. The kind of guy you have to make jealous. And I can do it! I’m boyfriend material. Aren’t I?”

“Sí. But I don’t think I can make him jealous.”

It was a sunshiney day, sprawled out at lunch on a cool picnic blanket, tracing the clouds when you heard his voice. Soft, smooth, inviting. Your head spun around, this time with a lean blonde-haired girl-- her legs were long, tummy nice and flat, blue eyes shining like little sapphires set in her pale face. She swooned on his arm. The perfect sorority princess. What if he called her princesa, too?

“--close lab with me--”

“I can do it myself.”

Miguel’s eyes caught yours, raising his hand lazily to greet you as he walked down the sidewalk, undoubtedly back to his genetics lab on the other side of campus. Over where brilliant boys and girls and theys were, rushing through accelerated scientific programs while you figured out how to fix broken artifacts. He lived in another impossible world. A realm far away from Peter and you: photography and the maintenance of culture and art.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Peter's eyes were glossy with concern. “It’s okay. We don’t have to-- did I say something wrong?”

You shook your head. Peter sat up, his eyes bounced up-- from Miguel over his shoulder to your sudden sad eyes. Peter set his hand on your cheek, the fibers of his soft pink cardigan tickling your jaw. Your eyes tore from Miguel, whose pace became sluggish as if steps along took immense effort. Peter’s nose bumped against yours, clumsy and oh so Peterish-- his hand on the middle of your back, his warm but cracked lips swallowing the gasp that tumbled from your lips. He tasted of sweet fruit, the sloppy lunch you shared, and a silly comfort.

He watching? Peter murmured against your lips.

You nearly forgot to return the kiss, captured in the way Miguel stared-- something in his warm brown eyes was almost wounded. Peter shoved you onto the picnic blanket, a soft sorry murmured under his breath as his thin frame fell between your legs. Miguel stomped away, his bumbling blonde rushing to keep up.

“Oh yeah,” Peter rolled over onto his back, crossing his legs one over another. You watched Miguel stomp past the tall hedges, out of your line of sight. “He’s gonna be mad at you.”

“Peter!”

Miguel was still in a bad mood hours later.

“¡Qué surpresa!” he murmured, offering you your paper blotted with red circles. “You did remarkably shit on this test. Do you focus on anything? Or just Peter?”

“Perdona me.” Your focus was shot with his consistent presence in your life. Not that he could appreciate that.

“How long are you going to keep wasting my time?”

“Are you talking about the Spanish or--”

Miguel set the red pen down, a sharp slam snapping the pen under his force. The fragile plastic snapped into shards of plastic. He flicked it away, paper and pen both, his large hand flexing in and out of a closed fist. You traced the tracks of his veins along his forearm.

“Are you mad that I kissed you?”

“Stop.”

“Or are you angry that Peter did?”

“Don’t touch me.”

Though he said that, you didn’t listen. You slid out of the chair and in between his spread legs, your hands trailing his handsome jawline. He jerked back when your lips caught his, the legs of his chair hitting the wall. Though he said no, his mouth opened to your kiss, and his palms flushed against your soft cheeks. You pinned him between your body and the wall-- and though you were sure he’d quickly whirl you off if he really wanted to, he didn’t. His tongue pushed into your mouth, owning yours. His hands skimmed your back, trailing lower and lower down your deep red dress until he connected with your ass.

“You need to stop.” Miguel broke from his kiss. Though he said that, he brought you onto his lap. You felt little in his large arms, his hands guiding your hips over his crotch. “Before I do something you’ll regret.”

You listened to the sounds of the library’s floor. The scrunch of take out into the trash, the sing of a door opening and closing. It was dinner time. Most everyone had gone to get their snacks— and here you were, looking down at Miguel with rapt eyes.

“Peter is just a friend.”

“A friend who happens to jam his tongue down your throat,” he turned the word over on his tongue and found offense in it. “Now why do I doubt that?”

“He only wanted to help.”

“By kissing you?”

Your fingers trailed his jaw, dipping back down for another kiss if only to say you could. That Miguel couldn’t tell you what to do. A sound of frustration ripped up his throat. You felt him, his dick twitching to life behind those sweatpants. He felt big. You bit your lower lip— a movement that didn’t escape his attentive eyes.

“By making you as jealous,” You slid off his lap and onto the dirty floor. But as you lifted a hand, cupping his dick through the heavy fabric, he couldn’t bear to stop you.

His lips pulled in a wicked grin, your soft palm stroking along his length. He hooked his thumbs into his sweats, yanking them down over his knees and onto the floor. His cock kissed his belly, straining with droplets of moisture at the tip. Miguel set his hand on your shoulder and forced you to heel on the floor. His temperament evened out. “You were jealous.”

“Yes--” you murmured. “Are.. those girls, are they special?”

“Special? No, none of them are.”

“I want to be.”

“That so?” Your soft hands trailed along the dark hair on his calves, up his thighs, settling your nose where his muscular hand tightened around the root. He wrenched his swarthy hand along his length, drawing along his veiny cock shamelessly. "Let's see how much you do, princesa."

“Please.”

“Aquí se habla español.” Miguel teased. Your fingers dipped down, small tickles of your fingertips as his heavy balls. He watched you massage them with half-lidded eyes, his lips pursing in a pleased hum.

“Por favor.”

“Abre,” you did, sliding your soft mouth open, a well of saliva on your tongue. Miguel slid himself into your warm mouth, a ruptured groan fizzing in his chest. You didn’t want to be too loud— someone might look into the small window on the door, and see you on your knees between Miguel’s thick legs, sucking his cock down when you should be going over that test you just failed.

You caught the salty beads at Miguel’s top on your tongue, sliding sloppily around his thick head, and lapping at his slit for more. Your soft hands stroked along his length, clumsy and shy. He hummed in approval, a sound you were more than thankful to elicit. Miguel took a fist full of your hair and drove himself into your mouth, your tongue stroking the underside of his length.

“Pero mira esto,” Miguel wrenched his head in your hair, grabbing handfuls of it in his palm. “You can focus on something. Sucking my dick.”

Even if you wanted to look up, Miguel drove your head down onto his dick, the dark, trimmed tuft of his pubic hair tickling your nose. He drew his hips back. You nearly pulled off him, if not for his hand assuring that you wouldn’t move off of it. Drool coursed down from your lips, soaking your chin and neck, connecting to his cock as if it were a spiderweb. Your cheeks flushed with blood— you must have looked a mess.

“Coño," Miguel tutted with his tongue, grasping his phone. Your lips pursed around his tip, eyes flickering up to catch the lens of his phone camera on your ruined face. A picture or a video, you weren’t entirely sure. Only that it sent thumps of pleasure down your core to know he wanted to record it, keep it close. You suckled along his sensitive head, working his moans free. He set his phone aside.

Miguel stood and dragged your head along with him to pin you between the ledge of the desk space and his wonderful hips. His hands slipped behind your head, keeping you still and steady, driving himself deep into your mouth. Past your tongue, down your throat, it felt like he hit parts of you that you could only dream of. You struggled with his size, choking the urge to swallow him when he forced you to hold him there. As if your throat was just a hole for his pleasure. Your sad attempt to suckle him down was tempered by the rocking of his hips, his needy face fucking. Your eyes screwed shut, bits of color dancing behind your eyes, the easiest way to deal with this was to focus— on the way he tasted, the scent of his fresh body wash, the light judder of his hips as he came close.

"Hah-- ay, qué rico," his nails scraped the back of your neck, sloppy and undefined thrusts filling your throat. He spurts thick ropes of his cum down your throat and mouth, withdrawing to jerk the last bursts of his cum over your lips. Miguel’s breath fell from his lips in heavy gulps, meeting yours down on your aching knees. Strings of coughed-up cum connected your sodden lips to his cock, globs of his seed slipping between your breasts. You ached.

“Tate quieta.”

You don’t know where you’d go, your palms catching yourself on the floor. He snapped another photo, humming appreciatively. Miguel reached into his gym bag, pulling a sweaty shirt free. Your fingers dipped into his warm cum that spattered across your warm chest, drawing it to your lips. He tasted salty, tangy, and just right.

"You look so-- so beautiful, princesa, just perfect," Miguel bent down, wiping the rest of his mess from your chest and face, gently stroking away all evidence of your face fucking before cleaning his cock and tucking himself away into his sweatpants. He chucked the t-shirt back into his bag, glazing his eyes over your hazy, exhausted eyes. He crouched down.

“Rule one, I never share my women,” he settled his knuckle under your chin, urging you to look him in the eyes. Something told him you wouldn't be as easy as the others, but for some reason, he shrugged the thought aside. “As long as I'm fucking you, you date no one but me. If I find out you are, we're done. Am I clear?”

He was a walking red flag. But for once, in your good girl life, you wanted that. You wanted to fuck in the library-- against the genetics building late at night-- to kiss him during a sunny picnic. More than you wanted a lot of things. His eyes went soft with your answer.

“Claro que sí, Miggy.”

He loves it when he gets what he wants.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #atsv miguel imagine #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman smut #spider 2099 x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman imagines

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lincolndjarin · 3 months

Text

Every Now and Then - ch. one

[ I Dream of Something Wild ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 6.4k

summary : Joel Miller destroyed you. He loved you, then he left, leaving you in the New York City, QZ. But he's a good southern gentleman, so of course he didn't leave you without a reminder of the time you spent together. Four years later you're living in Jackson, in a lovely little ranch house. (With your reminder.) The last person you want to see is Joel Miller, unfortunately you've never been particularly lucky.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, injury, language, manipulation, joel takes advantage of readers situation, eventual smut, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, she is picked up by joel at one point but i'm a firm believer that he's strong enough to lift any one who may find themselves in the pov of our reader, joel is possessive and controlling, dark!joel miller in a sense?? like he's not really dark now but he's going to be, multiple time lines, not canon compliant, mentions of prostitution, i sorta made up my own timeline, i probs missed tags sorry!!

a/n : i really need to fix my writing schedule so i'm hoping that having a new fic to put my energy into is going to help!! also sorry if this chapter doesn't have much going on i need to set up a lot of stuff but i promise more action in future chapters

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

He crept up on you like the shadows as the sun sets in the west. An all encompassing darkness that blotted out the sun until all that was left was night. He sunk his claws into you so deep that your eyes adjusted to the dark, and you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you shrunk away from the inevitable sunrise that made him cower away from the dawn as if he never really was big and scary.

And in the light of day you saw him for what he really was.

He was just a man, who was once a boy, who was scared of the dark.

So he made himself big, and terrifying, and he grew so accustomed to the thing he once feared that the very idea of anything else made him recoil.

You feel something akin to pity when you think of him now. That doesn’t mean you forgive him, but when you can stomach it you try to, for the sake of your peace. You’d probably be happier if you could just forgive him.

But you can’t.

So you don’t.

It’s hard when his own blood doesn’t think he’s a good man. Tommy was afraid of him. Terrified at the very thought of his big brother. You can recall several nights where you had woken up to him screaming in the sleeping bag beside you, absolutely petrified of a memory that had inevitably snuck in through the darkness. You never feared him quite like that, but seeing the effect he has on Tommy makes your stomach churn, a painful reminder of your own suffering.

Most of the time it’s easier to just not think of him at all, despite the reminders he’s branded into you forever. You ignore him when he tries to soak back into your very being, but at the end of the day he’s unavoidable. You see him in the dark brown eyes of others, hear him in Tommy’s southern drawl, taste him when you have the occasional sip of whiskey. He tries and tries relentlessly to worm his way back into you, but you never let him. You put up walls and you focus on other things, anything, that isn’t Joel Miller. And even though you can’t forget him entirely you manage to ignore the memory of the man you once loved for several years.

Until one day it’s impossible to keep the thought of him away.

Until he himself makes it impossible.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“Stay off of it or you’re going to lose it.”

That’s what the QZ doctor had told you. A couple weeks of bed rest was the most he could offer when you came to him with your broken ankle.

A couple weeks without working is a death sentence.

If you don’t work you won’t be able to afford food. And you don’t have anybody to fall back on, no family, no friends, not even an acquaintance to borrow funds from.

Lose your leg or starve.

As appealing as it sounds, starvation isn’t an option, too painful.

So you have to work. The only issue with that is you’ve been blacklisted, the stupid doctor had you put on a no-shift list. You beg them to let you work, you’ll do anything, but they never budge.

You only have enough ration cards stocked up to make it to the end of the week so you have to consider your other options. You could sell yourself. It certainly isn’t uncommon and the money’s good but it’s too dangerous, especially if you can’t run on your leg. You’ve seen too many people get hurt in that profession to risk it. You don’t have a trade. You’re terrible at sewing, you can’t cook, there isn’t a need for much of anything else and you own nothing valuable.

So there’s only one other option for you.

You steal.

You dress inconspicuously, in your only pair of jeans and a plain shirt, both of which are getting rather tattered at this point but you have nothing else. With your jacket on you pull up your hood and you do the exact thing you aren’t supposed to do, and you walk.

The conditions in the QZ are poor enough that your limp doesn’t stand out. You walk up and down the streets all day, slow and steady, with your head down and you don’t take risks. You don’t take anything big or obvious, just little things. A single ration card peeking out of a pocket, a pocket knife off a vendor's table, stale bread, set away from the good stuff where no one is looking. And you return home each night with your pockets full and your leg aching.

By the end of your second week you’re still barely scraping by but you’re managing. What little ration cards you manage to snatch you use to buy food, but it’s still nothing compared to what you’re used to making. Your ankle feels worse by the day.

You need more.

You need to find a source of income that will let you rest or you’re going to lose your leg, which will leave you in an even worse position. It isn’t until you hear your neighbor slam his door that you come up with an idea.

Your neighbor probably has more cards than he knows what to do with, and he’s always coming and going so he probably wouldn’t even notice if you skimmed a little off the top. Nothing substantial, just enough to keep you going and give your leg time to heal.

The only problem is your neighbors reputation.

You doubt you’d have much of a chance of surviving him if you got caught. Joel Miller was a bit of an urban legend around the QZ. Of course you only knew him as your stoic neighbor, just a guy who didn’t make a lot of noise and came home at strange hours, and sometimes disappeared for days at a time.

But everyone else acted as if he was some kind of Boogey Man. You didn’t see him much in the streets but when you did children ran and people whispered, and while you had no knowledge of how he earned that reputation you knew it probably wasn’t pretty.

So you’d have to be careful.

He’s gone now, you’d heard him stopping down the hall so you decide it couldn’t hurt to take a peek, just scout out the area.

You climb out onto the fire escape, your leg aching as you do, and you use the dull little knife you’d stolen a few days ago to shimmy open his window lock. It slides open pretty easily, he’s probably rather confident that nobody would ever mess with him so he doesn’t seem to have the usual precautions taken to protect his belongings.

Lucky you.

Stepping into the room you wince as you land on your bad leg, stumbling onto the floor, knocking a board loose in the process.

“Shit.” You groan, sitting up quickly, trying to put everything back in its proper place when you catch a glimmer of something under the floor.

A revolver.

You shouldn’t be here. Joel Miller is a dangerous man, you knew that but you did this anyway, you can’t help but feel incredibly stupid as you stare at the weapon. You feel so stupid that you don’t even hear the click of a lock. You don’t even bother with the ration cards you can see peeking out from under the gun, you just want to leave and forget that you ever thought this was a good idea. It’s a struggle, getting back to your feet, your leg is throbbing, begging for a rest you can’t afford to take right now. With a groan you push the window open, eager for this silly idea to be over you try to figure out the best way to go about this. You’re starting to lose feeling in your leg, should you go bad leg first or try to balance on it while shimmying the rest of your body out the window?

You never get to decide what the best course of action is because your head is slammed against the wall, your knees crumple underneath you as you hit the floor, the room spinning as your leg bends at an angle that makes you shriek. You slap your hand over your mouth but it’s far too late for that. He’s been here the whole time. It’s dark but you can still make out the foreboding shape of his figure. The broad shouldered beast that’s glaring down at you, his boot nudging your chin roughly as you bite back a shriek of fear.

“I could report you to FEDRA for this.” The gruff voice whispers into the darkness.

You’re desperate to avoid lockup, you know you’ll die in there, or worse. Although you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen to you either way.

“I- I’ll tell them about your contraband.” You point frantically at the loose floor board. “They’ll lock you up too.” His glare is unwavering as he stares down at you. You’re a little worried that he might just kill you himself, there would be no consequences, no one would be looking for you.

No one would look for you.

The thought makes you shudder and even though you try to stop yourself you feel your eyes beginning to water. You hear footsteps, watching his outline move across the room before you’re shrinking away from the light of a dim lamp in the corner.

“You gotta be real dumb to find yourself in this situation.” He mutters, turning back around to stare at you. His gaze makes you want to cover yourself up, it’s like he can see every single part of you within that icy glare. You’ve never taken the time to really, truly look at him before but you do now, after all this might be your last chance to look at anything at all.

He isn’t a terrible last sight.

Sure, he’s ominous enough to make you want to try and run despite the ache in your calf right now, but that doesn’t make him any less handsome. In a rugged, weathered sort of way. He’s older than you thought, gray sprinkled throughout the mess of curls framing his face. What a nice face it is. Soft where it needs to be soft, sharp where it needs to be sharp. He marches back over to you, easily taking the pocket knife from your hand and crouching down in front of you.

“Give me one good reason not to finish you off right now.” He points the blade in the direction of your leg. “Seems like it’d be a mercy at this point.”

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe it would be a mercy to just let him put you out of your misery. Why have you been fighting so hard? You can’t seem to recall a reason other than the fact that that’s what you’re supposed to do. Your mind tells you that you’re supposed to keep fighting but you can’t think of a single driving force. You’re in pain, constantly, you live in a world that wants you dead, and you have no one relying on you.

You don’t have a good reason, other than the fact that surviving is all you know how to do. So you look up at him and you nod. Taking in the sight of the pretty, frightening man one last time before closing your eyes.

It feels good. You feel good, for the first time in a long time, knowing that you won’t hurt anymore. You won’t have to be afraid of someone kicking your door in, you won’t have to worry about where your next meal is going to come from, and you won’t have to worry about turning into a monster. It’s a mercy.

So you close your eyes.

Suddenly grateful for the killer before you, your guardian angel, here to deliver you the peace you didn’t know you needed.

You wait patiently for the sting of a blade or the embrace of his hands around your throat but all you're met with is a sigh. When you finally find the courage to open your eyes he’s sitting on the edge of the bed across from you, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just go.” He grumbles, muttering a few other words you don’t catch.

You’re almost disappointed, having accepted this was the end, and now you’re being shoved back into the cold and unforgiving world. You start to get to your feet but your knees buckle under you. You try again, willing your leg to just work but much to your dismay you can’t even straighten out your leg anymore. When you try to move it all you find yourself only able to bend your knee a few inches.

Shit.

You think of the fall you took on the way in and wonder if you finally pushed yourself to the limit. If you go back to the doctor will he remove the entire thing? Maybe you should just ask Joel to finish the job before it comes to that. It would be a kindness, between a quick death here or a slow death starving in your apartment you’ll take the quick way every time. Before you even have a chance to ask he’s on his feet. Maybe his patience has run out and you won’t have to ask at all.

“Let me.” His voice rattles around in your head, so low and commanding that you put up no resistance as he lifts you up under your arms and sets you down on the edge of the bed where he just was. He flips the knife out, going to cut your jeans off of you but you stop him.

“Wait!” He freezes in place, giving you an impatient look. “These are my only jeans, just- just pull them down.” Before you can realize how embarrassing it might be to show your neighbor your faded pink panties, you're already unbuttoning your pants, lifting your hips up so he can pull them down your legs with a roll of his eyes. It’s painful, the feeling of the denim running against your skin but it’s better than not having any pants at all.

Fuck.

It’s been a while since you’ve actually looked at your leg. You’re surprised he was able to get your jeans off with how swollen it is, the flesh bulging around your ankle and now up your calf. The skin is shiny and blotchy with shades of purple and red. The sight of it makes you want to hurl but you manage to swallow the urge, looking away as he pokes at the tender flesh.

“Christ girl, what the hell did you do?” When he grabs your ankle to lift your leg you yelp in pain, making him set your leg back down instinctively.

“I just- it’s just a broken ankle.” You mumble as he gives you an incredulous look.

“Like hell it is.” Something about the sternness of his voice demands your obedience as you nod. “Wanna tell me what really happened?”

“Well I- I fell and-” You struggle to find an excuse to justify how bad you let this get but you come up empty. So you tell the truth. “I fell off a ladder while painting over graffiti during my shift and broke my ankle. The doctor told me to stay off of it and- well, I couldn’t afford not to work so I just… didn’t” You rush through your words, staring anywhere else but into his demanding gaze as you explain yourself.

“So you turned to stealin’.” He says it like the fact it is and you can only bring yourself to nod. “You need antibiotics.” He says just as matter of factly. “You know how much that sort of thing costs?”

A lot.

More than you’d have even if you were working overtime.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes.

His eyes were so dark that day they threatened to swallow you whole. Were they always that dark? Or was it just that day, the first day, when he realized that he had you.

“Look, I don’t do this kinda thing for just anybody. But I can help you.” He had sounded so kind, his hint of a smile had seemed so promising.

“I can’t afford it-”

“You can use alternative methods to pay me back.”

You told him you’d think about it.

And he hadn’t pushed you, he had simply helped you back into your jeans and carried you back to your apartment. He told you he’d check on you tomorrow and see if you had an answer for him.

So when the next day came and you had a fever and your leg was throbbing, demanding your attention you’d been all too eager to accept his help.

And just like that, it was your idea.

It wasn’t his, he was blameless, you asked him to help you. And it didn’t matter who had suggested it first, it mattered who brought it up after.

You had been certain that when he had told you you’d be using alternative methods to pay him back that his intentions were unsavory. And at that point you didn’t really care, you’d made your peace with that. The medicine you needed wasn’t cheap and you could find worse looking men who didn’t take care of themselves the way Joel did.

But he wanted nothing of the sort.

Southern Manners.

All he wanted was for you to take care of his apartment when he was out with his business partner, a woman who didn’t seem to dislike you but certainly didn’t care for you. He told you to take a week to just rest, take the medicine he brought you, eat the food that he fed you, and be good. So you did as he asked. And after a week you could move a bit more, you started spending your days at Joel’s tidying up and organizing while he was gone, it was much easier to stay off your leg for most of the day and he always made sure there was food and books for you while he was gone. And when he returned he would help you hobble back to your place and help you into bed without complaint and with a promise that he’d be back in the morning.

But you still don’t relax around him.

It doesn’t make sense. Even someone who wasn’t known for their cruelty wouldn’t just take a stranger in. You’d like to believe that there’s good in people but you know better than to have that kind of faith. There isn’t enough left of the world to share the remains. Yet Joel does. He doesn’t ask to know you better and he certainly doesn’t tell you about himself yet he shows you more kindness than anyone else in your life has before.

He must like having someone to take care of.

That’s how you explain it to yourself.

You watch him with Tess and it’s clear who’s in charge there, she barely even lets him stitch her up when she returns to the apartment. Joel gets frustrated every time, huffing and pacing around the room before finding some way to tend to you in her place. Icing your leg, or bringing you a new book to read, or feeding you.

It took a few months for your leg to heal, it had been in such bad shape a part of you worried that it might never be the same as it once was.

After the first month of your arrangement Joel told you his knees hurt and he wouldn’t be able to carry you home, you offered to just walk yourself over, your leg didn’t hurt that bad anymore and you were more than capable of walking short distances. But he insisted you stay, told you you could sleep in the bed and he’d take the couch.

But his knees hurt, you couldn’t let him do that.

And you told him you’d take the couch and he told you he wouldn’t feel right making you sleep on the couch with your leg the way it was.

So you told him you’d both just sleep in the bed. It wasn’t a big deal. You trusted him, of course you did, he had an opportunity to exploit you and he didn’t, if he was going to hurt you he would have done it already.

He had acted unsure.

You know now that it was acting.

So you had insisted. You told him it was okay, you told him you felt safe with him.

It was your idea.

Even though it hadn��t been your idea to stay that night.

You had insisted he get in the bed with you.

A fact that he would bring up often in the months to come.

He would still help you to your apartment some nights, but just as often he’d complain about his knees and you’d stay. You got used to his warmth, you got used to waking up in his arms and not talking about it in the morning.

So it made sense when he told you that you should keep your pajamas at his apartment.

It made sense when he got a toothbrush for you to keep in his bathroom cabinet.

It made sense when he told you that he couldn’t find new clothes in your size and you could just wear his.

It made sense when he told you that he and Tess had never been a thing, so you had no reason to feel weird about sleeping in his bed.

And it made sense when he told you that he’d hold onto the keys to your apartment, afterall you wouldn’t want to lose them.

Joel Miller was a glue trap. And you had waded across his sticky surface without a care in the world, never realizing that it was getting harder and harder to move until you were standing still. Until the only way you were going to escape was by biting off your own leg.

You don’t remember when you stopped returning to your own apartment completely, but you know that it happened early on, before you’d even started chewing.

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“Ruth?” You’re gonna be late if you don’t find her soon. The turntable in the corner of the kitchen plays a 3 Doors Down song as you lift the table cloth, searching for the little girl. “We don’t have time to play, we need to get you to school.” You groan, turning to face the boy currently sitting in a highchair he’s just about grown out of. “Do you know where she is?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glaring at him as he shrugs.

Of course he isn’t going to tell. They look out for each other before anyone else, a fact that normally fills you with joy but not when they’re ganging up against you. Thankfully you catch his eye as he shoots a glance at the pantry. Pulling the door open you’re quickly met with the sight of Ruth, giggling on the floor. You pick her up, putting her in her own highchair before setting a plate of fruits down in front of her.

“Eat. We don’t have time to play this morning, young lady.” You poke your fork in her direction as you sit down across from them.

“Eat.” She repeats in a mocking tone, her brother erupting into a fit of giggles at the impression as you sigh. They need to be at the community center in half an hour. You make the job schedules on Friday and you need as much time as possible if you want to finish them in one day. You’re having a hard time focusing on the mess your son is making as he smashes each blueberry down onto the table before popping them into his mouth as you try to schedule your own weekend.

You need to finish all of your work today while the kids are gone so you don’t have to juggle watching them and working later, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue, scheduling should only take a few hours if you really zero in on it. You have dinner with Tommy and Maria tomorrow and you promised to bring dessert so you’ll have to take the kids to the market tonight, which also means you’re going to have to find supplies to barter with before you go.

You have nothing planned on Sunday.

You’ll have to change that.

You hate having nothing to do.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as a blueberry hits you in the forehead. Both twins laugh now as you frown at them.

“Behave or I’ll tell your aunt that you’ve been bad.” Both children look at each other nervously before returning to their breakfast. You were never stern enough with them. You loved them too much, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to yell at them, and it wasn’t like they were troublemakers by any means, they were just kids with a lot of energy in the mornings. And when they did misbehave a small threat of telling Maria was enough to make them stop whatever it was they were doing.

You finish up your own plate and start getting ready to leave as the kids start giggling again to themselves. When their plates are empty you use a wet washcloth to clean their hands and faces before lifting each of them out of their respective seats, letting them run off a bit more energy before you head out. You set all three bags down in front of the door. Yours being the beige over the shoulder bag accompanied by two little backpacks. Ruth’s green canvas bag is covered in mud and other remnants of the yard that she’s brought in with her but Arthur’s purple backpack is kept neat and tidy. You slip into your coat before turning just in time to watch your son dive into the couch, quickly followed by his sister.

“Come on little ducks. Time for school.” You take their jackets off the hook, holding them out to them as they rush over to you, tugging their own coats on before grabbing their bags, once you pull the door open they both rush out into the cool autumn morning, talking to each other in hushed tones. Always secrets with those two. It would probably make you a little worried if these were normal circumstances, the way they don’t let anyone in except each other, with you being the only exception. But the world is a terrifying place, it brings you peace to know that they have each other.

A part of you is certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle just one.

One little person relying on you, all while you’re doing your best to hold it all together? It sounds like a nightmare. It’s better that they have each other. Once you’re standing outside the community center, busy with parents dropping off their children, you kneel down.

“Be good, if you behave today you can go to the market tonight.” The promise of the market has both of them grinning, showing off the teeth they’ve both recently had grow in. “I love you, I’ll see you in a bit.” You hold open your arms, each of them taking their respective sides as they wrap themselves around you. You take your daughter's face in your hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead, repeating the motion with your son. After a few “love you mama’s” they both run into the building, once you’re sure they’re safe inside you head off in the direction of town hall.

You have what you would call the best job in town, despite the fact that no one else seems to want to do it.

Maria understood when you arrived that you needed something that let you work from home if needed, you needed something that kept your mind busy but also gave you time with the kids. So you took care of the parts of Jackson most didn’t think about.

You document all of the citizens, you make the shift schedules, and you make sure everyone has the necessities. You take care of housing, when big hauls from scavenging come in you divide them up among the people who need them. You make the meal schedules for the dining hall, and you make the crop schedules.

You keep Jackson moving.

When you arrived all of this was Maria’s job along with her other duties, when you told her you wanted something engaging and demanding she was more than willing to pass off those duties to you. So now you’ve got to make the schedule. Town hall is nothing more than a house with several desks for people doing work similar to yours but thankfully you’ve been lucky enough to reserve your own office in one of the bedrooms.

Most Friday's Maria visits you for lunch but you know she’s on patrol currently, another perk of this job is knowing where everyone is, all the time.

No surprises.

You hate surprises. (With a few exceptions.)

One of the exceptions is waiting for you in your office, Tommy sits with his legs up on your desk, reading over this past week's schedule.

“You put me on crop harvest way more than anyone else.” He grumbles, tossing your notebook down.

“It’s the end of the season, everyones on crop harvest.” You lean down, kissing his cheek before taking your place across from him, immediately getting to work as he groans.

“Maria gets to go on patrol.”

“Council gets first dibs on patrols during harvest season.” The tip of your favorite pen is dry so you quickly bring it to your mouth, wetting it with your tongue before you start writing out jobs for this upcoming week. The second he sees how many farming related jobs you’re listing he leans back in his chair, groaning and running his fingers through his dark curls.

Today’s his day off. You always gave anyone doing more manual labor three days off instead of two.

“I can get you on one patrol shift but they’re going to need your help with the corn.” You write his name in with the Monday and Tuesday patrol squad, filling in the rest of his week with harvest as he grins.

“Thank you, darlin’.” He drawls. You hate that nickname, you hate that he isn’t the first to give it to you but you never complain, you’d let Tommy get away with murder at this point. It’s the least you can do considering everything he’s given you.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You’re only getting a two-day weekend next week.” You mumble, searching through the list of citizens, trying to pick out the people you know won’t mind the hard work.

“Fine by me.” You have a complicated relationship with that smile of his. You can love it all you want but that doesn’t change the fact that it makes you uneasy, it doesn’t help that you’re starting to see that same smile in your son.

“I was thinking about berry cobbler for tomorrow night.” Molly twisted her ankle last week, make sure she isn’t standing. You put her down for shucking corn, she can sit in the dining hall and work.

“We have a bunch of extra sweet potatoes if you want to make sweet potato pie.” He takes your crop ledger, flipping through it, clearly not reading a thing.

“Ruth hates sweet potatoes.” Marcus insists he’s capable of doing manual labor, his pride won’t let him act his age. You put him down for pushing the wheelbarrows, he won’t have to bend down to pick anything up but hopefully he’ll still feel like he’s doing enough. You’ve told him countless times that at his age he shouldn’t be working so hard but he always insists.

“Shit, forgot about that. Maria might have some apples.”

“I’ll stop by tonight before I take the kids to the market.”

You’re thankful for Tommy.

He keeps your mind busy with conversation while you work, and he’s one of the only people you actually trust. By the time you’re almost done you know you need to go get the kids, with a conflicted glance at the clock you start to gather your things but Tommy beats you to it.

“I’ll go get them, Maria should be home from patrol soon, she’ll want to see them.” He’s already putting his coat on so you stay seated.

“Are you sure?” You already know there’s no reason to argue, he’s stubborn, just like his brother.

“It’s the least I can do to make up for bothering you all day.” He steps around the desk to give you a peck on the cheek before going to leave. “Just come by the house when you’re done, no rush.” And just like that he’s gone.

You make quick work of your remaining duties. Finishing everything within a half an hour before heading out in the direction of the Miller’s farm house on the edge of town. It’s only a few houses away from your ranch house, a fact that you couldn’t be more grateful for, if it weren’t for Tommy and Maria you aren’t sure you’d have been able to handle those first few months of parenthood. Most people in town assumed Tommy must be the father purely based on how much effort he put into taking care of not only them, but you as well. As you make your way up their porch steps and into the living room you’re also reminded of the similarities. You can’t blame people for making assumptions, even Maria thought he was the father. The twins have his eyes, (which by association means that they also have his eyes, but you try not to dwell on that.) Ruth has your nose but Arthur has that Miller curve already starting to show on his little nose. Both little ones are sitting in the big recliner with their uncle as he tries to get them to settle down while he reads to them but the second they see you, both are scrambling out of the chair to hug your legs.

And everything goes exactly how it’s supposed to.

(Of course it does, you plan every day down to the minute.)

You give Tommy the list of things you need along with a few things he can trade them for and he takes the kids down the street to the market as you sit at the kitchen counter, talking to Maria about her patrol. You had all planned to go to the market together but she’d insisted she was tired and you didn’t want her to be here alone so you stayed, helping her cook dinner. And you talked about all the things you knew you would, something cute the kids did, how her patrol went, what things you could put on the dining hall menu in the coming weeks.

It’s all exactly how it should be.

Until she frowns.

“Are you busy Sunday?” You had sensed something was wrong with her but you assumed maybe she was just a little rattled coming off of a three day patrol.

“No, did you need something?” You continue to chop up the sweet potatoes she now planned to use tonight instead of tomorrow.

“We found a couple of strays, I thought maybe we could get them settled in.”

Odd.

Normally finding survivors would be the first thing she mentioned after returning, even stranger is the fact that she’d often waste no time getting them supplies and a home to make their own. But you're not one to question Maria’s judgment.

“Sure, we can do that Sunday morning.” You want to ask questions about it but she’s already changed the subject to doing a clothing drive at the community center so you don’t press. Despite the way the look on her face is bothering you.

It wasn’t fear, or discomfort, or something you could explain away with the excuse of the strays being off putting or violent.

It’s a look of pity.

As if she feels bad for even asking.

It unsettles you enough to leave it be. Making idle chit chat with her until Tommy returns with the twins and you take them home. It unsettles you as you make your own dinner, as you give the twins a bath, and as you help them into their pajamas and read them a story. It never leaves your mind.

“Goodnight Ruthie.” You lean down to kiss her forehead, watching her eyes flutter shut as she continues to fight sleep. Always the stubborn one.

“Night Mama.” You take the stuffed bear from the foot of her bed, tucking it in beside her before quietly standing, walking across the room to your son's bed.

“Goodnight Arthur.” You lean down, kissing both of his rosy cheeks, he doesn’t fight sleep the way his sister does. So similar but so different.

“Goodnight Mama.” His little voice has the same southern drawl you know he’s been picking up from Tommy.

“I love you, little ducks.” You smile at him, turning to see that Ruth is already asleep, you tuck in the blankets around Arthur before leaving, keeping the door cracked open a bit so the light from the kitchen can act as a night light.

God, you're tired.

You’re quick to shower and slip into your own pajamas, crawling into bed with a yawn. You take the book from your nightstand, flipping through until you find where you left off yesterday.

You never really know what’s going on in the books you read, they serve a singular purpose and it isn’t entertainment.

You read until you fall asleep, they’re just a distraction to keep your mind busy with thoughts so he can’t sneak in right before you fall asleep and embed himself in your dreams.

It works.

Your dreams never feature him.

They aren’t good dreams by any means, they’re wild. Often of your journey to Jackson, the fear you felt then. But you’ll take that over Joel any day. Tonight isn’t any different, your sleep is restless as you fight the memories of fighting for survival in those woods, but instead of your usual nightmares of infected hunting you through the trees you’re faced with a sight that somehow makes you even more uneasy than the living dead.

The look on Maria’s face when she told you about the two strays.

support me on kofi!!

a/n : this fic has been bouncing around in my brain for months now and it feels so fucking good to finally start it omfg. sorry if this felt a little slow, i really needed to set a tone and a base for the story, sorry!!

#lincolndjarin #fic : every now and then #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic #joel x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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love-belle · 11 months

Text

you are in love !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which he finally realises that she's the one he has loved all along.

for when you realise that it's always been them. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

real life // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language, car crash (not detailed), mention of someone being high (not relevant to the story)

author's note - hello!!! i really hope you like this, i enjoyed writing this so much, charles' pov was definitely interesting. i hope you like this <3 i love you, thank you for reading.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

the first time charles leclerc thought he was in love, he didn't even know what love was. which, of course, made sense, considering he was seven years old.

he just knew that it was when two people really liked each other.

coincidentally, he also knew he liked the girl that sat next to him in class, the one who was always colouring in pretty flowers or leaves or clouds. he liked having her around.

she was sweet, she didn't talk much which was okay seeing he also didn't, she brought pretty colours to school everyday and she shared them with charles.

so yeah, it was natural that he liked her.

and because he liked her, he noticed that she liked flowers.

everyday, without fail, she would walk into the class with a pretty flower tucked in her hair, sometimes in her pocket or sometimes in her hand.

and on days where charles just wasn't in the best mood, the flower became his. it just sat on his desk, the bright colour a striking contrast against the plain desks that brightened up his mood, had him telling everyone that she ("my best friend, y/n,") got him ("she got me, me, a flower,") a flower ("it's my favourite flowers now, the most favourite!"). it was what made it all worth it, for a seven year old kid, at least.

sure, just the sight of it was enough to make charles smile for the rest of the day.

but the thought that y/n got it for him was enough to make him happy for this lifetime.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

the second time he thought he was in love with his best friend, he almost lost an eye.

that was a bit dramatic but to be fair, her high heel did come quite close to his eye and in her defense, he shouldn't have ruined her date.

"i cannot believe you, charles marc hervé perceval leclerc!" y/n exclaimed as she picked up her one black high heel from the floor and moved towards the living room, charles following after her like a scolded puppy, the rest of his family following him. "like — what was the reason?"

"y/n — " charles opened his mouth to explain but shut it, seeing her and noting that she was ready to throw her other shoe at him. he looked at his mom for help, his eyes pleading for her to intervene but pascale just shook her head, looking at him with a disapproving look.

"tu es incroyable," y/n muttered, glaring at him as she flopped down on the couch, inhaling sharply, "can you believe him, maman?" ( you are unbelievable // mom )

"charles," pascale started in a resigned tone, sitting down next to y/n and putting a reassuring arm around the girl she considered her daughter, "pourquoi ferais-tu ça?" ( why would you do that? )

"je ne savais même pas qu'elle serait là!" charles exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "and please, the date was not ruined. not until you saw me in the back and threw a fit over it." ( i didn't even know she would be there )

arthur stifled a laugh, getting a warning look from charles, pascale and y/n. he cleared his throat, and pointed back at his brother.

"you're mad at him, not me," he said, shuffling away from the group only to be stopped by lorenzo who gave him a look and pushed him to sit on the armchair., making him groan. "i hate every second of this."

"you were wearing a fake moustache and a wig!" y/n yelled at him, moving to stand up but pascale held her back, rubbing her back soothingly. "et je me suis tordu la cheville à cause de toi!" ( and i twisted my ankle because of you )

"that was your own doing," charles pointed at her, though he could feel like heart twisting with guilt. he honestly did not mean for that to happen. collateral damage, he guessed. at least she wouldn't go on another date with what's-his-name again anytime soon.

"how did that even happen?" arthur asked, looking between his brother and y/n, equally amused and confused.

"she chased him out of the restaurant and ended up falling on the sidewalk," lorenzo explained, his expression mirroring arthur's. "it was certainly a sight to see."

"je vous déteste tous les trois," y/n mumbled, looking at pascale with a defeated look on her face. "puis-je avoir une de vos robes d'été? celui ci est déchiré?" (can i have one of your sundresses? this one's torn )

"of course, ange," pascale smiled, standing up and pulling her out of the room with her, not before throwing a stern look in charles' direction. ( angel )

the room was very silent after they both left, leaving the leclerc brothers alone. it was all silent, perfectly quiet for a minute before arthur burst out laughing and lorenzo followed after him, their laughter echoing.

"i hate you," charles rolled his eyes, falling down on the couch and leaning his head back. "none of this is funny."

"it's a little bit funny," lorenzo replied, still chuckling as he sat on one of the empty armchairs around the coffee table.

"not for you, of course," arthur added, wiping his eyes as his body shook for laughter, "for us, it's hilarious."

"va te faire foutre," charles muttered, narrowing his eyes at his siblings. "how am i ever supposed to come back from this?" ( fuck you )

"well, for one, you can start with telling her that you're sorry," lorenzo started, looking up at the ceiling, "for crashing her date and for letting your jealousy ruin her night. that'd work."

"yeah — what?" charles asked, his face scrunched up in confusion as he looked at lorenzo. "why would i have been jealous? and please, the night was already ruined way before i got there. i did her a favour, getting her out of there."

"and breaking her ankle in the process."

"shut up."

"so, you weren't jealous about the fact that she was on a date? not with you? with someone who was not you? with someone else? with someone whose name was not — "

"i know what going on a date with not-me includes, thank you," charles snapped, glaring at nothing in particular as his mind raced with the possibilities.

why had he crashed her date? it wasn't as if she hadn't gone on dates before, she had. of course, she had.

but that's all they were, just dates to her. dinner, small talk, a few jokes and then back at home, she'd be laying next to charles, telling him all the things she hated about her date. his one guy couldn't stop talking about his yacht, this one thought having a mercedes automatically got you a girlfriend, this girl was high the entire time, this dude was the captain of the football team and that's was his entire personality.

and that's how charles knew, knew that those dates meant nothing to her. they were just dates. those people weren't laying next to her, hearing her talk about stars and how much she wanted to travel, how do flowers grow from pollen. they didn't know that she liked to fiddle with her rings when she was nervous or the fact that she had a small scar right above her lips. they didn't know that she loved it when people complimented her but she never knew how to respond, always opting for a 'thanks! you too! haha!' they didn't know any of that.

but he did.

he had assumed that this date was just another of those dates and by eleven, they'd be talking shit about that dude while eating chocolate and watching a trashy romcom. that was their routine, that was their thing. it was theirs. just theirs.

but then he noticed the way she talked about that guy, the way he had helped her with their psychology project, the way he had asked if she wanted to grab coffee around the weekend. he noticed the way she was actually looking forward to this.

it wasn't as if she wasn't excited for her past dates, she was but this time, it was different.

this time it looked like she really wanted to go on that date and for the first time, charles was afraid that she wouldn't be by his side at eleven, talking shit about that dude while eating chocolate and watching a trashy romcom.

and suddenly, time had stopped for him and it was almost comical, just like the movies, the way his mind became a mess, clusters of all the things they did, shared laughs, holding hands while walking on the pier, holding the other person close, leaning against each other, making flower crowns, saying 'i love you' out of the blue and on top of this mess, his mind just went 'y/n! y/n! y/n!' and that was it.

the next thing charles knew, he was dodging his best friend's high heel.

"there are other ways to tell her that you like her," arthur's voice brought charles back to their living room, his heart racing as his closed his eyes, a soft 'fuck' leaving his mouth. "start with not wearing an obnoxious wig and a fake moustache."

"i — i don't like her," charles protested weakly, as if he was trying to convince himself. "she's my — she's my best friend."

"we know she is," lorenzo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "but with the way you look at her, it's nothing short of love."

love.

that word made him feel like a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown at him and it hit him like a block of ice, with the bucket.

do i love her? is it love? is it just like — likeness, whatever? it wasn't love? can it be love? will it ever be love? why isn't it love? i wish it could be love — oh.

oh.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

the third time, the thought of being in love crossed his mind — not that it ever left him, it had just been mere hours since the high-heel-almost-lost-an-eye incident.

he was in since room, a random show playing on his laptop that laid open in front of him but he couldn't bring himself to pay any attention to it. he couldn't even bring himself to close it, his eyes glued to the time.

10:37

he hadn't seen her since their argument and he couldn't blame her for not wanting to see him, he had ruined her night after all. it just felt weird having her over at his house — which was her second home, but not with him.

charles sighed, pausing the show as his eyes locked in on the time at the bottom of the screen, making his frown deepen.

10:41

he thought about what his brothers had said, he thought really hard.

he liked y/n. of course, he did. she was his best friend, after all. but when it came to liking her romantically, charles wasn't sure where he stood.

it was no secret that y/n was beautiful, she was. but more than that, it was her nature, her personality, the way she made people feel at ease around her, comfortable. that's what drew people to her.

that's what drew him.

10:49

he could be himself around her, he could be charles.

he didn't have to pretend to be the boy that everyone saw on screen, the confident look that was etched on his face, the way he never seemed to back down.

he didn't have to keep the pretendence up while with her.

he could be loud, he could be vulnerable, he could let down his guard, he could ask for help, he could just let out all of his worries.

he could be at ease and he knew that this whole thing was a two way street.

that was them, y/n and charles.

best friends, even if it weirdly pained him to say it now.

10:55

he looked away from the screen, a sharp exhale leaving him as minutes trickled by and there was still no sign of y/n.

a small polaroid stuck to the wall opposite him caught his eye and as it registered in his mind what it was, a small smile stretched across his lips subconsciously.

to everyone, it was just a normal photo. just two people — could potentially be mistaken as a couple, side by side with beaming smiles on their faces. the girl was leaning her head on the boy's shoulder while the boy had his arm around her shoulders, pulling her even closer to him. that's all it was, just a normal photograph.

but to them, to y/n and charles, it was everything. they had known the exact situation, the exact circumstances in that photograph, what they had felt when it was taken and how it had felt.

charles had felt his heart skip multiple beats when y/n leaned her head on his shoulder, looking up at him for just a moment, as if to ask if it was okay — it was. he had felt the way her breath hitched as soon as he placed an arm around her shoulders, squeezing softly before pulling her even closer.

he had felt it.

he had felt the way none of them did anything to move away, even after the photo was taken and lorenzo exclaimed that it was beautiful ("i took it, of-fucking-course it's pretty.") they just stayed there, just for a moment too long before they moved away reluctantly.

11:02

charles snapped out of this trance, staring at the photograph as a knock resonated throughout the room and he had to stop himself to grinning.

he said nothing, choosing to stay silent as he quickly closed the laptop and laid down, his heat beating against his rib cage so fast that he could hear his heart beat in his ears.

it was silent for a moment and he wondered if he should tell her to come in, tell her that it was okay but before he could even get the first syllable out, the knob twisted and the sharp light of the hallway made its way into the dimly lit room.

the door closed quickly, a soft whisper of 'sorry' making its way towards him that had him smiling against his pillow. footsteps could be heard as walked towards the other side of the bed and quietly got in, choosing to maintain a small distance between charles and her.

no one said a thing, their soft breathing was the only sound in the room and for a moment, charles thought that she fell asleep or that she was still mad at him and wasn't going to talk.

he was about to turn around, sighing softly before he heard her move, the sound of the sheets rustling before she began to speak.

"this one was a complete asshole, like — i was about to..."

yeah, he could fall in love with her.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

the fourth time it happened, it had been during a race. well — whatever was left of it.

it was not the perfect weather and since five a.m., y/n had her phone open in front of her, looking through the hourly weather forecast.

"you know it's not gonna change, right?" charles had laughed at her from across the table. "why are you worrying? je vais bien, je reviendrai. ( i'll be okay, i'll be back )

"promets-moi?" y/n had asked, looking at him all serious, no hint of laughter or amusement in her eyes and charles sighed, knowing that she was worrying herself to death every single time he was out on the track, arthur was out on the track. ( promise me? )

he couldn't imagine what it was like on the other side of the radio, clinging to any sliver of hope, desperately waiting for anything, any response from the other side.

he couldn't imagine doing it regularly, having your whole world stop while silence continued to answer your pleas.

"je promets, ange." ( i promise, angel )

y/n had said nothing, moving towards his side of the table and hugging him, her head in the crook of his neck as she held onto him, not wanting to let go even for a second.

and when she eventually did, he reminded her, that he was going to come back to her, come back home and they were going to watch that damn movie they had been putting off for weeks now.

he would come back and they would go on with their lives until the next race weekend came and the cycle would repeat itself. but in that moment, they just had to get through that one race.

and then, it happened.

y/n wasn't even sure she was breathing. one moment she had been hearing charles' voice through the headphones and the next, a sickening crash of metal on metal and the screech and the noises and everything and then it was nothing.

just blank, just a void, just one whole minute of silence that seemed to last for an eternity.

in that one minute, y/n's world stopped.

the entire garage held its breath, voices asking charles to confirm that he was okay, that he was fine, that he was okay.

he had to be.

he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was —

"i'm okay."

y/n could finally breath again. her lungs seemed to cave in on her as she took a deep breath and looked down, the floor become a mosaic as tears filled her eyes. she didn't hear people heaving a sigh of relief, she didn't hear one of the interns telling her to wait for him by the medical centre — seeing charles had always requested for her whenever he got hurt and at this point, everyone knew that as soon as something, god forbid, if something happened, y/n had to be at the medical centre.

she didn't remember the trip there, only registering carlos hugging her before she was off to where charles was and before she even knew it, he was in front of her and he was okay.

he was okay.

"hey, cheríe," charles smiled at her, a slight wince leaving him as he struggled to sit up in the bed and y/n was moving towards him immediately, helping him sit up straight. "have you been crying?"

y/n shook her head, sitting on the chair next to his bed and looking down, trying her harded to keep the tears at bag.

"hey, hey, hey," charles cupped her face, forcing her to look at him and y/n closed her eyes, tears finally slipping out and falling down her cheeks. "i promised, didn't i? i told you i would come back, to you. i always would."

"i was so scared," y/n admitted, her voice choked up as she let out a sob, the sound muffled against the back of her hand. "when you didn't reply, i was so — i didn't know what to — i — "

"mon amour, breath," charles pulled her closer, leaning forward until their foreheads connected. he could feel the way her hands were shaking, the way she looked so scared, like she lost him.

she almost did.

"when i was in the car," charles began, their foreheads still touching and he could feel her inhale as he spoke, "with the radio disconnected, the thing i could thing of the promise i made to you. that i would come back to you, i would come home and we would watch that damn movie. i wasn't thinking that i was literally in the middle of a track which had several cars going around at dangerous speeds or the fact that i could be hurt, i was just thinking about you."

"i don't know if that's cute or stupid," y/n mumbled, making charles chuckle before he continued, leaning back slightly just so he could look at her.

"every time i get in that car, i make a promise to myself that if i finish this race, i would tell you how i feel. i would tell you everything and every single time, i break it. and this time, when there was a possibility that i wouldn't be able to ever, ever tell you that — "

"don't say that," y/n looked at him, her eyes bloodshot as she shook her head. "no, no, no, no, no. you will always come home, you will always come back to me. you promise me that."

"listen to me," charles pleaded, taking her hand in his as he intertwined his fingers with hers. he brought her hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. "please."

y/n said nothing but nodded, her hold on his hand tightening.

"i knew that as soon as i got out of there, i had to tell you that — that — " he hesitated for a minute, wondering if he really was about to risk their friendship. take a chance on the person he wished to have forever in his life. risk lose his person, the one who always got him, the one who was his everything. " — that you're more than just my best friend."

charles heard nothing after that and he refused to look at her fear of her looking at him like he was completely mad. it was silent for a couple minutes, the only noise being the annoying beep of the machines and the chatter from outside as well as the crowd and the cars and a lot other things but the only thing that charles could focus on was the fact that y/n had yet to say something.

he sighed, gently pulling his hand out of her grasp and began to do the damage control, his mind racing on factors he could blame it whole confession at.

"that was just the painkillers talking and i think i'm going crazy, can you please call the doc — "

he was interrupted by her kissing him, her hands on his cheeks as she pulled him towards her and a surprise noise left charles' mouth and as soon as his brain caught up, he was kissing her back. he kissed her like it would the last time, tilting his head so that he could deepen the kiss. he could hear her say 'i love you' in between kisses, the words repeated like a prayer, a promise between. this was everything, the way she kissed like there was no tomorrow, the way she was in charge of the kiss, the way she sighed into his mouth and he swallowed the sound.

it was everything.

he almost thought that they'd never pull away and he was sure that they would've have, if not for the annoying beeping that filled the room, making them break away from each other and look at the cardiograph on the side of the bed.

the graph went up and down rapidly, which was no surprise to charles because he could feel the way his heart thudded in his chest.

the neon green line spluttered as it went up and came down, and charles reckoned it was exactly the way his heart did whenever she existed.

exactly the same way their heartbeats spelt 'i love you.'

#f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagines

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daddyslilchickenfingers2 · 3 months

Text

Kinktober (reuploaded)

Mutual Masterbation (Chris)

Request: None (but reposting for the anon who asked

Warnings: Masturbation (fingering/jacking off), riding, rough sex, dom Chris, squirting, daddy kink, use of ma/mama, friends to lovers, being super loud (Matt/Nick can definitely hear you), major fluff and aftercare at the end

Y/n’s pov

I’ve known the triplets for about two years, we started off as more so acquaintances, since I originally only helped edit their videos. However, we quickly became friends since I was at their house quite often for the footage. Once we became close friends, I started sleeping over at their house, usually sleeping on the couch instead of one of their rooms. Of course we were all friends, but Chris seemed to be more touchy with me.

Let’s use right now as an example, we’re all sitting on the couch watching a movie when Chris put his arm across the top of the couch. His arm was now behind my head, but Nick and Matt did this too so I didn’t think anything of it. That was until he scooted a bit closer so our thighs were touching and he moved his arm to wrap around my shoulders. Chris pulled me so my head was on his shoulder and he put his on top of mine.

This was different and new, I’ve never cuddled with Chris or Matt before, only Nick. I’m not complaining, I’m just a bit confused. Nonetheless, I still cuddled up next to him until everyone started going off to bed. I was getting ready to lay down on the couch when Chris asked, “Why don’t you just sleep in my room tonight? My beds gotta be more comfortable than the couch” he laughed. I contemplated the offer before agreeing since it was cold.

We went down to his room to just talk while watching tv, getting changed before plopping on Chris’ bed. We started talking about random shit, “You know what I hate? When bitches act like a dude jacking off is gross. Ugh act like they don’t fucking finger themselves and let everyone see” Chris said seriously. “What the fuck Chris! I bet you’ve never even seen a girl finger herself, so shut up!” I laughed back.

“Well not specifically for me, but I’ve watched porn” he challenged, “Chris, that’s sad! Even I’ve had a girl finger herself for me in a video and in person!” I laughed. “Never had a guy do it in front of me though…” I added after feeling the tension slowly start to rise. Chris’ eyes scanned my body for a moment, letting out a breathy “Damn…” with a long pause. “I’d totally let you watch me get myself off” he half joked.

I knew he was partially joking, but I wanted to be more of a tease, “Yeah, like I wanna watch you touch your teeny tiny dick” I rolled my eyes. Even though I was being sarcastic, Chris took this seriously, saying “My dicks not teeny tiny Y/n, it’s bigger than Matt and Nick’s so shut the fuck up unless you want me to tell everyone that one secret I swore I’d never tell a soul” the last part kinda scared me as he threatened to tell my embarrassing secret to everyone.

I’m assuming he saw the way my smile dropped and the color drained from my face because the smirk he was wearing only got bigger. “Aww does that scare you princess? Maybe you should stop acting like you think my cocks small, because you and I both know that I’m the one you’re having wet dreams about” he teased some more. I wasn’t going to let Chris try to blackmail me like that so I stood up and started walking towards his door.

“Where are you going” he asked, “As far away from you as possible, I’m not going to be fucking blackmailed over a joke I made” I said back coldly. Chris grabbed my by the wrist lightly and pushed me up against the wall, “You’re not leaving because I’m sorry, just stop calling my dick small” he said while gazing at my eyes. I begrudgingly agreed and trudged back over to his bed, sitting down and feeling the sexual tension in the air.

Chris was the first to speak after I stood up and started to take my pants off, “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked as I bent over to pull them past my ankles. “Getting comfortable, is that a problem?” I teasingly asked in a rhetorical manner. Chris gulped and shook his head when I sat back down to start a new movie, cuddling into him. About a third of the way through the movie, I turned to look at him because his breath hitched.

Shifting my gaze downward, I could see his hand slightly moving beneath the comforter, “Are you really touching yourself right now” I giggled. “I can’t help it!” he blushed heavily, “It’s only fair if I can touch myself too” I pouted, “Only if I can watch…” he bit his lip, “Do I get to watch you too?” I smirked. Chris looked over my face for a second before moving the blanket off our lower half and trailed his fingers across my thighs. “Only if you be a good girl and listen to me” he spoke lowly, voice laced with lust.

I nodded in agreement before moving so my back was against the wall, facing towards Chris who sat up against his headboard. “Tell me what you want me to do Chris” “I want you to get fucking naked and start teasing your pussy like a whore” he said gruffly, pulling my shirt over my head. “Goddamn… you’re beautiful Y/n/n, so fucking beautiful” Chris gasped as I took my panties off as well, “Your turn” I smirked back.

Only wearing his boxers, Chris was quick to get naked as well, revealing his massive cock. He was watching me as I played with my nipples, teasing myself and getting more wet in the process. “Open your legs, I wanna see your pretty little pussy. I just know you’re dripping wet for me” he said lowly, spitting on his cock in the process. “Can I touch myself yet? Please Chris? I’ll be a good girl and listen to you” I whined, desperate to feel some kind of stimulation.

Chris groaned as he started stroking his cock, “Already such a good girl, using your words. So good, asking for permission to touch yourself, go ahead baby” he smirked, biting his lip. I slipped a single finger inside of my needy pussy, moaning at the feeling and quickly adding a second one, trying to keep my focus on Chris’ big hand that was rapidly moving on his cock. The sounds in the room quickly became obscene after Chris leaned over to get lube out of his bedside table.

I watched in awe as he squirted the clear liquid directly onto his cock, hissing at the coldness before going back to rubbing his cock. “O-Oh fuck! That was so hot daddy!” I slipped out in a whiny moan, immediately saying “Sorry” before slapping my unoccupied hand over my mouth. Chris’ breath was coming out in ragged gasps, “Fuck! Fuck! God mhmm! Yes, say that again whore!” he panted out, watching my hand drop down from my mouth to my breasts.

I could tell we were both getting close and I just couldn’t take it anymore, I removed my fingers from my cunt and sat up on my knees. I moved to straddle Chris so fast that he didn’t even have time to think, “Fuck Chris, I’m so sorry!” I whined as I shoved my fingers in his mouth. I then lined myself up with his cock and started riding him like my life depended on it while Chris moaned around my fingers.

I pulled my fingers out of his mouth with a pop and almost came from his whiny moans. “Shit— Fuck, don’t be sorry! So tight, your pussy was fucking made for me!” “Oh fuck Chris! Daddy, you’re so big, shit” we both moaned. Chris groaned at the name before flipping us over, pushing my right leg up against my chest and over his shoulder before ruthlessly pounding into me.

“God you’re such a fucking slut! Taking my cock without permission, riding me like you’re in charge” he chuckled/groaned out. “Yes, yes daddy! A slut ‘m such a slut for you daddy, please can I cum!?” I incoherently moaned out, tears streaming down my face. “Beg for it bitch!” he growled, resulting in a loud almost scream-like moan form me as he was abusing my g-spot.

“Please Chris! I want to cum for you, want to cum on your cock! Daddy I need it so bad, please! Want your cum— oh… oh FUCK PLEASE I’M GOING TO CUM! PLEASE DADDY— FUCK CHRIS PLEASE!” I screamed out, my face completely soaked with tears from the pleasure. I already know I look so goddamn pathetic under him, I was being used in the best way possible and I fucking love it, the fact that Matt and Nick could probably hear us too makes it so much hotter.

“Yeah? Is my little fuck toy gonna cum? Go ahead baby, cum on my dick like a slut so I can fuck a baby in ya!” Chris moaned, moving his had down to rub my clit. Now that I had permission to cum, I did, having the most intense and mind blowing orgasm ever. I was in sensory overload, everything started going fuzzy and for some reason I felt wet, as my nails dug deep into Chris’ back, causing him to both hiss at the pain and whimper because of what he made happen.

“Fuck mama! Didn’t know you could fuckin’ squirt, holy shit! Take my fuckin’ cum like a slut!” he deeply groaned, his Boston accent really coming out as he came in me. Slowly Chris let my shaky leg down next to the other one, soothingly rubbing circles into my sides as I desperately tried to catch my breath. He started peppering soft kisses across my face as well, “You did so good mama, such a good girl for me. You’re so beyond beautiful baby” Chris praised me as my breathing slowed down and I was able to open my eyes.

“There’s those pretty y/e/c eyes! C’mon baby, let me take care of you” he softly kissed me. I felt my face heat up when I realized the sheets below me were soaking wet and starting to get cold. “Oh my god, Chris! I’m so so so sorry-“ I was quickly cut off by him picking me up and starting to walk us to the bathroom. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize for that ma, don’t ever apologize for squirting on me. That was so hot, I’ve never came so much before. You gotta pee though baby, I’ll be right back” Chris firmly said.

I did as he said before trying to stand up, instantly regretting it and letting out a small yell which resulted in Chris running over to me. “My legs hurt” I whined, “That’s why I ran you a bubble bath baby, I’m gonna take a fast shower and change the sheets while you relax then we can cuddle, okay?” he soothed me as he slowly set me in the tub while he got into the shower. Within 5 minutes, Chris was out of the shower and changing the sheets.

I was honestly falling asleep in the warm bath until Chris emerged into the bathroom with a cup. “Can I use this and wash your hair sweetheart?” he asked me gently, smiling at my fucked out face and body. “If you do it fast, ‘m so tired Chris” I pouted, looking at him with droopy eyes. He started using the cup to wet my hair before using the shampoo, rinsing it out and doing the same with the conditioner before helping me out of the tub.

I was quickly dried off and he helped me change as well as putting a loose braid in my hair so it doesn’t get tangled. My legs were so shaky and sore so Chris carried me back to his room but right before he set me down, I made a confession. “Chris…” I quietly mumbled as he laid down next to me, “Hmm?” he hummed back for me to continue. “I think I’m in love with you” I confessed, causing a big smile to spread across his dance.

Chris smiled, placing a long chaste kiss to my lips, “I’m in love with you too babygirl, you look so tired sweetheart, why don’t we go to sleep? Come ‘ere I want to cuddle!” Chris giggled, pulling me closer to him. I cuddled up into his side, placing just a few more kisses on his neck, “G’night Chris” I mumbled. “Goodnight princess, sleep well because I’m taking you out on a proper breakfast date in the morning” Chris beamed as he held me tight. With that we both started to doze off, excited for our first date in the morning.

Taglist: @aliyahsbody @angelic-sturniolos111 @biimpanicking @biplrbtch @chrisenthusiast @chrisolivia4l @christinarowie332 @chr1sgirl4life @creamoncreamoncream2 @delimeats-000 @dev-speaks @ermdontmindthisaccount @flowerxbunnie @fionaheartswomen @gilbertscurls @heartsforchrisandmatt @iheartchrissturniolo @ilovemattsturn @its-jennarose @justaslvttygirl @kvtie444 @lustfulslxt @luvysworld @m6ttsturniolo @mangosrar @mangoposts @meerkatzthings @mattsnutsack @meg-sturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @recklesssturniolo @solarsturniolo @soursturniolo @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @sturniolocoded @sturniofilmd @sturniolohoe @sturniolopepsi @sturniolo0ntop @thecynthh

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toxicanonymity · 7 months

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First of all: I love your fics - every one of them - but especially Raider!Joel.

I have a question or idea: how would Joel react if he saw Sweet Pea doing yoga... She could have found an old book with yoga exercises somewhere and tried it out - be it out of curiosity or boredom... I think he would be quite surprised - and would find such poses "stimulating"... Just a little fantasy on the side... ;-)

yoga drabble

1.3k, raider Joel x f!reader

raider master list, latest: ✨hunger 👅

ty ily 🖤 i can see this happening SUMMARY: just a little PWP - a reprieve from action/violence but kind of emotional. WARNINGS: I8+ Joel POV, Unsafe P in V, he poses you, ass slapping, creampie, brief light anal play/scare (reader flinches), joel's guilt, dark fluff, praise. reader can do some version of downward facing dog and child's pose. no y/n.

You're in the living room--that room Joel never goes in with the bookshelf and busted tv. Joel can only see your bare feet and ankles from the kitchen. You’re on the balls of your feet. He’s intrigued. He approaches and stops in the doorframe, quietly leaning against it and crossing his arms. Your hands and toes are planted on the blue, threadbare carpet, and your ass is in the air, exposing your panties under your dress. He lets out a little “Mm,” so quiet you must not hear it.

Damn, it really does something to him, seeing you at a new angle--one he didn't even put you in. He watches the pose for as long as you hold it, getting more and more turned on. He imagines himself on the floor, lying face up underneath you, reaching up and taking an asscheek in each hand, pulling you down on his face, licking and gnawing at you through your panties like he could eat them right off you.

You walk your hands back on the floor, creating an even steeper angle, and your dress falls down to your arms. You grumble a rare curse, and he inhales sharply. You look toward the door. Even upside down he sees your eyes go wide when you look at him. You smile shyly as you let yourself down onto your knees, fix the dress, and turn toward him.

“Don’t stop,” Joel murmurs with his eyes fixed on you like an animal. He palms himself over his pants, fully hard. He’s gonna watch you for as long as he can stand it.

"not really doing anything," you claim and he cocks an eyebrow at you, looking at the yoga book on the floor next to you. "just stretching,” you add.

“Mm,” his head tilts back. “look good doin’ it,” he murmurs. You glance around, wet your lips and look down at the carpet then back up at him. He gives a simple nod that says for the love of God, keep going. You stretch out your arms in front of you on the floor as you fold the rest of yourself into a ball. He admires your arms and the cute way you spread your fingers out when you try to reach further.

He steps into the room, and you lift your head. “I can help you do it,” you offer.

“Maybe later." He runs his palm over the bulge in his pants. He gets down on his knees beside you, facing your hips. He slides his hand up the back of your thigh, under your dress, and palms an ass cheek. “Mmmm,” he sighs. His hand nudges you up off your heels a little bit and you let your weight onto your arms as you move your upper body forward. Close to doggy style but down on your forearms. He throws the dress up over your hips, out of his way, and gets behind you, straddling your ankles so he can see it all. He holds your hips and nudges your position so he can look straight at your crotch, and the pretty little hairs that poke out of the panties, and the white and floral fabric where where a tiny damp spot is forming.

“God damn,” he whispers. He scoots forward and presses the hardness in his pants against you, takes a deep breath, then backs up enough to urgently take his cock out. He spits on his hand and pumps it just a little, returning his free hand to your ass. He nudges between your legs and you spread your knees a little for him. You're such a good girl, letting him pose you how he wants.

He strokes you through the fabric and you moan softly and tilt your hips.

He slips a finger into the crotch of your panties and growls at how wet you are. His cock bobs heavily as he uses both hands to take down your panties. He runs his middle finger through your folds then slips the thick digit inside, and you whimper. He watches your glistening hole as he swirls his thick finger inside it, gathering moisture. He wants his cock inside you more than anything right now, but he can't resist your smell. He craves it. He closes his eyes and allows himself a little lick that makes his cock twitch. He'll get more later, he tells himself. He can go down on you anywhere, but he rarely gets to see you like this. It's so sexy that you put yourself on the floor with no intention to seduce him, and here he is, bending you st his will. And there you are, on your arms and knees with this hard cock behind you.

He gathers more with his finger, wipes it on his cock, mixing it with his precum before notching it at your entrance.

He pushes into you, just slow enough to watch your pretty little cunt swallow his length. You gasp and his cock twitches as he bottoms out. All the way inside you, he has one hand on your hip. With the other, he experimentally smacks your ass and you moan. He does it again a little harder and your walls squeeze him. “Yeahhh,” he sighs as he begins to withdraw his length. He holds onto your hips with both hands and pulls you back hard as he pushes into you, then abruptly starts railing you, jackhammer speed.

“Ohhh,” your moan is broken by his quick rhythm.

He fucks you like that for a minute, grunting and sighing. “look so goddamn good like this,” he pants, glancing at the yoga book beside you. “Feel so damn good.” He smacks your ass again as he pistons in and out of you. He watches the ripple of the jiggle when he smacks it again.

“Ohhh, baby,” he groans. You whimper and twitch around him like you’re close. He slows down and watches the way your body grips his cock, trying to pull him back in.

“Joel,” you whine. “don’t stop.”

“oh sweet pea,” he sighs and watches you suck him in again. “how bad ya want it?”

"Bad," you whimper. "Please." He slaps your ass again, then speeds up. You whimper and moan, "yeah, like that--ohhh." You clench around him. He pulls you back on him so your ass is flush against his hips while you cum.

“Good girl," he sighs. He retreats half way then groans as he fully sheaths himself in your pulsing cunt again. His balls tighten and he feels a twinge. He leans forward to reach under you and feel your breast, his other hand braced on your ass.

As soon as you clench on him again, he erupts with a shudder, returning both hands to your hips, holding you tightly against him as he finishes his release, and you finish yours. He curves his body over yours and his beard scratches your bare shoulder. "Good girl," he mumbles again into your shoulder and you meet his eyes with a little smile. He withdraws his cock and some cum dribbles down. He pushes it back in with his fingers.

His finger trails up to your asshole and you flinch. Shame rises to his face remembering the day you escaped. "I know, sweet pea," he coos, gently prodding but not entering your hole. "Ain't gonna. . ." Ain't gonna stuff all your holes like it's a goddamn emergency, like it's gonna fix everything. "pretty hole, though" he mumbles as he abandons it. He pulls up your panties for you, trying not to think about that day, reassuring himself it's not gonna happen again--any of it.

"You're a real good girl," he says quietly, mostly to himself.

He lets your dress back down. He tucks his cock away, and lies on his side facing you, elbow on the floor, head resting on his hand, silently admiring you.

He wonders how you feel. He wonders if you need anything, but he doesn't ask. "K," he whispers. He pushes himself up so he's sitting. You push yourself up into another pose on all fours and he gives a low whistle, then stands up with a groan to leave you alone.

----

Thank you so much for reading 🖤🖤🖤

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller drabble #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!ask #raider!joel #raider!joel miller

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mizuseyebrows · 3 months

Text

the boy and the imp —teen!mizu x f!reader

warnings: not proofread, violence, intense fight, blood, period misogyny, swearing/cursing. he/him pronouns for mizu (reader's pov), she/her pronouns for mizu (mizu's pov)

includes: bratty, arrogant fem!/afab! reader. grumpy, arrogant teen!mizu. they're around 13-15 word count: 4.8k

summary: you and mizu meet during a tsuyu's night, the rainy season. your personalities clash as you continue to provoke mizu. what started with a teasing tug-of-war ended in an intense fight.

here's part 2

梅雨 || Rainy season

“Focus, focus. Remember how that man did it.” Mizu whispered to herself, closed her eyes, and swung her katana to try to slash the bamboo tree. She trains alone to become strong and be able to fulfill her desire for revenge against those four white men—those four possible fathers.

She was neglected, mistreated, and harassed by Kohama's villagers because of her mixed blood. Now she lives with Master Eiji, the finest blacksmith in the zone, maybe in Japan. Many men had come to ask for a sword made by a great master. He was the only person who completely accepted her. Well, him. She couldn’t say if it was because he thought she was a boy or because he just needed some help. Be that as it may, she was grateful to count with that grumpy blind man.

Although it is not like it mattered whether Eiji ‘saw’ her as a girl or a boy, Mizu never knew how to be a girl. The only thing that was certain was that she had to pass as a boy to survive. That was the only way to not get murdered. That was the only way she could ensure her and her mother’s safety. But it’s not like that had a good ending for her only relative.

“I hate everything!” She shouted, and then, with rage, slashed the bamboo and panted heavily. “I’m just a monster,” she whispered, closing her eyes with grief.

Everything about her was a problem. From her breasts starting to grow to her devilish blue eyes. Her icy, unnatural, and unpleasant blue eyes.

She hated them.

However, without knowing it, someone was intrigued by her eyes and her training.

You were accompanying your father, who wanted to buy a sword from the great Master Eiji. However, you had to wait outside while the two adults talked about men’s things. It did not attract your attention to hear the same stories of fights and combats your father had; you could even recite them from memory as if you had been present.

While exploring the surroundings, far from the town, you peeked at Mizu training in the gyoka’s courtyard. It caught your attention. You could tell the ‘boy’ was someone who was just starting his training by the way he moved.

With a soft smile, you hid behind a tree to continue snooping on the training.

As soon as the boy opened his eyes, he looked at another bamboo. He shook his head and swung the katana back and forth to practice. His stance was somewhat correct, his concentration was good, and his speed and agility were acceptable. Additionally, you noticed that he was wearing weights on his wrists and ankles. Seems like he took training seriously.

“But I can do better,” he whispered. As he moved from side to side, he hit the trunk with the katana, causing the blade to get trapped.

It was risky, but you enjoyed playing with the boys’ patience, and you couldn’t help but feel the tickle of a teasing comment on the tip of your tongue.

“Do you train yourself, or do someone teach you?” You asked with a giggle, still hidden.

The giggles caught his attention. He turned fast to check where the noise was coming from. It sounded like it had come from the forest, and now he was looking into the trees. His eyes reminded you of what a winter sunrise looked like, with the different shades of blue in the sky reflecting on the frozen lakes.

“Who’s there?” He snapped at the voice. He hadn’t seen you hiding in the shadows yet. “What do you want?” The boy had a raspy voice, taking out the katana from the bamboo trunk to point it towards the forest.

“Don’t worry. I was passing by and saw you having difficulties.” You answered without coming out of your hiding spot yet.

“What makes you think I’m having trouble?” He objected while gripping the hilt of the sword.

You just poked your head out, a haughty smile not leaving your face. “Your technique is not very clean.”

It’s disastrous, actually, you think

“Plus, you looked angry at something; even the katana was embedded in the bamboo.” You shrug and point to the logs the boy tried to cut.

“That’s a womanly observation; are you a lady?” He asked with an annoyed smile. He wasn’t willing to let a girl interfere with his training. “I don’t recall asking for your help.”

You chuckled, nodding. “Of course you would take my remark as an offense. I didn’t know that you had a very fragile ego and that you couldn’t accept criticism. Boys are all the same, huh?”

“I’m not here for your opinion,” he said, smirking. “You’re really irritating, but I want to see who you are, unless you’re scared of showing up.” He teased, pointing at the forest.

You came out from behind the tree. You were wearing a red hakama and a white uwagi. Daily clothing of a samurai. Your appearance made him narrow his eyes with cold anger.

“Yes, I should be afraid of you. You can scratch me with your toy sword.” You walked toward the courtyard fence and leaned on it.

Your sarcasm triggered his rage. “You have quite a mouth for someone who doesn’t even know me. Are you always this annoying?”

You bit your lower lip as you smiled, teasing the boy in front of you with your gaze. It was cute to see him trying to be intimidating with his frown hidden behind his bangs. He didn’t even have a good posture to attack you.

“You don’t like it when a girl doesn’t bow down to a boy? Does your pride feel threatened?” You pouted mockingly, speaking in a higher tone, as if you were talking to a hurt child.

When you received no response, you let out an airy chuckle and began to walk away from the yard. What a big loser you had found yourself.

“Are you running away or trying to prove that you have more courage than me?” He tried to appear calm and collected. “Why don’t you stay? Are you the type of girl who runs when she senses danger?” He provoked you again with a smirk.

You stopped and looked at him over your shoulder with a pleased smile. So he had good comebacks.

“If you reacted violently when you noticed my presence, what could await me when I touched your fragile little man’s ego?” You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the fence again nonchalantly.

“Didn’t you say it would just scratch you? I thought I heard that, though maybe I just imagined it.” He responded in the same tone as you; it seemed like he was starting to gain trust.

“Good one. I must give you a point for that.”

“Thank you. Although I feel like a loser for putting myself on your level,"

You smiled mischievously. The way he was talking to you now impressed you. “What level? The level of someone who knows how to properly use a katana?”

The boy’s confident expression immediately faded, and he returned to his previous angry one. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

You shrugged and looked away. It felt like the challenge was over, and now you were starting to get bored. You hoped your father would not take much longer.

“Hey, what makes you have that attitude and confidence in yourself?” He buried the katana in the ground to support it. "Is it because you’re spoiled, or are you just a bitch?”

“What did you just call me?” You felt an eye twitch when you heard that word.

“Oh, you didn’t like it? It’s just that you act quite like a bitch, and I’m genuinely curious to know if you are or if you’re just a mama’s girl.” Now he was the one feigning a soft tone, with a very condescending attitude.

“Huh, so you enjoy insulting girls.” You chuckled and jumped over the fence to get closer to him, intimidating. “Well, this bitch can kick your ass in seconds; I can even kill you. If I were you I would think very carefully before calling me a ‘bitch’ again."

“Why? Do you think you’re better than me? What do you know besides makeup and dresses? Just because you see your dad training and fighting, do you believe you have some knowledge of swordsmanship? If you think you’re better than a man, you’re dead wrong.”

“Boy, your inferiority complex is quite lovely. Do you feel that you are not strong enough to be a man? Who hurt you so much?”

You know that when a boy resorts to putting a girl down, it’s because there is something that threatens his poor, almost nonexistent, pride.

“Who do you think you are to mock me?” He was breathing hard and trying to stop himself from attacking you. You were getting under his skin. “I’m not having an inferiority complex,” he replied with a sharp tone of anger. “You’re just too much of an insolent girl. Maybe I’ll have to teach you to respect me.”

He grabbed your wrist and started twisting it violently. You frowned at this, and quickly gripped his forearm tightly and firmly.

“Let go of me, and I won’t hurt you.” You assured him in a calm tone.

“Oh yeah?” He laughed, as a dangerous threat. “You’d hurt me? Do you even know how to fight and kill?” he asked with a smirk.

You sighed and gripped his forearm tighter. Then spread your legs a little, and before he could react, you had managed to throw him to the ground, climb on his back and twisted his arm.

“You have to improve your balance. It’s easy to knock you down.” You laughed softly, burying your knee in his back.

He was taken by surprise when you, who he thought was a delicate brat, threw him down and pinned him to the ground. The boy winced with pain as he felt his chest pressed against the ground.

“Let me go!” He tried to get away, but then stopped, knowing he couldn’t win in this situation, so his best option was to pretend he had lost. “You have an impressive strength for a girl," he growled with his husky voice getting lower. “Or is it just luck?”

“Or maybe I learned to protect myself from guys like you.” You leaned against him, whispering in his ear. Which made you settle more against his body. "Although you saw me fighting as a woman, I must kill you before you rat me out to the authorities or ruin my father’s chance to get a good sword.”

“You think you can kill me?” He tried to seem collected while teasing you.

“Just tell me when and where. I’ll hurt your little mama’s boy ego even more.” You scoffed once more and forcefully let go of him, standing up again to fix your clothes.

He was still on the ground, and he glared at you with anger, his hand shaking and his ears buzzing. He was breathing hard, and he couldn’t hold the rage in his chest anymore. All he wanted to do was punish you for your insolence.

Finally, he stood up and brushed his clothes. “I’ll show you how a real man can make a girl like you regret being insolent to him.”

He growled and quickly ran toward you to tackle you. He secured your legs with his as he grabbed your wrists tightly.

“I have enough problems, and right now, you’re my biggest problem!” His anger was uncontrollable. "You know nothing about men, so why do you open your mouth?” His grip tightened, causing an intense pain.

“Maybe because I have a father and a brother? Let me go now!” You tried to set yourself free from his grip. You raised your head to hit him on the forehead with yours, which made him move away to caress himself there.

You stood up and approached him to take him by the shoulders and kick him hard in the stomach with your knee, managing to knock the air out of him.

As he writhed on the ground in pain, you walked over to the katana and pulled it out of the ground to walk toward him again, pointing it at him. He looked at you with fear and was surprised by your skills.

"Give me… my katana…" He coughed, trying to breathe.

“Ow, you look so adorable,” you laughed mockingly, walking in circles around him. “You really are weak for a boy my age…”

“I said, Give me my katana.” He repeated this with a serious and firm tone.

“Come on, man! Fight me.” You threw the katana to the ground. “No boy has ever tried to spar me. Don’t disappoint me.”

He could see the mockery in your eyes, and it irritated him. “So you’re saying you like picking up fights with boys?” He asked with a cold stare.

"Hah…I might as well give you the satisfaction of getting beaten.” He said it in a cold state and picked up the katana from the floor after getting up.

You looked for something to defend yourself with, and grabbed a wet wooden bar from the ground. “How are you so sure you’ll beat me? Did your little man’s ego tell you that?” You taunted the boy, circling him again, wielding the bar in your hand.

“Why don’t you come here and find out who the real man is?” He asked with a sarcastic tone. He was looking straight at you, his eyes not moving.

“I assure you, there is no real man in front of me; I only see a little boy who can’t stand criticism.” You laughed loudly and ran toward him. You hit his wrist with the wooden bar and kicked him hard to the side, then took distance.

The blow to his wrist made him drop the katana. There was no way he could hold on with so much soreness. Your kick on his side caused him to coughed, but he blinked away the pain. “Is that all you can do?” he asked in rage. “You’re weak; you’re not even a real challenge.”

You threw the wooden bar and waved with your hands for him to come over. “Come, let’s fight without swords. Show me how much strength you have without your toy katana.”

Your arrogance was too much; he couldn’t take it anymore. With an angry shout and full of rage, he ran toward you without any fear, after throwing the sword away. "Is that what you want, you fucking brat? No weapons? Fine!” He screamed and raised his fists.

With excitement you ran towards him. As soon as you were close, you landed a blow on his stomach, but before he fell, you grabbed him by his shoulders.

“You call me weak again, and I’ll kill you, you bastard.” For the first time you were not laughing, now you looked upset and serious.

“You stupid bitch…" He spat with his bottom lip trembling from anger and pain in his stomach. As soon as he had a chance to free himself, he launched a knee strike at your stomach.

You groaned in pain and moved away to hug your stomach. You looked up at him from your spot, feeling your anger rising within. “What did you call me again, asshole?”

He looked at your enraged looks, and he smiled. His own arrogance returned. “A bitch,” he said, and then laughed. “Can’t you take it? You’re the one who wanted to fight without weapons, and this is what you get.”

You growled furiously and sprinted toward him, managing to tackle him to the ground. You climbed on top of him and started punching him in the face. “Never call me a bitch again!”

Your fists pounded his face non-stop. Every punch was landing on target; he was getting dizzy. You were strong and skilled. Through his pain, he cursed you and then shouted in a loud voice, “Get off me, you bitch!”

“Force me! Fight like a man.” You tightened your hands on Mizu’s shirt to lift his head from the ground. “Hit me if you dare."

“You’re crazy," he mumbled through his bloody lips. With that word, he launched an elbow strike at your chin.

You brought one of your hands to your face, feeling your mouth was beginning to bleed. You looked with bloodshot eyes at him, and again, you began to hit him everywhere. At the same time, you also received punches from the boy under you.

He was not going to lose. He tried an uppercut on your stomach, but at the last moment, you avoided the blow and landed a knee on his nose. "You…" he muttered angrily, his face contorting from pain.

You moved away from him, to take a breath. Your entire face was beaten and covered in blood, just like his. The breathing was heavy, and you had to shake your head from time to time to avoid falling unconscious. "I'm going to… kill you." You managed to say it between deep, fatigued breaths.

Mizu’s whole body hurt, and she was sure you both had huge, horrible bruises on your skin. She coughed, and blood was dripping from her lips. She was breathing fast and couldn’t even think clearly because of the intense and sharp pain.

With an angry expression on her bloodied face, she glared at you. “I would never lose to you… never!” she said in a loud and menacing tone.

“Wanna bet?” You spat blood to the ground, glaring angrily at her.

But before you could run again, a hand grabbed your wrist violently. It was your father, an imposing and terrifying samurai. He looked angry.

“What do you think you’re doing, little one? Do you want to ruin my business with Eiji or what?” He growled angrily, tightening his grip on his daughter’s wrist and hurting her.

You shook your head repeatedly, trying to free yourself. “No, no, sorry, sorry.”

Mizu’s anger turned into surprise when she saw the man grabbing your wrist. She didn’t expect that at all. The man was intimidating; his grip was so tight that it must have hurt you.

With all the anger inside her boiling, she took the chance to get a break from the fight and jumped to her feet. “Let her go.” She shouted in a furious and threatening tone.

You were a pain in the ass, but she wouldn’t let someone stronger than you hurt you like that. Only you two could hit each other because you were on the same level, so she thought.

“You better stay out of this, kid. This is a father-daughter thing.” The man looked at Mizu and then at his daughter, still upset. “Walk. We’re leaving.”

You nodded softly and jumped over the fence to approach your father. “Bye…you.” You realized you didn’t even know the name of the person you had been sparring with. “Thanks for the fight.”

That surprised Mizu. She didn’t expect you to walk away without protesting. She expected you to be more like before and fight your dad over this.

She watched you going through the forest and then nodded to herself. “Bye...” She picked up her katana and went back to Master Eiji’s.

Mizu was nervous about possible reprimands from Eiji, but the man just remained silent. Dead silent. He only spoke to her when he needed firewood, when he needed her to keep the fire going, or when they needed to eat. She knew he was aware of the fight, and perhaps the lesson he wanted to teach her was hidden in his quietude.

But not only was her head plagued with thoughts about Eiji, your memory was also floating around. She wondered if your father had hurt you, punished you or hit you. He looked furious when he found you fighting. She had to admit that she was a little worried about your well-being.

The days passed, turning into three weeks. The blows to both of your bodies hurt horribly, and you two could hardly do physical activities without ending up complaining. Mizu always tried to keep her moans of pain to herself so as not to make Eiji angrier. Although all she wanted to do was hiss because of the stings that moving her limbs caused her.

However, one night, that samurai returned to look for the katana he ordered. And there you were. Accompanying your father again, your face was full of bruises and some cuts. You looked at her with a serious frown while sitting on the ground, unable to help but grimace in pain.

Mizu was standing next to the swordsmith, studying your looks. She watched you with inquisitiveness. You looked equally terrible; your body was covered in bruises, and your skin was practically pink and purplish just like hers, but you still had some grace surrounding you. You looked like a worthy daughter of a samurai.

“My little imp likes to say a few words to your kōhai, Master Eiji.” Your father said this after clearing his throat and kneeling in front of the old man.

You sighed heavily, staring at Mizu. “I’m sorry for provoking you and starting the fight. I just wanted to brag about the training I’ve been receiving from my father, plus I have a terrible temper, and I will work on it to avoid future altercations."

Mizu only raised an eyebrow, looking at you in disbelief; although she wanted to let out a smirk. She felt quite satisfied to see you finally apologize.

“And Master Eiji, I also apologize for taunting and hitting your kōhai and apprentice. I didn’t consider that by messing with him, I was doing it to you too.” You performed dogeza for Mizu and the blacksmith, hoping they would see the sincerity in your words.

Mizu couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear now, almost laughing. Seeing you kowtowing only made her feel pleased, showing so much vulnerability… Maybe she will start to like you.

Master Eiji forgave you; he always would, no matter what. Now you were just waiting for Mizu’s response, without separating your forehead from the ground. You knew she was making fun of your position, but you couldn’t break your bow until you received an apology, which made you frown slightly. You didn’t want to continue humiliating yourself in front of that arrogant boy. That arrogant boy with an attractive smirk…

Mizu coughed softly into her fist, trying to hide her laughter. She sniffled a little and smiled in your direction. “No problem; I also provoked you and encouraged the fight.”

Finally, you broke your bow and sat back on your heels without taking away your gaze off her. Mizu kept looking at you with a sly smile, mocking you.

Did he just want to continue playing to provoke each other? Because I’m about to rip that smile away with one punch. You though clenching your fists.

The two adults started talking about the samurai’s new sword, and for once, Mizu wasn’t interested in paying attention to that. She was much more attentive to what your next move would be.

You began to move your lips, saying something without making the slightest sound. “What is your name?” You asked, not wanting your father to see you talking to her.

Mizu narrowed her eyes as she saw the movements of your lips. She tried to figure out what you were saying. She moved her left hand slowly and pointed to her ear. “I can’t hear what you are saying," she muttered quietly.

You rolled your eyes and started to move your hands, attempting to communicate. You pointed to your mouth, then to your father and your ear, and finally shook your fingers. What you wanted to tell Mizu was that you didn’t want your dad to hear you both talking.

She got your message, nodded, and put one hand over her mouth, the other raised showing that she wouldn't say a word. Mizu was now very interested in what you were going to say. This girl is so mysterious.

“Are you grounded?” You moved your lips again, mimicking the words.

“Sort of.” Mizu gestured with a shrug and a sway of her head from side to side, wrinkling her nose with a silent giggle.

You laughed silently, covering your mouth. You looked askance at your father as he stood up to test the weight and flexibility of his new katana. That means you will be gone soon.

You pointed at your own face and then pointed at Mizu. “They hurt?” You asked, referring to the bruises.

Her curiosity turned into surprise as she nodded her head again. She pointed at her own face and then moved her hand to try to mimic how the bruises hurt. You nodded several times as well. Your face also hurts a lot. You now moved your hand over to the rest of your body, and then clenched your eyes and fists, wanting to communicate that it also hurt like hell.

Mizu inclined her head repeatedly to assure you. She rubbed her tummy and winced in pain, closing her eyes. But then she opened them again to see you.

You bit your lower lip and sighed softly. “I’m sorry.” You moved your lips, smiling with sincerity. You were remorseful for hurting her so much.

She smiled slightly and shook her head. She nodded and rubbed her bruises to show you that it was fine. She could tell that your words were sincere. Mizu felt flustered for getting this kind side of you. It was weird. She was sure she hated you minutes ago, but now she feels she took a shine to you.

Your father swung down the katana one more time and bowed before Master Eiji. He sheathed his sword and thanked the blacksmith, then saw you. “Come on, we must continue with the trip.”

The man made a reverence again and walked out of the gyoka, with a straight and intimidating posture.

You stood up quickly, which made your ribs hurt horribly. Despite that, you approached Mizu, looking at her. “What’s your name?” Now you spoke normally, your father was no longer there to reprimand you.

"I'm…I’m Mizu,” she said, looking at you with shock, realizing that neither of you knew each other’s name. She serenely studied your face, mesmerized by the color of your eyes. Despite having bruise marks, your facial features were still graceful. You were a pretty girl, Mizu had to admit.

“Mizu. Cute.” That’s the only answer you gave her before walking towards the door of the house, still holding your ribs, after your father called you again.

Mizu watched you leave, absorbed in that word that played non-stop in her mind. Cute. Something deep inside her told her that it was a sarcastic comment on your part, but the way her heart was beating desperately made her perceive it as a sincere compliment.

Are boys called ‘cute’? Did you know she was a girl? Was she cute? Was that a degrading and debilitating term, or was it a validation of her looks?

Or just her name seems cute to you?

‘Cute’ was a word that made her feel seen and appreciated. Especially coming from someone who irradiated such elegance and grace. You were the daughter of a samurai, probably an important one. Your clothes were obviously made of the best material on the market.

The duality of your appearance made her envious. You could pass for someone fragile and delicate, but underneath that mask was a strong, skilled, and stubborn girl. Besides, that sudden change from arrogant to kind intrigued her, and she had to accept it was very appealing from you.

Plus, you never mentioned her eyes nor her looks. As if she were just another fellow around. Mizu couldn’t determine if she liked that you hadn’t mentioned her mixed-race heritage or the possibility of you seeing her as 'just another boy.'

However, she needed to know what you thought of her. It was a nascent desire that was beginning to confuse her.

By the time she realized she had spent ten minutes watching where you had gone, she realized she didn’t know your name. She couldn’t even ask you your name, and asking Eiji would be a huge embarrassment. She cursed herself for not snapping out of her reverie in time.

“Stupid, Mizu. You hear her calling you ‘cute’ and you become a fool." She scolded herself and wrinkled her nose in bewilderment and anger.

Now she has to wait for you to return to that place or perhaps meet you by chance while traveling. Another fight didn’t seem like such a bad idea, especially if you two would treat each other so well afterward.

tell me if this is worthy of a second part or is it okay as a one shot

#teen mizu #blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu x reader #mizu x fem!reader #mizu x you

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sturnlova · 2 months

Text

Traumatised Brothers ( C.S )

(Chris Sturniolo x Female reader)

( Warning :Smut, M receiving, time skip, i really never know what to put here, new to writing, not proof read all the way)

Chris : Orange

Y/N : Pink

Matt : Blue

Nick : Purple

( Word count : 900 )

Y/N POV:

As i stood in the boys kitchen warming up donuts for us to all eat Matt screams out “YOU LIKE HER” Chris slapped his chest really hard as he turned red, Nick just yelled at matt to shut the fuck up.

I turned around with the donuts and asked “ the fuck are yall talking about” “NOTHING nothing Matt is just being an idiot.” Suspicious i thought to myself but ignored it as we continued watching the movie Scream.

As i bite into the donut the donut feel apart leaving icing on my bottom lip and some crumbs on my boobs. When i noticed i had made a mess i wiped it off hoping no one saw but Chris saw and he also had focus on my boobs but i didn’t really mind because it’s Chris. Like the Chris i’ve liked for ages.

Chris cleared his throat and stood up “sorry i’ll be back i don’t feel to well..” Matt and nick asked if he was okay and i just stood up and rubbed his shoulder asking if he needed anything.

Chris responded back with “ i’m fine don’t worry” and quickly hurried off to his room.

Time Skip

By now Chris had been gone for 10 minutes and i had to check up on him but i didn’t need Matt and Nick being there to because i know Chris gets embarrassed when he is seen as “weak” even though getting sick is nothing to be embarrassed about. Plus they would tease me about liking him since they knew i liked him for a bit too long.

“ I’ll be back i need to go to the bathroom, don’t worry about pausing the movie” “ Ok we weren’t playing on it anyway” Nick said giggling.

I walked my way to Chris’ room and was about to open the door until i heard whimpers coming from the other side, and my name..?

I opened the door to be seen with Chris lying down with his hand in his pants moving up and down, along with his eyes closed and mouth open. He hadn’t noticed me until i crawled onto the bed positioning myself between his legs.

“Y/N what the fuck i’m sorry, i didn’t even realise you were here and i- fuck you must think i’m so disgust-“ I cut Chris off by kissing him passionately and palming his dick and pushing his hand away.

“ Chris do you want me to help you?” “ please Y/N please i need your help”

I pulled down his pants in a slow fashion all the way down to his ankles.

I spit on his tip and started using my hands to move the spit up and down well i rubbed my thumb on the slit of his tip. I put my lips on his digits and started bobbing my head up and down well his hand was in my hair with a strong grip making a ponytail, all the force he used made me moan in a “ hurts but feels so good” way.

As he started twitching in my mouth i knew he was close so i started going faster “ FUCKK Y/N DONT STOP IM SO CLOSE” he continued screaming my name. I didn’t stop but i did start using my hands instead of my mouth for i could speak to him “ Chris your brothers gonna hear, do you even care that they hear you scream and beg for me to jerk you off? “ Chris just moaned and spoke under his breath with a string of curses as he got milked out.

He had some of his cum on his happy trail and on my hand. I licked the mess off his stomach and then lifted my top to expose my breasts and took his cum off my hands and rubbed it all over my boobs as a substitute for lotion.

When it was all over my boobs and off my hands, i pulled my top back on and put chris’ pants back on. “ Y/N that was the best handjob i’ve ever experienced thank you like truly thank you, do you want me to finger you?” usually i wouldn’t deny this offer but today it was just about him “ Chris it’s ok baby i just wanted you to feel good.”

“ Chris do you like, like me because i know i like you, i think i love you.” “ i like you to Y/N i think i love you too.” We talked about how we would take this forward and whats gonna happen since we will be going on a date tomorrow at the park, Chris knew i loved the park.

As i got Chris decent and walked out his room we were shown with an empty house and a note left on the kitchen counter like it was the olden days reading “ message us to come back when Chris is done moaning your name, if you couldn’t tell this is from his 2 traumatised brothers Matt and Nick.”

Chirs just looked at me and pointed at the note with a facial expression that looked like this “😐” i responded back with a giggle.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #romantic

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 3 months

Text

Pretty like the sun

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. ✨

It’s been a hot minute so idk if any of you are still here with me🫣 we do have an Azriel pov here.

warning: nothing major, past trauma.

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Zofie’s pov:

She sat at the top of the steps for hours. Long given up on running towards the door with every scratch or creek that she heard. With her head resting against the railing, Zofie couldn’t help but let her mind consume her. Nit-picking at all of her choices. She had done the opposite of being a good daughter. And she too had promised to love Azriel forever, so what was shifting?

Her thoughts slithered towards Nyx, who had been claiming most of her mind now. She could see why Azriel wouldn’t want her with him. And maybe it wasn’t even him trying to protect her; maybe it was him trying to keep the high-fea bloodline clean. What did she have to do with the high lords? Nothing. She saw the high lord and lady from time to time, but she was way closer to Uncle Cassian.

Then her thoughts drifted to the fact that she didn’t know all that much about Nyx either. Zofie didn’t even know his other friends. How many were they? What if all he was doing was just being friendly? He could very well have a lover. A mate. Preppy parents in desperate need to marry off their children to form bonds between courts, Nyx’s voice ran in her ears. Of course, Rhys was no doubt looking for a match for his son. And what was she thinking? Letting herself dream that maybe one day…

The sound of the door clicking open made Zofie shoot up. Just with her lack of focus, the girl ended up hitting her head against the side of the railing. Whining in pain, Zofie quickly reached to press her palms against the aching spot, only to lose her footing as her ankle buckled and the center of gravity shifted. She managed to let out a yelp, but the hard fall never came. Instead, the endlessly soothing smell of night filled her senses.

"Zofie," her father’s worried voice made her look up quickly. “Look at me, hey, did you hit your head hard?" Azriel’s worried golden eyes tore through the last bits of her self-control. Without a second thought, Zofie scrambled to get closer. Hands messily tangling with Azriel’s leathers as she wrapped herself around him. “I’m so sorry," she whimpered, “So sorry." Azriel’s arms wrapped around Zofie’s frame with ease in an instant. “Breathe for me, Zofie; you will make yourself faint, baby girl." The calmness of his voice strangely unsettled her. He was supposed to be mad. Was supposed to be frustrated with her. Angry. “Why aren’t you upset? You should yell," Zofie muttered, pulling back, her black eyes filling up with tears. Azriel frowned for the first time since he walked through the door. “Have I ever raised my voice at you?" the spymaster questioned before sighing, “Well, besides earlier today, it wasn’t even at you. I wasn’t angry with you." He softly wiped the tears from beneath Zofie’s eyes. “I will never do it again. I will never see him, I promise”, she said, feeling her own body start to swirl with emotions flooding from all over the house. Fruition, confusion, pain, sadness, and dread. Gasping for air, Zofie looked back at Azriel, whose shadows quickly drowned out any distractions. Closing the two of them in the safety of cool darkness. “Breathe, little star," Azriel muttered against Zofie’s hair, “Remember how we do it?" His firm gaze met her frantically blinking eyes. One of the shadows settled at the back of her neck; the other two wrapped around her hands, cooling the main point of her anxious spell.

“You’re safe." Azriel slowly ran his hand up and down her back, trying to comfort her the best he could. “I can't," her pained breaths ripped at Azriel, but he knew that now any excess emotions had to be suppressed, “We’re in your safe bubble." With a fluster of his wings, Azriel wrapped them around the two of them. “Press your palms against me; let it out," and she would have, but suddenly it made her stomach twist. Because this man. Man who didn’t have to take her in. Would know that she had all of these thoughts. From hate. To frustration. All directed at him. All because she was being naive. “I can't," she said, pulling back and hitting her father’s leathery wings. “Of course you can; you’ll burn out otherwise," Azriel urged her, “Come on, baby." She knew that he was desperate for a reason. Zofie had sent herself into overdrive once, and it wasn’t pretty. She could barely stand for weeks. No speech. She could barely get food down. That had been the first time she had seen Azriel with a full stubble. He had refused to leave her, even for a minute. He had been there. Always been there looking out for her. Another painful cry slipped past her lips, and everything went black.

Azriel pov:

Azriel’s eyes lingered on Zofie’s limp body lying in bed. He had been fixing the throw covering Zofie for the past hour. One moment it seemed too high up, and so she no doubt had to be too warm, but then the other he feared that she wasn’t warm enough. Azriel knew there was no way to measure the impact of the outburst until morning. Till Zifie opened her eyes. And she would open her eyes because...

“You should get some sleep”, your soft voice made Azriel turn from the bed. Some of the tension eased. It always did when you were around. His beautiful mate. Mother of his children. “I’m not tired," he muttered, fingers lazily running up and down Zofie’s arm. "Azriel, you can’t fool me." The moment your hands touched Azriel’s shoulders, he instantly felt warmth seeping through his aching bones. “How are you doing?", Azriel knew what that question implied because he had a feeling that you were aware of where the roots of all of this were.

“How can she think that I don’t love her?", Azriel shook his head, “Had I seriously been so... shortsighted?” You cupped his face tenderly. “She knows, she’s simply confused. Emotions are running high…”, “That was days of amped-up frustration that I’ve caused, YN”, his tone was much higher, and the moment that hit Azriel, his hand instantly came to clasp his mouth.

“It’s okay. You’re okay," you gently reached for both of his hands, giving them a little squeeze. “She’s growing up, Azriel. Things are strange and new”, leaning in, pressing your forehead against his, “She was scared that your yellow was fading," you admitted. “My love for her hasn’t changed," Azriel muttered. “I know, love, but your heart is now making room for Novie, and I think insecurities are running high." Azriel glanced back at Zofie. He never looked at her differently. Never treated her like a dainty porcelain doll. Yes, he protected her. Was ready to go to war for her. Because he had always seen her as his. He understood what having inner demons meant. To this day, Azriel had days when battling them got way too much. Hence, he had always craved to protect them so much. That desire to chase any doubt away fueled him because they deserved better. They deserve to know life in vibrant colors, not dim grays and blacks.

Azriel’s eyes fell on Zofie again. The girl had shifted slightly, curling deeper into herself. “Will you be good up there alone tonight?" Azriel gazed up at his mate. The raw instinct beat at him to go up to his bedroom and guard the new mother of his child, to be devoted to tending to them only. But it wasn’t Zofie’s nor Axel’s fault that the same blood didn’t bond them all. And Azriel had promised to protect them like his own, so as hard as it was, now he knew that he had to step down on the primal instinct and put his first children into the equation too. You smiled lovingly up at him and said, “I won’t be alone. Your mother is here, and Axel should be coming home soon." Stepping forward, you let yourself snuggle into Azriel’s chest for a heartbeat. Pouring as much love and reassurance into the embrace as you could. Azriel’s lips lingered on your forehead. “If you need me..." he muttered, but you instantly shook your head. “Stay with her, Azriel. She needs you," and that was all it took for Azriel to nod. His shadows carefully blew out a handful of candles lighting up the room. Leaving a bare minimum of light that wouldn’t bother anyone’s slumber, and if by any chance Zofie was to wake up during the night, he didn’t want her to open her eyes to darkness. As carefully as he possibly could, Azriel scooped Zofie’s tiny frame into his arms before climbing into her bed. Out of shared instinct, the spymaster started to hum the melody he used to hum to the two kids when they were younger, and nights of settling down were harder. His scared fingers carefully brushed her ink-black hair away from her face. Lips turning upwards as he let her way more mature features sink in. Never had he thought that he would be wishing the time would go slower. But it also filled him with endless pride that he too had played a role in making sure this tiny girl would slowly grow into a strong-minded young woman. With a deep sigh, Azriel pressed a loving kiss onto Zofie’s forehead, making the girl snuggle deeper into her father’s chest. “I’ll always love you, little star. As overbearing as I can be, I will always love you the most because you taught me what it was like to be a father”, he muttered, settling in to watch over her for the night.

Nyx’s pov:

Nyx had been looking through the window of his mother’s gallery for the past couple of hours. He rubbed his chest at times when the feeling of anxiety threatened to choke him out. His mind was running so fast that there were moments when he lost hold of it. Thought after thought, angrily beating at his consciousness.

“Are you antsy about going back?", Feyre’s voice made him grip the window sill tighter. He had forgotten that his mother had even been here with him for a moment. "No," he said bluntly. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling if he was being honest. He haven't been able to keep up with any of the emotions for some time now. They all seemed so tangled up that he didn’t know where one started and the other ended. Or it was so chaotic that he was sure that he felt all of it at once, and the feeling sure wasn’t pretty. It was different with Zofie, though. For some reason, his inner chaos always subsided when she was close. It felt calmer. It was as if she was there, sorting through his mess for him.

“Really?", Feyre’s amused voice filled the room. Nyx loved his mother. She was an example of hope to him. Every time he lost faith in the future, he would look for her memory books, ones she had sat down with Rhys to write while she had been pregnant with him. Nyx just wished they would understand that now he wasn’t sure if his own story linked with his parents.

“It’s what we do as soldiers; we need to earn our rank," he answered sharply with an exhale. He didn’t want to fight with his mother. Nor did he want to make her upset. He just didn’t want to talk about anything regarding this court. “And if you didn’t give me a textbook answer?" Feyre dunked her brushes into the water, turning to face her sun. Nyx knew that while he could hide his inner battles from his father with anger. His mother was way harder to fool. Nyx simply shrugged, not knowing what exactly she was trying to get out of him.

“It’s okay to have things that you miss back home," her delicate hands inked with marriage vows cupped Nyx’s face as she gazed up at him. “You treat her well?" At those words, Nyx had gone ridged. “What?", he muttered, stepping away. “Do you treat Zofie well?", Feyre smiled at him. Nyx wasn’t surprised that she knew about their little adventure last night, but this seemed like a lot more of an intentional question. One that implied way more.

“Of course, I treat her well," Nyx grumbled with a frown. “What kind of question is that?" he asked, shaking his head in frustration. Why was everyone constantly assuming that he was out there, like some old creep following her around? It wasn’t intentional that their paths crossed so often. They just did...

“Do you love her?", That question had sent all the oxygen out of Nyx’s lungs. Making him gape at his mother as if she had grown a third eye on her forehead. “No, Mom, what even… We grew up together!", Nyx threw his arms up in the air in frustration, which suddenly washed over him. “And that’s supposed to be an issue?", Feyre simply smiled up at him. That kind of smile implied that she was up for a chance to change his mind. Nyx turned away, moving to glance out of the window once more. “Whatever. I’m not even going to entertain this conversation." His mother let out a knowing laugh, returning to her painting once more.

Nyx gazed out into the night. His eyes narrowed out on a figure that slipped out of the library’s back door. Leaning forward, he tried to identify the figure. He knew that whoever it was had to have a pass from his parents. “Is that…?", Nyx trilled off. It couldn’t be because they had separated and... “Axel? Yes”, Nyx gazed back at his mother, who hadn’t even lifted her eyes to look out the window. That fucking lying bastard. I’ll be heading home my ass. “Have you hired him to work in the library?", Nyx had frowned in confusion. But Feyre shook her head. “Gwyn is helping new girls settle into quarters. Axel kindly offered to carry boxes”, the high lady said as if there wasn’t anything else.

“Carry boxes, mhm." Nyx watched as Axel stopped in his tracks before waving up at someone. The princeling’s eyes followed the gesture, finding another figure, barely visible in the sixth-floor window, waving right back. Why was he always on the sidelines with everyone? Why hadn’t Axel said anything about this to him yet?

“He’s a sweetheart," his mother hummed in approval. “There was a girl who hadn’t left her room in over a week. Axel managed to coax her out in a day," no doubt a girl Nyx had seen slipping back into the library when he had bumped into Axel earlier on. “A charming young man," Feyre hummed, making Nyx shake his head. “I’ll give him your praise”, after a proper interrogation, of course.

Unfortunately, Axel’s adventures brought him little satisfaction. And quite honestly, Nyx had given up on trying to snoop around his best friend’s business. Because he knew Axel and knew that the deepest and most heartfelt conversation always struck out when they were up in camps. Nyx had been restless for the days to come. Hanging around all the places he and Zofie usually went to. He was waiting for an inkling of any deeper emotions that would drag him towards her.

They had gotten the call that tomorrow morning they would be going back. And he knew one thing—he couldn’t go back without seeing her one more time. The image of her teared up face had haunted Nyx ever since. He hated it when she cried. He hated it when she was upset. But it seemed as if she had just disappeared into thin air. Nyx had hoped to see her at dinner in the lake house last night, but Y/N had simply said that Zofie wasn’t feeling well. Had something happened afterward? Had her magic flared up once more? But twice in two days. That would be way too much. Or maybe she was just avoiding him?

Stomping through the high grass, Nyx let his mind consume him once more. He knew that Rhys had called a meeting that afternoon. Meaning that Azriel and Cassian were both in the office now. If he was lucky, the females would also be there, meaning that only Zofie’s grandma would be at the house. Nyx rounded the back of the house. He hadn’t made any plans. Hadn't thought of what he was going to say. He wasn’t even sure why he was so nervous to see her. They knew each other like the backs of their heads. Nyx’s movements halted when he reached the back garden, and his ears picked up on a light rustling.

But it took him a peek from behind the hedges to glimpse at the only source of light that he had for as long as he could remember. Zofie was humming quietly as she hung the wet clothes on the lining. Gently smoothing down the fabric. Hair messily done up. He frowned at the lack of warmer clothes on her body. The sun was way warmer today, but the yellow dress with a thick knit sweater still felt too little to keep her delicate frame warm.

She was hanging the last piece of baby clothes when Nyx stepped right behind her, making Zofie’s hands freeze in the air. Shoulders stiffening. "Zo...", Nyx didn’t even have enough time to finish calling out to her when she finally turned to face him. “What are you doing here?" A slight frown creased her brows. “I wanted to... We go back tomorrow”, he muttered under his breath, her slightly dismissive tone hurting him way more than he thought it would.

"Okay," Zofie muttered, turning to pick up the basket. “Okay? That’s all?", Nyx reached for her hand, but Zofie pulled it back instantly. "What…", Nyx breathed out, his heart racing in his chest. Making his throat feel tight. “Look me in the eyes," he demanded, way harsher than he intended, but this wasn’t them. She wasn’t cold with him. She…

"Go," Zofie said simply. “No, not until you tell me what’s going on," Nyx pushed. “It’s best if we don’t meet up for a bit," Zofie said, wrapping her arms around herself as the colder breeze picked up. Clouds covered up the rays of sun peaking out moments ago. Nyx instantly felt the urge to pull her closer and shield her from the icy wind. “Is Azriel...", “Don’t drag my father into this. You have no right to drag him into this and to speak for me," she said, pointing a warning finger at him. He knew that he had stepped on the line with his last interaction with his uncle, but... "Go, Nyx, have a safe trip," Zofie said, pushing the loose strands of her hair beneath her ears.

"Sunny," his words were barely a whisper, but she simply shook her head and said, “We are no longer children. It’s time we grow up." Zofie rested the basket on her hip. “My world and your world... they’re different," Zofie muttered, and Nyx swore he saw the way her lower lip quivered. “You fit perfectly in my world... You’re my best friend," Nyx called out to her as she turned to walk away, his feet carrying him straight to her without hesitation. His palms reached out to her, cupping her face, and a slight shiver ran through her at his touch. They were inches away. She was a breath away. Nyx’s purple eyes desperately searching for any clues as to why she was shutting him out. Zofie’s free hand pushed against Nyx’s chest as she pulled free of his embrace. “Have a safe trip," she muttered, her hesitant fingers reaching up to touch Nyx’s cheeks, but the moment he leaned into the touch, Zofie turned back, rushing towards the patio stairs. "Sunny," Nyx called out, but she was already at the door. So he stood there. He stood there until the sky started weeping alongside him. Taking to the skies with an angry cry.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @sirenpearldust @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @naturakaashi @stressed-reader @woodland-mist @goldenmagnolias @nocasdatsgay @lees-chaotic-brain

#acotar x reader #acotar x oc #acotar imagine #acotar x you #nyx acotar x reader #nyx acotar x oc #nyx acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar x reader #azriel imagine

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amywritesthings · 12 days

Note

Love your fic love, it's the best one I've ever read. Could you do something from Levi pov when he started realising he liked Reader and he felt about that?

first of all, thank you for such lovely words! i'm so happy you like it. second of all, i can certainly write you a levi pov where he had his 'oh shit do i like her?' moment xo

all at once. / levi ackerman x f!reader

word count: 900 warnings: language, levi pov set in the silver underground universe

( read on ao3 here )

Furlan had a funny saying about the people he fell head over heels for.

It happens slowly, he once told Levi.

The two of them were sitting around their newly-bought two-bedroom apartment, comically vacant and egregiously filthy.

With his long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, Furlan chose to sink his palms into the dust to tattoo his fingerprints.

To say he was there.

(I was here. I am here.)

Levi chose a more civilized position — sitting backwards on one of the only two chairs they had in this place, his sleeved forearms folded over each other on its curved back. He peered down at his friend with the utmost curiosity, head hung under a curtain of black fringe.

“The hell’s this question coming from?” Levi grunted as he shifted his shoe on the floor.

Fucking disgusting; he wasn’t going to sleep tonight if the entire apartment ended up being this damn dirty.

“What do you mean?” Furlan asked. "Which topic?"

“The topic of this,” Levi clarified, “and why you’re so interested in who I may be looking at on the streets."

"What, we can't gossip?"

The way Levi's brow quirked said otherwise. Furlan sighed.

"We're roommates now."

"So?"

"I don’t think I asked who you're interested in, Church.”

“No, you didn’t,” Furlan hummed happily with a dopey smile on his face. “But now that we have this place with two whole bedrooms to ourselves, we have the luxury of inviting people over. Think about it: two young and handsome bachelors, ready to take on the—”

“Wait, invite people over?” Levi interrupted, brow rising. “This isn’t a community house. It's headquarters.”

“No, I know."

"Do you?"

"Yeah! But like I said, think about it: now that we’re taking names and carving our own legacies down here, I’m sure plenty of people will think we’re great. Maybe we'll even get some kinda group of admirers for our efforts.”

“Doubtful.”

“Aw, c’mon, Levi,” Furlan pouted. “Don’t you like anyone? There’s that one guy with the tattoos over on second street.”

“No.”

“Or the dark-haired girl who always seems to give you a discount on soups.”

“Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

Furlan blinked.

The black-haired boy felt his temper — and embarrassment — rising.

“Because I wouldn’t know what the fuck it feels like to like someone like… that.”

Levi grit the truth between his teeth, hating the honesty that came with this ridiculous conversation.

The Underground City doesn't quite offer anything real. Down here love was transactional. There wasn't room for emotional error.

He saw what it did to his mother.

He saw how it molded whatever the fuck he’d call Kenny.

Bottom line was that feelings weren’t good.

And then there was Furlan, looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Well, when you realize there's something about someone, it's slow,” the ash-blonde boy suggested, nodding with encouragement. “From my understanding, liking a guy, girl, person, whatever — it happens slowly, then all at once.”

“How’s it slow?”

Furlan smiled, knocking his feet side to side against the wooden floorboards.

“Probably because the people you actually like are kinda in the background until they aren’t anymore.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Levi echoed. "You're supposed to be attracted to them first."

"That definitely helps, but that's like... lust or whatever," Furlan challenged. "I'm talking about liking someone. Wanting to hold hands or be with them so you can listen to them talk all the time and never get bored of what they're saying."

Levi scoffed, turning his chin sharply to the right as he considered.

Slow, then all at once.

Except it was never slow.

It would’ve been really fucking helpful if it had been.

You’d been ready to rip his throat open all those years ago.

No one had ever gotten the jump on him the way you had. No one would ever come close.

Maybe watching your fights after Kenny dropped him for reasons unsaid had been the slowest part about this. Watching your sweat-streaked face as you caught your breath in the midst of folding someone double your size like it was nothing. Listening to your voice in the alleyway when you spoke to that witch of a woman. Conjuring up an excuse to talk to you, to see if you even remembered—

It’d been all at once from the very beginning.

Someone as fleeting as a ghost had haunted his once dreamless sleep.

Hell, you still did.

“Sounds like you got someone in mind.”

His gray eyes darted back to Furlan, instantly on the defensive.

The other boy sported a goofy smirk. Levi scowled.

He could tell him.

He could ask if the way his throat closed up whenever he so much as considered uttering her name was a sign that he was head over heels.

That sometimes it wasn’t slow, but as fast as a blow to the damn head.

That sometimes liking a stranger felt more powerful than anything he'd ever known.

“Nah,” Levi lied, surging from his seat to stand at full height. “Only thing I’m interested in is cleaning this piece of shit up. I’m not sleeping on cobwebs tonight, so get up, grab a broom, and help.”

James.

Maybe one day he’d face it; liking someone.

Really, genuinely, devastatingly wanting someone.

But he couldn’t afford it.

(Maybe one day.)

#attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk fanfic #snk fic #aot fanfic #aot fic #levi ackerman fanfic #silver underground #aot drabbles

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starzioo · 8 days

Text

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓. 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘.

Hiii! This is a DracoxFem!Reader one-shot! In this story you are a ballerina. I saw this post of the Slytherin boys x a ballerina and I could just imagine Draco being absolutely in love with her. So here it is I hope you like!

WARNINGS: NONE <3

You sit on the stage of the Royal Opera House in London. Tightly wrapping the dusty pink ribbons around your ankles. Today was your rehearsal day for the production of The Nutcracker. You had been casted as the Sugar Plum Fairy. Most people would take this role as being easy and simple. But oh no, they would be terribly wrong. The movements you made had to be fluid and effortless, while also being regal. You sigh before standing back up and fixing your rehearsal tutu. You head over to your starting mark and give the signal to the director to start the music.

DRACO POV

I get out of the muggle-car behind my father. 'Muggles really think that this is the peak of transportation?' I think to myself as I look back at the black car behind me. "Good morning Mr. Malfoy. It's a pleasure to have you here again! Mr. Evan's is in a meeting right now and told me to tell you that he'll meet with you as soon as possible." A woman who I assume is Mr. Evan's assistant spoke to my father. "M'Alright." My father says obviously annoyed with the muggles tardiness. "Right this way then." The woman says with her smile not faltering. She walks a couple paces ahead of my father while I linger behind him. We step inside of the building. The interior looks to be made for royals. The architecture being elegant. She leads us down a couple hallways before stopping at a big door. "You may sit and wait here. Mr. Evan's will be here shortly. If you would like any refreshments or if you have any questions just head down the hallway and my desk is right there." My father only nods in response. She flashes her smile once more before heading down the hallway. Me and my father sit down on the waiting chairs. "Why are we here? Better question why am I here?" I turn and ask my father who's reading a muggle newspaper. He doesn't even look at me, "Because Draco. We are here on important business. It's about time you start learning what lies ahead for you." His tone still cold as ever. I can't even speak back, I know i'll be silenced. All I can do is huff. I stand up and just walk the opposite direction of him. I don't hate my father but sometimes I just can't stand how he seems to have my entire future in the palm of his hand.

Walking down the large hallway I can start to hear the elegant music that I can only recognize as music from The Nutcracker. When I was little my mother used to take me to a muggle theater around Christmas time. Although my father urged that we don't celebrate muggle holidays. She would always sneak us out and take me to see the Nutcracker. Not only did she love ballet but I loved to see the story play out through the graceful dancing. Of course as I grew older the tradition stopped but I never forgot.

I continue down the hallway and I can hear the music growing louder. I turn one more corner to see a double door way with a sign above the entrance that says 'MAIN THEATER' in gold lettering. The doors were slightly cracked open. I slightly peek into the theater to see a girl dancing on the stage doing the sugar plum fairies variation. I quietly slip into the room and sit down in the farthest back row to watch.

Y/N POV:

I had already rehearsed my routine twice but my director kept critiquing every little thing I did. I mean of course that's his job but I swear he was acting as if everything I did was wrong. I was in the in the middle of my third pirouette when my coach suddenly stood up and started walking to the back of the theater. I continued my pirouettes until I heard my coach speak. "I'm sorry sir but you aren't allowed in here while rehearsals are going on. I must ask you to leave." He said as he ushered someone who was sitting in the back of the theater out of the room. The man stood and I caught a glimpse of him. He was tall and had icy blonde hair. I paused my variation and stood to watch. The blonde man then spoke, "I'm sorry for interrupting sir. I had no clue." He said before then exiting the theater. My manager turned back around after closing the doors to the theater. "Alright Y/n from the top!" He said as he gave the tech people the signal to restart the music. I didn't complain. I rushed back to my starting mark and started my routine from the beginning.

DRACO POV:

As I sat in the back row I admired the ballerina on stage. Her movements were so elegant, mesmerizing even. With every turn and step she took her tutu bounced. Her arms stretched out with grace. I'm instantly snapped out of my daze when an official looking man comes up to me. "I'm sorry sir but you aren't allowed in here while rehearsals are going on. I must ask you to leave." He said as he turned to open the door for me. "I'm sorry for interrupting sir. I had no idea." I said as I stood from my seat. I walked to the door and took once last glance at the ballerina.

Y/N POV:

After the man had left the theater I ran through my routine nearly a half a dozen more times. Each time my coach giving me more pointers and critiques. As the music stopped and I finished my last variation my coach stood from his seat, "Y/n you need to keep your back straight and your knees pointed on that last part!" My coach shouted clearly tired of me not being able to perfect my solo. I just huffed and wiped my forehead with the back of my wrist. "Can I go get some water?" I said with my hands on my hips. My director sighed, "Yeah, be back in five." He said as he wrote something down on his clipboard. I hurriedly sped walked down the stairs that were on the far end of the stage and headed towards the theater entrance. I took a turn then walked down the long hallway. I stop at the end of the hallway when I see that man who got kicked out of the theater and another man who has long icy blonde hair, they're both sitting down on the waiting chairs outside Mr. Evan's office. I shake my head of any curiosity about the two and hurriedly walk past them to go to Adeline's desk. I notice the short haired boy look up at me as I walked but I continued. "Hey Adeline, could you please get me a water?" I asked to the woman. "Yeah just give me a second." She said with her usual smile, as she stood and went to another room. A couple seconds later she reappeared and had a water bottle in hand. The water bottle had a custom logo on it that said The Royal Opera House in gold letters on a dark red paper. "Thank you Ade, I'll most likely be back soon." I said as I turned around while simultaneously taking a drink of my water. As I turned I practically bump straight into a brick wall.

But it wasn't a wall it was that same blonde boy. And I had now just spilt water all over him. "Oh, i'm sorry! That was my bad!" I said frantically as I tried to wipe the water off of his black button down. "No, no, no, don't worry about it." He said laughing lightly as he grabbed hand to calm me, after a few seconds you let go. "I was just coming to compliment you. I saw you back in the theater and your dancing was truly beautiful." He said as his ice blue eyes practically pierced yours. "Oh...thank you." —I laughed softly—"But my director would say other wise." I said as I began to walk past him, I turned back around to look at him once more to find him with his eyebrows furrowed. "Well it's basically his job to tell me what I'm doing wrong, but it feels impossible to get my routine perfect." I sighed. "Well...regardless of what that oaf thinks I think you dance nothing short of perfection." He said slightly playfully. I let out a small laugh. "Well, I've got to get back to rehearsing. It was nice meeting you...?" I questioned having never learned his name. "Draco." "Draco?" "Draco." He confirmed. "Well it was nice meeting you Draco." I said nodding my head before turning to go back to the theater. "Wait what's your name?" He calls out to me as I was walking away. I turned around once more then gestured to a poster on the wall, then finally walked away.

As I gestured to the poster Draco immediately examined it. It was a picture of you in your sugar plum fairy costume and a title below it. It said, 'Y/n L/n as The Sugar Plum Fairy' Draco let out an airy laugh as he admired the poster when Lucius appeared behind him. "Draco I would like to not have to come look for you as if you were a lost puppy. Mr.Evan's is ready to see us now." He said coldly then turned Draco following behind.

You had went back to the theater thoughts of Draco lingering in the back of your head. Draco had went to sit in on the meeting between Lucius and Mr. Evan's. To Lucius that meeting was very important to the future of his shares in the theater, but to Draco it was merely an hour wasted listening to rubbish. You had finally wrapped up your rehearsals for the day and it was time for you to go get food and go home.

DRACO POV:

"Draco you can sit outside while me and Mr. Evan's wrap this up. Don't wander." Lucius spat. I didn't respond he simply just got up and left the room. I sat outside on the chairs until I heard a voice. "Yeah, I'll see you on Thursday?" She said as she walked out of the theater. There she was, Y/n. All of my attention was on her. She was no longer wearing the tutu and leotard. She was now wearing a baby pink off the shoulder knit sweater with grey flared leggings. She has a white knit scarf around her neck and she carried grey bag, what I assume was her ballet stuff. Her hair was in a low bun making her headphones she had in visible.

When she turned to walk out she paused when she saw me. "Hey, you're still here?" She said softly as she walked up to me while taking out her headphone. "Yeah, i'm just waiting for my father and Mr. Evan's to get out of their meeting." "Well, I could wait with you?" She said as she rocked back and forth on her feet. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind." She sat down next to me setting her bag on her side. "So why are you here? To see Mr.Evans I mean." She said as she looked up at me. "Well I wouldn't say that i'm here to see him. My father is. Something that has to do with his shares. I honestly don't know. The only thing i've gotten out of coming here was seeing you dance." I laughed a little, and so did she. "I didn't know I was that good." She smiled. "Whatever your director was yelling at you, he truly is wrong. I thought you danced perfect." I said avoiding eye contact with her. I could see her out of the corner of my eye just staring up at me. "Why thank you good sir. I'm glad you liked it." She giggled. "Have you ever seen The Nutcracker?" "Yeah, quite a few times actually." "Oh. Would you like to see it again maybe?" She asked this time not peering up at me, but now fiddling with the loose ends of her scarf. "When?" She stop and looked back up at me. "Uhmm,—she hummed— Opening night would be December 10th, I could get you tickets if you would like?" "Yeah, yeah, although I don't know when I'll see you again?" I asked. She laughing softly, "I guess whenever you want to see me again." She smiled.

DECEMBER TENTH

DRACO POV

Today was the day, the day I get to see her again. I don't know why I'm so...entranced? By her. Something about her just makes me fascinated. Ever since last week she's all I could think about. Of course in order to be able to go see the show I told my parents some bullshit excuse. My father would never let me go to London by myself, especially just so I could go see the ballet. Not only that a muggle girl.

I had made my way to the theatre early so I would be able to avoid all the people there for opening night. I stepped out of the taxi, it was cold the winter air crisp. I entered the building and walked up to the concierge. "One ticket for The Nutcracker, please." I said slightly rubbing my hands together trying to warm them. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid we are all sold out for the night." He said with pity. "What? No, I have to see the show tonight." "Like I said, I'm sorry. But I can sell you a ticket for-" "Oh! Mr. Malfoy I wasn't expecting you so early!" The concierge was interrupted by no other than Adeline. "You were expecting me?" I turned to her. "Well yes? I expected that Ms. L/n made you aware of your visit?" She said with her usual smile. "Well yeah, but- you know what never mind. Why were you expecting me?" "Of course, because she was very adamant that you got the best seat in the house!" She said ushering me down the hall, then to an elevator.

The classical music played lightly in the elevator, the ride up two floors wasn't awkward, it was actually quite pleasant. This was an elevator ride I had been on countless times before, it was nostalgic in a way. The elevator dinged before the large metal doors opened. We were on The Donald Gordon Grand Tier. It was technically the third floor of the theater. She led me to row A which was in the very middle and front. "Ms. L/n was very insisting that you get this specific seat sir. She said it was the best seat in the house and you deserve nothing less!" I stood there for a moment and blinked at the seats in front of me. That feeling of nostalgia had now been explained. I was sitting in the exact same seat my mother would always sit in when we would come to the theater. "Mr. Malfoy, are you okay?" Adeline broke my trance. "Thank you Adeline, for everything." I thanked her as I sat down. "No problem! Feel free to come down to my desk if you need anything!" She smiled before walking away.

I sat there for maybe 30 minutes before hundreds of people started sitting in the theater. Of course by courtesy of Adeline I was able to avoid the crowd. After about another 30 minutes the lights in the theater had dimmed. That's when I heard the oh so familiar tune to the mystical music. There was something about the story of The Nutcracker that always fascinated me. Maybe it was the playful but yet elegant dances that were done. They were so complex but yet so smooth and graceful. Or perhaps it was the fact that I was able to watch a story come to life in front of my very eyes. As I watched the ballet I found myself the same way I was many years ago. Only blinking every few minutes to be sure I didn't miss any parts of the show. My mind fully clear, only focusing on the ballet dancers below. I was entranced by the story all over again.

Now, we were in act II. After Clara and the Prince have slayed the Mouse King, the snowflakes have led them to the Kingdom of Sweets. As the enchanting music transitioned to a more sweet sounding melody it hit me. She was going to be dancing soon. Clara and the Prince arrived to the gates of Kingdom of Sweets. The Sugar Plum Fairy reigns over the Kingdom of Sweets. I sat up in my chair. Then there she was, graceful as ever tip-toing across stage. Her costume was beautiful a light pink bodice and tutu with gold accents. Her hair was elegant and she wore a gold tiara. She was covered in glitter, but what shined the most was her eyes. She was so passionate in the way she danced. Her moves were liquid smooth enchanting the audience. She placed a tiara on Clara's head then commenced a day of festivities in honor of Clara saving the Prince from the mouse king. First came the Chocolate from Spain, then the Arabian Coffee, the Chinese tea, and lastly the sweet French Marzipan.

But then the flowers came, and they preformed a great waltz. The Sugar Plum Fairy came back with her cavalier and did a mesmerizing duet. Although they were doing a duet me and the whole audience could only look at one of them. Her. She danced with a great passion. Not that he didn't. There was just something about her that made you believe that she was born to be on that stage. Born to shine. Even with the light shining down on her, she was the light. Soon after she and her cavalier finished their dance Clara is guided back home. She tosses and turns in her sleep, she wakes up to find out it was a dream? A fantasy. Nothing more.

And Suddenly I was pulled into reality. The audience erupted in roars. Not one person in that theater wasn't clapping. Roses were being thrown onto stage by people sitting on the lower floors. The people around me whistling and cheering. I quickly stood up and headed down to Adeline's desk. "Excuse me, Adeline. I had a delivery made here, did it arrive yet?" I said as I leaned on her desk. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Just wait one second while I go grab it. She disappeared into a room before coming out with the custom bouquet I had delivered. Freshly picked Frutteto's. The baby pink roses were dusted with gold glitter, they were perfect. "She's gonna love them you know?" Adeline asked snapping me out of my trance. "Yeah...yeah, I know. Do you know when she'll be out?" "I'd say maybe 30 minutes? In the mean while you're more than welcome to wait here." She said as she sat back down at her desk and started flipping through a book.

I sat there for what seemed like forever. I inspected every flower to make sure they were nothing short of perfection. Just as I was picking off a petal that was too pink to fit in with the rest I saw her. She was already on her way out of the glass doors. I quickly rushed after her, "Y/n, wait!" I yelled after her as I caught up. She turned around her nose being a light shade of pink from the brisk winter air, the soft snowflakes landing in her hair. "Draco, you came? I didn't see you come in before the show?" "I got here early, don't worry I watched the whole show. You were...amazing. Oh, I got you these." I quickly handed her the bouquet, "They're beautiful." Her face lit up, "Perfect, they're perfect." She cradled them in one arm while the other fiddled with the petals. "Thank you." She said with that sweet smile of hers. "My pleasure, I knew you'd like them." I really didn't, I was actually terrified she wouldn't like them. "Hey...would you maybe..." Her eyes glistened in the street lights as she looked up from the flowers, "...would you maybe like to go to dinner with me?" I was a bit taken aback by the sudden question. I paused, "Yeah, I would love to. But it's my treat." "You don't have to i'm the one who invited you." She said lightly laughing. "Well, I would like to treat you after your amazing performance tonight. Where do you wanna eat?" "I know a great place! It's called Bancone, it's an italian place, is that okay?" "Whatever you want is fine with me." I smile. "Okay, uhh, hold on let me call a cab!" She turned and walked to the road. She hailed us a cab.

We both sat in the back of the cab, watching the snow glitter down from the sky. "How far is the restaurant?" I asked turning to her. When I looked at her she was simply smiling down at her flowers. "Oh, we should be there any minute! Actually we're here! Thank you!" She said as she scooted out of the cab. I paid the driver then got out. I was surprised to find she took my hand and led me inside.

We stepped inside and I was taken aback by the olive tree that was planted in the middle of the restaurant. The interior was classy but casual. "Hi! Welcome in! Table for two?" A hostess came up to us. "Yeah, uhm, could we be seated at a window table?" She asked as she dusted off the small pieces of snow she had in her hair. "Of course! Right this way!" The hostess led us to a table in the front of the restaurant. I pulled out her chair for her, "Why thank you good sir." She softly laughed. I sat down. "Can I get you started with any drinks, or would you like a minute?" "Could we get a bottle of the house red? And then I would just like a glass of water." She asked the hostess. "Great choice, and as for you sir?" "I would just like a glass of water, thank you." She handed us our menus then walked away. "What do you think you're gonna get?" I looked up from my menu. "For sure the bucatini, i've been craving it all day." I laugh lightly, "I don't know what I want" I said as I studied the menu, "What do you think?" I looked up at her to find her already looking at me. "I personally think you'll like the duck ragú, I had it last time I came and it was heavenly." She laughed. "Okay I guess it's settled then, wait what about dessert?" "Oo! They have these cannolis! They're covered in hazelnuts you have to try them." Just then a waitress came to the table, "Here is your house red, and waters." She said as she set down our water and presented the bottle.

She opened the bottle with a pop, then filled our glasses. "Thank you" we both said nearly in unison. "Are you ready to order your entrees, or would you like another minute?" "We're ready. I'll have the bucatini and as for dessert we'll do two orders of the hazelnut cannolis." She said as she handed the waitress her menu. "Sure thing! And as for you sir?" She turned to me, "I'll have the duck ragú, that'll be all, thank you." I handed her my menu. "Okay, i'll be back with your food shortly." She smiled then walked away to another table. "You know what I realized?" Y/n said as she twirled the wine in her glass. "What?" "I barely know anything about you, but yet here I am at dinner with you." She tilted her head slightly. "Well, I don't know anything about you either." I laughed, "What do you wanna know?" "Anything! But skip the basic things, I just really wanna know you" She took a sip of her wine. What was I supposed to tell her? That i'm a wizard and that I went to a school to learn sorcery? "I honestly don't know where to start? Just ask me anything, anything." "Mmm, what's your favorite childhood memory?" She said as she took off her scarf.

I took a breath "I would have to say...probably going to see The Nutcracker with my mother." I laughed, she looked up at me curiously. "Ironic isn't it." "Very." "See my father isn't big on...fun. Or anything really. So every year my mother would sneak us out of the house and we would go see the show. As I got older the whole tradition kind of just...stopped. But you know what's crazy?" "Hm?" "The seat that you picked out for me, was the exact same seat my mum would sit in when we would go." She looked at me like I was crazy. "She always said 'it was the best seat in the house' the whole thing felt like a dream." "That's...just...wow. That's a big coincidence huh?" "I know huh, I was so confused. But what about you? What's your favorite memory?" "My grandmother she was absolutely amazing when it came to playing piano. As a little girl she would play the Swan Lake piano arrangement while I danced. We would do this for hours and hours till my mother told us to take a break. I've always loved ballet. What I would give to re-live those memories." She looked out the window and played with the hem of her sleeves as she spoke. "That's...beautiful. So you've been dancing since you were young?" "Yeah, kinda like you my mother took me to see the ballet when I was little. But instead we saw Sleeping Beauty. I was absolutely fascinated by it. For weeks I begged my mother to put me in classes, I guess she just got annoyed of my constant begging and just gave in." She laughed softly. "Well it definitely paid off." I smiled.

We got to know each other all night long. Even though we had already finished our food long ago, we sat there and just talked. About everything. She was just so captivating. Every detail about her was intriguing. Each one of her stories just led me to wanting to know more about her. The way her eyes sparkled a little when she would talk about something she was passionate about. All of her was just perfect. I told her a lot about myself. Maybe more than I should've. Everything about me surrounded the one thing I couldn't tell her. Most of the stories I told her had gaps but I don't think she caught on. I felt almost...bad? For not being able to tell her what could possibly be the biggest detail about me. But seriously how do you just tell someone that. 'Oh yeah, by the way i'm a wizard. And there's millions of other wizards around the world.' And plus even if I wanted to tell her I couldn't. And it was killing me.

We stayed at the restaurant until the waitress told us they were closing soon. "I guess we should get going huh?" She asked as she lightly laughed. "Yeah, I guess so." I slightly frowned. I paid the bill, then we left. We stood on the side walk as the snow continued to fall from the dark sky. Street lamps lit the road, illuminating it with golden rays. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and carried her flowers with both hands. "Could I have your number by the way?" She asked. "Oh, yeah. Here just put your number in and i'll text you later." I handed her my cell. I got a muggle cell phone, specifically for this reason. My father would never approve of me having a device like that. But for her it was worth whatever trouble it could cause. In all reality the reason I asked her to put her number in my cell was because I had no clue how. "Okay, there." She smiled as she handed me back my phone. I looked down, Y/n xx , is what she put as her contact. "I should get going now, I have to be back at the theater early tomorrow." She said as she fiddled with her flowers. I took a breath, "Okay, tonight was really great. When can I see you again?" "Like I said, whenever you want." She smiled, I laughed. She turned out to the road and hailed a cab. "Goodnight!" She yelled out to me before turning back to the cab, she paused, then turned around back to me and ran back to me. She gave me a kiss on my cheek and then a small hug, "Goodnight." "Goodnight." I said a bit surprised. She ran back to the cab and got in. I watched the car disappear down the road, out of sight.

===

Mwah I hope you liked! If you did make sure to reblog and leave a note! <3

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enbyonmandalore · 1 year

Text

Test The Limits (Reader Insert Version)

Ghost & König x gender neutral reader (no y/n)

Rating: NSFW 18+

Word count: this is a long one (that's what she said, ha!)

Warnings: begging, *light* bondage/restraining, brat taming, choking, degradation/name calling, dom/sub behavior, edging, gagging, humiliation, masks stay ON, masturbation, oral (M recieving), tiny bit of overstimulation, penetrative sex, potential hate-fucking, size difference, some brief violence typical for the CoD franchise, threesome, unprotected sex, voyeurism?, characters act absolutely fucking feral, reader's genitalia is not described

Summary: Smut. Absolute filth without much plot. Ghost has enough of your attitude and decides to fuck it out of you; him and König end up taking turns on you.

A/N: This is my first time writing anything about CoD MW2 aaand also my first time attempting to write a threesome. Certain parts of dialogue and phrases are inspired by u/badjhur on reddit. Sometimes the POV kinda switches, I hope you don't mind. I've been going wild for König lately and I'm trying to bring my thoughts to paper. Enjoy!

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Test The Limits

"Argh fuck!", you shouted in frustration as your face hit the floor. Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley pinned you down with his entire body weight, twisting your dominant hand onto your back, your other hand squashed underneath your own body. You'd fucked up. Again.

"Stop being so easy to pin.", Ghost said harshly. "If I were the enemy you'd be dead by now."

"Lasted longer than last time, though", you reminded him nonchalantly and coughed as he took some of his weight off of your back, letting you catch a proper breath.

"Still not good enough", he retaliated, adding something under his breath. "Fuckin' brat..."

"What did you just call me?", you snapped and turned around as much as you could. The Lieutenant didn't move. With some more struggling you managed to free yourself from under him, scootching away and staring daggers at him. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you opened your mouth to complain, but the Lt. raised a finger in your direction as a warning.

"Behave."

"Oh for god's sake, Lt., I'm just as much a member of this damn task force as you are. Price called me in for a reason and you know it. You-"

Ghost didn't let you finish your sentence. Instead he grabbed you by the ankles and yanked you towards him, scraping your elbows against the floor of the sparring ring. Now he towered over you, his arms caging you in on either side, a knee between your legs, restricting any further movement.

"I said behave.", he growled.

"Get. Off. Of. Me.", you said slowly and clearly, your tone stone cold.

But Ghost didn't budge. His icy blue eyes still fixated on you, as if expecting an ambush. That's when you felt it. You felt him press up against you and with mere inches between your bodies, there was less than a little room for speculations. The air seemed to thicken with tension over the next few seconds as you just stared in disbelief. Finally, as he hit a sensitive spot, you flinched.

"Stop that!", you protested.

"You wanna tap out, Luv? Scared you're gonna lose?", Ghost replied, ignoring you and continuing to grind against your crotch.

"Ngh- No! Just stop moving like that!"

"Like what?", he paused and you thought you saw him raise an eyebrow, "This?"

"F-fuck...!", you gasped as he full on rutted his hips against yours. You tugged at his shirt, but that changed nothing.

"This... This is hardly a fair fight, Lt. Let go!"

"Never said it was gonna be fair.", the Lieutenant clarified. "Besides, if you would just ask nicely I might let go, eh? You bloody brat."

Humiliating you even further, Ghost flipped you onto your stomach again with ease. "You're making this too easy." Between strained breaths and frustrated struggling, you managed to growl: "At least take the damn knife off my back."

Ghost's dry chuckle made your entire body stiffen at once. "That ain't no combat knife you're feeling there, Luv..."

Oh.

Once it finally clicked in your head, his entire behavior made sense. Jesus H. Christ, he was doing it on purpose.

"Come on, operator, get up", Ghost taunted, pulling you to your feet, "See what you've been rubbing up against all fucking night."

You bared your teeth at him out of pure instinct. The movement was so quick you felt your bottom lip split open and tasted blood.

"You're so goddamn full of yourself!"

"Quite the opposite.", the Lieutenant replied and took a step forward. You refused to back down. Ghost's gaze locked onto yours, analyzing you. He reached behind himself and revealed a ziptie, pulling it tight around your wrists within a split second, pushing you against the wall behind you. You were speechless.

"W-what the fuck, Lt.?", you finally managed to sputter.

There was nothing you could do - exhausted from sparring, backed against a wall and your hands were quite literally tied. To say you were in a jam would be a tremendous understatement. A hand traveled to your throat, applying pressure and enforcing eye contact.

"Who do you think you are? Who gave you permission to act like a sour fucking tart, hm? What is your problem?" Ghost looked you up and down. "Look where that's gotten you."

"Could ask you the same bloody question!", you spat, seeking any sort of leverage on Ghost's wrist to prevent him from potentially choking you out. He just stared, condescendingly. "Eversince I got here, you've been looking at me like you're a starving dog and I'm some sort of fucking treat."

Ghost's eyes narrowed dangerously, maybe there was a sadistic smile under that mask, but you'd never know for sure. When he spoke, his voice was low and gravelly.

"Consider this punishment... or consider this me spoiling your bratty behavior. You can still tap you, Love, but once we get started, there's no turning back."

"Oh so you think it's that easy to get in my pants, then?", you chuckled dryly, thankful for the dim light concealing the fact that you might be blushing. "Do your fucking worst, then."

"Very well."

Ghost didn't wait a second longer, he grabbed you by the neck and spun you around, slamming your chest into the wall. His hands slid down your sides, all the way to your belt. You didn't need to look - the sound of the quick-release clasp coming undone was enough to prepare you for what would come next. Once again you were thankful he didn't see your face or the excited grin plastered across it. Ghost pulled down your uniform pants and undershorts in once go, helping you lift your feet to fully get rid of the pants.

"Well, well...", he muttered, his gloved hands back on your body, thumbs caressing the dips in your hips. "Bloody amazing figure you got, soldier."

You could almost feel his breath on your skin, that's how close he'd gotten. You skin tingled where he touched it. When the Lt. pressed himself against your ass, you could barely contain an excited whimper. He turned you back around to face him, shoving a knee between your thighs and pinning you to the wall on your tiptoes, hands above your head. Fuck, that felt amazing. Never in a million years had you ever imagined to enjoy being overpowered by a man like this...to be turned on by it.

It caught you off guard when he suddenly dropped you, taking two steps back. Your ass hit the cold concrete floor, your bindings snapping as you scramble to cover yourself. Reality check. You could feel a new pair of eyes lingering on your skin and turned your head in that direction so fast it almost made you dizzy. A shadowy figure loomed in the doorway.

"König", Ghost's voice broke the silence, "What a bloody fuckin' surprise."

He closed the distance between himself and the other soldier in only a few steps, grabbing a fistful of König's shirt and yanking him all the way into the room. You heard König stutter something unintelligible, Ghost not even bothering to respond to him.

"Just in time.", Ghost announced to neither of you in particular. "I was about to teach our new teammate a lesson and now you both and learn one at the same time."

He let go of König, glaring at you still cowering on the floor. König instinctively raised his hands, attempting to appear non-threatening as he towered over both of you.

You slowly regained your composure, still acutely aware that your lower half was exposed. What you also noticed, was that König had closed his eyes underneath the sniper hood - the eyeholes were completely black now, as if he wasn't even there. You shifted around until you were at least in a less awkward position. This did not go unnoticed by the Lieutenant.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Sir", König spoke, "I only heard commotion..."

When Ghost did not answer, he continued rambling, obviously flustered. "I- I can walk back out and this never happened, okay? I didn't even see anything-"

"No.", Ghost interrupted, "You both have had problems staying focused lately and you've become liabilities to the entire team. So, to help you get it together, you are going to practice following orders. Right fucking now."

You exchanged a nervous glance with König.

"Hey", Ghost barked in your direction. "Eyes on me. Don't look at him, he's not gonna help you."

As soon as your gaze had focused back on Ghost, the Lieutenant continued his angry speech: "You aren't very quiet going about your business, König, and you", he glared at you, "You talk in your sleep."

In that moment the realization that Ghost had heard something definitely not meant for his ears hit both König and you. You hadn't known you talked in your sleep, much less that Ghost had apparently been within earshot while you slept. And if you weren't mistaken, you could see the awkward shift in König's posture as well. What on earth had Ghost heard him say - or do?

Ghost's hand shot forward and grabbed you by the collar, pulling you into a kneeling position, your hands on his wrist to steady yourself. Then Ghost nodded towards a chair against the back wall of the room.

"Operator, sit down. And don't move."

Wordlessly, König followed the Lt.'s order. As soon as he had sat down, Ghost returned his attention to you. You felt his cold stare basically penetrate your skin and set it on fire...

"You. Up.", he ordered and you complied. Ghost then moved the both of you closer to König, right in the middle of his field of vision. Your heart was racing by now. What was he doing?

"On your knees, soldier."

You watched as Ghost positioned himself in front of you, your back facing König. He stepped closer and you now made direct eye contact with the considerable bulge in the Lieutenant's pants. Instinctively you gulped. Shit, was he really about to make König watch as you gave him head?

Apparently the answer to that was Yes.

It could have been your imagination, but you swore you heard the faintest sigh of relief as Ghost undid his belt, unzipped the fly and pulled out his fully erect cock. The size of which both startled and excited you. With one hand he lifted your chin while the other, slowly and almost carefully snaked around to the back of your head.

"Now, Love, you are gonna suck my cock and do it well, understood?"

You answered immediately, a grin tugging at your lips. "Don't be shy, I can take it, Lt."

Next thing you knew, Ghost forced open your mouth with his thumb and shoved his cock inside. You fought your gag reflex, his cock was really testing the limits of what you found yourself capable of. You carefully started bobbing your head, hands gripping Ghost's thighs for support, working your tongue around the fat tip, sucking on it before taking more of his cock down your throat. You'd never believe it if you weren't hearing it yourself, but Ghost -stone cold as he usually was- was a horny rambler.

"That's it...", he pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to catch a breath; maintaining eye contact the entire time. "Oh, fuck- You see that? That perfect ring of spit on my cock..."

You swallowed thickly between breaths and gave the Lieutenant a crooked smile. Provocatively you licked your bottom lip and glanced up at him.

"You can do it, yeah, open wide", he said, his voice low and breath ragged, before guiding your head back down his cock. You could taste the precum now and each time he hit the back of your throat you felt the knot in your own stomach tighten.

"Ah God, f-fuck!", Ghost moaned and gripped your head with both hands, holding it in place. He momentarily tore his gaze away from you to look at König. "Enjoying the show?"

"Gott, Scheiße...", König panted and bucked his hips in a futile attempt to feel something, anything. Oh, he needed to be touched. He wanted to fuck both you and Ghost and it was pure torture to sit there, hands behind his back and not allowed to move as you took Ghost's dick so eagerly. God he wished that were him. He felt his own hard-on throb with every sound your mouth made and with every word of praise from Ghost. His eyes rolled back in his head as he imagined what it your feel like to pin the Lieutenant against a wall and kiss him, right before fucking him so hard the wall might crack. What it would feel like to have you on top of him, a spiteful smirk on your face as you ruthlessly rode him like there was no tomorrow, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips...

"Bloody hell, love, you're taking me so well", Ghost sputtered as he thrust himself into your mouth. "Come on... promise I'll make this worth your while."

You held onto his thighs for dear life as tears and spit ran down your face, accompanied by messy, lewd gagging sounds.

"That's it, that's it- Ohh FUCK"

His breath caught in his lungs as his cock pulsed, emptying his load down your throat. Fighting the urge to gag, you swallowed, gripping Ghost's leg so hard it might bruise. With an exhausted, guttural moan Ghost finally let go and you fell backwards, gasping for air.

Ghost recovered from his high quickly, barely giving you the chance to wipe the drool off of your face before dragging you to a large storage crate. He turned you around, his chest pressed against your back, and sat down, effectively pulling you onto him as he lay down on the crate. You watched as he removed his gloves. Your entire body was tingling with arousal by now and being thrown around like a rag-doll wasn't helping. You felt the blood rush between your legs and you were almost certain Ghost knew. He nudged your legs further apart with his own.

"You really can take me, love.", Ghost growled into your ear, grabbing your jaw from behind and turning your head towards König. "Now how 'bout him?"

"Haah- please-", you whimpered and squirmed in his iron grip. You were becoming more desperate by the second, you needed to be touched - or even better: railed into oblivion.

Ghost's icy eyes fixated on König and the other soldier froze in his chair.

"Your turn, operator", the Lieutenant said with a nod.

König stood up slowly, having to concentrate on every move as he approached Ghost. God, it was such a pretty sight to see you so sprawled out and desperate...so pretty.

"Fuck them. That's an order!"

"Y-Yessir!", König replied and quickly undid his pants with trembling hands.

You gasped upon seeing König's size. He was probably larger than the Lt. in every goddamn aspect. Would that thing even fit? Standing between your open legs, he almost hesitantly lay a bare hand on your thigh and lightly pressed his fingertips into your skin and you whimpered once again. Ghost still held your jaw tightly, watching König like a hawk.

As if to reassure himself that this was what you wanted, König sought eye contact. He stroked himself a couple of times first, before lining his hard cock up with your entrance. You gave him a meek nod and practically started begging as his tip nudged against your hole.

"Fucking hell, please! Please just fuck me, König, please please please!"

König felt his cock twitch in his hand at the sound of your voice - like music to his ears. "Don't...", he whispered, barely audible, "Don't stop begging."

"Please~ Please fuck me already, big boy", you pleaded and that did it for him. Without further hesitation he pushed his cock inside you and barely managed to contain the animalistic, desperate moan building in his throat as he bottomed out. You wanted to throw your head back, but Ghost's shoulder was in the way, so you turned your face to the side, teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut. A cold shiver ran down your spine as Ghost whispered praise into your ear again. "Come on... Good. Take all of him."

And as König set a pace to his thrusts, small whines and moans spilled from your lips.

"Ah- Yes...fuck... König, fuck- ngh"

König was enormous. He spread you open like nothing ever had before. No doubt you'd feel him for days. You could feel him in your guts, it was relentless, stretching you open and filling you so completely you couldn't think around it, couldn't do anything but cling to Ghost's hand and whine.

"Ah, sh-shit! More, please...", König demanded, underlining each word with a thrust so hard you almost cried out in pain.

"Yessir!", you groaned, slurring all the other words, "Ah- Yes, fuck me hard, I need this! Oh fuck-"

"Oh yeah, you like this, huh?", König answered your desperate cries. Ghost joined in on the taunting. "You like getting fucked by two big men, 's that it? That's why you've been acting like a fucking brat? Answer me!"

"Ahng- yes- Yessir!"

"You little tease...", König panted, his eyes cast downward, watching himself disappear inside you over and over and over.

Fucking hell... Ghost couldn't take his eyes off of the scene. König brutally slamming into you, your half-naked body on top of him. Grinding against him with each and every one of König's thrusts. And the sounds - God! Your choked, breathy moans and cries and König's deep, desperate sighs caused Ghost's heart to race. He could feel his cock beginning to harden again. His eyes rolled back in his head as he let it happen. He felt your hot breath on his hand and tightened his grip on your lower jaw, bringing his other hand up to your lips and pushing past them. He was relieved you understood the objective, as you swirled your tongue around his fingers, coating them in saliva just like you'd done with his cock moments before.

You arched your back as König repeatedly hit your sweet spot. You cried out in pleasure, begging him not to stop as you careened towards your high.

"Greedy, are we? You gonna behave for us, hm?", Ghost teased, swiping his thumb across your lips. Your eyes fluttered as you nodded vigorously.

Under you, Ghost tensed up as your ass pressed against his cock. He felt like he was about to go insane from the stimulation so shortly after his last orgasm. König gripped your hips, holding on for dear life as he chased his own high. He'd given up on trying to suppress his moans, letting you hear every sweet sound spilling from his lips.

"I'm close, so close", König stammered through gritted teeth, "Can't- Can't hold it much longer, ngh!"

You were quick to answer, speech slurred and a fucked-out expression on your face. " 'S okay! Ah- Cum with me!"

A choked moan ripped from your throat as he thrust all of himself into you. His voice gave out and his head fell backwards. You saw stars as you came undone on his cock, clenching around him. You felt him pulse, shooting his load and coating your insides with his cum.

For a moment everyone was quiet, your ragged, out-of-sync breaths the only thing disturbing the silence.

You gasped in surprise when you suddenly had Ghost's hands on your waist, pushing you down onto both his and König's dick, drawing a startled mewl from the other man. Ghost felt himself spill his seed between your sweat-soaked bodies, a deep moan rattling in his chest.

It took a moment for Ghost to come to his senses again. When he did, König had already taken a few steps back and zipped up his pants. He lifted you off of him and searched his pockets for a rag or tissue to clean the both of you up.

"That's all it took you to behave. A nice, fat cock.", he chuckled to himself.

"I think we made quite a lot of noise. We should leave before someone else comes investigating strange noises on base.", König suggested and glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the door. "If... If you want to go again, you know where to find me."

"Yeah", you agreed with a tired smile. "Better make ourselves scarce."

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This fanfiction is property of @enbyonmandalore (Tumblr). I do not own any of the characters associated with the Call Of Duty franchise. Do not repost/crosspost on other accounts or websites, edit, translate or otherwise change this piece of writing. Rebloging is fine, reposting is not.

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rookie98writes · 17 days

Text

How Could You? —Chapter 1—

Part of the For Your Own Good Series Prev Work → Next Chapter

Relationship: Hatake Kakashi x fem!Reader

Rating: General

Warnings: mostly just fluff so far, a little canon angst, POV Kakashi. canon rewrite. self-ship coded; please see author's note on series page if you are unfamiliar with plot-significant characteristics of reader.

Word Count: 2.6k

Work Summary: After waking from Itachi's Mangekyo Sharingan attack, Kakashi finds there is still a lot of work to do; in rebuilding the village, restoring trust within his team, and in being honest with you. But will his efforts strengthen those bonds, or will everything only get worse?

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“Let's see…what else did you miss?”

You sat beside Kakashi on his bed, your head resting on his shoulder and your hand tracing gentle patterns along his palm. It had only been a few hours since Lady Tsunade had returned to the village and fixed him up, and she had barely left before word somehow got to you that he was awake and healthy.

When Tsunade had explained to Kakashi how long he’d been unconscious since Itachi’s attack, he felt ashamed. All that time, wasted. He should have avoided getting caught in that jutsu. But he was thankful his comrades and students were safe, despite feeling like he’d done nothing to help.

And when he saw you, every feeling was replaced with guilt for how worried you’d been.

But everything had been forgiven in a flutter of kisses, his hands and mouth both more eager than his recovering muscles could keep up with. Eventually, kisses morphed into conversation; you excitedly filling him in on everything that had happened throughout the village while he’d been asleep. Truthfully, it was probably more information than he was concerned with. But Kakashi was more than happy to spend time with you in any way. Even if it involved listening to stories of people he wasn’t even sure he’d ever met, he’d still take it.

His muscles ached from the lack of use. He was just about to ask if you wanted to continue this conversation on a walk when you were suddenly distracted. A tiny sparrow tapped on the window, drawing your attention. “Awww,” you cooed, “look at that little bird.”

“Hmmm,” Kakashi sighed, recognizing the signal. “Another mission already.”

“Wait, so soon? But you’ve barely recovered!”

“Well, we lost so many shinobi to Orochimaru’s attack. Those of us left just have to work harder to make up for it.”

“That explains why Iruka has been so hard to get a hold of lately. I guess he’ll be busy with missions for a while, at least until we get the Academy rebuilt.”

“We?” he asked, working on securing the wraps around his ankles. “I thought you said you were working on getting Ichiraku up and running.”

“I am. But the volunteers fixing up the Academy needed help, so if I split my time and work one shift in the morning and one—”

He leaned in to kiss your temple. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I could say the same to you, you know.”

“I’ll be fine,” he promised with a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. “I hate to cut this short, but I’d better head out.”

“Right.” You kissed his mouth, delaying him for as long as you dared before pulling away. “I love you. Please be careful.”

“I will.”

And I love you too.

The words were on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to say them. He was ready to say them. He realized he had loved you this entire time, and he wanted to tell you. He just needed to move his jaw, vibrate his vocal cords, and say the words.

But then you stood up, and made your way to the bedroom door. And his chance was gone.

“Walk me out?”

“Of course.”

He stayed by your side as you walked to the front door of his apartment, wishing he had more time to spend with you before being sent out again. But this was the life he’d chosen, and people were counting on him.

“See you when you’re back.”

And with that, you gave him one last sweet smile before walking out. His heart tugged in his chest as he watched you leave. But he just needed to focus on this mission, and then he could come home and spend some time with you.

First, though, he needed to check on his students. Tsunade had told him all about what happened between Naruto and Kabuto in Tanzaku Town, and Sakura was sure to be worried about Sasuke’s health. Kakashi knew that Tsunade had healed Sasuke before making the house call to his apartment for both treatment and a lecture. But Sasuke would probably still be recovering in the hospital. At least Naruto wasn’t hurt.

When Kakashi arrived at the hospital, the medic-nins directed him to Sasuke’s room. He could tell that something was wrong before he even made it to the doorway. The room was empty, and when he went in to investigate, all he found was an abandoned bed and a few apple slices browning on the floor. Judging by the color, they couldn’t have been there long.

Kakashi closed his eye and focused on the smells and sounds surrounding him. He picked up Naruto’s scent, along with Sakura and Sasuke’s. He knew the room was in disarray, and he couldn’t imagine Sakura doing that, so it must have been Naruto and Sasuke fighting, yet again.

But where did they go? Had they been kicked out? Sasuke hadn’t been discharged yet, and the staff seemed to think he was still here. The roof.

He was up there in the blink of an eye, finding Naruto and Sasuke charging at each other with dangerous amounts of chakra, Sakura shouting for them to stop and running right for them. Sasuke was aiming a huge amount of Chidori, and Naruto—

Is that…

He grabbed each boy by the wrist and spun around, flinging them into the water reservoirs on the roof. It may not have been the most gentle choice he could have made, but if the two of them had made contact, who knows what could have happened. And Sakura would have been right in the middle of it. Gentle wouldn't have cut it, today.

“What are you two doing up here?!”

Sakura ran up to her sensei while her two male teammates groaned and pulled themselves away from the large tanks. Seeing the fear in her eyes nearly made Kakashi’s patience snap. This was the furthest thing from teamwork he’d ever seen.

But that jutsu…no doubt about it. The Rasengan. How is Naruto using that jutsu?

Sasuke stood, offering only a glance and a smirk in Naruto’s direction. While his student was distracted, Kakashi used the body flicker jutsu to jump on top the reservoir looming over Sasuke’s head.

“What do you think you’re doing, Sasuke?”

The boy startled and looked up at him, his expression quickly darkening from surprise to annoyance and anger.

“That Chidori wasn’t the size you’d aim at a comrade from the Leaf Village,” Kakashi continued. “Were you actually trying to kill Naruto?”

Sakura and Naruto both waited tensely for Sasuke’s explanation, but the boy’s answering silence was all the jōnin needed in order to understand. He must have taken that reunion with Itachi harder than anyone realized.

Instead of offering his teammates a word, Sasuke gruffly leapt off the roof, avoiding the situation all together, leaving Naruto looking betrayed and Sakura sobbing into her fists. Kakashi hung his head and tried to make sense of how Team 7 reached this low point, and how he could turn them back to the right path.

Suddenly, Kakashi felt a different yet familiar chakra signature. Jiraiya. I should have known.

“So, it was you who taught Naruto that jutsu?” he asked. “Don’t you think he’s a little young?”

“Look who’s talking,” Jiraiya responded. “That Chidori was pretty powerful too.”

Yeah. Got me there.

“Although,” Jiraiya continued, sounding a bit more serious, “I didn’t think he would throw it at a friend. Did I miss something between those two?”

“It’s complicated…” Kakashi began. “You of all people know how rivalries can be.”

Jiraiya hummed in understanding. “Jealousy is not a good sign. Maybe I should talk to him.”

“Then I’ll trust Naruto to you. I have to get on with a mission, but I’d better deal with Sasuke too.”

“Right.”

“Ka—” Sakura sniffled. “Kakashi-sensei…”

Kakashi jumped down from the tank and approached his female student with a smile on his face and confidence in this voice, hoping she couldn’t see how fragile both really were.

“Don’t worry. We’ll have the old Sasuke back in no time.”

Kakashi found Sasuke sitting on a high branch in one of the oldest trees in the village. At least he found some interesting places to brood every once in a while. But despite the time he’d had to cool off, the genin looked ready to lash out at the first person he saw.

It was obvious enough; Sasuke had recognized how much Naruto had grown, and it had been a tough pill for the Uchiha to swallow. Their rivalry had reached a dangerous tipping point.

Seems I’ll have to fit in some mentoring today, after all.

He silently unspooled a generous length of wire and attached a shuriken to the end. Then, when he threw the shuriken to loop around the tree, the wire held Sasuke to the trunk. Kakashi quickly jumped onto the branch, showing his student that he wasn’t truly in any danger. Despite that, Sasuke had an enraged look in his eyes as he looked up.

“What’s this all about?” Sasuke snarled.

“If I didn’t do it, you’d run.” The jōnin sensei kept his tone level. “You must admit, you're not the type to take a lecture willingly.” Not unlike I used to be.

Kakashi sighed. After what he’d just watched Sasuke do, he needed to get through to him. He didn’t want to reopen his own old wounds, but if he didn’t connect with his student, Sasuke would only see what Orochimaru told him to see.

Better get right to the point. “Sasuke, forget about getting revenge.”

The boy was only angrier upon hearing this advice, and Kakashi wished he’d been more surprised at the reaction. “Although,” he continued, “in my line of work, I've seen a lot of kids like you.” He had been tempted himself; looking for someone or something to blame throughout the toughest times of his life. More often than not, he found the blame belonged to himself.

But how do you seek out vengeance from yourself?

“The fate of those who seek revenge is never good. It’s quite tragic, actually. You’ll only end up hurting and suffering more than you are now. Even if your revenge is a success, all that will come of it is emptiness.”

His lonely years in the ANBU. The desperate fights he wished to lose. Having no one, for fear of losing them too.

“What do you know?!” Sasuke spat. “You think you’re a genius?”

Kakashi pulled on the wire. “Calm down.”

Sasuke chuckled, looking up at his Sensei with a worrisome look in his eye. “I could kill all the people most precious to you,” he growled. “Then you’d know just how wrong you are about me.”

Obito. Rin. Sensei.

As vivid as in his nightmares, images of his old team’s deaths flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t protect any of them. Those failures were his greatest shame as a shinobi. Kakashi had avoided talking about his past with his students so they wouldn’t know just how worthless their sensei really was. But it was something Sasuke needed to know, so he swallowed his pride and steeled himself.

“Well, I suppose you could…” His aching heart provided the answer that had been his undeniable truth for so long. “But unfortunately, I don’t have anyone special left. The ones most precious to me have already been killed.”

Sasuke’s face morphed into a mix of confusion and anger.

“I’ve lived longer than you. Times were tough back in my day. I know the pain of losing somebody more than I’d like to.”

“But—”

“Neither you nor I can be called lucky, that’s for sure. But we’re not the most unfortunate, either. You and I have both found precious friends, haven’t we?”

Sasuke was quiet for a minute, and Kakashi hoped he was thinking of his classmates. His teammates. Sakura and Naruto. Kakashi knew firsthand how much someone who was originally considered an annoyance could become a dear friend; one of the most important people in a person’s life. “You realize it after you lose them.”

Kakashi flicked his wrist to loosen the wire, seeing that a lot of the fight had drained from Sasuke’s eyes. “Chidori was a power I gave you because you found something important. That power is not to be aimed at a friend or used for revenge. You ought to know what that power should be used for.”

Protecting a person who is precious to you. Someone you love.

Instantly, he wasn’t thinking of Gai anymore. Or Sensei, or Obito or Rin. He could only think of you. The person most precious to him. The person he loved, yet for some reason—some irrelevant, nonsensical reason—he hadn’t told you.

And now he couldn’t wait another second.

“Think about whether what I said hit the mark or not.”

He rushed to your apartment, hoping you hadn’t needed to go anywhere else after you’d left his place.

People could be taken away at any time—Kakashi knew that better than anyone. Yet he’d been stubborn and closed off, refusing to let himself admit to you everything you meant to him, based on fears that he didn’t even remember.

He peeked in the window and saw you lounging on the sofa, reading a book. The girl I love.

“Y/N.”

You jumped, whipping toward the window with your hand over your chest. As soon as you registered him, your eyes softened and you let out a breath. “Kakashi?” You pushed the window open and allowed him in. “What are you doing back so soon? Is something wrong?”

He lowered his mask and crashed his lips into yours the second the obstacle was removed. You stayed still; shocked and surprised. But then you wrapped your arms around him and answered his kiss. When he broke away, he kept his lips over yours, so they would brush against you as he finally said what he should have said weeks ago.

“I love you.”

You gasped, inhaling the words into your lungs. Kakashi thought he could hear the rhythm of your heart go a little haywire as you leaned back with a giddy smile. Then you let out a chuckle, something between elation and apprehension. He understood how this probably seemed to be coming out of nowhere.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to tell you,” he said. “I just had to…get out of my head.”

“Kashi, I…are you sure?” you whispered. “You don’t have t—"

“I’m sure, Y/N,” he promised. “I've been sure for a while, but I was just afraid of…well, a lot, honestly. But, I love you.”

That gorgeous smile stretched across your face. “I love you too.”

His smile matched yours before he kissed you again. “Okay. I’d better get out of here before my tardiness gets me in trouble.”

You giggled. “Mmmm, bye Kashi.”

He stole one last peck before covering his face again and climbing onto your windowsill. “I should only be a couple of days,” he said, crouching to be ready to spring up on the roof for quicker travel. But then he looked at you, and he couldn’t resist telling you one more time. “I love you, Y/N.”

A fresh coat of pink ripened your cheeks. “I love you, Kakashi.”

He could stay here all day repeating it back to you, but he forced himself to go. The last thing he wanted right now was to start a cycle of back-to-back missions, but it was for the good of the village. To protect you. To protect the woman he loved, and who loved him.

It was the happiest he’d been in a long time, and he couldn’t wait to come back.

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