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so-mordor-itis · 10 months

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Just When You Thought You Knew Everything

@comatosebunny09 ;) I'm really proud of this one, and honestly, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. (I was the anon that suggested the loneliness of Leon.)

zero

There were days when he wasn’t plagued by the terrors of Raccoon City. Days–moreso nights–where his brain cracked open the deeper ends of his consciousness and forced him to remember further back. When he was 8, watching flames bite against the wooden walls of the building he once called home. When his 8-year-old brain thought it was possible to dwindle the fire just by staring at it long enough. Leon remembered then how someone in his family, not sure who, used to comment on his eyes. That they were so blue they could swallow sparks and then proceed to remark they were definitely inherited by his father. (So kind, he thought bitterly, to be told something that belonged to you was really something that actually was someone else’s and now you’re just borrowing it.) Leon’s 8-year-old self held on to that comment, hoping desperately that it was true; that he wasn’t being fed another lie for dinner even if somehow at that age, he knew it was.

Leon realized his life was unique by the time he was 7. Stuck with another mediocre tv-dinner (though he liked those at the time), he remembered watching his father, drenched from abdomen to ankle in red, trip over himself, heaving. His father looked up, ocean blue piercing ocean blue, before walking back outside to probably continue whatever charade he found himself in. At 7, he wondered if other kids his age also had fathers who would do mysterious things. Fathers who barely spoke to them, only fussing at whatever their mother cooked, grumbling about newspaper articles, and yelling at the phone. Fathers who would look at them, just stare for what felt like hours, only to sigh and protest they never clean their room. Leon wondered if their dads also looked exactly like them but older.

He hated the dreams that slapped him in the face with unwanted nostalgia almost as much as the ones that groaned in his ears, smelled of iron and rot, and stung his eyes with the memory of smoke from cars on the verge of exploding.

At least the unwanted nostalgia never left him feeling as if he was a cadaver on the side of the road, organs made of jelly, bones crushed.

Though, Leon had to ask himself, which was worse: being reminded that he was human or having the bits of the soul he once had sucked out, leaving an empty socket.

one

You were a new, riveting surprise.

Ingrid Hunnigan, a fellow agent and communications specialist, had been transferred to a new office building temporarily, allowing someone new to slip into her role and provide him with information and, if needed, support. (“Going on vacation this early, Hunnigan?” Leon had thought to himself in a jest.) You were her replacement, according to Simmons. However, that word didn’t sit right on Leon’s tongue. Replacement indicated Ingrid was now gone and had completely vanished from sight. As far as Leon was concerned, she was none of those.

He greeted you with neutral respect, holding back the urge to create a snippy comment. He wasn’t aware of how greatly you’d treat his quips or if you’d appreciate them at all. It surprised him when you shook his hand, eyebrow raised as if he had already said something stupid.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Kennedy. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You said in a friendly manner. He couldn’t help the curiosity that was bubbling in him. People talked about him around the office?

“Oh yeah?” He crossed his arms, offering you a chance to tell him more. “Enlighten me.”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. “Mm, I don’t know if Ingrid would be too happy with me if I told you.” His expression was so amusing: he was attempting to act smug as if he knew people were chatting behind his back about his achievements or failures. However, as you regarded his form, you knew that wasn’t the case. Perhaps in the very back of his mind, he glazed over the idea, but once the information was relayed to him, he froze.

“Before you ask,” you watched his mouth open only to snap shut. “Ingrid and I are friends.”

Leon sighed. “So this is how it’s going to be.”

You sat in Ingrid’s chair, giving it a feel. “Oh come on now, don’t say that as if you already can’t stand me.”

It was the opposite, actually. He was already starting to like your attitude, but naturally, he couldn’t let you find that out just yet. Leon needed to grasp that feeling of satisfaction before you welcomed its embrace.

“I could already hate you, and you wouldn’t even know it.” He remarked, lifting his hand lightly to mitigate his point.

“Well, damn, shoot me now.”

two

It honestly startled him how fast you adapted to his behavior. Maybe Hunnigan had given you a lecture on him, Leon S. Kennedy 101: How To Deal With His Bullshit. Your first-ever assignment as partners went smoothly. He was to retrieve data on illegal B.O.W transports, observing for any kind of suspicious activity in the vicinity of Manhattan. You made a joke about New York and how the food wasn’t even that good for those prices. He snorted, giving you some credit for your originality, half tempted to ask how you knew before he spotted something. He gave you a short, to-the-point comment on what his next actions were.

You replied. “Don’t die when it’s my first day on the job, alright?”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Already thinking about the paycheck? That’s kinda fast.”

“How else am I gonna pay rent this month?”

“Side job?”

“Don’t start.”

The next few months, he allowed himself to grow more amused with your antics, with your banter. You were funny. He had to admit it. Chatty, even. It impressed him how often you knew how to reply, firing comments of your own as if you were always loaded with something.

You grew to be familiar. A calm voice that he didn’t know he could’ve used at that moment in time.

Then you grew to be more than just a voice. A person who he missed when your shift ended, and he was alone at his desk, messy papers the only thing giving him company. A person he gravitated towards when he immediately saw your figure. Be it a gathering, a meeting, or simply seeing you during lunch, he found himself by your side.

Leon liked it. He liked having this. He knew the word for it was friendship. You two acted as if you had been friends for years even though it was the complete opposite. You clicked so easily.

That's what scared him the most. It petrified him down to his very core that this wasn't even the closest you could get to him. There were still more forks in the road, more paths you could take. A part of him froze at the idea of you pausing in front of the box of horrors he's encountered, opening it, only to be drowned by him, by his essence. As if he was Pandora's Box, and you would perish.

Those burdens were almost impossible for him to carry. How would you react to what he saw in Raccoon?

Leon glared into his bottle of whiskey as his thoughts rolled around like boulders in his head. He took a sip, allowing the alcohol to sting his throat.

Had it really taken him this long to realize you were this precious to him?

two and a half

He dreamt about his mother and father that night, and it made him wonder if fate truly had it out for him.

three

Leon's worst fears came to light when his fingers accidentally brushed against yours, igniting an inner feeling he recognized immediately. While you hadn't really reacted–maybe bashfully glanced down–it hit him fast and hard like a brick falling from the sky. He wouldn't mind holding your hand. He wouldn't mind doing a lot of things with you. Because it was you and you made him experience joy. Genuine joy. Something he thought would be nearly impossible for him to feel again.

Maybe that’s why he’s scared. He truly can’t imagine doing anything without the ghost of you being there. How funny, what a human can do to another, how easily one could slip into his life, creating an asteroid-sized crater in his chest.

However, despite that never-ending pit of fear, he remained the same on the outside. A contrast to what happened in his head. At least, he thought he continued to keep up the tough, stoic expression he managed to have all the time.

You two were having a normal exchange. Talked about each other’s days, about upcoming missions packed into your schedules, and what you were having for dinner later (he almost asked you if he could join but stopped himself). But then, the atmosphere changed and suddenly you held a look of uneasiness. Now he was concerned.

“Everything okay?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that.”

Leon crossed his arms, his usual stance. “Nothing’s up besides the files we’ve been reading. Nasty shit, though I guess I can say I’ve seen worse.” He had.

“No, not that.” You mimicked him, now crossing your own arms. He half wondered if you were doing it partly to mock him, but with how serious your tone was, that probably wasn’t the case. “You’ve been uneasy. As if you want to tell me something but you can’t.”

Come on. You can’t possibly read him that easily. “Nah.” He brushed your concern off, but he hated himself for it. For the way your face dropped. Of course, there were more things he could tell you, to plop in your lap, hoping you understood where he was coming from. “You’re cute for being concerned though.” Maybe that will turn your curious nose away for now.

“I’m cute?” You look baffled. “That’s a new one.” He could tell from the way you scoffed, turning your head to look anywhere else but at him, that got you.

“I’m full of surprises.”

“More like full of shit.”

“Ouch.”

“Still, back to what I was saying, I’m here to listen. I think you know that by now. I mean, I got wine at my place with your name on it.”

Leon wrinkled his nose. He was never a wine guy, scotch was ragged and spiky when it went down his throat and he preferred that. “Inviting me over?”

“If you need it.”

He almost took it. Almost.

“Maybe some other time.”

four

He caved when you asked again a few weeks later when he severely needed some form of alcohol after what he had been dragged into.

You poured him a glass of wine, and he watched as red covered the glossy inside to almost full. “Thanks.”

You smiled, and something burned within him, it glowed red, overflowing like how lava does when it’s spewed from a volcano. This was more than just friendship now, your every action caused him to feel something, whether it was burning or just warm. You were warm.

The wine made him feel sluggish, and vulnerable. He was only on his third glass before his brain was less rigid, slowly turning into mush.

“You okay?” You laughed a little. “You look like you’re about to be sick.” You glanced at the wine bottle with knitted brows, scanning over the label. “I hope this hasn’t expired.”

Leon waved his hand at you. “No, wine just hits me a little harder than scotch does.”

“Is that why you never drink it? Or do you just like scotch so much?”

“I just like scotch, probably an unhealthy amount.” He smiled a little, cheeks pink from the alcohol. “Never been a wine guy, but today’s special.”

“Our government is running you ragged, Lee.”

“Tell me about it. The main guy at the white house seems to really favor me now.”

“Have you ever gone on vacation?”

“Nope.”

“You should. I highly recommend it.”

He chuckled. “I got on vacation, and then what? I’m called on the second day. Perks of being the golden boy.”

Leon realized that under the influence, he was better at small talk. The fog around his brain prevented him from overthinking, allowing him to share his thoughts and his ideas. For once, he felt no burdens weighing on his shoulders. The world seemed less dark.

Until he slipped a comment about Raccoon.

“I was there.” He accidentally said, shutting his mouth immediately as you raised your eyebrows. You blinked, licking your lips in thought.

“You never told me that.”

Well, now he could no longer avoid it. His trauma, his old wounds that were constantly reopened, were now somewhat spilled on the floor. The probability of you simply letting this go was zero. Leon sighed heavily, placing his wine glass on your kitchen counter. “It wasn’t really brought up. Well, maybe it was, but…I guess I was nervous about scaring you off.”

“Scaring me off?” You held a hand to your hip, looking at him as if he was stupid, and suddenly he was whisked back to when you two first met, and you had given him that exact same look. “You know what we do for a living? The wine didn’t make you forget right?”

“Not in that sense,” Leon felt weird telling you this. Oddly confident. It was the wine–did he really only have three glasses?

“Oh.” You got the hint almost immediately. He knew you would. He was searching your expression now, but he couldn’t read it. You were thinking, your forehead wrinkling. It was cute, downright adorable.

He didn’t want to scare you off, because this was more than just friendship to him.

“Didn’t think you were interested in me in that way.” You huffed. You bit the inside of your cheek, still thinking. You approached him, placing yourself in the seat next to him, the air now so warm it was hard to breathe. “Well, you can tell me about Raccoon City. You can tell me anything. Show me your scars, and I’ll show you mine.” You said it so sincerely, he had to be inclined to believe you.

It was silly, how scared he was about his. He told you everything, and somehow later that night it led to you holding him close to your chest, fingers in his hair, heartbeat in his ear.

A night so beautiful he actually cried.

He thought back to the night when his childhood home burned. The night he willed the fire to diminish into smoke with just his eyes.

You aren't alone anymore, kid. He thought, still feeling your fingers threading through his hair, through the darker roots. Not anymore.

Tags:

@uhlunaro , @seraphiism , @izuniias , @honeyfict , @konigbabe , @mandalhoerian , @leonskillshot , @airanke , @tosuckmyweenis , @madeholyy , @toseetheworldinaworkofart , @unhealthy-leon-brainrot , @universal-imagines , @some-insomniac-writes , @i-can-sabotage-me-bi-myself , @muffimtv , @justonemore-fic

#leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil imagines #resident evil #leon x you #leon x y/n #leon x reader #my writing

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missmugiwara · 7 months

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Right Now

Summary: fem!reader x Sanemi Shinazugawa // Sanemi pays you an unexpected visit, and he's got a lot on his mind. Warning: 18+, NSFW, some angst but ends happy, suggestive, implied sex, swearing Note: Not gonna lie, when I first saw him I was like - oh, no way. I better not FALL IN LOVE LATER. And then later happened, and I was like - oh, I... he kinda hot. So here we are!

The rain fell so heavily.

Lightning flashed occasionally. The heavy cascade of water and the gentle thrum of thunder in the distance normally would have been calming, but you were too upset to admire it. It appeared the weather matched your mood perfectly because like the rain falling, tears had fallen earlier. Your swollen eyes were proof of that. Softly, you closed the shoji door after taking a peek outside. For a second, you wondered if anyone was stuck in this because the sudden change in weather was very unexpected.

However, rain was your favorite, so you were damned if you would not at least try to enjoy it. You shuffled into a comfortable spot on your futon and raised a book to your face. This week had been unpleasant and weighed heavy on your mind so you tried your best to function normally. This book could maybe serve as a good distraction. After all, you had meant to start reading it. Hopefully, this could be a perfect start to the weekend.

Well, it could have been perfect, but a few knocks at the door interrupted you. Making sure it wasn't your imagination, you blinked at the shoji door. Again, the knocks came but much more vigorously this time around. Your eyebrows furrowed. Who could possibly come at this hour, and to your bedroom door - specifically the door that led to the engawa outside? And how could anyone be out in such weather? You lowered the book and got up, sulking over to the door. As soon as you slid it open, your eyes widened and you froze in place at the sight before you. Your heart thumped in your chest and your breath caught in your lungs.

"Sanemi!?"

Your cheeks went hot. Whether it was being flustered or blushing or whatever you wanted to call it - because whatever it was… was surely happening. There was no way to hide your shocked expression. The Wind Hashira also seemed to have froze in place since his fist was still in the air mid-knock after you opened the door. It was as if he couldn't believe he was right there in front of you. As if this wasn't even happening. As if he were surprised you even answered. His chest heaved deeply. An indication that he ran because he was obviously out of breath. The poor thing was soaked head to toe from the rain. His clothes were clinging to every muscle of his body, and his white spiky hair was plastered in wavy tufts against his forehead which was such a delicious contrast to how he usually appeared. The Hashira was also blushing. At least one could assume this was the case because after all, he just sprinted here. Sanemi took a moment to catch his breath as you stared at him in awe, and when he was finally ready his gaze snapped to meet your eyes.

"I… I need to talk to you… right now."

With your hand still on the door, your eyebrows pulled together in frustration. Then your mouth opened, but no words came out. Sanemi wanted to talk? At this late hour? And he didn't wait for the rain to stop? It absolutely could not wait? You gripped the door tightly in anger.

What the hell?

The man broke up with you not even a week ago - caused you immense, emotional pain, said such horrid things to you, and now he was back at your door? Just like he used to? But then again, this was his thing. When you two were together, your parents didn't approve much of him, but at least they had great patience with the relationship and tried wholeheartedly to accept it. Your mother tried moreso, knowing Sanemi was strong and a Hashira - so they really tried because he was dependable. Sanemi never came through the front door of the estate when you dated. He always snuck to your room at night. The memories caused your heart to skip a beat and butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Sanemi would come, and you would giggle so gleefully when you opened the door for him.

Because as soon as that door opened, you knew what it meant.

What it led to.

The smirk upon his face was as devious as they came. Sanemi would waste no time - he would immediately slam that door shut. He would grab your waist, pull your hips close against his and slam his mouth to yours all the while you wrapped every limb of yours around his body needily. His smirk against your skin never ceased to thrill you. Naturally, this always led to much more sinful and delightful things. Sanemi was rough and wild, but he always took his time - always made sure you were feeling extra good and taken care of. He was also just as sweet behind closed doors which probably would surprise anyone if they knew about his softer side. After another lust-filled evening, he'd be gone the next morning before your parents even woke and realized their perfectly well-behaved heir was misbehaving all night.

Sanemi was waiting for a response. Your eyes snapped to his muscular torso, then to his confused face. He was still heaving for air and staring with wide, disbelieving eyes. You wanted to smack yourself for ogling because you should be mad at him, but he showed up in such a delectable state which was extremely hard to resist. You grit your teeth, still taking in the image that was Sanemi. Then, you gave up.

"Get inside. Now!" you hissed to which he blinked.

It was not the response he was anticipating, that's for certain. Swiftly, you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him inside. He let out a surprised grunt. It was almost funny how the adrenaline rush filled you with such strength that it made Sanemi nearly trip in the process. Yes, you were livid, but you certainly weren't an asshole. There was no way you would just let him stay outside in the rain like that - wet and soaked to the bone.

"Jeez! You're gonna catch a cold!" you frowned, ignoring the rising heat to your face.

Sanemi, not knowing what to do in this situation, just awkwardly sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. He took a moment to watch you scramble about the room, leaving and then returning with a few towels. He sat quietly and decided the best thing to do right now was to just let you do your thing. Angrily, you sat in front of him and began to rub his head with a towel. Defeatedly, he let you - albeit he grunted and groaned the entire time. He knew what he did to you earlier that week, and he knew why you would be so rightfully upset so he wasn't about to blow up over this.

When you pulled away, you slapped the towel on the ground, "Off."

"What?" he stared at you, obvious blush forming.

You squinted your eyes at him and snarled, "Shirt. Off. Now."

He rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed sigh.

"You can't tell me what to-"

"NOOOOOW."

There was a pause.

He squinted his eyes at you as his hands sat at the hem of his shirt. As sweet as you were, he knew better than to mess with you when you were irked. Sanemi, without a doubt, could be interpreted as a pretty assertive guy, but he knew damn well when to listen to you instead of fighting back. Your relationship was very strong, and you two complemented each other - really understood one another extremely well… when the relationship was still going on though. You held out your hand, and as expected, he whipped off his haori and shirt and gave them to you. In exchange, you slapped another towel into his hand. He huffed at the harsh way you did this but then apprehensively dried his face before slinging it around his shoulders.

"Now don't get any funny ideas! You're leaving as soon as the rain stops!"

You tried so hard to fight it.

Because you were the one getting funny ideas.

Be mad. Be mad.

Damn it all, the room was becoming unbearably hot all of a sudden.

Too hot.

Speaking of hot, the way Sanemi sat there… wet and shirtless and so muscular and gorgeous and - oh, stop! It was not fair! You were supposed to be mad at him! Not thinking about how he could just throw your legs over his shoulders and - UGH. Why was he back here anyway and doing this to you? More imporantly, what did he want? You stood up on your knees with his wet clothes nestled in your arms when Sanemi peeked up at you.

"I'm sorry."

You froze. He uttered it so quietly. So ashamedly. Honestly, it caught you off guard. It knocked the wind right out of your lungs. Looking at him, you felt your throat tighten and heart rate quicken. His eyes were pointed somberly downward.

"Huh?" you breathed.

Sanemi was staring at your feet, but then tilted his head to look up at you.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. I… shouldn't have broken up with you."

The break-up was out of nowhere. It was after one of his missions, actually. You ran up to him, smiling cheerfully and exclaiming how happy you were to see him.

And what did Sanemi do?

He told you it was over. Said to get lost. Forget about him. Never come see him again. Then, he walked off as he left you stunned. At least until shock took over, all strength left your body, and you fell to your knees with tears streaming down your face. It didn't make sense because everything was going so well. It was so incredibly hurtful, so out-of-the-blue, and you had no fucking idea what went wrong. Fast forward to now. You wanted to say something, but you forgot how to speak. Why was Sanemi doing this? He thought he could just break up with you and then come back after all those stupid things he said? Was he asking you to take him back? Because… because of course you wanted him back! He meant the world to you. But why did he break up with you in the first place? And should you be so quick to forgive him? A plethora of emotions washed over your face, and Sanemi decided maybe he should explain himself.

"You deserve to be happy. To have a normal life. You deserve someone that doesn't have a job like mine and can be by your side every day. Someone who doesn't make you worry. You…" his eyes trailed off the to side.

"You don't want to be with a guy like me."

In that instant, you felt an immense wave of rage wash over your being. Your breath hitched in your throat. It all made sense now. Sanemi thought he was protecting you with this break-up. And even moreso, Sanemi thought he wasn't good enough for you!

How… how dare he beat himself up like this!?

He thought you wanted a normal life? Why didn't he talk about this before? You could have so easily talked about his fears and allowed him to be vulnerable. That was no problem. Being there for Sanemi was never a problem. Then again, he didn't think things through all the time when it came to you. He just acted. Maybe he got scared. Your hands were trembling as they still held his shirt and hoari. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Sanemi's eyes widened in horror, thinking he somehow made this all worse.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't want to make you cry! Fuck!"

"You think that's what I want?" you spat out, to which he froze in place. "You think that would make me happy? Do you even know what would make me happy!? Because I don't want any of that - whatever normal means anyway!"

Sanemi's face went red with a blush. What a fool. He did not seem to understand that normal was with him - that someone else just was not good enough.

"I just want you!"

Immediately, you broke down sobbing. Sanemi shakily reached his arms out to try and catch you because you sank to your knees, but he hesitated several times to pull his arms back and forth - wondering, in panic, if he was allowed to hold you or not. Despite his boorish behavior, he was quite gentle when you were upset. He waited patiently as you cried. You flung your face into his chest and threw your arms around him. Sanemi twitched at the impact - really, he didn't expect you to just grasp onto him like that. But he got over it quickly when he softly wrapped his arms around you, leaning his chin to rest on the top of your head as he sighed. He was always so good to you during moments like these. He never laughed at your feelings nor complained. Just waited until you finished crying while he sat and held you silently. He was about to pat the top of your head but recoiled his hand as soon your head whipped up.

"I can't stand being apart from you!" You managed to croak out, allowing yourself to stare into his eyes. "Please… don't hurt me anymore."

Sanemi licked his lips as his hands gripped your shoulders. He took a moment to process your words.

"I thought I was doing what was best for you, but I…" his grip tightened, "I haven't stopped thinking about you since! So that's why I… I came to say sorry and ask if… you'll have me again. If you say no, then I fucking get it. I don't blame you. And - and you can stay mad at me forever. I fucking deserve it."

You sniffled. The sobbing was starting to stop and you squinted your eyes at him in disgust. That apology seemed to work because immediately you frowned and peeled your arms off him. Sanemi looked at your expression, and he was instantly perplexed at the look you gave him despite the runny nose and tears.

"Yeah, you do deserve it! Never break up with me again! You hear me?"

A pause.

A small smirk graced his lips. "I won't."

You sniffled once more and wiped a tear from your eye. Sanemi chuckled, and he leaned forward to hold your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed against your tear-stricken cheeks, then under your eyelids to wipe any tears away.

"That's my girl." he softly smiled, "Tough as nails."

"Don't try to be all… cute or whatever! I won't forgive you until you say you're an idiot!"

"…Are you kidding me?"

"No! I am serious!"

Sanemi snorted, trying to fight the urge to not laugh at your childish behavior. You whined when his thumbs brushed away more tears at your cheeks when a new cascade of them flowed down your face. He only chuckled in response when you tried to turn your head out of embarassment. In turn, he moved a hand to grip onto your wrist tightly, pulling your body closer to his. You tried your best to pout, but you knew it was no use. Sanemi was a sucker for a good whine and a good pout. It always got him going.

"I am a fucking idiot. There. Happy?" he smirked again.

"Yes, very happy." you cooed, wiping the remainder of any tears, "Now don't even think about going home in this rain! You're staying here!"

Sanemi scoffed, and the smirk on his face grew, "Hmph. Poor me."

In response, you smiled softly. And since things were sort of back to normal (through the most chaotic of ways, but this was also something you were used to with the Wind Hashira), Sanemi let out a yawn and laid to his side on your futon, propping his head in one hand while using the other to gently move his sword off to the side. As you stood up again, clutching his wet clothes to your chest to lay them somewhere to dry, Sanemi smirked back at you while he undid the belt on his pants. The clink in the air caused your heartbeat to quicken.

"Now come here."

You quickly whipped your head toward him, face fighting another round of heat. And damn him because he looked too damn good laying there like that - teasing you senselessly with his undone pants and lusty tone.

"I'm waiting."

The smirk upon his lips grew in voraciousness. His lilac eyes became lidded when he emphasized the last of his sentence.

You quickly mirrored his haughty expression, raising a brow at him, "Oh, I don't think so! You got a lot of nerve to…"

But you trailed off. You both froze when something tucked into Sanemi's hoari fell to the ground. As if on cue, you both snapped your gazes to it. A single rose.

"What…" you bent over to pick it up, "What's this?"

Sanemi's face was as red as can be.

"A rose… you know, your favorite?"

Holding it gently in your hand, your lips parted as you stared at it. Sure, the flower was crumpled and definitely not looking the freshest, but… wow. A heat rose to your cheeks. He actually remembered how much you liked flowers? And he actually got you one? He was never romantic like this. He must have really wanted to apologize if he was bringing this. Knowing him, he probably was never going to show this anyway so you were lucky it fell from his clothes.

You cocked your head to the side and smiled. "Thank you, Sanemi. This is so sweet. You've never done this before."

His face ignited in a hot blush again, "Y-yeah, yeah! Whatever! I mean… flowers are stupid! But if you like 'em, then whatever!"

You giggled, "Aw, look at you. Going the extra mile to win me back. How cute."

"Yeah, well, I needed to because… that prick…"

You blinked, "Who?"

"Forget it!"

"No, what are you talking about?"

Sanemi's face went even redder, if it were possible. He grumbled in thought for a few seconds especially when you arched one eyebrow at him.

"Well, I heard you were talking to some fucking guy the day after I broke up with you." he averted his gaze to the side, and you swore he was actually pouting.

A devious smirk played across your lips. Sanemi was, without a doubt, the jealous type. This was way too good to not tease him with. Seeing this jealous fit was just a complete waste of his time and energy, but on the other hand it was entertainment for you.

"Oh, I can't talk to a guy?" you purred, hanging up his haori and setting the rose in a vase on your desk. You'd have to put water in it later. Did Sanemi really think you could get over him that quickly? He was incredible.

"So who was it!? Oh, I know! Was it the fucking fish vendor at the market!? You're too good for him! He cheats on his wife! Everyone knows it!" he sprang up in hysterics, and it caused you to laugh immediately. If he wasn't embarrassed already, your laugh at him had to make it worse.

"Seriously, Sanemi?"

Over the tumultous last couple of days, you mostly stayed home to wallow. You didn't really talk to anyone, and when your parents saw you run home while sobbing - they kind of knew to leave you alone. He thought you were playing the field? A delicious idea crossed your mind.

Well, maybe it was a little mean, but… Sanemi could withstand some teasing from you.

"It was Giyu." you smirked, licking your lips. "That man really knows how to cheer up a girl, you know?"

Sanemi froze, eyes widened.

"I'll kill him."

You couldn't even begin to describe the face he made when he said that. As soon as you busted out laughing, his face turned so red out of that you thought he might pass out.

"No, no, no!" you flung your body to Sanemi's and wrapped your arms around his neck, laughing hysterically at his expression - at how serious he was. He stared at your jovial face in horror, realizing you were messing with him… like you always did.

"I was kidding! Oh gosh, please don't hurt Tomioka! I would feel so awful!"

Oh, Sanemi was mad. You'd be a fool not to notice. Before he could rebuttle, you pressed a finger to his lips to shush him.

"It was Ubuyashiki."

Sanemi froze again. His eyes stared straight into your soul, and his lips parted out of confusion. You smiled, gently grabbed his hands, and slowly led him to the futon to sit with you.

"The day after you broke up with me… I went to the mansion and asked if you were acting strange lately. He said the last mission you were on seemed to upset you. So I thought maybe something stressful happened to make you want to suddenly break up with me. I even talked to Genya about it."

Sanemi just stared. There was a brief pause before he licked his lips.

"You're unbelievable."

"You're unbelievable! What was I supposed to do? Just let it slide? After being with you for so long, I had to try and figure out something. I was just hoping you didn't… actually get sick of me."

"Never."

You smiled and reached out a hand to stroke the side of his face. His eyes closed as a light smile turned the corners of his mouth upwards, and you snickered at that. He took a deep breath and looked at you with such softness. Your gaze snapped from his eyes to his lips, and Sanemi did the same.

Seeing those lips you loved so much - your gaze became lidded, and the Wind Hashira mirrored your sultry expression. Closing your eyes and leaning in, you closed the gap when your lips connected in a slow kiss. When you pulled away, a gentle smacking sound filled the air, and Sanemi's hand was atop yours.

"I am sorry. Really."

You whispered, "I know."

"You… forgive me?"

"Of course I do."

"You sure?"

You rolled your eyes and chuckled.

"Yes! Now shut up, and kiss me."

Sanemi's rough, calloused hand grabbed your chin, and he grunted as he pulled your face close to his own. You giggled when Sanemi's breath dusted over your lips as his other hand gave a hard squeeze on your hip. When his lips smashed to yours, you flung your arms around him and moaned. You grinned like a fool when he grabbed a fistful of your hair to pull your head back, and you began to giggle when his teeth playfully bit at your neck.

"Now hold still. We got some catching up to do."

"Sanemi!"

#demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer x reader #kny fanfic #sanemi x reader #sanemi x y/n #sanemi x you #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #mugi writes

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gretavanfreaky · 2 years

Text

Hush

Hello, all! I don't know how much response I'll get since I'm a total lurker, but here I am offering up my first fic in the fandom -- a little friends to lovers one shot starring Danny. I hope somebody enjoys it! I have a bunch more ideas, but who knows what the future holds? If you like it, let me know. It's motivating to know even one person got a few minutes of serotonin from my silly stories. (This blog will be almost entirely NSFW and 18+.)

...

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, drug use, talk of panic attacks

Words: 12.2k

Rating: Explicit

...

Present...

It was the heat that pulled you from your sleep. The confined space of a tour bus bunk could be claustrophobic even for one person, but with Danny’s considerable bulk squeezed in alongside you, both of you breathing deeply in slumber, it was positively stuffy. As your eyes blinked open slowly, you struggled to orient yourself, to piece together where you were and why. With a sleepy yawn, you pushed back the sweat-dampened hair from your forehead and glanced around the pitch-black space, wondering what time it was.

Your gaze landed on his alarm clock which was perched on a small built-in shelf by your feet. 2:56. You laid there a moment more, considering rummaging around his belongings for the Nalgene water bottle you were sure he would have stashed somewhere, but doing so would have required the use of your limbs which were currently immobilized by his as he clung to you in sleep like a child with a teddy bear, your back pulled snugly to his bare chest and his hands clenched into fists at your waist, fingers clutching at the fabric of your thin t-shirt.

Even as overheated as you were, you couldn’t lie and say this proximity was unpleasant. His chin was tucked over your shoulder, and his chuffing exhales tickled your ear in a way that made your stomach flutter and flip - a feeling you tried to ignore.

But ignoring it became impossible when he stirred in his sleep and murmured some low nonsense into your ear, his arms tensing to draw you impossibly even closer, his nose burying into your hair as his hips pressed suddenly forward and - oh!

Oh.

Your heart began to jackhammer as you realized the full magnitude of your position. You’d experienced these sorts of dreams yourself; you were only human. Hell, a good deal of them starred the very man currently pressed so intimately behind you, two layers of thin fabric doing nothing to hide the sensual nature of his nocturnal imaginings. But that had always been a private secret, nothing you would share with a childhood friend who never made any indication he saw you as anything other than his best friends’ favorite cousin. Always around, always a good time, and a ready ear - never an object of desire. Your longtime crush on him had been a thing you shoved to the back of your mind, easier to pretend it didn’t exist than to deal with the rejection you just knew would swiftly follow if it ever came to light.

But now here you were, and that feeling you had stubbornly relegated to the dusty corners of your mind had been lit up by a spotlight the moment his breath ghosted across the sensitive flesh of your ear. And the feeling of him against the swell of your ass, so substantial, and so, so hard beneath his cotton lounge pants, made you want to throw all self-preservation out the window.

You laid very still, a deer in headlights, unsure how best to handle this with the least amount of embarrassment possible. For a moment you considered ignoring, hoping his dream would pass and you wouldn’t have to embarrass him by waking him. But your hopes were dashed even as the fire in your belly was stoked by more murmured nonsense - God you wished you could understand the words he was trying to say. You caught a hitch in his breath, a soft moan that thankfully didn’t quite articulate. Trapped in his throat, it cut off his exhale as he buried his face into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, the muscles of his arms contracting, fists uncleching to dig his fingers into the swell of your hip and the fat of your lower belly as he gave a real roll of his hips against you and, dear God, he was twitching.

It felt like a punch to your gut, the rushing wave of arousal. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, you found your hand wandering down and slipping below the elastic waistband of your shorts. It would have taken nothing to set you off, a few circles of your fingers against your clit, and you’d have been a goner, but just as your fingertips breached your clothing, you came back to your senses, and guilt washed over you every bit as consumingly as the arousal.

You chided yourself inwardly. You had no business getting off on this. Danny was your friend. Your very unconscious friend, and he’d likely be mortified if he were aware of his actions. You snatched your hand back, face colored in shame, and took a few shaky breaths to ground yourself, trying to screw up the courage to wake him, even as you struggled to piece together the night's events and make sense of this unlikely position you found yourself in.

Some hours earlier…

“That. Was. INSANE.”

Sam’s voice was too loud in the small living area of the bus. No matter how many shows they played, he always left the arena a little deaf, and his volume control was never much to begin with. Danny smiled softly at his enthusiasm, and accepted the chilled beer from Sam’s outstretched hand, passing it to you before quickly snatching the one Sam had intended for himself and taking a long swig.

Sam shot him an annoyed glance before turning to crack open another, too high on post-show adrenaline to stay irritated long. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” Danny replied, turning to you. “What did you think, Ace? Did we do alright?”

You smiled at the nickname, one he’d bestowed upon you in high school, a nod to your straight A’s and aggravating habit of always earning a point or two more than him on every quiz or exam. It was a routine that had genuinely frustrated him at first, but eventually became an entertaining gag that spawned the nickname which had stuck like glue, even years later.

You hastily swallowed, wiping a drip of beer from your chin to nod in the affirmative, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by the twins. “You in a hurry?” Jake joked. “I promise, if we have nothing else around here, we do have plenty of beer, Y/N.”

“I’m just thirsty!” you protested, good humor lacing your words. “It was hot as fuck in there.”

“Cry me a river,” Josh jabbed as he walked past them to grab his own bottle. “You should try standing next to all that pyro.”

Danny laughed. “Who’s crying?! You have it easy, frontman. We should switch spots sometime.”

Jake snorted. “That’s a no. I’ve heard what Josh calls ‘drumming.’” Josh flashed him a middle finger as he flopped onto the couch next to Danny, you tucked into Danny’s other side. You cringed as you watched Josh flatten and crush your pillows with an elbow and hoped he wouldn’t get drunk enough to spill any beer on them. You didn’t feel like smelling that all night. Again.

You’d been crashing on the bus sofa for a few nights now, ever since the guys had scooped you up on their way through Michigan and convinced you to tag along for this run of midwest shows. Family get-togethers had become few and far between since they had hit the road after graduation, and they said they missed you as much as you missed them. You found that hard to believe, what with their busy lives and trappings of fame, but it felt good to hear all the same. Jita had decided to pick up a few shifts at the hospital this week since they were in the area - a thing she was obligated to do from time to time to maintain her per diem status. Her absence meant the bus was marginally less crowded than normal. She had been the one to finally convince you to join the guys for this block of shows. “You can help me make sure Jake drinks water once in a while,” she had joked.

You weren’t doing a very good job of that, as it turned out. Jake had been drinking on stage, his cup filled with a bit more than water, and, by Highway Tune, he was already half in the bag. Now that you were all back on the bus and rolling to the next city, he seemed determined to ensure the rest of you caught up with him on cloud nine.

Not that it required much convincing. These hometown shows were electric, and spirits were high, the leftover energy of the night buzzing between all of you and lending itself to a good time. It wasn’t long before Sammy materialized a bag of weed from some pocket or another, tossing it wordlessly to Danny, as was customary. Although Danny indulged the least, he had a certain knack for rolling the best joints.

You sipped on your fresh drink as you watched him work, his dark brows furrowed in concentration, pursing his lips to blow a few short curls out of his line of sight.

You had switched to a vodka soda (probably a horrible idea - beer before liquor and all). Your head was already pleasantly swimmy, and it made it easy to lose yourself in observing his features as he carefully rolled the bud up into the paper, his pink, wet tongue peeking fetchingly from between his lips to seal it. You didn’t realize you were staring until, mid-lick, Danny’s eyes darted sideways to meet yours, apparently having felt the weight of your gaze. You turned away quickly, dragging Josh into some mindless chatter, trying to hide the blush you knew must be painted across the tops of your cheeks.

You couldn’t hide it from Josh. There was the slightest delay in his replies as his sharp gaze took in your flustered state. He chanced a glance over your shoulder at Danny, and you resented the upturned quirk of his lips as he put two and two together. “You still hot?” he asked impishly.

You stubbornly decided to play dead stupid. “No, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Josh pressed. “I can turn down the A.C. Your cheeks are a little-”

“-DANNY!” Sam interrupted abruptly.

You knew you loved that boy for a reason beyond blood kinship.

“Danny, it’s a fucking joint, not your magnum opus,” he drawled insistently. “Let’s go!” His fingers snapped in Danny’s direction like a diner rudely hailing his server.

Danny rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Good things come to those who wait,” he insisted, but his hands moved more quickly as he twisted off the end and passed the goods Sam’s way.

The five of you soon found yourself sprawled across the living quarters, in various states of intoxication, reminiscing together about the childhood shenanigans.

The twins were engaged in a lively argument about who deserved the title of “biggest asshole” of the group as they recounted cruel pranks and forgotten squabbles. “How is this even a debate?” Jake asked, his voice finally starting to reveal his level of intoxication, syllables softened and dragged out, if not quite yet slurred. His tolerance was almost scary. “Do I need to remind you about that fucking nerf gun? You’re lucky I didn’t permanently implant it up your ass.”

Josh rolled his eyes, “Oh my god, not this again. How are you not over that yet? I’ll buy you three new guitars if you’ll shut the fuck up about me stealing your prize money 100 years ago.”

“No!” Jake snapped indignantly. “I can buy my own shit, now. I want you to admit you were the biggest asshole growing up. Then I’ll shut up.”

Josh pondered this proposition for a moment, nursing his latest beer. Finally he shook his head and answered resolutely. “No. I will not admit it because apparently you are conveniently forgetting the time you bet Y/N five dollars she couldn’t piss standing up.”

Your head snapped in his direction at the sound of your name, and the metaphorical bucket of hot water washed over you as the embarrassment of the memory hit.

“Oh, come on,” Jake protested hotly. “We all participated in that one!”

“Not all,” you heard Danny mutter. And that was true. You’d been about ten at the time, and, financial motivations aside, you were determined to prove that girls could do anything boys could do. When you had reappeared from behind a large shrub with piss in your Nikes, the twins had immediately dissolved into uproarious laughter at your expense, but not Danny.

“Who is all, Jake?” you asked, defending Danny’s honor. “I seem to recall you two jerks laughing the whole walk home while Danny kindly offered me his sweatshirt.” Danny nodded slowly in agreement, and you continued. “Pretty sure this is a two man contest. Well, three actually, but Sammy isn’t able to argue his case.”

Sammy had already smoked himself comatose, curled in an easy chair with his feet tucked beneath him, forehead resting on his knees, absolutely down for the count. Danny would normally carry him to bed in this state, but he wasn’t in much shape to be carrying anyone, his eyes red-rimmed and unfocused. His vibe was a little off tonight, nothing you could quite put your finger on, but he was even quieter than normal, and there was something vaguely cagey in the way his knee kept jiggling from time to time.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Jake waved a hand dismissively. “Of course Danny isn’t in the running, cause he’s perfect and shit.”

Danny scoffed at that. “Oh whatever, dude. Just because I can’t actively enjoy another person’s misery doesn’t make me some kind of saint.” There was a slight edge to his voice that rarely appeared, but you were pretty sure you were the only one catching it, the others too crossfaded to pick up on his subtleties.

You were curious about it, though. This conversation wasn’t anything that hadn’t been rehashed a million ways over the years, and you couldn’t imagine what had spawned this simmering irritation in him. It had been a great night, and he’d started it just as bubbly and celebratory as the rest of you. You shrugged it off, trying to convince yourself you were imagining things.

“Really?” you asked him in a teasing tone, peering up at him from where your head rested beside his knee, lolled back against the sofa cushions as you sat cross legged on the floor. His eyes met yours as you continued. “You’re saying you didn’t enjoy Josh’s misery that time he and Jake swapped clothes at school and then Jake -”

Your words were cut off by Danny��s peal of laughter, his head tipping back and eyes crinkling at the memory before you could even finish it. You were happy to see his tension dissipate, even if only for a minute. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, finishing your thought. “When they swapped clothes at school and Jake purposefully ripped the gnarliest fart possible right next to Jenny Jenkins -”

Josh jumped in, “--AND LET ME TAKE THE FALL FOR IT!” His glare should have left holes in Jake.

Jake was failing to contain a snicker. “Okay, okay, okay,” he replied tiredly, hands up in a gesture of surrender. But Josh wasn’t done with him yet.

“You knew I liked her, too. And I’m pretty sure half of Frankenmuth still remembers me as the kid who farted in Bio.”

Jake scoffed. “Of course I knew! How else was I supposed to get back at you for the goddamned NERF GUN?!”

Josh rounded on Danny. “And YOU! You didn’t stop laughing for days. Jesus, fuck, you’re STILL laughing! ‘No pleasure in other people’s misery’ my ass!”

Danny had finally managed to catch his breath and regain his composure. “Okay, touché. I guess sometimes I enjoy your misery specifically.”

Josh seemed satisfied at this. “Exactly,” he stated resolutely. “You just play favorites.”

“Aww,” you cooed jokingly, gazing up at Danny once again. “Is that why you gave me your sweater to tie around my waist? I was your favorite?” Your tone may have been jesting, but you couldn’t deny there was a real search for validation beneath it you hoped he wouldn’t perceive.

Danny returned your gaze with an expression of confusion, like you had just asked him if water was wet. “Of course you are, Ace.”

Are.

You rested your head against his leg and turned your attention back to the argument at hand, only to realize that Josh was boring holes through you with his eyes, a knowing smirk he didn’t bother to hide gracing his face. It kind of made you want to punch it.

You rose to your feet and grabbed Sam’s cigarettes right out of his shirt pocket, and he never so much as stirred as you fished out his lighter and moved past the bunks to the back of the bus, an area designed for storage and overstuffed with the various belongings of four men. You opened a window and rested your head against the frame to allow the passing wind to suck the smoke from your lips in short lived trails disappearing along with the miles. Watching the dashed yellow line speed past made you feel even higher, a little woozy even, and you closed your eyes against the image to focus on the feel of the nicotine seeping into your brain.

“Can I have a drag?”

Josh.

You handed it over and he took it with thanks. You leaned back against the wall, swaying with the movement of the ride, fixing him with a neutral gaze that he returned unblinking. Finally you spoke. “What? Didn’t get enough of a good look out there in the living room, cuz?”

He cracked a grin, the endearing gap in his teeth peeking through, and he handed the cigarette over. “When are you going to fucking tell him, Y/N?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” His voice was laced with disapproval. “Pretend it doesn’t exist and keep dancing around each other until one of you dates someone else again and the other is left miserable?”

You laughed out loud then, but there was no humor in it. “Danny has never been miserable about me dating someone else. He introduced me to my last boyfriend.”

Josh’s eyes lit up like Christmas trees. “I thought you had no idea what I was talking about.” You opened your mouth to deliver a smartass reply, but he cut you off to finish his thought. “Yeah, he introduced you to Troy. But that was a test, and you fucking failed.”

“Josh, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. Danny doesn’t play games, and even if he did, I’m not his type.” You handed him the last of the cigarette, preparing to make an escape. You were starting to really want out of this conversation.

Josh took it, letting it smolder between his fingers a second, head tipped back as he peered down his nose at you appraisingly. He took one last thoughtful drag, and spoke creakily around the smoke of his exhale, echoing the words that had been stuck in your mind for the past 15 minutes.

“Of course you are, Ace.”

You waved him off with a dismissive hand gesture and turned heel without saying anything else.

You meant to go back to the living room but, as you were passing between the bunks, you noticed the curtain drawn across Danny’s. You stopped and listened for a moment. There were still sounds of life up front. You assumed Danny must be sleeping, but just as you were about to head to the couch, you heard him let out a burst of air like he had been holding his breath.

“Danny?” Your voice was soft and hesitant.

“Yeah?” He responded quickly, and there was something unreadable in his voice that sounded…distressed?

“Are you okay?”

There was a beat of silence this time, and that made you chew your bottom lip. Finally he spoke up. “Um…yeah. I think so.”

Confused, you grabbed the edge of the curtain, allowing your fingers to curl around the edge into his potential line of sight. “Are you decent?”

Danny let out a tense chuckle at that. “Yeah, of course.”

You pulled the curtain back a bit to peek in at him, and his eyes met yours immediately, very large and very dark and, perhaps, a little vulnerable. “What’s the matter?” you questioned softly. “Can I help?”

His eyes darted sideways for a second. “I think I’m just tired.”

You frowned at him. “Danny.”

He turned his gaze back to you reluctantly, and you pinned him with yours, resolving not to break eye contact until he surrendered and revealed what was bothering him. He must have realized you could do this all night, because after a few moments, he sighed and dragged a hand through his hair.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but when he saw the frown creeping across your lips, he continued. “I’m gonna be fine. I’m just way too crossfaded and trapped in my own head.”

The puzzle pieces suddenly were beginning to form the picture. His silence, his distraction, his fidgeting and snappiness. You breathed a sigh of relief, and your frown dissolved. “That’s what’s been wrong with you!? A bad high?!”

Danny smiled wanly in a self-deprecating way. “Am I that obvious?”

You shook your head. “No, actually. Not at all. I thought you were mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” he asked confusedly.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m interrogating you, dumbass.” He took your verbal abuse with his usual good humor and an upturned tilt of his lips. Softening your voice, you continued. “How bad?”

He rolled onto his back, took a deep breath, holding it in his chest for an uncomfortable amount of time, and then blew it out in a loose raspberry. “Pretty shitty. I should probably give up weed.” He was speaking to the underside of Sam’s bunk now. “I dunno, these freak outs seem to be happening a lot lately.”

“Well,” you said, pulling the curtain all the way back. “We’ve all been there once or twice. Move over and tell me about it.”

Instead of moving to make space for you, Danny wiggled and swung his legs out of the bunk, rising to his feet with his hair wildly falling from its bun and his cotton lounge pants slung low on his hips, paired with an old cotton tee which was a bit too small and stretched tight across his chest. He tugged at the neckline uncomfortably, and gestured towards his bunk. “You get in first, Ace. I’m freaking out, remember? You trying to corner a wild animal?”

You laughed softly and gave his shoulder a gentle shove before ducking your head to crawl into the nest of pillows and duvet. His voice trailed behind you. “Would it be weird if I took this off? It’s fucking strangling me.”

You turned back to see him pulling the material of his shirt away from his body and willfully ignored the way your heart leapt to your throat at his request, but you had to admit your voice sounded a bit strained in your own ears when you choked out a lighthearted response. “Go for it,” you called out. “Half the world has already seen your tits, and I’m no exception.”

Turning your back to the wall, you kicked the covers to the foot of the mattress, knowing that, with the both of you squeezed in, there would be no need for them. Danny followed closely, pulling the curtain shut behind him and stealing one of the pillows beneath your head for himself. His pillow theft caused your hair to cascade into your face, and you blew at the strands with a giggle before he reached out to smooth it out of your eyes in apology.

Well fuck.

Goddamn Josh and his meddling had your thoughts in all the wrong places tonight, and Danny’s sweet gesture and bare midriff only made it worse. You shook away the flutters and let out a sigh of contentment, glancing around this tiny piece of the world that was only Danny’s. When you’d invited yourself in, you knew you’d inevitably be close physically but had failed to prepare yourself for the intimacy of being surrounded by the pine and soap scent of him that clung everywhere and all his little personal belongings that peppered the alcove shelves - the dogeared paperbacks, a journal and uncapped pens, some half empty packs of fruity-flavored vape pods that were illegal in most states but which he always managed to have a stash of — perks of being a world traveler, you supposed.

He was watching you taking it all in. You turned back to him and smiled. “Cozy,” you murmured, hushed voices feeling appropriate for the setting. It’s not like you had to speak up to be heard with his face inches from yours. Danny had been worried about feeling like a caged animal, and now you realized maybe you should have been the one concerned, but the realization came just a little too late.

Danny took his own quick glance around, apparently trying to see it through strange eyes. “Yeah, I guess you could say so, but it’s not home.” He sounded a bit wistful, but who could blame him? It had been a long tour.

“So…freak outs?” you asked in a leading tone. “Are you anxious about something in particular?”

Danny’s face grew thoughtful as he tried to put words to his feelings. “No, not really. I don’t know. Everything, I guess. And nothing.” Frustration laced his tone. “Shit, I just don’t know. I used to smoke a joint to clear my mind, but now it’s like…” His voice trailed off. You laid there and let the silence stretch, letting him sort things through mentally, not wanting to push him any further and stress him out. After a minute, he continued. “Now I just find myself way too aware of my own heartbeat and breathing and then sometimes it feels like I’m gonna fucking die.”

“That sounds like an anxiety attack,” you replied, all too familiar with the sensation.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, but don’t people get high to prevent anxiety attacks?”

You fought an amused grin, not wanting him to think you were laughing at him. “Yeah…but you don’t suppose layering nine bottles of craft beer and a shit ton of post-show adrenaline on top of the weed might distort the effects a little bit?”

“Ace! I did not drink nine beers!” he cried indignantly. “Who do I look like? Jake?!”

You cackled at that, but stood firm. “I assure you, it was nine.”

He pulled away slightly to get a better look at you, apparently trying to decide if you were yanking his chain or not. “You counted?”

You blushed at this, realizing you had shown your hand and revealed just how much you observed him moment to moment. You scrambled to cover. “Only so I could prepare myself for how much vomiting I’d have to tune out tonight.” But you made sure to lace your tone with affection, not judgment.

He laid back down, relaxing into the pillow. “Well that explains a lot.” He took another one of those deep inhales and held it, eventually letting it explode from his lungs in a noisy exhale.

You splayed a hand firmly on his bare chest. “Quit that. You’re going to hyperventilate or something.”

“See?!” he exclaimed, turning to you. “That’s what I’m talking about. Breathing is supposed to be involuntary, but when I get like this… it’s like I’m aware of every breath, and it makes me feel so weird.”

“Well,” you replied thoughtfully. “Stop thinking about your breathing. Focus on mine instead.”

Danny nodded once, and you tried to relax and breathe slowly and evenly, your hand still pressed to his chest. He raised one of his to cover yours and watched you carefully. Being watched like that made you a little self-conscious, so you closed your eyes and focused on the warmth and weight of his palm on your hand, the rise and fall of his firm chest soon falling into rhythm with yours. You didn’t mean to drift off, but you were hovering in that floaty space between sleep and wakefulness when his barely audible voice reached your ear, soft as a feather.

“Ace?”

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Your reply might not have even been intelligible at this point, but you tried. “Me, too.”

Present...

You were pulled from your ponderings by more of Danny’s senseless murmurings, the tickle of his breath against your ear causing a cascade of goosebumps to wash down your spine. You still couldn’t make out any words, but his tone was more urgent, and the continuous grind of his hips against your body more provocative. Being already physically overheated to an uncomfortable degree, the added flush of arousal had you on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

It was now or never. If you didn’t rouse him soon, you suspected he would wake up with the evidence of his nocturnal activities in his pants, and then there would be no saving him from embarrassment. You steeled yourself and began to pry your body away from his iron grip, an action his sleeping self did not approve of, a pitiful whine of protest creeping up his throat but trapped behind his teeth.

Mood.

You succeeded in gaining your freedom and used your hands to rearrange your clothing into some semblance of modesty as you rolled over to face him. As soon as you did, his octopus arms slunk back around to tug you close, his face tucking back into the curve of your neck, his parted lips pressing wetly there. (God help you.) His bottom arm snaked under and around your waist, and his palm slipped under the hem of your t-shirt to splay dangerously low on your back. With a shock, you felt his top hand slide down the outside of your thigh, hooking behind your knee to draw your leg up and over his hip, fingers coming to rest heavily on the swell of your ass, his clothed cock nestled low against your belly, rock hard and unmistakable.

He may be unconscious, but this man was still a fucking sadist.

In a blind panic, now, you hissed his name. “PSSST. Danny!” His features twitched at the sound of his own name, but his eyes didn’t open.

You tried again, just a little louder. “Danny, wake up.” Still nothing. So you raised your hand to his face, palm hovering in hesitation for a beat until he pressed into you again in another desperate grind. You gasped at the feeling of him between your legs - Jesus wept, you were both clothed; you shouldn’t be this undone - and delivered three very light slaps in rapid succession to his cheek as you hissed his name for the third time. “DANNY!”

The gentle impact of your hand on his cheek did the trick, and a soft snort of surprise rang out as his eyes fluttered open, still unseeing in the darkness he hadn’t yet adjusted to. “Hm? What?” His voice was gravelly and thick as honey with sleep. You heard Sammy stir above, apparently having come back to life at some point and dragged himself to bed.

“Shhh,” you whispered, watching his soul come back to his body, the fog clearing from his eyes as he blinked rapidly, trying to regain his bearings. You felt the exact moment when he realized your positions, every muscle in his body tensing all at once in shock.

He couldn’t easily pull away from you, what with the lack of space and complicated tangle he had created of your bodies, but he did his best, letting go of your ass cheek and snatching his hand back so hurriedly that he smacked his knuckles painfully on the bunk’s frame. His other arm was pinned beneath your weight, but you felt his fingers abruptly leave your skin like a child touching a hot stove, and he canted his hips back, putting what space he could between your pelvises — which wasn’t much since you hadn’t yet thought to let your leg fall from his hip.

“Shit, Ace, I-I’m sorry!” he whispered, his face a pale mask of mortification. He was too embarrassed to even blush. You couldn’t stand it.

Your hand was still resting on his cheek from when you had slapped him awake. You placed your pointer finger softly over his lips in a shushing motion, your eyes darting up at the quiet creak of Sammy rolling over, and Danny’s gaze followed yours. You moved your lips to his ear and breathed out your reassurances on a nearly silent exhale. “It’s okay. I’m not mad, please don’t be embarrassed.”

Danny shuddered at your breath in his ear, and you were reminded of what his had done to you just moments ago. You had only meant to reassure him, and it hadn’t occurred to you that your presence would affect him when he was conscious. But you also knew the remnants of the dream still had his hormones raging, so he couldn’t be blamed for being overly sensitive to touch right now. You used your hand to smooth his hair back in what you hoped was a comforting gesture.

He pulled back to search your face, his eyes fully adjusted now to the low lighting. His gaze was confused, questioning… heated.

Wait a minute.

You found yourself falling completely still, heart pounding against your ribs like it was trying to escape, trapped in this loaded staring contest, and you realized you were holding your breath. Danny must have seen something in your face, because his bruised hand hesitantly came back to you, hovering at your hip, your shoulder, and finally your face, never actually touching, but close enough for the heat of his palm to be felt on your cheek. Your eyes closed against your will as you released the shaky breath you had been holding, your head spinning.

“Ace?” he breathed, one whispered syllable holding a universe of inquiry.

Your eyes opened as his hand finally connected with your face, holding your cheek gently as the tips of his fingers slipped into the hair at your temple, and you involuntarily leaned into his touch slightly. You realized his gaze was transfixed on your lips, darting between them and your eyes in a hesitant, wanting way.

Wait a minute.

Was this… was he… did he want…

No way.

Your brain was scrambling to catch up, struggling to accept what was right in front of you, ecstatic and terrified. Terrified that crossing this line would mean something different to him than it did to you. What was it your grandma used to say? Never trust a man with a hardon.

This was not the time for grandma’s voice to be in your head.

“Ace?” he whispered again, bumping his forehead against yours, his lips so, so close to yours as they continued to form his nearly silent words. “Can I? Please?”

And then nobody’s voice was in your head. Your mind was filled with absolutely nothing but him as you threw away caution and gave the smallest nod of consent, so small as to be nearly imperceptible, but it was enough.

You heard his quick intake of breath at your acquiescence, and he wasted no time closing the gap between your mouths, his hand moving back a bit to slide his fingers more deeply into your hair and cradle the back of your head as he pulled you forward into his kiss.

This was it. This was how you were going to die. You wanted to suffocate in this man’s mouth and never recover.

It took all of your willpower not to make any noise as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and tugged gently with his teeth. This was the best kiss you had ever experienced. This was the best kiss anyone had ever experienced. He was consuming you in this slow slide of lips and teeth, and when his tongue slipped gently into your mouth, you wanted to fucking cry with the relief of getting something you never dared to hope for.

He tasted like the toothpaste he had used before making his escape to his bed — toothpaste and mango vape pods — and for a fleeting moment you worried he could taste the remnants of yours and Josh’s shared cigarette. But there was no room for self-consciousness as he enthusiastically deepened the kiss, gently sucking your tongue into his own mouth with a soft wet sound and replacing his hand on your lower back firmly. He used his other to tilt your head back, using his grip in your hair as an anchor, and pulling back for a quick breath before diving right back in for another taste of your mouth.

Your hands started wandering, mapping the planes of his chest, gently sweeping across the sparse hair there, ghosting across his nipples which caused him to jerk in surprise and break the kiss for a moment, eyes closed. He was trembling a bit.

Interesting.

You cradled his face in your hands, drinking in the sight of him. You didn’t know if this was the only time you’d get this side of him, and you needed to commit this to memory. His eyes opened, hazy with lust and, perhaps, a touch of residual intoxication or sleepiness. You guessed it was probably a mix of all three.

“Are you really awake?” you breathed, awestruck. This better not be some weird form of sleep-walking.

He gave you a soft, lopsided grin. “I think so,” he whispered back. “Are you a dream?”

You reached down and grabbed some skin at his stomach between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it somewhat harshly and causing him to jump and slap your hand away, jawline hardening as he swallowed the yelp you knew he almost cried out.

“Okay, okay!” he hissed. “I’m awake!” His eyes were twinkling with amusement and desire. You gasped as he moved the hand on your back even lower, barely slipping the tips of his fingers beneath your waistband, his thumb rubbing your skin. You wanted his hands everywhere.

Something inside you snapped then, and you finally took some initiative, slipping both hands into his thick curls, flexing your knee that was hooked around his hip, and using the strength of your calf to draw him tightly into the cage of your thighs. Before he could even react, you were kissing him, his mouth opening to you easily as you licked along his bottom lip, desperate to once again feel his tongue dancing with yours.

At this, he did finally slide his hand down the waistband of your shorts and squeezed a handful of your ass, his thumb sneaking under the hem of your panties in exploration. His hips rocked forward as he met your kiss with enthusiasm and your ears were graced with the tiniest little noise, a sound like he’d been punched in the gut and had the wind knocked out of him. You swallowed that tiny, dangerous noise like the finest wine and wished you were doing this somewhere, anywhere else. You would give anything to hear all the myriad of sweet sounds you knew he was pushing down right now.

His lips left yours, and he tipped your head back just a bit more before trailing close-mouthed kisses down your jaw and throat. To your shock, he gently sucked your earlobe between his teeth for a moment, swiping his tongue across before gently tugging it with his teeth and then releasing it to press hot French kisses down your neck. Your whole body jerked like you’d grabbed an electric fence, and you felt a smile in the kisses he was trailing down to your clavicle like pearls on a string.

He hesitated then. One quick nod of consent had given him the courage to kiss you, but you guessed he was unsure of his boundaries as he stared at the swell of your breasts under the thin tshirt, your hardened nipples clearly visible through the cotton. At some point he had pushed the hem of the shirt up past your navel, but had yet to fully expose you, and now you circled his wrist with your hand and dragged it from where it was still cradling your head. He submitted to your direction willingly, allowing you to drag his hand down your neck to your bare belly, then up — up under your shirt to cup your breast. You let go of his wrist to pull his face to you, and once again leaned in to whisper.

“Please,” you breathed into his ear, loving the way it made him tense up. “Please touch me, Danny.”

He blew a surprised sounding breath out of his nose, and his hand on your chest tightened, his thumb swiping firmly across your nipple, and you arched into it, trapping his dick even more firmly between your bodies which caused him to hiss an intake of air through his teeth. He pulled his hand back for a second, quickly wiggling it down between your bodies to readjust himself with a slightly pained look on his face. “Sorry,” you breathed and loosened your leg around his waist, but he released himself to grab your ass and pull you back.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Stay.”

You threw both arms over his shoulders and around his neck, which wasn’t an easy feat when you were laying on one of them. You drew him close to kiss some more, the soft hair on his chest tickling your skin. His hands were everywhere, just like you’d wanted, and before you knew it, you’d somehow managed to work your shorts down your legs and kick them down with the blankets.

His fingers were tucked into the front waistband of your panties when he spoke again, his whispers halting and unsure. “How far?” he breathed. “We don’t- I mean, I want— it’s okay if…”

His stuttering was cut off by a choking sound as you dragged one hand down his chest, your nails scraping lightly along his abdomen, and you smoothly slid your hand down the loose pants to wrap your palm firmly around his cock.

“I want it, too,” you whispered back. “So bad.” His jaw clenched as you gave him an experimental stroke, and you watched starry-eyed as his head tipped back and his chest heaved. The light of a passing truck caught on the beads of sweat that decorated his throat, and you couldn’t help tipping your face up to kiss it, giving his Adam’s apple an experimental lick and feeling it jump under your tongue as his cock pulsed in your hand and he fought to stay quiet.

To your delight, he finally pushed your panties to the side to do some blind exploration of his own, and when the pad of his thumb found your clit, you actually bumped your head against the wall with how suddenly and intensely your body jerked beneath his fingers.

“Fuuuck…” he whispered, his thumb slipping slick and frictionless against you. He started rubbing a somewhat firm circular motion against your clit, and you had to physically clap a hand over your mouth to stop from waking the bus. He grinned at this, a little feral looking, and you were reminded of his earlier joke.

“You trying to trap a wild animal?”

You wanted to say something clever, but you absolutely couldn’t. You didn’t trust yourself to open your mouth and not start spilling moans into the silent bus, announcing these illicit activities to the whole family.

Never letting up on the steady movement of his thumb, he lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it. “You’re gonna come.” It was a statement of inevitability— a solemn promise. It wasn’t a question. And he was goddamned right. You were going to come, and probably sooner than he even realized.

You nodded your head furiously. “Mhm,” you squeaked against your own palm, feeling the orgasm already starting to sprout deep inside you like the shoot of a new spring flower popping from the soil to stretch towards the sun. You squeezed your eyes shut against all other stimulation, trying to turn inward to help yourself be silent, but Danny wasn’t having it. He grabbed your chin and turned your face to him, crushing his lips to yours when your eyes flew open, never letting his thumb go still as you trembled and shook beneath his ministrations.

It was rushing at you like a freight train now, and you had a fleeting moment of regret that he wasn’t inside you already to feel what he was about to do to you, but then any negative emotion disappeared in a flash as the flower inside bloomed, died, and blew away on the breeze, wave after wave of euphoria peaking as your body clenched and relaxed.

To his credit, you didn’t have to announce your arrival. Even through your utter silence, he read you like a book, the expressions on your face, the clenching and shaking of your thighs, the heaving of your chest and your iron grip in his hair were all he needed to know that he had succeeded. He lessened the pressure of his thumb and slowed his movements as you rode out the last of your pleasure until, finally, you grabbed his wrist to stop him altogether, the sensations too intense to be pleasurable anymore.

He kissed you again, softer this time, sweeter, pulling back just enough to make space for his whispers. “Fuck, I wanna feel that,” he murmured breathily, then lowered his volume when he realized he’d forgotten himself. “Do you think you can do it again? With me inside?”

You colored and glanced around, listening for any sign the guys might have heard that. Holy fuck. This was happening. You brought your eyes back to his expectant gaze and nodded.

There wasn’t much space to work with, and your options were limited, but Danny seemed to have ideas in mind, gently rolling you to face away from him and crowding you into the wall with his body. You looked back over your shoulder to see him hooking a thumb into the waistband of his pants and pushing one side down his hip.

You wished you had a better vantage point to actually see his cock rather than a vague shadow of it as he slipped his pants low enough to reveal it. He didn’t bother getting fully undressed, probably due to the fumbling and flailing it would inevitably require — not to mention the logistical nightmare you’d both face when it came time to figure out how to redress without leaving the bunk naked and risking awkward encounters.

He wiggled up behind you, big spoon style, sliding his knee between yours and grasping your calf. He bent your knee and pulled your calf back to rest on his bare hip, and then slid his hand into your panties to lightly scratch his nails through your trimmed patch of pubic hair, one finger running gently up the crease of your lips, but not parting them to seek that oversensitive place inside.

It suddenly occurred to you to feel self-conscious about not being hairless there, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he nibbled delicately at your jaw and then whispered directly into your ear. “Is it okay to touch you yet?”

You honestly weren’t sure, and he picked up on your hesitation immediately, withdrawing his hand and moving to your breasts instead, yanking your shirt back up and thumbing at your nipples in much the same way he had worked your clit earlier. His mouth couldn’t get enough of you, kissing and nibbling anywhere he could reach, and it wasn’t long until you laced your fingers through his and dragged his hand back down.

This time, he pulled your panties to the side, swiping two fingers down to your entrance to gather the arousal pooling there and transferring it to your clit before, ever so softly, giving you a slow, experimental circle of his fingers. You took a sudden breath through your nose at the intensity of that careful movement, leaning your head back against his shoulder and pressing your cheek to his as you grit your teeth against the onslaught.

He backed off once more, simply cupping your sex as he extended his neck —mouth seeking yours — and you craned back an inch more to meet his kiss, rolling your hips to grind against the heel of his hand. Now, that was nice.

He rocked his hand along with your movements, and before long you were turning your head and pressing your lips to his ear and begging for his fingers. “Inside,” you pleaded with him as quietly as you could. “Please — I need…”

You heard his breathing stutter at the request, a shaky exhale revealing his excitement as he bent the arm you were laying on and placed his hand just below your neck, pressing at your collarbones to keep you still and tight against him while his busy hand roamed lower, his fingers gently prodding your most intimate place until he found his target and slipped his pointer finger inside.

The angle couldn’t have been more perfect as his fingers naturally curled in the direction of your navel, and when he added a second finger, you nearly broke his nose as your head snapped back, but he was quick enough to dodge it, tucking said nose behind your ear to nuzzle at the pulse point behind your jaw, and smiling against your skin at the full body shudder he elicited.

He pulled his fingers from you now, and hooked them into the gusset of your panties, jerking them further to one side. Pressing your top knee a little further back behind him, he took hold of himself, pressing his hips forward as he ran the blunt head of his cock from your entrance to your clit a few times, getting the lay of the land on feel alone, since he couldn’t see.

You shifted and arched your back ever so slightly, pressing your ass tighter against his lower belly. As the angle changed imperceptibly, his cock caught on his target, and you both froze for a moment.

“Okay?” he whispered hopefully.

“Please, Danny.”

That was all it took. He pushed inside slowly, your body engulfing him, a delicious sting causing you to suck in a breath. He wasn’t massive, just on the larger side of average, but Troy had been… less than blessed. And it had been a long time for you, so the stretch felt intense and overwhelming.

To your disappointment, he stopped when he heard your soft gasp of surprise, hips stilling while he was only halfway in, presumably allowing you time to adjust. You were having none of it; you’d waited long enough, so you wiggled and sank back the rest of the way, pushing past the discomfort and taking him to the hilt in one movement.

With a startled jump, he dropped his mouth to the juncture of your shoulder and neck, sinking his teeth into the muscle there — effectively gagging himself on your body — but you could still feel his muffled moan vibrating against your skin. He hadn’t been ready for that. You had the presence of mind to wonder for a moment if the brief pause of his hips had really been for your sake at all.

You fought the overwhelming urge to move, not ready for this to be over before it began. But you couldn’t control the way you clenched spastically around him as your body adjusted to his intrusion — even less so as the exquisite pain of his bite mixed confusingly with the pleasure which threatened to overwhelm your senses.

You reached a hand up and behind you to stroke his face with your palm, and he leaned into your touch like a contented house cat, releasing your skin from his teeth to take a shaking breath. His dark curls tumbled over your shoulder as he tucked his chin down to place an apologetic kiss over the flesh he’d just abused. His free hand reached up to lace his fingers between yours, and he pressed his cheek harder into your hand as he finally started to move.

His hips fell into an easy, rolling rhythm — a push and pull that never caused your bodies to separate much but succeeded in driving him a tiny bit deeper and caused his cock to drag along that spot inside that made your legs shake and your heart accelerate. You couldn’t move much, sandwiched as you were between the wall of the bus and his undulating body, but this tight, controlled grind was more than enough for now. You were pretty sure he’d been on the edge for a while now, even as little as he’d been directly touched, and while you were eager to see what he looked like coming undone, you weren’t ready for this to be a memory yet.

His fingers tightened between yours and he dragged your entwined hands down your body — down to where you were taking him so slickly. Pulling his hand from your grip, he swapped their orientations, lacing them together again, but with your hand now over his instead of under. As he drew his pointer up to circle your clit, he murmured into your ear, “Stop me if you need. Or, show me what you need.”

You nodded your agreement eagerly, doubting you’d have to stop him now. The excruciating oversensitivity had passed. His touch started feather light and slow, but as you used what tentative leverage you had to add your own rhythmic movement to the steady roll of his hips, he deepened the pressure on your clit and quickened the pace of both his fingers and his pelvis.

The increasing intensity had you reeling, your chest heaving as you panted and bit back moans. He felt so fucking good, and you loved everything about being this close to him.

Well. Everything except for the fact that you couldn’t see him. You wanted to watch the pleasure dancing across his features instead of imagining it the way you were now.

Your hand squeezed his, stopping his onslaught reluctantly, and he slowed the strokes of his cock inside you slightly, turning his lips to your ear and placing a kiss to your temple. “Too much?” he breathed, and you shook your head quickly.

“I need to see you,” you whispered breathily, and you felt his nod of compliance against your shoulder before he withdrew from you with a hiss and backed off a few inches to allow you to turn over to face him. He started to reach for you, but you placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him flat, his already dilated pupils nearly swallowing his irises at your manhandling.

Also interesting.

There was a quiet clicking sound as his shoulder disturbed the curtain and the rings jingled against each other, his body positioned precariously close to the edge now. The bottom of Sam’s bunk was low, so you had to duck when you slid a leg over him to straddle his thighs in almost a lying position atop him, and you pressed your chests together as his hands came up to cradle your head and kiss your lips. You used a knee to nudge him to the center of the bed, being careful not to bump your head as he wiggled the both of you sideways. When you were settled, you began peppering kisses over his cheeks and down his neck. You opened your mouth as you reached his chest and sucked his nipple into your mouth, biting very gently and smiling into his skin at the way it made his hips jump off the bed.

You scooted yourself further down until his cock was at eye level, lying painfully hard against his stomach, wet and crowned with a single pearlescent bead of precum at the tip. You gingerly extended a finger to gather it, and his dick bobbed even at that tiny scrap of contact, drawing a gasp out of him as his abdomen flexed. At the sound of his gasp, you raised your gaze to his face, peering at him from under your lashes, and wrapped a hand around his cock to steady it as you wet your parted, kiss-swollen lips.

But he suddenly grasped a handful of your hair and pulled, not allowing your descent. You tried not to pout; he’d been so compliant to your every hesitation, but your mouth was watering for him, and you felt the denial keenly.

“No,” he gasped out desperately, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged again, and your body followed your head as he roughly pulled you up to bring the two of you face to face once again. You tried not to show how chastised you felt, but your sudden inability to maintain eye contact was a dead giveaway.

His hand quickly loosened its grip, and he soothed your scalp with his fingers. “Did I hurt you, honey?”

His whispered inquiry sounded anxious, and you were quick to shake your head, softly pressing your lips to his as proof you weren’t upset. You sucked his bottom lip between yours to lick gently across its plush fullness, made fuller by abuse it had endured in the course of the evening. “Did I do something wrong?” You whispered back, and his immediate baffled expression warranted clarification. “I mean… do you not want… you don’t like…”

His eyes lit with understanding and a grin crept across his face as his thumbs hooked into the sides of your panties and he started to slide them down your legs. “I like…” he breathed out quietly. “I’d like it too much. I want…” There was no need for him to articulate the rest of his sentence as he sank his fingers back into you without warning, causing you to shudder above him and curl in on yourself, pressing your forehead to his.

You kicked one foot out of your panties leaving them dangling off the other ankle and reaching for his dick as he removed his fingers and used his hands to once again pull your shirt up over your tits. As you leaned forward to line him up with your entrance, it brought your chest to face level for him, and he wasted no time attaching his lips to your nipple and laving it with his tongue in a way that made sparkles shoot across your vision — sparkles that turned into a full-on light show as you sank down onto his cock.

The sensation was completely different without the obstacle your ass had presented when fucking from behind. You felt so full as the head of his cock discovered the limits of your physical depths and bumped against a hidden endpoint — sensitive, but just on the right side of that thin line between pain and pleasure. You peered down at him below you and nearly came at the sight of him, his jaw clenched tightly to reveal a flash of his white teeth, eyes squeezed shut, and the tendon of his neck standing out visibly as he turned his head to nuzzle into the pillow beneath his head as if searching for something to bite down on.

You brought your thumb to his mouth, pressing it against that tempting bottom lip and dragging it down, and his eyes flew open as he sucked it into his mouth to cradle it in the dip of his tongue, tasting your fingerprint like a piece of hard candy. Your lungs started to burn, and you realized you were holding your breath, so you blew a steady exhale and started to move.

Your thumb dropped from his mouth as his lips fell open around the silent moan he managed to keep inside his chest. He panted instead, overcome by the feeling of you sliding forward and back in another one of the tightly controlled grinding motions that this limited space required. You rolled your hips as best you could without actually bouncing and braining yourself on the underside of Sam’s bed. Although, at this point, you figured that would be a hell of a way to go.

His arms snaked up under yours, and he grasped at your shoulder blades to pull you close for yet another heated kiss, his hips snapping up to meet your own grinding thrusts. He wasn’t silent anymore; a few quiet, involuntary grunts escaped his throat from time to time as your combined pace picked up, and the fire in your belly started to flare again.

You fumbled awkwardly, trying to reach your pussy around the obstacle his arm presented, and he removed his hand from your shoulder blade to rub the knuckle of his forefinger against your clit, your fingernails painting angry crescents onto his bicep as he dragged you closer to another orgasm with his efforts.

His eyes were round and luminous as he observed you, and you stared back, the deepest eye contact you’d ever experienced. A whole dictionary of unspoken words ran between you like ticker tape, but you couldn’t quite decipher them. You knew what you’d like this gaze to mean but were scared to hope you were truly on the same page. The insecurity forced you to break the staring contest first, not caring if it was cowardice, and you threw your hair back as you rode him, staring up at the ceiling instead.

You knew this was going to end soon, and, to your horror, the thought of never having this again had a lump rising in your throat. Of course he wanted to fuck you. What man wouldn’t bury himself in the closest warm body given the opportunity, especially when it threw itself at him while he was in the throes of an intense wet dream?

To your frustration, the snapping of Danny’s hips had slowed to almost nothing, and you glanced down at him sharply, only to find him giving you that same intense eye contact, except now it was laced with confusion and concern.

“Where did you go?” he asked on a soft exhale, the words shaking with the force of your hips as you continued to rock on him.

You didn’t reply right away. How could you?

Instead you responded to his question in the form of another. “What were you dreaming about?” you panted softly, thighs starting to quiver and burn with your efforts.

You saw his jaw clench again as your question brought the memory of the dream back to his mind. He closed his eyes a second, like a slow blink, and his already red cheeks deepened a shade as his Adam’s apple bobbed and the answer formed on his lips.

“This.” he hissed slowly, his hips starting to mindlessly rock up into you once again as he threw his head back. “Exactly this.”

You weren’t sure you wanted him to answer honestly when you hesitantly probed further. “With me?” you asked in a searching whisper.

His hips stuttered, and he lowered his eyes bashfully. For a minute you thought he wasn’t going to answer, and your heart sank at the possibility that he was about to let you down easily or, more likely, evade the question to spare your feelings. But then the fingers of his free hand dug painfully into your thigh, and he replied on a broken exhale that was more like a sob. “Yes… always.” And his eyes were uncertain as they searched your face, awaiting your reaction.

Josh was right. You were both so stupid.

All of a sudden, everything you had been denying all these years came into blinding focus. The things you had been too afraid to believe became suddenly so obvious, it made you want to laugh, but this would be the worst possible timing for that.

You realized he was terrified.

He was wearing his terror across his features like flashing neon, and all your fear of rejection was suddenly reflected back at you on his face like a funhouse mirror.

You felt the corners of your mouth tipping up in your joy, and he seemed to take comfort in this reaction, the insecurity in his eyes dissipating as you leaned down to press your chests together and brought your lips to the shell of his ear. You’d simply die if your next words were overheard, so your whispers were nearly inaudible as you made your confession, but the stillness of his body and the thrumming tension in his fingers told you he was listening intently.

“That’s okay, baby,” you breathed. “I think of you when I’m awake.”

At this his hips surged, and it wasn’t quite a whisper when he softly whined, “Really?”

You nodded against his cheek, screwing up the courage to continue your confession. “Shhh,” you hushed him. His trembling fingers had never left their place on your clit, and he started to rub a little faster now, channeling the suspense and nervous energy of the moment into his rhythm against you. “Yeah,” you breathed desperately into his ear. “This morning… in the shower… I imagined you, and I came so hard that—

Your babbling was cut off by a bonafide whimper sneaking past Danny’s lips, but he cut it off quickly. The little sound rang straight to your core, your pussy clamping around him in a spasm as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of free fall, his cock filling you so perfectly and bumping up against that exquisite place inside as his fingers drove you closer to the precipice. “Oh god,” you sighed into his ear, a carnal prayer. “Please don’t stop, I’m gonna come now…”

Just as you stepped off the metaphorical ledge and surrendered to your pleasure, you were suddenly jerked back to reality with jolt of surprise as Danny let forth a full volume yelp of your name that any innocent bystander could easily have mistaken as a cry of pain. You had the presence of mind to slap a hand over his mouth, pinning his head to the bed as his muffled cry trailed off into a guttural moan against your palm — still distinctly audible, even with you muzzling him. His hips had driven deeply into you and stalled, raising the both of you slightly off the mattress as he jerked once.. twice… three times… spilling hot jets of his release inside you as the shockingly intense waves of your orgasm milked him dry.

You managed to stay silent through it all, frozen in shock at his outburst, every muscle vibrating with adrenaline at the thought of being caught. His eyes were huge and round above your hand as you both held your breath, eyes locked and ears listening intently like prey animals in danger. After a few moments, the silence was broken by Danny succumbing to the need for air, his exhale bursting through his nose like a winded racehorse. He gave you a slight nod. It seemed the coast was clear, so you finally removed your hand from his mouth to allow him to catch his breath

He gathered you into his arms, embracing you tightly and pulling you to his chest to tuck your head beneath his chin, rubbing slow circles into your spine with the flat of his palm. You laid there boneless, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest and trying not to start wondering how this would all work out in the harsh light of day. For now, you just wanted to be held, and he seemed more than willing to do so.

“Finally.”

The both of you startled, Danny’s elbow smacking against the bunk frame as he jumped a mile at the sound of Josh’s voice cutting through the darkness.

“You know,” Josh continued, “This just proves what absolute bullshit it is that I get called the loud one in this band.”

Your face was flaming, and you wanted to melt into the floorboards and cease to exist. Danny looked sheepish and quite pink himself, his features arranged in an expression of guilt and embarrassment. Neither of you seemed to know how to respond, so you didn’t.

“Josh, shut the fuck up,” Sam snapped from above you, his voice heavy with the gravel of his hangover and muffled — like his face was buried in a pillow. “Why couldn’t you just stick your fingers in your ears like a normal, decent person, you little creeper?”

Josh snorted. “Like that would have drowned it out,” he retorted, and Danny rolled his eyes at that, probably realizing that he was never going to live this down.

“Enough commentary,” Danny finally said, “Worry about your own sex life.”

“I’d love to,” Josh clapped back. “If only I weren’t too busy listening to you two cry about each other for the past decade.”

Danny turned back to you now. “I did not cry,” he protested hotly, his face now just as red as yours. You patted his cheek with your hand as you hid your face in his sternum and contemplated jumping out of the moving vehicle.

“He’s a goddamn liar, Y/N.”

This time the snort came from Sammy. Asshole.

“Okay, enough,” Danny demanded firmly. His arms tightened protectively around you as he spoke. “We’re sorry for waking you. You have no idea how sorry, actually,” he grumbled petulantly.

You heard Sam and Josh shuffling and rolling over in their bunks as they snickered and murmured their good nights, and finally you raised your head from Danny’s chest to meet his eyes, your chin propped on your hand. “You okay?” he asked you softly.

You shrugged noncommittally before responding. “We are never doing that again.”

You immediately regretted your words as Danny recoiled from your announcement with the most wounded look you’d ever seen him wear. “No, no, no!” you exclaimed, reaching for him. “I mean not here! We need privacy.”

Relief washed over his face at your clarification, and he surged forward to kiss you, sweet and full of promise. You broke the kiss with a sly grin, pulling back a fraction of an inch. “I didn’t know you were such a screamer,” you murmured against his mouth.

“Me either,” he replied amusedly. “But don’t exaggerate. I didn’t actually scream.”

“Danny. You woke the whole bus.”

“Not the whole bus,” he argued. “Jake sleeps like the dead.”

A flat, unimpressed voice rang out. “Keep telling yourself that, you fucking banshee.”

Jake’s interjection sparked uproarious peals of laughter from all directions. You groaned and rolled off Danny, flopping beside him with a huff of irritation at being their entertainment for the evening.

There was a genuinely perturbed edge to his voice now as Danny shouted above the cacophony. “GUYS!” he bellowed, his voice a half a step deeper than his normal conversational tone. “Enough! You’re embarrassing Y/N. Like actually embarrassing. Go the fuck to sleep.”

The Kiszkas all fell abruptly silent in unison at this rare show of authoritativeness from Danny, and, to your shock, even offered a few murmured words of apology as everyone settled and chattered their good nights yet again. Danny rolled back to face you, reaching to draw you into another embrace, and you submitted willingly. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening as all the guys’ breathing slowed, one by one. When a few soft snores started to ring out occasionally from the various bunks, you started to think the coast may be clear enough to sneak out to your suitcase for clean panties and a stop at the bathroom.

Just as you were about to sneak away, Josh spoke up hesitantly.

“Danny?” His voice was small.

Danny gave a long-suffering sigh. “WHAT, Josh?”

“You aren’t coming for my job, are you?”

All the progress the five of you had made towards peace was entirely undone, hysterical cackles ringing out from all directions — including yours.

Danny’s head spun towards you slowly like something out of The Exorcist, his face awash with betrayal, and that only made you laugh harder, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. He finally cracked a wide grin and lunged at you, pinning your shoulders to the bed as he hovered over you, lowering his face to yours and kissing the giggles right out of your mouth. He pulled back a fraction, taking in your mirth-filled face, the cascade of his hair casting a curtain around you both.

“Keep laughing, Ace.” He was using that same authoritative voice that had worked so well on the Kiszkas. You realized that, maybe, it was going to work even better on you. “Go ahead and laugh now. Cause when I get you alone in some place bigger than a coffin…” his eyes fluttered closed like he was tasting something delicious, then he opened them, and your heart began to race at the absolutely profane way he grinned down at you. “Oh honey,” he continued, “We’ll just see who the screamer is then.”

#greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #greta van fleet #danny wagner #greta van fleet smut #gvf smut

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dxmoness · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝑴𝒀 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 | 𝐄. 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬

𝑵𝐎𝐓𝐄 ~ Eros confessing?? You wish <3

𝑪𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝑾𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ~ poisoning, curses, murder! You've been warned, if not comfortable feel free to skip this!

The three nobles now sat across from each other with two on one side and one on the other.

Eros Vasilios sat there as comfortable as he could possibly be. Satisfying his thirst as he drank the tea slowly, eyeing the other two seated before him.

Medea looked tense whilst Dekis looked as if he had not been sleeping for weeks. They act as if they had not been anticipating his visit. Surely now Medea would have realized his obsession with the princess who resided in these chambers. His eyes shifted from one sibling to another as he continued on with his drinking.

The room was ruled by silence. No one talked nor did they give gestures to one another. Silence grew so loud that Dekis felt uncomfortable being in the sight of the prince.

Finally, Eros put down the now empty cup. "Well then, how has the princess been faring?" His fingers folding together, he stared directly at the window away from them. This indicated that he was waiting for an answer as the ex-heir of the Solons murmured the response. "She's faring quite well, Your Highness." Dekis shot a glance towards Medea who gave a nod of confirmation.

His fingers gripped each other to the point that it hurt as he tried his absolute hardest to keep calm. "I see. As she should be, after all one small mistake could cause an entire war to be upon us, no?"

"I suppose so." Medea said with no interest in making her voice sound polite. "What is the purpose of your continuous visits, Your Highness? Must you always come by every week to ask continuously of the princess's welfare?"

"My, it seems someone is more annoyed than the person I'm looking for." Eros chuckled, wry amusement taking the wheel. "I am here only to wonder what she has been doing due to suspicions that she might not be treated as well as she says so." Unfolding his hands, his fingers gripped the chair's in impatience. "I also can't help, but realize that every time I visit, the princess seems out of bounds." His eyes flicked towards the duchess who stiffened. "I assume this is your doing, Lady Medea?"

Her hesitation was noted as she firmly stood her ground. "Yes it is my intention. During the ball weeks ago I have come to a realization that she may not exactly feel comfortable with you therefore we move her away every time you come."

Eros frowned. Not comfortable! He'd dare to laugh, but the truth may lie right in those words. Was Name really uncomfortable with him? Pondering onto this thought, he fell in a deep thought of whether or not this could be the case.

While he did so, Medea triumphantly knew she hit the right button when it came to the sudden outburst. Her eyes met her brother's as they both felt the satisfaction of their course of action.

This victory would only be short-lived as the next noise was not from this room.

Eros jerked up at the sound of a loud thump upstairs. What was that? Judging by the faces of the Solons, they were wondering the same thing.

Dekis stood up as he eyed his sister, worry written on his face. The noise had come from directly above them where the princess's chambers were located. This would mean one thing. Something must've happened to the princess. "Please excuse me a moment, Your Highness." Dekis murmured, bowing as he left onward.

Eros looked towards the duchess. His look was cutting and questioning. Medea just seemed as if she could not contemplate the matter at hand.

Seconds pass by as the silence loomed. They both awaited Dekis's return. As for Eros, he felt as if he already knew what was going to be said next. "The princess has been injured, has she not?" Eros spoke with no trace of emotion in his voice thus breaking the silence.

"We aren't sure of that yet." Medea replied, those purple eyes fixating on those venomous ones. After some afterthought she added in. "Also why do you care? Should you not have more troubling matters at hand? Leave this to the hosts."

Eros's hand clenched the arm of the chair once more as he continued to fight the war within. Debating whether or not to suddenly lash out, he found himself choosing the latter. Lashing out would lead to troubling circumstances. Something he did not want or need to have at the moment.

A slam of the door caused both to look towards them. Eyes shifting towards the figure by the door. Dekis Solon had returned and it seemed he was not bringing good news. "Name.. she's.." Eros frowned at this. 'Name'? When had the two gotten so close that he of all people was allowed to call her by her first name? Especially without title at that.

Medea's face paled with realization. "She's what?"

Eros braced himself for what he waited for, but was lashed with a bigger problem.

"Gone."

Words could not describe how much that hit him. That word came with a paroxysm of rage. "What do you mean gone?" Eros responded with his eyes flicking with rage.

"She's not in her room and not anywhere in the estate grounds." Those words brought worry to Eros. In fact, blaming those damnable guards for not taking her back then and leaving her now.

"So much for a 'great' stay." Eros said, venom lacing his voice as he stared at Medea who regarded him with the same kind of venomous gaze. "Show me." An order came from his lips that he had tried to contain. This caused the older male to look at his sister once more who nodded in defeat. Last thing they needed was a bloodbath from the prince.

Entering the princess's chambers they found a mess. As if someone was trying to rummage through her things and find something or anything at all that could be a blackmail.

Another thing that was noted was the shattered tea cup that now lied on the floor. Then it hit Eros almost immediately. On his way to the dining room where they had been staying before the incident started, he had noticed a maid carrying what seemed to be a giant bundle. Big enough to be a human.

tagging, @roseadleyn , @d10nsaint , @that-one-pretty-bitch , @sidra-29

#manhwa x reader #self insert #manhwa #eros orna vasilios #eros x reader #eros supremacy #eros vasilios x reader #eros vasilios #your throne x reader #your throne #y/n #medea beliard #medea solon #dekis solon #your throne dekis #your throne eros #★ — obsession series.

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hb-writes · 9 months

Text

Best Case Scenario

Summary: Harvey discovers a bit of pot in the backseat of Ray's car and is on a mission to figure out who it belongs to—his wayward sister or his wayward associate?

Characters: Harvey Specter, Mike Ross, Donna Paulsen, Jessica Pearson, and Charlie Specter.

Request (from 💜 anon): Hello! For June requests how about, “I swear it’s the truth!” & “You have no idea what this is?” For The Punisher or Suits, you choose, pretty please 💜

Content Warnings: Talk about marijuana.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

Please take a moment to tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

Charlie watched her brother’s hand and the discreet little baggie held out between his fingers. Harvey had said nothing, the baggie in itself a question, and he focused on watching Charlie’s reaction, cataloging every piece of evidence that might indicate his sister’s guilt.

There was plenty of evidence already, and Harvey hadn’t even started questioning her. Though Charlie would swear it was the loudest thing she’d ever heard, Harvey couldn’t hear the nervous thumping of his sister’s heart. He couldn’t sense the heavy weight sinking in her stomach, but Harvey did note the lump that bobbed in her throat as she prepared herself to speak.

“Harvey, that’s not…I don’t know—”

Harvey let out a small laugh, swinging the baggie around once in his hand. “You have no idea what this is?”

“No…well…I…” Charlie stumbled over the words. Of course, she knew what it was. She had seen marijuana before. She had never tried it, but she had been around enough people who had. “I mean…yes, I know what it is, but it’s not mine.”

“Alright.” Harvey nodded his head as if he was truly considering it. “Whose is it then?”

“How should I know?” She shot back. “You’re the one holding it. Why assume it’s mine?”

Harvey considered his answer, still not quite certain whether or not he believed her. It was the truth—He was the one holding the bag, but the weed certainly wasn’t Harvey’s.

Ray had given it to him after finding it wedged between cushions in the back seat. And Ray transported a very select group of passengers, so there were only so many viable options. He figured he’d start with his sister. Even if the drugs didn’t belong to Charlie, it was rather convenient that it showed up in the backseat of Ray’s car on the same day Charlie and her friends had used the car to go downtown after school.

Harvey wasn’t stupid. He figured exploration of that sort of thing was likely inevitable at a certain point, but he hoped the conversation alone might scare her off that sort of thing for a bit longer. Worst case, the marijuana was hers. Best case, it wasn’t and they’d have a nice reinforcing conversation about his expectations.

“I’m holding it because Ray found it in the backseat of his car. You sticking with your story, Charlotte? You still don’t know where this came from?”

She cringed at her full name, taking a deep breath before answering. “Yes, Harvey. I swear it’s the truth.” Charlie willed herself to keep her composure as she delivered a set of words that were possibly, not exactly the full truth. “I don’t have a single clue where it came from.”

It wasn’t easy lying to Harvey, even when it was only a half-lie. The drugs weren’t hers—that much was true—but she may have possibly had a slight inkling of who they could have maybe, possibly belonged to and how they may have ended up in Ray’s car…but she wasn’t about to throw one of her friends under the proverbial bus Harvey was driving.

“Right,” Harvey began, ready to pivot the conversation a bit, ready to push a bit harder, but Charlie pulled her eyes from her brother, the little baggie still in hand, as Mike entered the room, stopping a few steps away from them.

“Bad time?” Mike asked, rocking on his back foot, part of him wondering why exactly Donna had allowed him to go in if Harvey was in the middle of a lecture.

Harvey took a long moment to consider his associate, taking in his appearance—his clothes, his hair, his eyes. Charlie watched the look that passed between them, deciding it was best to keep quiet.

“Not at all. Why don’t you take a seat, Michael?”

Mike snorted, but slipped into the seat beside Charlie. “Michael?”

“Yeah,” Harvey confirmed. “Charlotte was just telling me she doesn’t know where this—” Harvey tossed the baggie at Mike, who caught it on top of the paperwork he’d come in with “—came from. What about you?”

“It’s not mine,” Mike said, reflexively, almost as if he’d been on the receiving end of this conversation many times before. He tossed the bag back on Harvey’s desk. “Look, Harvey…I swear, it’s not—” Mike glanced at Charlie as he fumbled for more words. “—I’m done with that stuff. I—”

“That’s what I thought,” Harvey interrupted. “I thought you told me you were done with all this stuff and we’d agreed that if you didn’t clean up, I’d fire your ass.”

Charlie took a deep breath. It went unnoticed as the tense moment between Harvey and Mike held, Harvey continuing to lecture his associate. Charlie cleared her throat and spoke out, but the declaration was barely audible over Harvey’s continued barrage of Mike.

“What?” Harvey and Mike asked at the same time, both of them turning towards her.

“It’s mine,” Charlie repeated, her gaze directed down at her lap as she straightened her hands out over her thighs.

“Really?”

Charlie nodded, still keeping her head down. Some part of her knew that it was better for Harvey to think it was hers than Mike’s. Worst case scenario, she’d end up grounded, but Mike could lose his job over this. That was something Charlie wasn’t ready to have on her conscience…especially if there was a chance it had been one of her friends leaving it behind in Ray's car.

Mike needed this job more than Charlie needed freedom and her brother’s good graces. Mike had bills…his grandmother’s nursing home payments. It was not even a question in her mind.

“You’re telling me all the sudden not only do you know who it belongs to, but it’s yours?”

Charlie nodded again.

“Look at me, Charlotte,” Harvey said, and after a few seconds of delay he added, “Right now.”

Charlie lifted her head. “Harvey, I swear. It’s—”

“No, it’s—” Mike interrupted, only to be cut off by Harvey.

“If you’re about to tell me she’s covering for and it’s yours, I—”

All three of them turned towards the door as Donna pushed it open, leaning inside. “Jessica’s on her way to speak with you,” she offered. “And in case you’ve forgotten, this wall is made of windows and you’re waving that baggie around like it’s Woodstock.”

Harvey rolled his eyes before pocketing the baggie. He turned to his sister and his associate. “Both of you, out,” Harvey said, pleased when they both stood up and moved towards the door. “Mike, get back to work. Donna, please take Charlotte’s phone and set her up with the most boring administrative—”

Charlie spun back towards her brother and opened her mouth to complain. If anything, she planned to follow Mike back to the bullpen and sort this out before they were called back in to finish the conversation. Harvey cut her short as he stood up, buttoning his jacket.

“You really want to argue with me right now? You’re lucky admin work and a confiscated cell phone is all you’re getting.”

Charlie quickly shut her mouth, slipping out the door just as Jessica arrived. She muttered a quiet hello, avoiding eye contact as she took up her spot beside Mike just outside the door.

Donna eyed the pair of them. They were trying to have some sort of communication, to gain some sort of clarity about everything that had just happened without actually speaking.

“I believe he said you can get back to work, Michael,” Donna said after a moment, nodding toward the bullpen. “And, little chick, you can follow me.”

Mike and Charlie reluctantly separated as he headed back to his work. Donna smirked to herself as she led Charlie down the hall towards one of the file rooms. She almost felt a bit of pity for the little idiots. Mike and Charlie thought they were covering for each other—Harvey thought that, too…

Harvey was a great lawyer. He generally knew how to read people, but he wasn’t Donna. He had blindspots, so he would never suspect who the pot really belonged to, the only other person who had ridden in Ray’s car this afternoon.

Harvey would never suspect that Jessica hadn’t actually shown up in his office to get an update on the case.

Jessica was managing partner.

Harvey’s mentor.

Practically family.

So he would never suspect that Jessica wasn’t genuinely curious as to what trouble his sister was up to now either. After all, Jessica had always shown a special interest in his little sister and her progress, invested in her in a similar way that she’d been invested in Harvey and his future.

He would never suspect anything was off when Jessica confiscated the baggie and suggested he let Jessica handle it. Charlie looked up to the woman. Her words held a different weight.

It was the best case scenario—neither Harvey’s kid sister nor his associate were responsible, but Harvey would never suspect that it was Jessica Pearson, one of the city’s top managing partners, who had left a little pot in the back seat of Ray’s car.

And Donna wasn’t about to tell him.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

#suits usa #suits netflix #suits fanfic #harvey specter #mike ross #donna paulsen #jessica pearson #charlie specter #specter!sister #june prompts

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friendlessghoul · 5 months

Note

Hey there!

So not having read many biographies of Buster, how did he feel about being teamed up with Jimmy Durante? I know Buster got along with Roscoe Arbuckle and was good friends with him, but I'm curious to know if he and Durante got along.

Hey! Sorry for the delayed response, but here is what I was able to find. There isn't a whole lot in the books, but we do get an idea of how he felt, with additional context and all that.

James Curtis - A Filmmaker's Life -

(Pg 416) - Keaton heard that Mayer was out to build up Broadway acclaimed Schnozzola at his expense.

(Pg 418) - From the outset, it was clear to Keaton that he and Jimmy Durante lacked chemistry. “He tried hard, and I tried hard, but our styles, our timing, didn’t jibe.” Each extended the utmost courtesy to the other, Durante making no attempts at upstaging and Keaton giving him all the room he needed, even to the point of suggesting retakes on scenes where the Schnoz appeared to be overshadowed.

(Pg 419) “Durante just can’t keep quiet,” Buster complained. “He’s going to talk no matter what in the thunder happens. You can’t direct him any other way.”

Tom Dardis - Keaton the Man Who Wouldn’t Lie Down -

(Pg 202) - Some people felt that Durante was brought in to fill out Busters pictures, to give them an extra dimension, but this was firmly denied by Weingarten.

No. Keaton was doing a certain amount of business. And we thought that Durante… in this particular role, would be fine, that’s all. We weren’t thinking of bolstering him. There were a number of pictures made, we tried our best. If it wasn’t good enough, that’s another thing. But we didn’t set out to destroy Buster….

(PG 204 - 205) - Buster was unhappy working with Durante for two reasons. He was aware that Mayer had high hopes for “Schnozzola,” and that he was being given parts in Busters films as a showcase for his talent. Buster was quite sure that he and Durante didn’t belong in the same picture:

Then of course, when you give me a Jimmy Durante— they brought him in there to play a part in a picture with me. Well, Durante just can't keep quiet. He’s going to talk no matter what happens. You can’t direct him any other way. Louis B. Mayer liked him very much; it could have been that he was brought out to replace me, I don’t know….

(Pg 205) - Buster disliked working with Durante for personal as well as professional reasons. Durante invariably punctuated all of his conversations with Buster by punching him on the upper arm and chest. Since Durante was, in Buster’s words, “strong as a bull,” this constant rain of punches really hurt, but Buster was simply too polite to tell him to stop. The punching continued unabated for the next year.

(Pg 221) - What did bother him was that MGM was no longer under obligation to star him in his films; the new contract made a point of the fact that he could be starred or co-starred as the studio saw fit. This contract made it possible for MGM to have Jimmy Durante as the official co-star of their films together.

MGM considered Durante fully Keaton’s equal and wanted to be able to indicate it on the film credits.

Buster Keaton & Charles Samuels - My Wonderful World of Slapstick -

(Pg 236) - The experiment I know most about was the one made by Louis B. Mayer when he teamed up Jimmy Durante and myself in a series of features. There is no one in the world like Durante, bless him, but in my opinion, we just did not belong in the same movies.

(Pg 237) - At any rate, as I see it, there was no way to mesh, match, or blend Durante's talents with mine. Yet Jimmy would have been great in the pictures that we did together if he would have been merely to do spots of comedy instead of playing a character all of the way through.

However, he was very good in the one picture we made together that had quality. I think this was because the character he played was very much like the real Jimmy Durante. The picture was Speak Easily, which was based on a Clarance Budington Kelland story and had a sound plot.

From the time Jimmy and I were teamed up I heard rumors that Mr. Mayer was planning to build him up at my expense. This didn't worry me much, although I can't say I liked it. With my record of successful pictures, I felt I was a fixture at M-G-M. I couldn't imagine anyone there wanting to get rid of me. If Jimmy Durante could replace me, it would be on his superior ability. Like a lot of men, the world considers modest and humble I had unshakable confidence in my talent and ability to hold the place that I had staked out for myself. Dana Stevens - Camera Man (Pg ) Though the two were friendly offscreen, Keaton admitted years later that Durante’s constant rain of chummy punches in the arm actually hurt.

It doesn't seem as though there was any animosity towards Durante. Buster appeared to make the best of the situation as MGM was forcing them together and there wasn't much else he could do. He acknowledged that their style just wasn't meant to mix and that was all there was to it. They took plenty of photos together for publicity but not much else? There's probably more information out there but this is the extent in the books that I have. Their personalities didn't mix on or off the screen but it didn't cause any issues between them. I'd imagine partially due to Jimmy's boisterous friendly attitude and Buster being passive and never speaking up. Though I don't think there was much for Buster to have complaints about, other than being hit constantly.

Hope this helps and thank you for the ask! And now photos -

#buster keaton #jimmy durante #MGM #Asks #Ask

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luveline · 2 years

Note

could you possibly do a fic or blurb or something where the reader isn't super smart and feels like remus deserves someone who is smarter and can keep up with him more? thank you <3

tysm for ur request <3

Remus loves to read to you. You love to listen, but sometimes he reads out a passage of poetry or verse or philosophy that he finds fascinating and you're left staring at him like he's from another planet because you don't really understand what he meant.

You'd never been much for academia, never got the best grades, didn't strive for top marks or to be top of the class. Remus has never, ever given any indication that he cares about this and most of the time you yourself don't care, aren't bothered by your underperforming. You're not book smart and it doesn't matter.

But sometimes. Sometimes, you feel stupid. You feel like an idiot. Remus has just read you a passage from his novel about the concept of an echo, how it comes from two places, the mythological and the physical.

You don't really get it. An echo is an echo.

You smile wide, say, "Oh, wow. Do you agree with that?" And listen to him chatter about how he thinks

it's true and not true, listen as he brings up the entomological definition of an echo, echolocation, bats. It goes over your head swiftly and you stare at him, because how can he know all this? Where does he put all this knowledge? You feel empty in comparison.

He's hot when he talks. You love how intelligent he is. Only, it makes you wonder and worry if your own lack of input makes you the opposite. You feel suddenly and intangibly ugly for knowing less. Remus is everything to you. He needs someone who can talk to him. Someone to keep him on his toes, and in that moment it doesn't feel like it's you.

"Hey, what's up? Am I being boring?" he asks, dropping his book with a small smile. He stands from the armchair and walks to your side, tilting your head up to face him. He strokes your face delicately. "Sorry," he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead, "It's all toff, I know."

"No, of course it isn't. It's great."

He chuckles. "You don't have to lie. I know it's all jargon. Sometimes philosophy turns into a big jerk circle of feeling intelligent without actually saying anything worth saying."

He smirks as he says it, rubbing his thumb into your cheek, small circles. You laugh loudly at his definition.

"Jerk circle?" you ask.

He goes white. "You know, when-"

"I know what it means."

His laughter is sheepish and relieved at once. He drops his head to yours and kisses your cheek. "Good. I didn’t want to explain."

You should carry on the joke. It's a cheap one, you could say tens of funny things.

Remus takes notice of your quiet and kisses your cheek again before standing at full height.

"Sorry for defiling your ears, dove. With the circle and the philosophy."

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asks, practically offhanded, distracted by doting.

He's touching your hair, your ears, your neck, smoothing over your skin in big sweeping gestures.

"For being stupid."

He gasps loudly, your face cradled between his big palms. "And who said anything about that?" he asks, a teasing tone to his words. He squeezes your cheeks.

"Nobody, just. I know it must be irritating. That I can't say anything smart."

"You say smart things all the time," he says, a little more seriously. Your chin grazes his t-shirt as he stands closer, neck craned to look as he looks down. "And you never irritate me. So put that out of your head."

"Are you sure?" you ask quietly.

"Yes," he says through a laugh, copying your pout, "Yes, of course I am. You're not stupid, dove. And I don't expect you to know everything about niche wank like that, it's just something I've been reading."

"Gonna wash your mouth out with soup," you mutter, closing your eyes to hide from your own vulnerability.

His thumb brushes against your closed lashes. "Try it, sweet girl. We'll have really clean kisses for a while."

You peel your eyes open and jut your chin until he gives you a kiss. This one is normal amounts of clean, charged with relief. Remus' reassurance is invaluable, his soft touch doubly so as he rubs his hands down your neck gently.

"Sorry for being weird," you say when you're done.

Remus sounds only partially breathless as he plants a quick kiss on your jaw. "Not weird. Don't be sorry. I love you, okay?"

"I love you too."

"That's the only thing stupid about you," Remus says smugly.

You pinch his arms until he takes it back.

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader

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lovingperfectionsblog · 2 years

Text

The Run-Aways: Part 1

Pierre Gasly x Reader.

Requested: Yes

Hey I love your writing, I think it's amazing! I was just wondering if you'd be able to write a Pierre X reader based on the song Pierre by Ryn Weaver? I always see video edits with the song but I think like a 'summer love' fic would be good 💜

Summary: A meeting between two strangers.

Warnings: Language, mention of him being a serial killer, also, don’t ever do this – be smart.

Word count: 2337

Authors note: good god this is such a fun song and I a so excited to have gotten this request. Again, as usual, I’ outing my own spin on this and it is evidently getting more than one part which I am super excited about and I really hope it is going to go well and I guess I just really like writing Pierre, despite this one not being too awkward, I am feeling ridiculously romantic right now, so I guess you’re all going to have to suffer through that 😊 I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to hear what you think.

The Run-Aways: Part 2

The Run-Aways: Part 3

The Run-Aways: Part 4 (Finale)

_____

“Sorry, but are you, uh, are you crying?” Pierre cautiously approached as you frantically began wiping away any tears still left on your cheeks, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, no I promise, sorry, I’m all good” you laugh at how ridiculous you must look right now, sitting in an art museum staring at a painting.

“Is there someone I can get for you?” Pierre didn’t know how to handle this situation but for some reason he couldn’t just leave you sitting here, crying, at a painting?

“No, no, I’m here alone, but really, thank you, you’re very sweet, I really am okay” you prepared yourself to come face to face with this caring and handsome stranger you had taken the time to make sure your pathetic self was okay, but once you turned to look at him, found you couldn’t see his face? God, baseball caps really were good at hiding faces. Fuck.

How were you going to tell how embarrassed you should be that some handsome local caught you crying in their museum?

“Well, in that case, would you like someone to sit with you while you, cry?” he nodded down at the empty seat next to you, intrigued by the mysterious woman in an old empty art museum.

“By all means” you shuffled slightly to make sure there was adequate room for him and as he sat a comfortable silence settled between the two of you, neither of you feeling the need to interrupt the overwhelming feeling lingering in the room given off by the massive painting in front of you.

“So, some questions for a stranger” Pierre was the first to break the silence.

“I may or may not lie” you didn’t take your eyes off the image, preparing yourself for whatever may be asked.

Pierre mulled over the questions in his head and decided to go with the obvious first’

“Why exactly are you crying?” he tried to sound as gentle as possibly, but it was an awkward question and no one could really escape that, especially coming from a complete stranger.

“Well, that happens to be a bit of a two-part question that one” you took in a breath, trying to figure out a way of saying it all without sounding completely pathetic, “promise not to laugh?”

Pierre made a cross over his heart, indicating for you to continue your story of woe.

“Well, the first part is, I just, fuck, it’s a really beautiful painting!” you clapped your hand over your mouth, both of you shocked at how loud you had been, especially in a museum, “sorry, you giggled out.

Pierre couldn’t help but laugh too, he wished it was because it was an actual funny moment, but truthfully, it was just really nice to engage with someone who was this passionate about something other than cars. No one who liked cars was this cute when they were passionate. It was a welcomed break.

“So, you’re crying because a painting is beautiful?” Pierre needed clarification. Never had he felt the need to cry because something was beautiful. Maybe nothing was ever that beautiful to him.

Maybe you were just a weirdo.

“Oh, don’t judge me. How can you not feel something looking at this?” you gestured to the work of art in front of you.

“I didn’t say I don’t feel anything, I just haven’t really experienced anything that I consider beautiful make me cry,” Honestly, art was a secret love of Pierre’s and he was slightly offended at being accused of not feeling anything when he was surrounded by some of the greatest historical works in existence, but he couldn’t blame you, he was an F1 driver, why on earth would he be interested in art?

“Ooh well I clearly touched a nerve there” so this stranger was clearly an art lover like yourself then, “Forgive me, I work in art, so it’s just, it’s a passion you know, and I just, I’m really moved by it all and sometimes I forget not everyone needs to cry when they feel things” you chuckled when you realised you were rambling.

“You work in art?” Pierre was concocting a plan.

“Art dealer ad historian” you offered up the information willingly, always proud to tell people what you do, forever thankful you got to do what you were passionate about for a living.

“So I’m sitting with an expert then?” this plan was starting to fall into place more and more.

“Not an expert, but adequate enough” you blushed at the thought of him thinking you were an expert in your field.

“Well, in that case, would you be willing to join me for a tour of the museum and teach me anything and everything you can?” fuck, even Pierre thought that was smooth, mentally patting himself on the back.

“Of course,” the blush only deepened; you dropped your head in the hopes he wouldn’t see.

Silence fell again as you tried to reel your brain in from running away with thoughts of how this could be the greatest meet-cute in all of history.

“You said this was a two parter though” Pierre suddenly remembered, prompting for the second part of your tale.

“Ah, I was hoping you’d forget that” you felt stupid for even mentioning that you were crying for two reasons, “if you can believe it, it’s even more embarrassing than the first reason”.

“Is it wrong for me to be excited?” Pierre felt lighter when you smiled at the joke.

“It might make you a bit of a sadist” you bumped into his shoulder slightly, a light laugh escaping both of you, “So I was crying because well, I’ve ever done anything like this before and I guess I’m just really proud of myself” a feeling of achievement blooming in your chest, thinking of all you had done to get here.

Pierre glanced between you, the painting, and the empty room, “Done what before? Go to an art museum? Aren’t you an art historian?”

What the fuck was this girl on about? Pierre swung around wildly trying to figure out what was different in the room that could give him any clues.

You howled out a laugh, hand resting innocently on his thigh to get his attention back to you, completely ignoring the fact that you were in a museum now.

“I am so sorry” you got out between laughs “I gave you absolutely zero context there to what I was talking about” you continued laughing, eventually catching your breath.

“Me being here alone, I’ve never really travelled and stuff alone, which is a bit of a longer story, but it’s the just of it and then one day I kind of just ran away and now I’m sitting in an art museum feeling a bit too proud of myself for being, I don’t know, brave?” a grin spread across your face, you attempting to keep the tears at bay once again.

“You ran away?” Pierre now staring directly at you again, intrigued as to what the larger story may be but not wanting to push you for it.

“I did” you whispered out, not regretting what you had done for a second.

“Me too” Although Pierre wasn’t experiencing the same emotions you were feeling by the looks of it, for him, it was almost a secret shame that he had to do this in order to get away, to feel like himself, but even that was tinged with the guilt.

“You’re here alone too?” for the first time you had fully seen the strangers face as he had taken off his baseball cap momentarily, forgetting that he was technically meant to be hiding.

God, he was beautiful.

“I am, for once” he chuckled, stopping when you looked confused, but not elaborating further.

“You around people too often?” The question was innocent enough, but Pierre couldn’t tell if you were joking or not.

“Well, yeah, my job kind of means I’m never really alone” he hesitantly put the information forward, surprised you hadn’t reacted as people normally had, suddenly wondering if you even knew who he was at all.

“Oh that’s awful, I’m so sorry” the sympathy in your voice was sincere, “what do you do?”

Holy shit, you had no idea who he was.

“I work with cars” it wasn’t a complete lie, but for just a second Pierre didn’t want to be an F1 driver, he just wanted to be some guy who worked with cars.

“Huh” fuck, Pierre prayed you suddenly hadn’t figured it out, “didn’t take a car guy to be interested in art” you really had absolutely no idea who he was.

Pierre just let out a gentle laugh at that, once again allowing the silence to fill the room.

In his mind though, it was a completely different story. He was running through ideas of potentially spending this very short holiday with you, where he could be just, Pierre.

“Listen, forgive me if this is a bit forward, but do you maybe want to grab dinner with me after this, considering we’re both here alone?” Pierre knew he was taking a risk, but fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Please, I’m starving.” Pierre had never seen anyone look so thankful in his entire life, “just, I need to grab my suitcase from security” you began standing up, getting yourself ready to go.

“Suitcase? Haven’t you checked in anywhere yet?” Pierre began following you towards the entrance.

“Oh, I uhm, I don’t have anywhere to stay yet” you avoided eye contact with the man acutely aware of how dumb you sounded.

“Holy shit, you really did just run away” Pierre had at least planned his vacation, suddenly feeling stupid even thinking he was in the same situation to you, you had literally run away.

“Yup” you flashed him a cheesy smile.

_____

“So, how long are you staying then if you have no where to stay?” You had both finally settled down in a small hidden away restaurant on the coast, Pierre insisting on going somewhere small and secluded.

“Oh, I leave in a week, I think” you tried to remember when you had booked your return ticket.

“Oh my god, you don’t even know when your flight back is?” You were the bravest person Pierre had ever met, he literally could never relinquish this much control over anything and here you were just, well, winging it.

“I feel like you judge me a lot” you united your eyes at Pierre, making him laugh, knowing you weren’t being serious.

“No, just, fuck, you may be one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, I could never just rock up somewhere new not even knowing where I was going to stay” well, at least brave in a different way, a lot of people he knew were ridiculously brave, but more so in a masochistic way, much like himself.

“There’s a first time for everything” you shrugged, the validation of what you had done feeling good, for once, you had gotten positive validation for something that you knew was deep down in you, not only being praised for being the predictable timid little girl.

“There seems like there may be a story here” Pierre attempted to probe, curious what had lead the woman in front of him to do what she had done.

“and you may find out in due time” you truly didn’t want to get into it right now, wanting to be the brave girl for just slightly longer, not wanting to be forced to slip into your old persona so quickly, not wanting to be the timid girl here, not now, not with him.

You were thankful when the waiter approached to take your orders and even more thankful this man hadn’t pressed you for more, instead understanding somehow.

And so you both sat for dinner, you, the brave run-away artist and Pierre, the nobody who worked with cars, both sinking deeper into the roles you had created for yourselves, enjoying the good food and simple conversation that didn’t actually touch on either of your true lives once well into the night, but all good things must come to an end.

“Stay with me” Pierre offered up as you sat after you had paid the bill, finishing off the bottle of wine before you left, I have a chalet on the beach, big enough for two, nothing weird, just two run-aways” it was a long shot but fuck, you had nowhere else to go.

“What if you’re some like, weirdo serial killer?” you knew he wasn’t, but you shouldn’t just blindly trust this man so easily, it made you nervous that you did.

“I have absolutely no idea how to prove that I’m not, but I promise” It was all Pierre could offer up, “If you hate it, I’ll help you find somewhere new tomorrow first thing, pinkie promise, we all know that’s law” he held his pinkie out as a way to prove to you that he would stick to his word.

You mulled it over for a moment before wrapping your pinkie around his, shocked that you were about to do something this risky, every part of you screaming at you not to do it, but then there was the quiet small voice, in your heart “what if it is the greatest adventure of your life?”, you couldn’t not listen to her.

Pierre stood up and grabbed your suitcase leading you to his car to take you to your new holiday home for the week, the ever gentleman opening the door for you before placing your suitcase in the back and getting behind the wheel himself.

“Oh, before I forget, I’m y/n by the way” it had suddenly dawned on you that neither of you had ever introduced yourselves, remining strangers until this moment.

“Oh shit, sorry, enchante Y/n, you have a beautiful name” you blushed yet raised your eyebrows expectantly.

“Pierre” and with a timid smile, your great adventure began.

#Pierre Gasly x Reader #Pierre Gasly X you #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #pierre gasly fluff #f1 imagine #pierre gasly

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poke-maniac · 1 year

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For those who were wondering what kind of upbringing Silver had, I feel like Pokemon Masters indirectly gave us an answer:

At very least, we know that Silver didn't have a normal upbringing. The line "don't assume for one second, Nate, that others have had the same upbringing as you" is interestingly immediately followed by him lamenting about how "rough" it can be to have a narcissistic prick for a father (which is obvious projection as noted by N), which seems to indicate that he had an unhappy childhood, not just a "different" one. This also suggests that his upbringing is one of the many reasons why he's unsure about what he would do if his father ever decided to turn himself around and ask for forgiveness, so he's curious about what N would do, now that the latter is seemingly in similar situation with Ghetsis.

Also, Silver's lodge dialogue seems to imply that he never had any friends growing up (which was already obvious):

"Ethan and the others are always going on about "friends," and I wanted to hear what you thought about that. I'm not talking about the definition of the word. Of course I know that. But if a friend is just someone you can laugh and joke around with, that's such a weak connection that I don't see the point. I mean, it's fine to spend time with someone if you're competing and getting stronger together...But what's the point of acting all buddy-buddy, like Ethan and the others? After all, the point of competing is to beat the other person, right? I've got no use for any sickly sweet feelings. But everyone else seems so happy with the idea of being "friends," like they want us all to run around holding hands or something. If you expect me to do that...forget it. So you're saying a friend is someone you can...be yourself around?"

This combined with the implication that he had a different upbringing seems to suggest that Silver grew up sheltered just like N was . Though, I highly doubt that Giovanni did it out of pure malice. At worst, he was trying to groom him to make him the heir of Team Rocket. Or he was simply overprotective of him (and for good reason because Silver is the son of a crime lord after all).

Personally, I believe that he was just trying to preserve the "ideal" image his son had of him as it would fit with the narcissism he displays in the games, one of these instances of display being:

"You told me… you were the number one in the world! "

Giovanni made Silver believe that he was the “number one in the world” which seems to indicate that Giovanni wanted to feel admired by Silver (perhaps it also explains why he didn't admit that he was leaving to train to get stronger but instead told Silver he was leaving to build a stronger organization: he was still desperately trying to maintain the illusion rather than plainly admitting to his son’s face that he needs to get stronger, as it would confirm to Silver that he was never the strongest trainer he claimed to be). After all, narcissists seek external admiration as it helps them to validate the false image they made up about themselves. Giovanni likely knew that the truth would hit Silver hard and that he would lose all his respect as a result, so possibly isolated the kid out of fear that he might find out about his lie (as anyone could contradict his version), at least untill he proves his point to his son by conquering the world with powerful 'mon and ensures that no one and nothing would make Silver question it anymore.

#pokemon #rival silver #giovanni #pokemon masters #pokemon speculation #speculation #this would reinforce the parallels between n and silver so much #both sheltered by their dads to help them validate their narcissistic delusions #which also skewed their perception of pokemon and their relationship with humans #but also learn to outgrow from it and make friends along their way

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gamebird · 8 months

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Murderathin Rec List

As compiled by the denizens of the New Tideland MB/G channel! The greatest hits of TMBD's most popular frenemy ship - the fics that got us into it, and the fics we made because of it. "PR" are quotes from us as we talked back and forth about what was awesome about the fic, or from AO3 comments. All works are complete except Enemies, Closer.

The Long Emergency by murderbot Words: 56,866 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: Trapped on the survey planet when the last emergency beacon fails, Murderbot and the PreservationAux team scramble to survive deadly fauna, cruel weather, scarce resources, and GrayCris's armed hunting parties. In a grueling ordeal spanning two planetary years, Murderbot becomes closer to its humans than it ever thought possible. PR: “the absolute ur-Murderathin fic”, “an absolute stunner”, “that’s the one that got me into the ship”, "This fic is amazing! Murderbot's voice and everyone's characterizations were so on-point, and all of the details of their survival on this planet and the action scenes were so well-fleshed out.", "The first MB/G fic on AO3!"

Recollection by murderbot Words: 30,753 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: SecUnit and Gurathin agree to be married, temporarily, for ease of travel during an assignment. After a violent encounter and a bad wormhole jump, they crash land on a habitable planet and discover their entire ship is suffering from amnesia. Nobody remembers anything from their past. The ship's records are badly scrambled. The planet is too far for anyone to reach safely. When Gurathin and SecUnit find the record that indicates they are married, they build a life together as marital partners, not knowing their union is based on a lie. PR: “I love pain”, “It absolutely broke me”, “still haunts me”, “wonderful”, " I'm so full of bittersweet emotions", "I was this close to crying for a few chapters, and the ending was perfect."

Enemies, Closer by Abacura, Gamebird, IHopedTheredBeStars, opalescent_potato, Rosewind2007, theAsh0 Words: 104,478 (WIP) Rating: Teen and Up Summary: When a Combat SecUnit with identical genetics to Murderbot is sent to Preservation Station to commit a massacre, the delicate balance between Murderbot, ART, and Dr. Gurathin shifts, putting all four of them on a collision course. PR: “a wonder and a delight”, “my favorite one”, "Rock-Paper-Scissors dom dynamics in which ART is the secret fourth option, Dynamite", "Can't wait for more!", "A monumental collaboration!"

Boots by opalescent_potato Words: 5,762 Rating: General Audiences Summary: Murderbot learns a little more than it wanted to about Gurathin's mysterious past. PR: “such a great, quiet study in emotional intimacy and shared trauma. Also has an absolutely amazing Oh. Oh no moment.”, "this feels like the realest depiction of poverty trauma I've ever seen in fanfic", "Info dumping as a love language. Learning self care from the most particular human."

Boots by gnomeskillet Words: 2,797 Rating: General Audiences Summary: "I'm going to fix your boots," he explained, talking to me like I was a small human child that didn't know anything. At least he kept his eyes on the floor while he did it. "They're a mess and if you want them to last longer, then you need to take care of them." PR: “this entire fic got me", "Omg who knew shoe shines could be so full of tension??", "This was sort of in kink no man's land, in between the barbed wire embankments of desire and fulfillment."

No Peace/No Rest by IHopedTheredBeStars Words: 4,363 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: Though Dr Gurathin eventually accepts the addition of SecUnit a.k.a. Murderbot to PreservationAux, and even assists in its recovery & rehabilitation after the corporate gunship debacle, he never warms up to it like the others do—at least according to our unreliable narrator, Murderbot itself! Let’s assume Murderbot is right this time. So what’s up with that?? This story takes place (chronologically) after Fugitive Telemetry and just before Network Effect. PR: “an excellent MB&G fic”, "So many fantastic ideas in here", "This is such a great look at grappling with the guilt of having taken a life, and being stripped of that comforting denial that it wasn't a person."

Mutually Trusted Network Affiliates by Gamebird Words: 16,517 Rating: Explicit Summary: Murderbot finds itself in a dilemma. It has discovered Gurathin likes it and decides it has to do something about this. This one's for the shippers. PR: “a cornerstone Murderathin fic, but it low-key requires reading pretty much the entirety of the Gamebird cinematic universe”, "MB a chapter ago: Ew, no! We didn't have sex! MB now, gazing derisively at Gurathin's sex toy suggestions: What is this shit? Are we fucking or are we fucking?", "using these characters to explore alternate modes of sexuality and explore what intimacy means, as itself, when divorced from the usual biological drives and cultural frameworks is brilliant"

Gurathin’s Side of the Story by Gamebird Words: 51,849 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: A retelling of The Murderbot Diaries from Gurathin's point of view. PR: “An incredible character study that adds so much depth to Gurathin. The reader falls in love with him every step of the way (and Murderbot does too)”, "There are so many moments where this story just drop-kicks me with how real it is.", "a lovely view into Gurathin‘s CR background, augments, and his soft belly under that armadillo shell."

It Was Only A Kiss by Gnomeskillet Words: 2,102 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: Frustrated and desperate, Murderbot hauls Gurathin into an alleyway and makes out with him in order to avoid Station Security. Hey, it has a 100% success rate in media! PR: “excellent”, “Incredibly sexy and very sweet.”, "Dom Murderbot absolutely wrecking Gurathin while not really knowing what the hell it's doing is my favorite flavor"

Pressing Down On Me, Pressing Down On You by Gnomeskillet Words: 1,061 Rating: Not Rated Summary: I was just thinking about MB pressing down on Gurathin's augments like how ART presses down on MB in the feed, and I like thinking about MB being tsundere about taking care of its least favorite augmented human. It doesn't LIKE Gurathin, he's just less annoying this way. PR: “ahhh yes this one was absolutely one of the ones that made me go OHHHH. It made me so invested in their relationship”, "Poor Gurathin doesn't know what he's getting into, good thing Murderbot is so nice XD", "I love the idea of cuddling in the feed."

Just to Suffer the Pressure by Chyoatas Words: 2,113 Rating: Explicit Summary: He was already out of breath when he let his hand press to his throat. (That hadn’t been in the original plan. This was already too close- too fraught. It was already embarrassing enough (and hotter for it, but he wouldn’t admit it.)) PR: “Okay we were all thinking it. There are not nearly enough fics where Murderbot erotically asphyxiates Gurathin.”, "this is insanely good holy shit", "unhinged screaming I can't form words, this is everything I want it to be"

Murderathin NSFW Zine Comic by Chyoatas Words: 1,069 Rating: Explicit Summary: My NSFW comic from the Murderbot Diaries NSFW Zine! Alternative text description of the comic is embedded in the images. PR: "So hot!", "sweet, naughty, and snarky", "So much thought went into this. The closer I look, the more details pop out at me!"

Purr by Rosewind2007 Words: 3,448 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: I saw a post by someone saying: “Wouldn’t it be nice if humans could just purr, like cats. You could let people know you were happy without talking about your feelings or anything...” And I thought: it’d be nice if Murderbot could purr. So, here you are. PR: “Ah yes, my favorite trope. Murderbot purring when it's happy!”, "MB your friends care about you!", "This was adorable and I loved it"

Sex Pollen by Rosewind2007 Words: 7,240 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: Atypical human and para-human courtship behaviors and coitus triggered by xeno-floral microgameteophytes Abstract: Twenty four (24) subjects were exposed to xeno-floral microgameteophytes (XFM). Atypical behaviors were recorded by all but two (2). PR: “the yearning”, “I love watching Murderbot and Gurathin dance around each other in this. Both trying so hard to be normal and just internally yearning to be close to each other. The longing is so palpable!”

Bundling by Rosewind2007 Words: 18,348 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: It was a stupid accident. We’d identified the presence of space debris in this sector, including pieces large enough to deflect the course of a small transport; but my Risk Assessment Module was happily burbling in the low teens (it really needs replacing, but I’m quite fond of its optimism now) and ART had calculated the risk of an actual collision as approximately 1 in 159,753. But of course we were that one. And of course the client I was with would be that one. PR: "And thereby, Murderbot, SecUnit, discovered it loved itself.", " A wonderful story", "That last line is just so perfect"

The Corporate and the Construct by beeayy Words: 87,919 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: Bots and constructs have taken over the Corporate Rim. When PreservationAux is captured sneaking into AI-controlled space, someone must stay behind with the sophisticated bot-pilot that remembers a lot less than it thinks it does, and the rogue SecUnit with more anxiety and depression than anyone knows. PR: “my favorite AU”, “fantastic”, “An amazing AU. Great marriage of Fairy Tale elements with Robot Overlords.”, "This fic was such an amazing ride", "I had emotions and cried at the last chapter. Good job!"

I Hate The Way I Don’t Hate You by beeayy Words: 53,345 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: Murderbot hates Gurathin, though the reason changes on a daily basis. PR: "I love this whole thing", "These two ridiculous assholes *always* end up meeting in the middle", "I love fake marriage fics especially when it's enemies to lovers."

Maintenance Protocol by Abacura Words: 5,762 Rating: Explicit Summary: I’m worried about SecUnit. This isn’t the first time I’ve caught it making a face that looks like it's in pain. I worry that it isn’t taking care of itself, that without a cubicle, it needs maintenance that it isn’t telling us about. I wish it would tell me. I wish it would let me take care of it. I could take such good care of it. PR: “smoking hot, I wholeheartedly recommend”, "The maintenance was so perfect and then it was done and I figured so was the fic but holy fuck (literally)", "This is the good stuff. This is perfect."

Fuckboy Strategy by The_Onion Words: 6,203 Rating: Not Rated Summary: 'Can you know you don’t like something without trying it?' I'd texted Ratthi. He responded, 'Sure! But trying things out is always a good idea :D' which I am sure he would not have said if he’d known what I was talking about. // Murderbot explores idioms, the ethics of ghosting, and its own sexuality. PR: “Ah yes, my favorite trope. Murderbot being an absolute bull in the china shop of Gurathin’s heart.”, "so good and so funny i am beside myself", "made me laugh out loud"

Construct, Social by kiwisson Words: 1,852 Rating: General Audiences Summary: Late-night human behavior discussions with your favorite deadly weapon. PR: “the vibes are really good”, “Perfect tag is perfect: You Jerks Talk A Lot For People Who Hate Each Other”, “a fascinating example of the first tagged MB&G which shows many themes already emerging!”

Imperfect Reactions by xianvar Words: 1,324 Rating: Teen and Up Summary: It’s a normal evening with friends – easy laughter, Bharadwaj stopping by to chat, Gurathin and Murderbot sniping at each other, Murderbot letting Gurathin tease it… wait, what? PR: “exterior POVs are always SO good”, "there's so many little characterizations in this fic and its really delightful!", "Adorable!"

#the murderbot diaries #murderathin

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pearlsinmyhair · 10 months

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༄ breath of venus ༄

chapter three • you’re mine? / i was never yours

synopsis: a girl is born from nothing, and her whole life she’s spent trying to become everything her family and clan need her to be. what happens when she’s abducted by long dead soldiers and old ghosts?

summary: tell her a million pretty lies and venus won’t even flinch, but to be confronted with one ugly truth? it may just be the beginning of her downfall. she buried his ghost, and yet he insists upon coming back to pry. if only he could have stayed dead.

warnings: interrogation. like the previous chapter, if the movie scene triggered you, please do not read this. mentions of abortion. description of a bloody nose. venus thinks about hurting and killing ardmore. venus calls mansk ‘sunglasses’ (she doesn’t know his name yet.) venus gets muzzled. cursing in both navi and english. translations of navi curse words below. the quote for this chapter mentions a gun.

a.n. : lots of flashbacks in this chapter-they will be indicated by italics.

word count: 2.8k

glossary:

‘ohe si atxkxe’ - i do not know/i know nothing.

‘kalweyavwng’ - ‘son of a bitch’. literal translation ‘son of a poisonous spider’.

‘teylupil’ - teylu face. you may recall that teylu is a grub that the navi eat. feel free to look up what they look like to understand why venus says it.

‘Eywa, hawnu oeti’ - Eywa, protect me.

“memory taps a gun at your inner skull and demands you bring back the dead.” ~ Donte Collins, “Grief, Again.”

At the beginning of the war, Venus had asked Jake what it was like in an interrogation.

༄

He shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t a conversation he’d want to have with his daughter. But as he glanced at Venus, seventeen and concerned, he relaxed.

“It’s…intimidating. They sit you down, repeat questions. They try to break down your resolve.”

She kept strong eye contact, her expression even.

Then, the dreaded question.

“What should i do if I’m interrogated?”

It made Jake wince. But they were at war. It was a very real possibility that the RDA would not be above torturing a na’vi teenager.

“You stay strong. Never let them get the information out of you. Your mental strength far exceeds what they think.”

༄

Venus had nodded then, content with his answer and advice.

Now, she wondered if Jake had anticipated this.

White-hot, blinding pain. Her nervous system shot through with agony. She felt like her spinal cord was being ripped out.

“Where is Jake Sully?”

“Ohe si atxkxe!”

“Where is the Na’vi stronghold?”

“Ohe si atxkxe!”

She was screaming. Or maybe that was her mind. She could no longer tell.

Lights flashed in her eyes, and she was vaguely aware that tears were running down her face.

“Kick it up a notch.”

༄

Quaritch winced as another scream broke from the girl.

The device was made for a human, so they had to force her on her knees and bind her hands behind it for it to work.

Even Quaritch was uneasy with this. Especially as the girl bucked and cried and kicked.

He shouldn’t feel sympathy for her. She was Sully’s little girl, a beast taught to kill as easily as breathing.

He didn’t dwell on the hypocrisy of that statement much.

He didn’t even know why he agreed to be here.

Well, that was a lie. Of course, he knew.

༄

“So, where the hell did she come from then?”

Quaritch was leaned against the wall of the lab, Wainfleet to his right.

Ever since they had sedated the girl his corporal had been on edge, tail lashing and threatening to hit the equipment surrounding him.

He decided to save his questions until after this briefing.

“She’s an experiment, so i’ve been told. Conducted by a few pHD students and later halted by the late Dr. Grace Augustine.”

His ears flicked at the name, a red headed woman with a scowl appearing in his mind.

“She and your corporal here raised the kid for three years, until they both died. We’re assuming that Sully adopted her.”

His head whipped to Wainfleet so fast that he felt a joint in his neck crack.

Three years. Three years of lies, of sneaking, of denying.

Of course, he remembered the jokes that his corporals had said about Wainfleet.

He’s got a woman or something, or a man. Hes been sneaking behind AMP suits to get laid.

They had all been wrong.

Lyle pointedly did not meet his gaze.

Quaritch tamed his anger, for the moment.

“That doesn’t explain where she came from, General.” he said calmly.

Ardmore smiled at him in a way that made his stomach turn.

“Well, that’s the interesting part, Colonel. She was originally human, an aborted fetus that was kept alive. They spliced her DNA up with the Na’vi’s to create the neat little concoction that you brought to me.”

He felt blood drain from his face.

Because it must be a coincidence.

Three years before the battle.

There must have been multiple unwanted pregnancies on this base.

Ardmores grin turned almost gleeful.

“I can tell you want to know, Colonel.” she said, smirking up at him.

No.

If there’s a God, then there is no way.

“Ask.”

An order.

“Do we know who the parents are?”

Ardmore turned and pulled up a file with a flourish.

Parents:

Paz Socorro - F - Mother - Pilot

Miles Quaritch - M - Father - Colonel

Son of a bitch.

“Looks like you have a little family reunion to start up.”

༄

Another scream tore him from his thoughts. His ears flicked back, pinned flat against his head.

Damn this body.

“Anything you think of will appear on this monitor.” called the General.

He glanced at Ardmore through the glass.

“Does the kid understand english?” he asked as Venus’s repeated na’vi responses flooded through the speakers.

༄

“Venus is her name.” Lyle had said, pulling him out of his silence as they walked to the interrogation bay.

“…beg your pardon?”

“Her name. Your daughter. The prisoner. Her name is Venus.” Lyle said once more, looking straight forward.

“…you named my kid after the goddamn goddess of love?” he had asked, disbelief in his voice.

Lyle smirked, finally meeting his eyes.

“Augustine named her. I went along with it.” a pause. “And for the record, I didn’t know she was yours.”

Ah, truth.

“Three years, Lyle. You had a na’vi kid for three years and didn’t tell me.”

“Miles, you would have put her in front of a firing squad.”

Quaritch winced. He wanted to believe that Wainfleet was wrong. But what would he have done? If a blue alien child that went up to his waist ran through Hellsgate?

He didn’t dwell on that thought.

“Keep another secret like that again and i’ll put you in front of a firing squad.”

Lyle grinned.

“Yes, sir.”

They walked for five seconds in silence before-

“Since when do you know the name of the goddess of love?”

“Shut your pie hole.”

༄

“Yes, she recognizes English.” the science-puke said. He pointed at the illuminated diagram of the brain. “See how her Wernike’s area lights up? She’s processing, she’s just choosing not to answer back in english.”

Quaritch studied the hologram, watching as various memories popped up.

Two hands hold a newborn baby, wiping blood and grim from it as Venus hands it to an exhausted mother.

Venus uses a carving knife to chip away vine like patterns on a bow.

A child is twirled in the air, giggling.

Venus holds a white flower like creature, then lets it float down onto a dead na’vi curled in tree roots.

Venus faces a boy in a glowing pool of water, and he gives her a look that is unmistakable.

Quaritch looks away.

“Amp up the level!” calls Ardmore, and the scientist hesitantly puts the amount of electricity up to the highest setting.

Venus’s back arches, and for a moment Quaritch thinks she’s gonna break her spine.

“Maybe we should link you with one of our recombinants. Then you won’t be able to hide anything.” calls Ardmore, contemplating it.

Venus screams bloody murder at the same time as the doctor to Quaritch’s left yells “That is not advised!” through the overhead intercom.

He thinks he might be sick.

The monitor that keeps track of Venus’s heart rate goes haywire, and Quaritch looks over at it to notice the ‘WARNING’ messages on it.

“She’s seizing!” calls the doctor, but Ardmore doesn’t let up.

He watched as Venus’s eyes roll back, a drop of blood coming from her nose.

That’s it.

He nods to Lyle as he exits the little room.

He does the only thing to settle his gut and his conscious.

He pressed the button to stop the machine.

༄

Venus’s eyes flutter open as the sensation ceases, greeted with the face of Lyle Wainfleet.

He presses a cloth to her nose, wiping away the blood. She watches his expression carefully, noticing how he refuses to meet her eyes.

“…they kept you bald?” she asks weakly.

He glances up at that, clearly surprised at her question.

“It’s a personal choice.”

She grinned. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She watches his mouth twitch. While he keeps his smile contained, the edges of his eyes crinkle.

So different. Yet so similar.

Her ears pick up Quaritch saying something to Ardmore. Something about a ‘personal approach’.

So, he knew?

She looked at Wainfleet pointedly. He tipped his head.

Kalweyavwng.

༄

She sat in the corner of the cell, fingers detangling the knots of her hair. She had chosen to wear it down while she fetched plants, enjoying it flowed in the wind.

Now, as she broke the mud caking the strands, she regretted it.

She pulled her kuru over her shoulder, separating the remaining hair into three sections to braid. When she was finished, she picked her song cord up from her lap and braided it into the length of hair she had left free. It dangled in front of her ear like jewelry, clinking softly.

She had nearly cried in relief when she had woken, and it was still there. She had lost her bow and her knife, but at least she had her song cord.

She had lost other things too.

She finished tying just as the door to the cell hissed open and a blue demon walked in.

She waited for his eyes to find her, and she watched how his ears pricked forward in curiosity before they flicked back into a more relaxed position.

Not so stoic now are we, Colonel?

She rose slowly, keeping her back to the wall. Quaritch didn’t move until the door was closed and locked behind him.

She scanned his body, noting the gun at his thigh and the knife at his back. When her eyes flicked back up to his, he was already watching her with a raised eyebrow.

He took a step around the table.

She mirrored his action, keeping the table between them.

He scoffed. “C’mon now kid. Let’s not play games.”

She didn’t respond, instead opting for glaring at him. When he took another step, she repeated her action. He shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the wall.

“Kid, you got heart.”

Oh, please.

“The science pukes leaned on you pretty hard, but you gave them nothing. I respect that.”

You don’t respect shit, teylupil.

He leaned his head back, regarding her with an expression that she couldn’t quite read.

Thats the expression of a man that just learned he’s a father.

He reached back to his pocket, pulling out a silver chain with two flashing tags.

Oh, don’t do this to yourself, Quaritch.

“I thought you might want this.”

Don’t.

He held them out, dangling the necklace from his pointer finger.

“That’s Colonel Miles Quaritch. Deceased. Killed in action.”

When she makes no move to take them, he tossed them in an arch. It’s easy to catch really, nothing but a rainbow over the table.

Venus takes a whole step to the left to avoid the tags, and the metal lands on the floor with a soft clunk.

She does not look at Quaritch. She will not look at him.

When she hears the squeak of his footsteps, she doesn’t move.

Stay strong.

She continued to look down, watching as his boots come into view. He reached down and picks up the tags before sitting down against the table.

He twirls the necklace in his hand. “I’m not that man.”

Sure you’re not. Whatever keeps the nightmares at bay.

“But I do have his memories. Enough to know that he had no idea that you even existed.” he says in a tone of…regret?

Do not do this to me.

A pause as he waited for her to fill the silence. Instead, she studied the scuff marks on the ground, wondering how many had been dragged through this very cell.

“Are you going to say anything? The doc said that you recognized english.”

She looked up then, face to face with the man who had sired her.

“Pig.” she spat. Quaritch’s ears flicked back, his eyes widening slightly.

“That’s all you got?” he asked, smirking.

“Don’t bait me. I’ve had years to develop insults just for you.”

That sobered him. It was out of her mouth before she even thought about it.

I’ve had years.

He cleared his throat, turning his focus back to his monologue.

“I’m not your father technically. You and I? We’re nothing to each other. But…I can help you.”

Her father whispering in her ear: you are stronger than they think. You will not break.

“I can get you out of here.”

She worked her jaw, holding eye contact with him.

“I’m not going to ask you to betray Jake Sully, I know you won’t do that. You’re loyal, and I admire loyalty.”

“You really expect me to believe you? I’m not a kid. I will not be so easily manipulated.” Her words tinged with a Na’vi lilt. English had always been blocky in her mouth. She much preferred Spanish.

His eyes sharpened then. It was a special kind of punishment to have a teenage daughter, especially when you didn’t even raise her.

He would call it a sick divine joke. Venus would call it karma.

“Just ride along. Otherwise…”

His gaze lingered at her wrists where the skin was bruised and chaffed from pulling against her restraints.

“I’m gonna have to leave you with the labcoats.”

Her tail lashed as she glared up into his eyes. She knows that he senses her decision, but he was going to make her say it.

Asshole.

༄

Venus is once again back in her corner when Ardmore walks in with two recombinant soldiers and a man in a white coat.

Ardmore gives her a rueful smirk. “The Colonel tells me that you’ll be going with them on their next mission. As a precaution, you will be injected with a tracker.”

She nods to the two soldiers, and they take a step forward.

Venus recognized Lopez, the man who grabbed her. The other is the one who first cuffed her. They step closer, and Venus offers them her arms. Lopez’s eyes widen a fraction at her compliance. Sunglasses, of course, doesn’t do anything. They loop an arm under her armpit and hold her wrist down, restraining her.

“On her knees, boys. Doctor Alza needs to reach.”

It’s funny, Venus thinks, to see all the things Ardmore does to dismiss her fear. Because she’s scared of these enhanced soldiers. Venus can practically smell it.

They could crack her against the wall. If Venus got the chance, she would throw the woman into the table, then promptly feed her to her ikran.

Ardmore nods at the doctor before turning her attention to a gun metal blob in her hands.

The doctor walks forward with some kind of injection gun. He tries to avoid eye contact with her, but eventually he looks up. His eyes widen.

Her father had always told her that she had a strong look, that sometimes she stared so hard it was disturbing.

Venus did not care if she disturbed this doctor.

Dr. Alza swallowed. She blinked at him and slightly lowered her chin.

Go on.

He pressed the gun to her inner bicep and pulled the trigger. She winced at the feeling, gritting her teeth. She tightened against Sunglasses.

Eywa, I need to know his name. This is getting weird.

To her surprise, she felt a near imperceptible touch against the back of her arm. Then, a flick against her tail.

He was stroking her arm with his thumb, barely a brush really, and his tail had found hers.

The touch was intentional, of course. It took real thought to make that happen. But the tail? She highly doubted he understood what he was doing.

What the hell are you doing?

She glanced at the soldier, finding nothing but black reflective lenses and a blank expression.

Maybe concealing your eyes has its perks.

When the doctor was satisfied that the tracker was deep enough and working, he stepped back.

Ardmore glanced up from a contraption that she had been fiddling with. It looked too large in her hands, the black metal and synthetic fibers seemed uncomfortable to hold.

“Tighten your grip, I don’t want her to squirm.” she said as she snapped it open.

Her stomach dropped.

A muzzle.

She flinched back against the soldiers as she approached, swinging the mask idly back and forth. They tightened their grip, but their bodies had gone rigid.

They didn’t know. They didn’t know this would happen.

She felt a tap at her shoulder. Lopez looked down at her, holding his hand near the back of her neck.

I’m sorry.

She allowed him to tilt her head down, keeping it in place while Ardmore lifted the metal contraption.

“Another precaution. We can’t have you biting one of my million dollar soldiers, now can we, little dog?” said the she-devil before her.

Venus took one last breath. Ardmore shifted the muzzle over her face and clicked it closed.

Eywa, hawnu oeti.

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༄

the big reveal that you probably all figured out: venus is quaritch’s daughter.

taglist:

@lisedanie @avatar4eva

#avatar the way of water #avatar #recombinant #recom lyle wainfleet #avatar x oc #oc #recom mansk #recom quaritch #the way of water #jake sully

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